#full fic

[arieslost]

quiet | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar is quiet in the ways he loves you.

word count: 1,620

warnings: disgusting levels of fluff

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

– the sidewalk rule

You don’t even have to explain this to Oscar. In fact, he’s done it every single time the two of you walk together. You really don’t even notice until you see something on TikTok about it and think it would be fun to pay attention and see if he did it or not without you saying anything.

“Wanna go for a walk?” You ask him casually, and he nods, reaching for his sneakers.

Exercise tends to be the bane of your existence, a la Yuki Tsunoda, but you love to walk, and Oscar loves to walk with you. So whenever you ask him to go for a walk, no matter what he’s doing or how he’s feeling, he’ll always drop everything to go with you.

He holds the door open for you to go out first. “What kind of walk are you thinking, babe?”

“Mm, probably a longer one. It’s pretty nice out today.” You say, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. It feels so nice after being cooped up inside working for most of the day.

Lacing your fingers with his, you purposely place yourself on the outside of the sidewalk, but you don’t make it more than fifteen feet before Oscar stops both of you so abruptly that you nearly fall backwards.

“What? What’s wrong?” You ask your boyfriend, who is frowning.

“This is not right,” he mumbles, gently grabbing you by your shoulders and maneuvering you to the inside of the sidewalk. “You walk there. I walk here.”

“Why?” You feign innocence.

“I protect you,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I’m always on the outside to protect you.”

He says it with such conviction that you don’t bother telling him that you did it on purpose because you saw a TikTok. Instead, you press a kiss to his cheek, take his hand again, and go on your way on the proper side of the sidewalk.

– fixing your clothes

Sometimes, you think that Oscar is more attentive to you than you are to yourself. It’s like he’s gained a sixth sense dedicated entirely to you. This applies to microexpressions, body language, even when your clothes are even the tiniest bit askew.

You’re five minutes late to a work meeting, you can’t find your shoes, and you haven’t even left yet. Oscar watches you rush around the apartment, holding your bag and your keys in his hand so you don’t have to go looking for those either.

“I’m so fired after this,” you huff, forcing your feet into your shoes that you finally located and wincing when your fingers get stuck between your heel and the shoe.

“You won’t get fired,” he says gently. “This is the first time you’ve ever been late, and you’re a fantastic employee. I’m sure they’ll be understanding.”

“They’d better be, I need this job.” You mutter, shoving your arms into your jacket and buttoning it at the speed of light.

“You don’t need a job, I can take care of you.”

“Nice try, Osc. We’ve talked about this, I’m not going to be your sugar baby.”

“Trophy wife?”

You glare at him playfully. “I’ll see you later. Or in an hour, if I get fired.”

“You won’t get fired,” he repeats as you take your bag and keys from him. “Oh, wait a second!”

You pause as he reaches for you, undoing the uneven buttons courtesy of your hastiness and deftly buttoning them back up the right way. “There y’go, have a good day, honey.” He gives you a kiss and opens the door for you.

A few days later, Oscar comes home to see that his favorite hoodie is missing. He walks into the living room, where you’re curled up on the couch taking a nap, wearing the hoodie in question. He sits at your side, brushing your hair away from your face, and that’s when he notices that one of the drawstrings is tucked back behind your neck into the hoodie. It doesn’t look like it’s causing you any discomfort, since you’re asleep, but regardless he immediately starts to tug on it. You stir, and he freezes.

“No, don’t wake up,” he whispers. “Just fixing this for you.”

“M’kay, thanks Osc,” you reply, wrapping a hand around his wrist. “Cuddle me.”

“Baby, I just got home from work, I’m sweaty-”

“Don’t care,” you grumble, reaching for him when he stands up and causing the hoodie to ride up over your stomach. “Miss you. Cuddle me.”

“Let me shower quick, and then I’m all yours, okay?” He pulls the hem of the hoodie down as he leans over and kisses your forehead.

You twiddle the drawstring that he fixed between your fingers as you wait for him, thinking about how sweet he is to pay such close attention to you all the time.

– watching your favorite movies with you

Nobody is perfect, and in your eyes, Oscar’s only imperfection is that he’s never seen Star Wars. As a life-long, diehard fan, you decided to wait until you’d been with him for a few months to introduce him to that side of you and invite him over for a Star Wars marathon.

“I hope these live up to the hype,” Oscar teases, surveying the way you’ve decorated the entire living area with Star Wars paraphernalia, prepared Star Wars inspired snacks, and just laid a Star Wars blanket across the both of you.

“Are you joking? It will be everything I say it is and more, now be quiet.” You shush him as the main theme begins.

You peek over at him over and over throughout every movie, almost watching him more than the films to see how he reacts to every little moment. You start to watch him more intensely during Revenge of The Sith, but ultimately your focus goes back to the movie when Padme arrives on Mustafar to confront Anakin, Obi-Wan secretly in tow.

Oscar’s enjoying the movies, of course, but even without seeing them he knows how well you know this upcoming scene. He’s heard you recite it so many times under your breath at various times that he feels like he might be able to surprise you with his minimal well of knowledge within the next few minutes. He grins to himself as the penultimate moment of the scene grows closer and closer and you sit up straight, accidentally knocking his arm off of your shoulders without noticing as you move to the edge of the couch.

“I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire!” Anakin says on screen, and you say the words at the same time.

“Your new empire?” Obi-Wan replies. Oscar mouths the words along with him, gathering up his nerve.

“Don’t make me kill you,” you and Anakin warn.

“Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy!” Oscar exclaims, getting a little ahead of Obi-Wan in his enthusiasm.

“If you’re not with me,” you and Anakin say as you slowly turn to face your boyfriend, “then you’re my enemy.”

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes.” Oscar and Obi-Wan reply evenly, Oscar unable to hide the smile on his face at your barely contained excitement. “I will do what I must.”

“You will try.” Only Anakin says this final line, because you launch yourself at Oscar and bear hug him.

“You knew the lines! You did so well!” You cheer, kissing his head, his temple, his cheeks.

“You say them all in your sleep, that’s how I knew,” Oscar says, flushed from your sudden onslaught of affection.

“I do not!” He gives you a look. “Okay, I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, but still! You knew! I can’t believe- oh, wait, shh!” You shush him again, even though you’re the one talking. “Pay attention, this part is so good.”

Oscar’s smile doesn’t fade for the rest of the night as he pulls you back into his side, knowing that while this is the first, it definitely isn’t the last time he’s watching these movies with you.

– nose kisses

Oscar is the first and only person to kiss you on the nose, and you’re glad. It’s become such an Oscar thing that if anyone else did it you’d feel wrong.

The first time he did it had been a complete accident– all the lights were off already, you were both exhausted, and he was just trying to give you a goodnight kiss, but completely overshot your lips and ended up getting your nose instead.

“I’m too tired to apologize, I’ll do it in the morning,” he grumbled, and you had simply snuggled closer to him.

“S’alright, I liked it.”

After that it became the place he kissed you the most. He gives you a nose kiss first thing in the morning and last thing at night. At this point, he kisses your nose more than anywhere else, including your lips. You ask him for a kiss, and he kisses your nose.

“A real kiss,” you whine, and he furrows his eyebrows at you.

“That was a real kiss.”

“On the lips, like a normal person, please.”

Oscar crosses his arms over his chest. “Now hold on, I thought you said you liked it.”

“I do!” You protest. “It’s very sweet, but sometimes I want to actually kiss my boyfriend.”

He gives in easily, but the nose kisses are never ending. Posing for a picture? He wants to kiss your nose. Saying goodbye? You’re getting a nose kiss. He’s about to get in the car to race? He’s kissing your nose before he puts his helmet on.

While you love getting “real” kisses, Oscar’s nose kisses are more precious to you than any other kind of kiss.

note: here is the prompt list i used for this; this was a different format than how i usually write so i hope it was good! this is also the first full fic i’m posting that isn’t in the 3k word range which is shocking jdjfkfkf

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @mia-rrrs @customsbyjcg-blog @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld @nessacarty1 @tswizzleismother @anythingforourmoonsy @meko-mt @solonelystill @tomriddleswhorecruxes @sammykiszkalover @landosgirl

[kirbyskisses]

happy new year! i have had serious burnout for 50+ days because 2022 was a horrible time for me mentally (esp those last two months.)

anyway, thanks for 1k!!! here’s the birthday girl maki zenin fucking you for well over 1.5k words! (+ soft aftercare) 🎊

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

cw: lesbian tings, strap-ons, overstimulation, size kink, squirting, begging, maki is called “mommy” and “mistress”, crying, praise kink.

“maki, ‘t won’t fit—”

god - you sound so utterly broken, tears pricking the corner of you eyes as you watches the head of maki’s strap nudge your pussy’s entrance. it’s the thick kind - a bit bigger than the ones you’ve taken before.

her pretty lips are curved up into a delightful and utterly sadistic smile, dark green hair stuck to her face - you’d think her an angel if she wasn’t being so utterly sinful.

her scarred muscles lock you down under her - voice lilting into soft compliments that you can barely understand. your brain is effectively mush.

“t-too big ‘ki!”

“doing so good for me, baby. you can take it, can’t you? can you be a good girl for your mistress? don’t i always know what my baby can take, hm?” she’s smiling and watches you with half-lidded eyes; predator-like.

“yes, b’t…” you whimper out a cry.

“sshhh. don’t use that pretty brain to think. just let me in.”

lust and need burning into her every vein - she watches the rubbery cock slide between your core’s chubby lips, lines of slick rolling up and down as she grinds it over your clit.

fuck - a growl barely holds itself back from her throat as she takes it in - the sweetest, prettiest cunt - a tight hole made just for her to use and stretch.

you’re so good and pliant - simultaneously begging maki to let out all of her bottled rage and pain into you but m e w l i n g at the overstimulation of when she actually does - lips babbling and begging her not to out of instinct because it’s too good, and she’s so strong.

maki’d never actually do anything bad to you - she’s not her family - she’d stop the second you really wanted - the second your special word passed your lip. she knows it. you both know it.

but god does she love this little game of pretend.

-

“c’mon…” the swollen tip of the strapped toy edges ever so slightly onto your entrance and it’s enough to make a pathetic noise ascend through your throat.

“you can do it for me, princess… we can make it fit. just open up for me.”

you’re squirming and shivering; clit swollen and fingertips digging into her shoulders and back with utter desperation because you -

“can’t! maki - i can’t - ‘t buuurrnss.” it’s a disgustingly desperate sob as the head of the cock slips into your plump, sobbing lower lips. it really does burn - a stretch that is tightening knots in your stomach.

“oh baby, are you crying? and your little pussy is too..”

“n-no!” you lie, squelching pussy drooling.

“yes it is, angel. listen to how wet that it is for your mistress and you haven’t even taken the first inch…” her steady, loving voice teases and your face is flushed with an equally burning sense of embarrassment, unable to do anything but feel the aching stretch of the artificial cock as it burrows just another inch deeper.

and another. and another. and another - holy hell you’re so wet you barely feel it anymore - inching into you, little by little pushing past your glistening folds until the fat head of maki’s cock nudges against the deepest, most sensitive spot in your walls.

by the time a third of the big toy has bullied its way into you, maki’s slender hands have gone from fondling your breast to massaging your hips, gentle kisses on your face and neck as her green bangs fall forward and tickle your skin.

you look absolutely ruined and she can’t get enough of it.

“maki~”

“kiss mommy’s lips so she can sink into you nice and deep, baby.” she whispers, tone sweet and calm as if she’s not splitting you open with so much pressure against your chubby little cunt you feel she might rip you in two.

her lips slot against yours - her svelte hips lowering halfway into you as she swallows your broken moans. she takes sadistic delight in how you just can’t. stop. fucking. whining. the second her mouth pulls away.

“m-maki, wait—” “‘s so deep, maki —too gooood,” “c-can’t mistress, jus’ can’t—” “m-maki, maki—oh,”

“no- mistress, can’t- mistress!“ your marked throat chokes on a moan, trying to grab onto your pretty domme’s biceps in a wordless plea to slow down because you can’t handle it.

maki forces the rest into you like an animal, fucking down into your sopping pussy as those wet gasps and pretty sobs ring in her ears. 

finally feeling full seems to flip a switch inside you, aided and abetted by your girlfriend’s sweet praises.

“you can take it. you did it, see! you did so good taking it all for me. such a good girl. doesn’t it feel so good, sweetheart? being stretched just how you like, hmm?”

she says, soothing her hands over your stomach to reassure you that she’s still there - hazel eyes mesmerized by the subtle bulge of the outline of the cock.

“you have the most perfect stretched little pussy, angel.” thin fingers press on the little bulge and you erupt.

“momMY!” you WAIL, torn between the throbbing pain in your tummy and the pleasure that wracks your body. you want to convulse and jolt but you can’t.

“i g’tta move, mommy!”

cursed with such enhanced strength maki’s taken to fully pinning you down - body unmoving - buried completely inside your cunt. you make a noise of utter shame as the thick head kisses your g-spot, wet juices pouring around it with an audible squelch.

this always happens and maki can’t help but let out a light giggle.

even during prep you’re so overwhelmed - squirming away until whatever cock or toy or pair of fingers she has inside you pops free from your spongy walls and you're left spasming and clenching around nothing.

“you’re so cute, baby.” she punctuates the affirmation with a kiss too your pouting lips. “but mommy’s not going to let you escape this time - not after all that effort getting it inside - you know better than that.~”

legs far too restricted to kick her away and hands attached to her shoulder like claws, you just have to feel.

and you feel like you’re floating.

she rolls her hips slowly, listening to the filthy ‘shlick, shlick, shlick’ that your poor pussy makes whenever she slides in and out and the desperate shuffle of strap fabric against the skin of your hipbones. your inner thighs are trembling, skin glossy with wetness and clit standing out between his lips, flushed and neglected.

the dam inside you feels like it’s going to burst with every passing second - maki’s pace may be slow and full of praise but it is brutal inside your pussy pressing and pressing and pressing - god why can’t she stop!

“fuuuck!” “mommy, wait- m’gonna pe e-“ “please , mommy, mistresssss” “haah maki - maki lemme move!!” “don’ wanna stop but jus’- aahn!” “w-want a second - just a second or i’ll - mistress please! don’wanna pee myself!”

your folds deliciously flutter as maki watches herself slide in and out of your hole.

“just let it happen, my angel.” her thumbs goes over your poor, twitching clit and you cry out at the drag of the thick cock in combination with the stimulation of the naked bud. wetness spurts and sprays across her chiseled abdomen but your fucked-out mind doesn’t notice the mess you’ve made between your thighs until maki pulls out and something wet splashes against your stomach.

and it happens again and again and again.

-

you sob and sob, still shaking while she stands and undoes straps that tied her to the rubber extension. she sits by you, golden eyes filled with softness and adoration as she rubs your face and massages your thighs.

all signs of the mistress who was greedy for your overstimulation are completely gone. what remains is your girlfriend - ever concerned and constantly proud.

“hey. hey, look at me.” she gives a smile. “you did so good for me, babe. did i go too far? was it really too much?”

you mumble, shaking your head as you squeeze whatever clean parts of the bed you can find. she chuckles - god, it���s nice to hear her laugh at something that isn’t painful or dominant.

“can’t quite hear you with your face in the pillow like that, sweetheart.” her fingers lead your chin so you meet her gaze. there are still the remnants of fat tears down your cheeks.

“wasn’t too much… i made a big mess.” your face heats up in partial embarrassment (and also because she’s mind-boggling pretty, even scratched and sweaty).

“ i can get more bed sheets. can’t get another you, babe. you just relax.” maki smiles and pulls you into her embrace.

“it was great, baby. it’s a good mess. i’m so proud you squirted for me. you took it all so well - didn’t even need to say our word.”

“yeah?” you poke your head up more, heart fluttering because the greatest woman alive is proud of you.

“yeah. you don’t even have to speak. let’s just get you cleaned up.”

“can’t feel m’legs.”

“i know.” she lets out a light laugh and just as soon as the sound leaves her lips, you’re cradled into her arms like a bride, head hidden in her breasts. you mumble again, more audibly this time.

“did i help you feel better?”

she pauses and your name stutters out of her lips - fuck, you’re so considerate. taking all of that just so she could feel a bit of stress relief from a usually cruel, uncaring world. with practically no effort, she readjusts you so her eyes meet your teary ones.

“oh, princess. i feel better than ever. you were so amazing. next time you can use me for stress relief instead, okay?”

that stirs you into instantly heating up again as she walks both of your beautiful, naked bodies to the shower.

taglist: @blkladyelle @gojutsu @imperatorkhaleesi @nymphoheretic @sailewhoremoon @mxonigirimiya @tteokdorokimain @niggette @kweenkatsuki @sems-diarie

[anna-hawk]

You tell me you hate me [Yeah, I bet you do]

Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Summary: You and Shane never got along, yet desperate circumstances make you cross an unexpected line.

Warnings/Tags: Post ZA, Canon typical violence, Enemies to lovers, Near-death experience, Hate sex, Bearded Shane

WC 9,7k // Explicit 🔞

Written for the Beardthal Bash 2023

Read it on AO3

“No… Absolutely not.” 

You crossed your arms resolutely as you stared Rick down, the man standing across from you at the large table in the Greene dining room. He closed his eyes and rubbed over them as he sighed your name pleadingly. 

“Listen, I know that you don’t like him-”

“Trust me, it’s very much mutual,” you ground out under your breath with your top lip curling up in distaste. 

“So you know I wouldn’t be askin’ you if I had another option,” Rick continued without missing a beat. 

You gave him a surly look before looking down at the large map lying unfolded on the table. Various circles and other notes were scribbled all over it, highlighting spots with existing or possible food, ammunition and fuel supplies, as well as information on walker hordes and so on. 

“Everyone is gone doin’ something else and… I’d go myself if Judith wasn’t-”

“No, you can’t leave her alone,” you cut in, your voice softening at the mention of the baby. “She needs you.” 

You gritted your teeth as you thought. 

Running across the Greene Farm several months earlier with your little group of four friends, you hadn’t expected to find a lasting shelter and people that would quickly become the next best thing to a family. Especially since things had been tense, to say the least, when you’d arrived. Between Rick and Shane, in particular, since the two leaders of the group hadn't always seen eye to eye. Shane had been less than thrilled at the idea of letting you join, while Rick had tried to convince everyone that having more people around to help would be beneficial to everyone in the long run. Hershel Greene had been the one to put a stop to the argument, reminding Shane that he’d decided to open his doors for them just a couple of months earlier and that he’d be doing the same for you. Shane had left the room in a huff, muttering about more mouths to feed. While you’d understood his concerns, his aggressive behavior had your hackles rising instantly and fighting down the urge to snap back. Still, you’d felt beyond relieved to be invited to stay. Shane had ultimately stopped complaining when your group had proven its worth more than once over the following weeks. 

With you personally, it was an entirely different story. You and Shane never managed to get along. After that first day, the man’s attitude had kept rubbing you the wrong way. Simply put, he was an utter asshole, and you’d made sure he was aware of it any chance you got. Whether he liked it or not. Whenever you were in the same room, discussing chores and missions alongside Hershel, Daryl, Rick and Hunter, one from your original group, you’d end up sniping at each other. Whatever the one said or suggested, the other would find something to complain about. It wasn’t like you couldn’t admit that he came up with clever plans or that he was generally good at keeping everyone safe, it was more his snide remarks and the way he tried to mansplain everything. It made you feel like you needed to take him down a peg. 

A few weeks after your arrival, things changed between Rick and Shane on the day you all found out that Lori was pregnant. Rick had almost lost it at the idea of them having a child in this terrible new world, especially after coming so close to losing Carl, as you’d found out a few days after settling in. Yet, while the close call had clearly done something to Rick and Shane’s friendship, maybe triggering their fights because of how they suddenly viewed things, this news changed their relationship again. You didn’t know what had happened between them after they’d found out, but things had gotten better between the two men. While their relationship had slowly been mending, you sometimes felt like Shane was only able to get along with Rick again because he was fighting with you instead. 

Looking at the map now, you checked the distance separating you from the nearest general store that you knew still had food and other goods, like baby formula, among other things. A pang of sadness ran through you at the reminder that little Judith didn’t have her mother anymore. 

“Can’t I just go on my own?” you mumbled, knowing full well that you couldn’t with how far and dangerous the road was. 

“Told ya she wouldn’t like it.” 

Shane stepped through the dining room doors and joined Rick’s side, his eyes on you and a scowl tugging down his lips, the expression almost hidden in his beard. Almost. This winter had proven to be colder than the previous ones, and both Rick and Shane had let their beards grow out. While Rick’s was lighter and less long, Shane’s beard was thick and matched his curly dark hair. 

“Sure, because you like the idea of spending hours alone with me in a car,” you sneered with a roll of your eyes. Shane’s nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened unhappily at the prospect. “Yeah, thought as much,” you scoffed and returned your attention to Rick, who sighed at the two of you but focused on the map, understanding that the matter was settled, and you would go with Shane. 

“‘kay… You’ll need to take the pickup. Hershel said that the generator’s nearly out of fuel, so are a couple of the cars, and that place…” He pointed at the gas station across from the general store. “Still had some of the bigger gas cans the last time we checked it.” 

Picking up the list with the items you were supposed to find off the table, you quickly scanned it and nodded before turning your back on the men. 

“Meet me at the car in an hour,” you told Shane without a backward glance, it was late morning and the quicker you left, the sooner you’d be back and out of each other’s hair.  

His lack of answer was answer enough, so you left the room to get ready for the trip. 

Back in the room you shared with some of the other women, you dressed according to the situation before you headed to the makeshift armory to pick out a couple of guns and knives. 

“Going out too?” 

You turned to find your friend Nicole standing in the doorway, one of her arms in a sling. She’d nearly gotten bit by a walker the previous week and thankfully only came out with a sprained shoulder. 

You nodded briefly and returned your attention to checking the bullets in the magazine and adding a few when you noticed that it wasn’t full. 

“What’s wrong? I’d have thought you’d be happy to get out of here for a bit.”

You huffed out a small laugh through your nose at her remark. She really knew you well. 

“I’m going with Shane,” you said simply, as you turned around, knowing that it would be enough to explain your mood. 

Sure enough, she grimaced. “Oh.” 

It was no secret to anyone how Shane and you felt about each other. But you were actually the odd one. As with most people in the group, except for Dale, since the older man had a penchant for being nosy, and you didn’t enjoy that about him either, Shane actually got along with Nicole rather well. It was the same for her sister Jasmine, and just as much for Hunter. They’d been as angry as you about Shane’s behavior at the start, but they’d all warmed up to the man quickly enough after a while, and it had gone both ways. Jasmine and Shane had even flirted around for a bit, before Hunter had come through and snatched her away, much to Andrea’s relief, who’d seemed to carry a torch for Shane for a while. Objectively speaking, you’d have been interested as well had Shane not been… Shane. While you shared most of your thoughts with Nicole, you certainly hadn’t admitted to finding Shane attractive. Even less about how good the beard looked on him.

“Yep.” You finished with the guns and put them into their holsters at your hips, along with a knife, while the other one went to an ankle. 

“Shit… I’m sorry. I wish I could go and-” she started, fidgeting with the sling at your situation. 

“Hey, no, no.” You gently grabbed her by her good shoulder and clasped the hand of the injured one as you gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, don’t worry, okay?” 

Nicole sighed and nodded. “Maybe… try not to kill each other?” she smiled feebly, as you let go of her, and she watched you walk past her and to the main hall. 

You snorted loudly. “No promises there.” You briefly turned towards her again and gave her a small smile. “See you later.” 

Your last stop was the small box sitting against the entrance door wall, containing all the car keys. Opening it, you grabbed the key ring for the pickup and made your way outside, glad that the weather was sunny even if the temperature was rather crisp. 

Before the whole hour had gone by, Shane joined you at the car, rifle slung over his shoulder as he stalked towards you with a duffle bag in his other hand. 

“Where are the keys?” he barked, putting his stuff in the bed of the pickup except for the rifle. 

You lifted a fist in front of you and opened the palm, letting the keys dangle from the ring sitting around your finger. 

“I’m driving,” you smirked, snapping your hand closed before Shane could get the idea of taking them from you.

“Ah, Christ,” he groused, throwing you a dirty look before heading towards the passenger side and climbing in with the gun. 

Grinning in satisfaction at his reaction, you took your seat behind the wheel and started the car. You drove down the small dirt road that led to the gate and found Dale checking the perimeter. He picked up his pace to reach the gate and opened it for you. The older man grinned at you before he noticed Shane, his smile turning into an apprehensive expression. You opened the window as you rolled up to him. 

“Rick said you’d be heading out but…” he said as he looked through the window, his voice trailing off. You could still hear the ‘I didn’t know it would be with Shane’ part. “You be careful, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Shane grumbled with a roll of his eyes, while you just gave Dale a tight smile and a nod. 

Nodding in silence, Dale stepped back while you pressed the button to get the window back up and drove through the gate. 

“Meddlin’ ol’ man,” Shane muttered to himself, as he stared out his side of the car. 

You didn’t say anything, agreeing with him for once. 

After driving for a long while in complete silence without meeting any walkers, you turned at an intersection. Shane sat up straighter from the slumped position he'd been in and looked around himself. 

“What are you doin'?” he snapped.

You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “Driving to the store?” you replied with a tone that clearly stated ‘duh’. 

“Exactly. You shouldn’t have turned here. See, this is why I should’ve driven cause-”

“Oh, fuck you, Shane,” you bit back. “FYI, if you’d checked the map, you’d know that this is actually a shortcut. Trust me, this’ll save us at least twenty minutes.” 

“Trust you,” he rumbled under his breath, while his eyes kept checking your surroundings. 

You lifted your eyes heavenwards and sighed, mentally preparing yourself for his explanation of why he did, in fact, not trust you at all. To your surprise, though, he didn’t say anything else and only put his chin in his palm, his elbow on the door as he looked ahead. 

As promised, you arrived at the store earlier than through the original route. Since Shane had accepted your decision without too much complaining, you chose to pay him back by not going ‘I told you so’, like you actually wanted to. Instead, you parked at the gas station and slowly got out of the car, your knife in the hand under the one holding the gun. Throwing a quick glance at Shane, he nodded at you in silent understanding as you both moved to the front of the car and then took each one side of the building to inspect it. You came back to the entrance at about the same time, and Shane pushed the glass door open with a little more noise than necessary to lure any potential walkers out. Shane went in first, while you checked your back before following him inside. 

A gurgling sound came from your left. Two walkers slowly stumbled towards you, one in a more advanced state of decay than the other. You and Shane quickly took them out with your knives before you made your way through the couple of aisles to check for any potential items of interest. After several long minutes, in which you did find a few useful things like batteries and the likes, Shane walked up to you with his own large canvas bag in hand. 

“Let’s get this ball rollin’, beautiful, and get the gas,” Shane suggested, as he leaned against the aisle you were inspecting with his shoulder and jerked his chin towards the entrance door. 

“Don’t call me that,” you huffed in annoyance without looking at him as you put one last item in your bag. 

You heard him scoff. “What, you prefer I call you dick or bitch or somethin’?”

Facing him with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you stared at him with an unimpressed expression. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that. Shane was someone who easily used endearments and pet names, and you knew that it sometimes just slipped out, but considering your relationship, it simply didn’t sound right.

“Well, at least it would be more honest, wouldn’t it? But how about just calling me by my actual name?” 

Shane gave you a long look before he shook his head and laughed through his nose. 

“Y’know, just ‘cause you’re a fuckin’ pain in the ass and I could sometimes…” He made a strangling motion that had you actually snorting because that feeling sure did go both ways. “Don’ change the fact that you are.”

“Are what?” you asked suspiciously. 

“Beautiful.” He shrugged and gave you a quick once over. 

Not having expected that reply at all, your eyebrows lifted high on your forehead. You knew, without a doubt, that he was absolutely honest. Shane wasn’t someone for false pleasantries, and especially not with you. 

“Let’s just go get the gas,” you said after a couple of seconds, as you shook your head in bemusement. 

Shane only nodded and followed you outside to find the gas cans and cylinders. He drove the rear of the pickup closer to where they were stocked to make loading the car easier. There were quite a few cans left, and you felt lucky that your group had stumbled upon this little town on your way to the farm, the place recluse enough that it hadn’t been fully raided yet. Once you were done with the gas, you jogged across the road to the general store and repeated the same process as before to make sure that there was no threat. This time the coast was clear, and you separated again, with each taking a piece of the list to search for what you needed. 

You didn’t know how much time went by, but you did take your time filling the four large bags you had with you. The weather could change any day and the less frequently you needed to leave the farm, the better. Meaning that stocking up as much as possible was the way to go. Seeing how Shane meticulously scanned each aisle, he was thinking the same thing. Coming back to the front of the store, you noticed movement out of your peripheral vision and snapped your attention in that direction. Your eyes widened in terror as you took in what was happening outside. 

“Shane,” you hissed urgently, not daring to look away from the large horde that had slowly snuck up on you and was spreading through town. “Shane,” you said more loudly and finally turned to look at him.

The horde was still far enough away that none of the walkers would have been able to hear you, but you weren’t taking any chances. 

“What?” he snapped, only for his eyebrows to lower in confusion as he saw your expression. 

You saw the second he noticed the horde as his eyes looked past you and they widened like yours had. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, while quickly joining you and checking the scene, the two of you crouching down to be out of sight and peaking around the aisle. 

“There’s no way we can reach the car,” you muttered before throwing a glance at Shane, who was still looking outside, but nodded in agreement. 

You watched the front of the horde surround the pickup as it went past the car and continued ahead of the road. 

“They should just walk past us,” Shane said in a low tone, one hand on his rifle anyway, ready to aim. 

You were about to hum in agreement, when there was a commotion at the gas station and several loud crashes came from where the gas cans and cylinders stood. A few cylinders rolled into the direction of the store, and you cursed yourselves for leaving the empty ones standing next to the pickup instead of putting them away. Some of the walkers must have knocked into them as they passed. To your horror, the noise caused the horde to shift its focus, and some of the walkers began turning towards the store. 

“We gotta move,” you gasped out, as neither of you were able to hide quickly enough and you realized that a handful of walkers had seen you. 

To your surprise, Shane shot forward to the entrance, jumping over the register, instead of following you to the back. About to yell at him for his actions, you saw him locking the doors right before a small dozen of walkers crashed against the windows. 

“That’s only gonna buy us a little time,” he panted, as he ran back to you and you both grabbed the bags to hurry to the other side of the store. 

Sure enough, a few seconds later you could hear thudding sounds coming from the front, as well as cracking glass. If the whole horde pressed against the front side, the glass panels would shatter underneath the pressure, and they’d be able to get in. As the noises got louder and louder, you tried to keep a level head to think. There was an exit at the back, but it was locked, and you wouldn’t have the time to pry the door open before the walkers got in. Or the noise of you trying to open it would lure others around to stop you from leaving. Shane seemed to come to the same conclusion as he stared at the door and then at you. 

“The stairwell’s blocked too,” you sighed, as you leaned against an aisle. 

The store had another floor, with private rooms, you guessed, since the door leading to the stairs had a sign with “Private – No entry” on it. Shane nodded in acknowledgement and leaned back across from you. You felt strangely calm at your imminent death. 

“Can’t believe I’m going to kick the bucket with you,” you chuckled, as you breathed out slowly. 

Shane barked out a sharp laugh. “Could’ve been with Dale,” he smirked, knowing that this was one of the few things you agreed on. 

You snorted loudly and nodded. “Mmh, small mercies and all that, I guess. ” 

Shane hummed, while you leaned your head back and looked at the ceiling. And frowned. Some of the styrofoam tiles had fallen off, showing the metal of the air vents, the cabling… And a large hole to one side, revealing parts of the stairs above. It looked like the wall the stairwell was in had collapsed for whatever reason, and the fallen debris had caused the ceiling to break through. With several of the aisles knocked over and the general state of the store, you hadn’t bothered to check where the rubble lying on the floor had come from. 

“Shane,” you breathed, pointing to the hole in the ceiling. 

His eyes followed the direction your finger pointed at, then he turned to get a better view after realizing what you’d seen. 

“Come on,” he said urgently, as the first crashes of glass started. 

Shane jumped on top of the aisle closest to the opening in the ceiling and reached down a hand for you to pass him the bags. The list fell out of one of your bags and fluttered to the ground. About to grasp Shane’s proffered hand to help you up as well, your eyes picked up one word on the list. The item that you’d been about to get right before you’d seen the horde. 

“Be back in a sec,” you yelled, turning tails and running off, ignoring the sounds of the undead as they walked inside. 

“The fuck are you doing?!” Shane bellowed after you.

You skidded to a halt in the desired aisle, coming face to face with a walker who stumbled in our direction. With a well-placed hit of your knife to his head, it fell to the floor, leaving you to pick up what you’d come for. Turning around to run back to Shane, your path was blocked by three walkers this time, and others coming from the right. Cursing, you turned to the left and then right again, ducking the outstretched hands of some other walkers following you into the aisle you’d just walked in. One of them managed to grab the back of your coat, but before you could turn and do anything about it, another one came in from your other side. The sound of a gun shot rang through the whole store as Shane aimed from his spot on the aisle, taking out one walker after the other as they came at you. This allowed you to jerk free of the loose grip of the now dead walker and dash towards the back of the store, jumping over bodies and avoiding the moving ones, one arm still holding on to a tall container.

“Move, move, move!” Shane barked at you, as you ran up to him at full speed. 

You threw him the container, which he quickly put next to him, before you jumped and caught his hand, the momentum helping him pull you up faster. Shane tugged you upright and shot the walker trying to grab your feet as soon as both of his hands were free again. 

“Get the fuck up there!” he yelled over the noise without looking at you. 

Shane had managed to stash the bags in the opening and you did the same with the container before you grabbed onto the bars that used to hold the large, styrofoam squares to lift you through the ceiling. It took some maneuvering since you had to move over the vents to get to the hole in the wall, but it was doable. After another shot rang out, you got into the best position to aim at the growing throng of walkers gathering at Shane's feet, the aisle rattling precariously now. 

“Move!” you shouted, taking out a walker that was tall and getting too close to Shane for comfort. 

Shane looked up and instantly jumped into action, sliding the rifle through the bars to stop it from falling. He smoothly slipped through the ceiling as well and stared down at the groaning and rasping creatures. 

“Can you reach the stairs or not?” he asked with his eyes still downcast. 

Satisfied that he was safe for now, you put your gun away and started moving further over the vents to reach the stairs. You had to push broken cinder blocks to the side, some falling and taking out other styrofoam squares. It took you a couple of minutes, but you finally managed to squeeze through the opening and land on the stairs. Which led to a closed door at the top. 

“Come on.” You stuck your head back through the hole to look down at Shane, the man working to get the bags over the vents and towards you. 

You took the bags from him one at a time and grabbed his arm to pull him through as well. He leveled you a questioning stare, one eyebrow lifted, as he saw the closed door. Shrugging, you both made your way towards the door. You reached for the handle with a glance at Shane, who slung the rifle into position. The door was thankfully unlocked and opened with a long creak to reveal a small apartment. You stood inside the door for several seconds, waiting in case something moved towards you. Shane gave you a quick nod, so you stepped over the threshold and checked the place. It looked surprisingly untouched, as if the owner had left before anything happened, or they left at the beginning. Considering the damage in the stairwell, something must have exploded close by, yet thankfully left the apartment undamaged. 

“We got water,” you announced with incredulous excitement as you reflexively tested the faucets in the bathroom

“And canned food,” Shane chimed in from the small kitchenette that was sitting to the left of the apartment, while a convertible couch took up the right side with a coffee table and a TV set. 

“It’s like a luxury hotel,” you laughed lightly as you ducked your head to drink straight from the faucet. 

You heard Shane chuckle at your comparison and hum in agreement. While he retrieved the bags, you walked to the long window in the living area and looked outside. 

“Think we’re stuck here for a while,” Shane grumbled after he’d joined you, observing the mass of walkers milling around everywhere. 

You nodded with a sigh. If there hadn’t been the incident with the gas cylinders, the horde would have probably walked through town without stopping and you’d have been safe to leave at some point. You would have had to find a different way home, but you would have managed. Now, who knew how long it would take for enough walkers to wander off for you to leave without being at too much of a risk?

“Jackpot,” Shane suddenly exclaimed, having you remove your attention from the window. 

You turned to find him holding a camping stove. It wasn’t the safest object to use indoors, but it was perfect to heat some of the cans Shane had found in the pantry. Despite the cold outside and the sun setting, you opened the window a crack to let some fresh air in and evacuate most of the carbon monoxide those kinds of stoves could produce. Shane nodded approvingly at that and turned it on after getting a couple of cans and plates. You’d found a large amount of canned food downstairs, but chose to leave the contents of the bags for the farm for now. Shane also found a few packs of tall candles and lit enough of them once the sun had gone down completely for you to walk through the place comfortably. You ate in silence while you also heated a large bucket of water before you checked the place for blankets and potential toiletries. While you did that, Shane took the hot water into the bathroom to clean up a bit. He came back wearing his jeans and a thick sweater that he got from the store. Before taking his place in the bathroom, your eyes caught onto his damp hair and beard, and the way the sweater hugged his broad shoulders and trim waist. Looking away and shaking your head, you closed the door while Shane looked through the items you’d both taken and reorganized them in the bags to make them easier to carry. With a pile of blankets in hand and feeling much better after getting to take the day’s filth off and dressing into fresh clothes as well, you found Shane sitting on the couch and staring down at the container you’d run back for. 

“You risked your life for baby formula,” he stated, his voice giving nothing away, the fire of the candle creating flickering lights on his profile. 

“We’re nearly out and Judith still needs it,” you shrugged, busying yourself with unfolding the blankets. 

“Do you ever think before you act?” Shane growled at how you dismissed his words. 

“What?” you ground out, facing him again. You must have heard him wrong, right? 

“What’s the point of pullin’ a stunt like that if it gets you killed?” 

“It didn’t, did it, though?”

“Because I was there to cover your sorry ass.”

You threw your hands in the air and sighed explosively. 

“Ugh, this is why I don’t like teaming up with you. You always complain about things that might have happened.” 

“No, what you don’t like it that I’m the only one remindin’ you that your actions can have fuckin’ consequences for you or even for all of us. You – don't – think. You just do your thing and expect us to go with it.” 

“You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, Shane. Bossing everyone around and just deciding for everyone what’s best.” You strode up to him and stared him down. 

He rose to his feet and met your hard gaze head on. 

“Yeah, but I let people know before I do somethin’. But that’s what you don’t like, right? You're too good, too clever to bother listenin’ to others, let alone me.”

“Only because you treat me like I’m some fucking idiot little girl. I’ve gone through just as much shit as you before we got to the farm, but you act like I know shit…”

“No, no, no, I don’t treat you like some fuckin’ idiot little girl. If anythin’, I treat you like a fuckin’ idiot, period. Woman or not, I don’t give a shit. You’re a fuckin’ piece of work, is what you are. You’re so fuckin’ hot headed and stubborn, you just always expect whatever I say to be some kinda bullshit.” 

You bared your teeth at him. “Cause you keep underestimating me. No matter what I say or do, you never trust me from the start… Fuck!” you spat, your temper flaring white-hot. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

Shane watched you intently as you ranted at him, his mouth pulling up into a lopsided smirk.

“Yeah… but you wanna know what pisses you off even more about all this?” Shane asked, his voice lowering as he leaned towards you, his head tilting to one side. 

“Oh, please, do enlighten me,” you scoffed with sarcasm dripping all over your words, but didn’t pull your head away. 

“No matter how much you might hate me… you still wanna fuck me.”

“What?!” you choked on your laugh as you stared at him incredulously. What the hell?

“Come on, you don’t think I noticed, but I see the way you look at me.” He lifted an eyebrow with his smirk still in place. 

“And how exactly do I look at you, pray tell?” you snorted, your mouth pulling up in amusement despite yourself. That wasn’t how you had expected the argument to go. 

Shane nodded his head from one side to the other as if he were thinking about his answer. 

“Definitely like you wanna fight me… but preferably in a bed,” he leered, to which you rolled your eyes with another snort. 

“Hm, you sound awfully sure of yourself,” you humored him with a chuckle, resisting the desire to cross your arms, not wanting to look defensive. 

Shane’s eyes slowly roved over your whole body. Then he moved just slightly closer until your faces were only a few inches apart. 

“Well, haven’t heard you denyin’ it even once, have I?” he rumbled in a low voice. 

You held his gaze defiantly but remained silent as your heartbeat picked up speed. 

“I’m sure you thought of a couple o’ ways to… settle our disagreements,” Shane continued, grinning knowingly. That smug bastard. 

“Sure,” you shrugged. “But I’m not sure you’d like some of the ideas I had,” you hedged, your tone light but your gaze between cutting and sultry. 

Shane laughed under his breath. 

“Ah, come on, Darlin’. Tell me what got your pussy all wet while thinkin' o’ me?”

Heat slowly spread through your face and body at his crass words and direct approach. 

“Did you think ‘bout ridin’ my face to shut me up?”

You managed to school your expression into being neutrally entertained, since Shane had hit dead center with this one. Hearing him speak your most private fantasies out loud had you breathing faster. You’d thought about riding that stupidly beautiful mouth and nose a few times, for sure, but you weren't going to admit to that. 

“Or maybe you’d be so good at suckin’ my cock with that pretty mouth of yours that I'd stop talkin'.”

Smirking and shaking your head, you inclined your head to one side. “To me, it rather sounds like you thought about it quite a bit.” You’d meant for it to come out as a taunt, but your voice came out more breathy, Shane’s words getting to you. 

Shane drew his tongue over the edge of his upper teeth. “Yeah… Maybe I have,” he replied slowly.

You both stood like that, eyes locked and breathing fast, as if in a sort of stand-off; one waiting for the other to move or say something. To give in. You didn't know how long you stood like that, the anticipation rising until it was practically unbearable. You wanted Shane, you could admit it to yourself, but to him? And what about Shane? Despite what he’d said, did he really—

Then Shane’s eyes fell to your mouth. 

As if that look triggered everything into action, you were suddenly on each other, kissing and biting at each other’s mouths. You wouldn’t be able to know who moved first, but something between you had finally snapped with that one look. Hands fisted in shirts and hair or flew over chests and asses, your bodies in constant movement as every moment of conflict between the two of you poured out in that instant. You each fought for dominance, but neither was willing to give in, and it didn’t really matter anyway. It certainly didn’t matter to you. You only needed more of this. It felt incredibly liberating to push against Shane in that way and have him pushing back with just as much strength; just the feeling of his beard scraping against your mouth and chin had your nerve endings on fire. Both sets of hands simultaneously went to the buttons of each pair of jeans, fingers grappling to get them open as fast as possible before you’d even removed your sweaters. Your lips never stopped their hungry and vicious exploration of each other’s mouths as you both shimmied out of your jeans and underwear before stepping out of them. You took the opportunity of Shane getting a foot caught in one pant leg to push him down on the couch. He’d unfolded it into a bed while you’d been in the bathroom, meaning that he had to brace himself with his hands behind himself so he wouldn’t fall flat on his back. With a smirk, you straddled his lap and crushed your mouth into his again. Shane growled and caught you without missing a beat as he sat up and pulled you further down. His hands squeezed your ass as soon as you could feel his hard dick pressing into your crotch. Slightly rocking your hips and sliding yourself over his length – of course that asshole had to have a dick as big as his ego – your hands went to the bottom of his sweater and pulled it up and off, your lips parting for a brief second. A moment later, Shane did the same with your top. Except not entirely. Instead of pulling it off as you lifted your arms, Shane twisted the fabric around your wrists into a sort of bind, stopping you from freeing your hands. He kept you like that, your hands held behind your head before he tugged them back a bit more, forcing you to arch your back, which pushed your chest out. You were now fully naked and sitting astride Shane, but barely able to move. The various candles around you lit up his face and his wolfish grin right before he bent his head towards your breasts. You groaned as he wrapped his lips around one nipple and sucked on it hard. He bit and sucked, nibbled and pinched at each of them, his free hand playing with the one his mouth wasn’t focused on and drawing moans and small cries out of you. 

As much as you enjoyed his mouth and beard on your breasts, you refused to stay bound and unable to move. While Shane was leaving marks all over your chest, you wiggled and twisted your wrists until you were able to slip one hand free. Obviously, had it been a serious situation, you doubted that you’d have been able to get out of Shane’s hold that easily. Between his distraction and the loose fabric of the sweater, however, you soon had a hand between your legs and on his dick. Shane jerked in your hold, his head lifting to your face while he let go of your other hand. Planting your knees more firmly on the bed and putting your weight forward, you pressed at his shoulders with both hands this time, until he fell onto his back. 

“Got some ideas?” he smirked, his tongue dancing over his top lip. 

“Didn’t you say something about shutting you up?” you asked conversationally, as you pressed a biting kiss to his mouth, before you swiftly moved up his body until your knees were at each side of his head.

The way Shane’s eyes lit up as he caught the meaning of your words had your pulse racing in your chest and heat pooling in your center. He apparently had really thought about this scenario before as well. His arms wrapped around your thighs as you lowered yourself over his face. With parted lips, you looked down as you slid your folds over his lips and up over his nose. That ridiculously gorgeous nose. Maybe broad and faintly crooked, but this combined with the slope of it was what made it perfect for exactly what you were doing. It felt even better than what you’d pictured while getting yourself off. Between the physical stimulation and the view, you weren’t surprised to find his nose and mouth already coated in your juices. 

“You're so much easier to be around when your mouth's busy with something else,” you teased, as you repeated the motion with relish. 

Shane shot you a look that had you bracing yourself for an attack, expecting him to hold you still as he ate you out harshly, but he took you by surprise once again. He did hold you in place, but his tongue oh so slowly slid through your lips, parting them, running around them, teasing your entrance before dragging the tip up to your clit with the faintest of touches. With the addition of his beard that he was rubbing maddeningly over your sensitive skin, this actually drove you wilder than if he’d gone fast and hard. Especially, since his eyes never left yours, him watching you watching him. As he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked on it with intent for the first time, he stared at you avidly, clearly getting off on the way your mouth opened further on a long cry of pleasure as you flung your head back in bliss. Leaning your head forward again, you fisted a hand in his hair and pulled his head back to rock your hips into his face harder. 

“Fuck yes, there we go, just like that,” you moaned, picking up speed as you rode his face for real this time when two of his fingers pushed inside you. 

The sensations were incredible as you moved up over his mouth and back down onto his thick fingers, the beard meeting them in the middle. But you needed to wipe that smug look off his face anyway, even as you felt the first signs of your release nearing.

“Mmh… I already liked you better with a beard ‘cause I don’t have to see half your stupid face, but this is a much better way to do it. Look how pretty you are now with my pussy hiding your face,” you taunted right after Shane managed to get another long moan out of you.

As expected, Shane glowered at you, which had you grinning in satisfaction. Except that you cried out in part shock and part outrage a few seconds later as Shane pressed the first knuckle of his thumb inside your ass, the finger wet with your essence. 

“You fucking asshole.” You slapped the top of his head, while Shane laughed darkly against your thigh, before he caught your wrist as you came back for more.

“More like your asshole, Darlin’,” he sneered before continuing. “Thought you’d enjoy it with how you always seem to have a stick up your ass.” 

Growling at him, you tugged at the arm he was holding, intending to hit him again, but Shane held strong this time, and instead, he used his shoulders to unsettle you and flip you onto your back next to him. You landed with a gasp and barely had the time to see him slipping between your legs. Since your mouth was still partly open from your hard breathing, it took Shane no effort to press two fingers between your lips and press them against your tongue. 

“Suck,” he ordered, his eyes dark, as he leaned over you, his body pressing yours down. 

You had half a mind to refuse, but it was the fact that you were sure that he was expecting that from you that had you doing as told. The flavor bursting on your tongue had you realizing that those fingers were the ones that had been inside you just a few moments ago. Keeping eye contact, you moaned around Shane’s fingers as you sucked and pulled at them, and felt satisfied by the answering groan you got in return. 

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Shane cried out a second later, as he pulled his fingers back, which you’d just bitten.

You grinned. You never said that you’d do what he wanted all the way. 

Growling and twisting his fingers in your hair, Shane kissed you harshly, his tongue fighting yours as he moved on his knees to shift his hips closer to yours. Feeling him reaching between your legs to guide himself inside you, you suddenly pushed at him. 

“Wait, wait… Not like that,” you breathed quickly. “Condoms. We should,” you trailed off at Shane’s nod of agreement, which you felt glad about because, as much as you hated to break the flow, there was no way that you were taking any chances. 

“Hold on.” Shane got off the couch and quickly rifled through one of the grocery bags. 

You watched him pull out a foil package and tear it open before he fitted the condom over his cock and knelt back between your parted legs. The way he touched you then and stared down at you irritated you. It wasn’t enough. It was too slow, too… You needed more of what was happening before.

You slapped him, the smack resounding in the small apartment. 

“Don’t you dare go soft on me now, Walsh,” you hissed. 

The slap had barely gotten Shane’s face to move, but it had the desired effect. His eyes flashed in warning, which only had you grinning devilishly, before he snarled and one of his hands went to your neck. The fingers curled around your throat, squeezing just that tiny bit that had you gasping in a sharp breath. 

“You never know went to fuckin’ stop,” he rasped viciously. 

Before you could reply, Shane pushed his hips forward and breached your entrance. He slid in with a long thrust, not bothering to give you any time to adjust to the sudden overwhelming feeling of being so full before he was pounding you into the bed. Your fingers scrabbled to get a hold on his shoulders as you screamed, while Shane slid his arms under your knees to pull your legs further apart and fold you almost in two. 

It felt amazing. Shane fucked you with brute force, his hips slapping against your ass, but the way he was staring down at you, focused on your expression, showed that he wasn’t only aiming for his own release. 

“That what you wanted, Sweetheart? Huh? Me fuckin’ that pretty pussy hard?” he whispered roughly against your lips, his beard tickling your skin. 

You took hold of his face and kissed him deeply in reply, moaning into his mouth with his every thrust. 

“Make me scream, Shane,” you half ordered and half begged, your voice low with want. “Do it.” 

With lust sparking inside his eyes, Shane reared back briefly only to throw your legs over his shoulders, and actually fold you in two this time as he picked up his earlier pace. A loud scream escaped you at the first plunge back inside you, followed by another and another. With his hands now free, one of Shane’s hands returned to your throat, the touch sending shivers down your spine as he fucked you without ever missing a beat, his eyes fixed on yours. You came completely undone a few moments later, the sheer force and intensity of Shane’s thrusts throwing you over the edge and into an orgasm that had you crying out as you could only take what Shane was giving you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Shane chanted as you tightened some more around him, his movements losing their rhythm for a moment. “So fuckin’ gorgeous like this, fuck!” 

You had your eyes shut as the wave of bliss ran over you, but you forced them open when you felt Shane start to shudder on top of you. You needed to see him come, just like he had wanted to see you. Meeting his gaze, which never seemed to have left your face, you slid your legs from his shoulders and brought them to his still moving hips, and squeezed. 

Shane came with a long hiss of pleasure, his eyes fighting to stay open as you watched each other. 

You remained unmoving as you panted and stared at each other, Shane braced on top of you with his forearms at your shoulders while your hands held on to his biceps. Now that the heat of the moment had gone, you began to feel how cold it was getting in the room. 

After a few more silent seconds, Shane got up without a word and turned away. Exhaling a small breath at the complete change in mood, you rolled off the bed to vanish into the bathroom, picking up your clothes in passing. You used some of the now tepid water remaining from earlier to clean up and caught a glimpse of your messy and fucked out appearance in the mirror. 

“What now?” you muttered to yourself as you stared at your reflection and dressed quickly. 

You shook your head decisively a second later. No, this didn't change anything. It was just sex, nothing more. It had been good, more than good, but that was it. You weren't suddenly going to get along only because you'd fucked once. Shane had to be thinking the same, of that you were certain. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, you found Shane, fully dressed once more, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over his rifle as he checked it on the coffee table by the light of a couple of candles. He'd also made the bed, and you headed for the side closest to the wall. Shane didn't look up, but it didn’t seem like he was trying to avoid you. You felt a certain measure of relief at that. No awkwardness. Good. 

With how soon it got dark in winter, you didn't know how late it was exactly, but you felt suddenly kind of exhausted. You wrapped the covers around yourself to stave off the cold, and turned on your side to face the wall, your eyes staring ahead for a moment before you closed them. 

“For what it’s worth,” Shane started after several minutes of silence. “I do trust you.”

Your eyes opened at that, landing on the wall again as you stayed where you were. 

“It’s just-” he continued, and you snorted this time, turning on your back to find him facing towards you and not the rifle anymore. You raised an eyebrow; of course there was a but. “You tend to let your emotions get the best of you… Like today, you…” he sighed, and you decided to wait him out before biting back. “Listen, I get it, okay? What you did for Judith? You know I’d do anythin’ for her ‘n Carl. But… I quickly realized that, in this world, you gotta make hard decisions in order to survive. Take a step back from your feelings, analyze, and then act… I know you think I’m an asshole about it, but it’s helped us survive through a lot of bad shit, cause people don’ play by the previous rules anymore,” he paused for a second as he stared at you. “But really? Most of all, all I’m askin’ you is that you talk to me before you run off like you did. Askin’ me to cover you or somethin’, y’know? Warn me.”

Rolling onto your side to face Shane, you rose on an elbow and held your head up with one hand. 

“You’re right,” you admitted after a beat of silence. You were aware that you let your emotions dictate a lot of your decisions, and that it wasn’t always a clever thing. As he’d said, in this world, things were different. Especially playing it solo like you’d done earlier. Now that things had calmed down, you knew that you could have died in the store had Shane not been as quick to react has he had. “Next time I’ll give you a heads-up.”

Shane hummed in satisfaction, and you grinned. 

“But,” you intoned, and Shane huffed out a snort. “As much as I get what you mean, sometimes you can’t ignore your gut feeling. When you just know that something’s up, that the split second decision you’ll make is what’s going to mean either life or death. Sometimes you don’t have the time to analyze anything.”

Shane watched you thoughtfully but nodded in agreement. 

“Look at us, agreeing on somethin’,” he chuckled as he put the rifle down next to the bed and got up. 

“Don’t get used to it,” you smirked up at him. “It’s not because we fucked once that we’re not going to fight anymore.” 

Shane barked out a loud laugh. “I wasn’t expectin’ anything less. The opposite would’ve surprised me more.”

Laughing as well, you watched Shane head into the bathroom and fell to your back again, your eyes closing. You briefly woke to the candles being extinguished and the bed dipping as Shane got in, but you only shifted under the covers and rolled to your other side. 

The next time you woke, late morning light was shining through the apartment window. Shane was standing next to it and looking outside. Stretching as you got out of bed, you quickly headed to the bathroom to take care of morning business before you joined Shane. 

“What’s the situation?” you asked as you looked outside as well and found far fewer walkers stumbling around in the parking lot. 

“This side looks okay, but we don’t know how it looks where the car is,” Shane grumbled. “This floor's not that high, but it’s gonna be a bit of a pain to get outta here if we can’t go back the other way.”

Your mouth twisted in thought, and you were about to suggest that you should go check over the vent, when something crackled with static inside your coat that was lying on a nearby chair. Shane and you stared at each other with wide eyes before you launched yourself at the coat, scrambling to find the walkie-talkie you always carried in case you needed to split up. Shane must have switched his off, but you’d completely forgotten that you’d let yours on. And if it wasn’t Shane talking through it, then it was someone from the farm, and they were close by. 

“Hey … or Shane? Do … guys copy? Over. ”

It was Jasmine’s voice. With a relieved glance in Shane’s direction, you finally got the device out and pressed the talk button. 

“Hey, Jas, we’re right here. Over” 

“Oh, thank God. We were so worried when we got home and you hadn’t come back. Where exactly are you? There are a lot of walkers around here. Over. ”

“We ran into a horde and now we’re stuck on the second floor of the store. The main access’s blocked. If you drive to the parking lot at the back of the store, we’ll be able to see you. Over.” You walked back to the window and looked outside. 

“Okay, we’ll be there soon. Over. ”

“Let’s make a rope with the sheets and get the bags down first,” Shane suggested as he opened the window to the cold winter air. 

Nodding, you both quickly put on your shoes and remaining clothes and each took a sheet to knot it with another. You felt the sudden need to laugh at the moment, feeling like you were in a bad movie and trying to escape prison. 

Shane was just done with the makeshift ropes when you heard an engine getting closer and looked through the window to see a blue pickup driving up to the store. You waved at Jasmine, who was accompanied by Hunter. A few walkers came closer as Hunter drove the back of the pickup towards the building, but Jasmine opened her side of the car and used her knife to silently kill them. Hunter jumped out of his side and you saw Jasmine slipping back into the car and into the driver’s seat as her boyfriend lifted himself into the bed of the pickup to receive the first bag of groceries. You made quick work, only stopping a couple of times to get rid of a few more walkers. With the last bag down, Hunter untied the rope so you could get down yourselves. Shane had wrapped the sheets around a long and thick rod of iron that he’d found in the debris in the corridor. It was longer than the width of the window so you could slide down the rope without fearing that it would slip free. Shane let you go first. As Shane had said, the floor wasn’t high and it took little effort to get into the pickup. Shane followed you quickly, and Hunter hit the roof of the car to indicate for Jasmine to drive. She drove towards the other side of the store and towards your own pickup. You jumped out at the side of the gas station and watched Hunter join Jasmine again before they were off and honking to get the walkers’ attention. It worked as intended, and soon enough you were able to run towards your car and climb inside. 

“Did you use the shortcut? Over,” you asked through the walkie-talkie, while Shane put the key in the ignition and started the car. 

“No, we’re driving east for now. You were talking about a horde earlier and I think that’s what we saw on the shortcut so we backtracked. Over,” Hunter explained, as Shane swerved through the walkers to join your two friends and follow behind them. 

“Okay, east it is. See you at home. Over and out.”

It took you an extra hour to get back to the farm, but you made sure that you wouldn’t lead any walkers back with you. Nicole, who was standing on the porch steps and watching you pull up, drew you into a bear hug as soon as you were out of the car. You smiled into the side of her neck as you squeezed her back. 

The rest of your family came out of the large house as well. Judith was sitting on her father’s hip and sucking on a pacifier while Carl came running towards Shane. 

“Hey, baby girl,” Shane cooed, as he approached father and daughter, kissing her tiny head after he’d hugged Carl and ruffled his hair. 

“You guys okay?” Rick asked, scanning the both of you for injuries. 

“Yeah, we’re good, don’t worry,” Shane said, as he walked up the steps and started explaining what had happened to the people following him. 

“And here I thought that you’d finally killed each other,” Nicole said, laughing at her joke as you began walking up the porch steps with her.

You smiled and hummed, faking a serious look. “It was a near miss,” you grinned as you entered the crowded kitchen.

Shane was drinking down a tall glass of water, and your eyes met over the glass. 

“What was a near miss?” Maggie asked from her perch on a stool. 

“Before they left, I was joking about them trying to not kill each other and I thought that they might have failed when they didn’t come back,” Nicole explained with a small chuckle and got an amused snort from everyone. 

“Yeah,” Shane laughed under his breath. “Sure was a near miss.” 

You looked at each other for a second, faces impassive, but you were both clearly thinking about the same thing. Then the moment passed, and Shane continued the story like nothing ever happened.

After all, it had only been a one-time thing…

[ficbrish]

Threadbare

[AO3 Link]

[Here we go! @flufftober Spring Edition 2024! Thank you for the prompt 🥰 March 11th - New Beginnings]

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

tw/cw: Sexual content, blood, blood drinking, past abuse, cptsd, choking kink, interrupted masturbation, alcohol, light hurt/comfort

Late in Act III, Astarion finds Vistri cuddling with his old shirt alone in their rooms at the Elfsong.

LATE ACT III SPOILERS!

“...And gave him a taste of a flaming fist! ” Karlach howled, leading the whole tavern in laughter.

Other mugs echoed her pounding on the bar with a dull, banging rhythm. Little golden drops of mead spilled over the tops, dripping down the glasses and mixing with condensation.

Astarion personally never tired of this story of hers. A Flaming Fist had been inappropriately whistling at Shadowheart, and Karlach responded by knocking the man flat on his ass in one swing. While Astarion smiled quietly and nostalgically at her recollection of those events, the other tavern patrons, who’d never heard it before, were an eager and raucous audience.

Shadowheart’s face turned Karlach’s color. Shouting over the Elfsong’s laughter, she protested, “I could have handled it myself. Really!”

Wyll threw an arm over her shoulder, “Come, come, Shadowheart. Was it not a bit satisfying for such a gallant devil to step in and exact your revenge?”

A huge smile spread over her face, “Galant devil could describe any of us.”

Astarion raised his glass, “Cheers!”

Wyll met his delicate wine glass with his own burly mug of mead. Unprepared for how much enthusiasm Wyll would use, Astarion ended up with red all down his front. A collective groan sounded along with wild laughter.

“It’s all right,” he assured Wyll, whose eyes were apologizing faster than his mouth could move.

“Astarion, I’m so—”

Funny thing, how such a sight affected him. Astarion wasn’t used to apologies. Or friendships for that matter. Wyll’s genuine sorrow over such a small inconvenience was like a hearty meal to a starving soul. He couldn’t let the apology continue. It was too painful to witness.

“No, no! It’s all right,” Astarion insisted, “Please don’t put yourself out. I’ll just go change. This tunic is hideous anyways.”

It wasn’t. It was a pretty blue thing with silver thread. But there was a prettier blue thing with silver scales waiting for him upstairs in their rooms, one he was eager to get back to.

Vistri was having a lie down. She wasn’t sick, just exhausted. Her body was fine, but her mind was ragged. Astarion was only reluctantly dragged from her side through her stubborn, repeated insistence to be left alone for a little while. He had the sense she’d been saying it more for his sake than hers. She didn’t want to be the reason why he didn’t spend time with the others.

“You say no one else has my heart, but they do!” she’d said, “You do!”

He’d frowned at the way she used his own words against him. Especially so inaccurately. Astarion was right, there was no one else like her. He’d stand by that forever.

“That’s not—!”

“Yes, it is! Go down there and have fun. Let them earn your trust as I have.”

Raising his brow, he left her with one last tease, “Certainly not in the same way you have?”

His charm wasn’t enough this time. He was dismissed.

Let the others in��.

Well, he’d gone down with the others, had a bit of fun, and now he was covered in wine. He had the perfect excuse to go back up and check on her. The fretting in his stomach turned into excitement. 

So much had changed in so little time, after two centuries of endless, torturous consistency, spilled wine was now just spilled wine. He would just change his clothes, maybe wash up a bit, and there would be more waiting for him to wear. Choices.

Sewing was a skill Cazador forced on all his spawn. Keeping them all as cheaply as possible, they had to make every article of clothing last. No matter the care, or the tending, their clothes always ended up degrading into rags and tatters. Astarion was almost jealous of the way his outfits got to age and die. They had a temporal escape, while his torture was bound to be endless.

It also had the side benefit of shame. Sewing was for servants. It reminded the spawn of who they were.

Now that was all over. Cazador was gone. Ended by his hand.

And he had so many new clothes.

He had choices. How bizarre! Astarion was sure he’d forgotten how to make them.

And then he chose her.

A smile brewed on his face just at the mention of her in his thoughts. He took to the steps three at a time, surely looking absolutely ridiculous. He didn’t remember much from his life before undeath, but the more time he spent away from Cazador, the more he realized how much his desire to avoid appearing foolish was part of the weight of those old chains. If he tripped and fell on his face, he would probably laugh from the rebellious feeling of it.

The tadpoles brought him the sun and then Vistri. She helped him find love, true freedom, and then true love.

He decided looking a fool was worth it the moment he stepped through the door. His eyes found her immediately on one of the sofas by the fireplace. The dancing reflections of the flames rolled over the silver scales on her brow in waves. He could see it from the door. She was lying down; her eyes opened at the sound of his entrance.

She seemed a little shocked, “Astarion!”

“Hello, dear!” he greeted with open arms and a wide smile. It felt like ages since they’d been in the same space.

Although, reading her expression, he was a little worried she wasn’t as happy to see him.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, “Are the others—?”

“Just me,” he stated, then dramatically drew attention to his ruined shirtfront, “I’ve been decorated with libations! I need to freshen up. Is that all right?”

“Of course it’s all right! Don’t be silly.”

Vistri was a sorcerer; she was used to her thoughts becoming reality. But her mind was reeling from his sudden appearance. Like he’d stepped from her thoughts, but with an entirely different attitude. The Astarion in front of her was all lightness and soft good-humor. The one in her head was a whole other, harder side of his.

Their storage trunk was near the fireplace as well, by the other sofa. As Astarion walked towards her to rifle through it, she slowly removed her hand from between her legs, careful not to let the movement show under the blanket, which wasn’t even a blanket, but his old shirt.

Gods! It couldn’t be more embarrassing.

He came over to her first, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on her damp forehead. Astarion looked at her curiously, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Vistri nodded, humming a high-pitched, “Mmmm-hmmm.”

His brow was all questioningly screwed up, but he decided to drop it, and started unbuttoning his tunic.

Vistri subtly wiped her fingers on her thigh, then sat up, “Here, let me help you.”

“I’ve got it love,” he insisted, “You just lie down. Say… Why aren’t you in our bed?”

The way she smiled and repeated the words, “Our bed,” in that bright tone allayed all Astarion’s fears in an undead heartbeat. He was welcome. She was just as happy to see him as he was her. Poor love was just worn out.

He sighed and bent back down to kiss her. Her pulse pounded, he could feel it rush at the brushing of his lips. A rumble brewed in his middle and his fangs ached. She gave a little moan without meaning to, losing herself in the power of his affection.

“Don’t get too excited,” he teased, “I’m only here for a moment.”

“Why only a moment?” she asked genuinely.

With a smile, he tucked her braid behind her ear, “Didn’t you want to be alone?”

Her eyes were wide, like a begging dog, “I can be alone with you here.”

Astarion froze. He swallowed heavily, then giggled, “What a silly idea! Doesn’t that defy the whole concept of being alone?”

She pouted, and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he scoffed, sitting down next to her, “I can be—Hang on!”

Upon reaching for her hand, he finally noticed her blanket. Her expression filled with panic at his recognition, and too late, she tried to hide it.

He chuckled with sinister delight, “Why, is this my—?”

“No!” she stubbornly refused.

“Bloody liar! ” he laughed.

“It’s not!”

Vistri was cuddled up with his old shirt. She must’ve taken it out of the trunk and sat down nearby.

“That’s why you’re not in bed! You came over here for my shirt!”

Blushing deeply, Vistri was struggling to accept her fate. She couldn’t get out of talking about her feelings now. Eventually, she admitted, “...I did.”

His query was meant to tease, but there was something… raw and needy in his voice that made it something entirely different, “You were…”

She was nuzzling his old rags like they were something precious. Intentionally. Used her alone time to fish it out of the stuffed trunk, and secretly treasure it. While he was just downstairs in the tavern, missing her, she was up here longing for him.

“You were holding onto my old shirt?”

Vistri rolled her eyes and groaned. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed.

Astarion made a “tsk” sound and smirked, “Aw, don’t reject it now, darling. My poor shirt! You’ll hurt its feelings.”

“No! I don’t want that!” she whined, as if that were something possible to really do.

He held it away from her reaching grasp, “Nuh, uh! Apologize first.”

“Astarion!”

“That’s my name, dear. Not an apology.”

Vistri frowned. Astarion leaned in and kissed it into a smile.

“I hate you!” she giggled, playfully pushing him off her.

“I hate you too,” he said lovingly, “Now! Walk me through the process of deciding to take out my shirt. Was this before or after you shooed me away?”

“Must I?”

Savoring the look on her face, he nodded, “You must, dearest.”

She bit her lip, “Okay. Ugh. Fine. You left and I…”

“You what?”

“I missed you! ”

“Hah!” he boasted.

“Arsehole!”

“An arsehole you love to kiss,” he grinned, “Shall I call you butt breath?”

“No!” she protested, laughing, “Please no!”

“Here,” Astarion handed her his old shirt, “Hold this.”

He stood and finished undoing his tunic, then threw off the soiled shirt underneath. Bare-chested, he climbed over to her side.

“Scoot over,” he demanded.

“There’s no room!” she laughed.

He pulled her tight once his body was flush against hers, “We’ll make it work.”

Vistri felt dizzy. Like she was flying.

“Okay.”

Not letting it go, Astarion asked, “So you missed me, and then what happened?”

With his fingers absently drawing figures on her waist, Vistri had no fight left. Sighing, she continued to expose herself, “I started thinking about… When we met, and I first saw you.”

“How you adored me instantly?”

“No, actually. How much I despised you. Like really, really just wanted to… shake you.”

“That’s so romantic.”

She chuckled, “I’m sorry. It’s horrible, but it’s true. But then… I also…” She shifted so they were chest to chest, and she could look at his face as she spoke. Without thinking, her nose nuzzled his as she admitted, “I really liked you.”

He sort of snorted and sighed and called out in the same second, like a baby that didn’t know if it was hungry or tired or perfectly content. That didn’t know whether to coo or cry.

“You did?” he asked, heart on his tongue.

Nodding, Vistri admitted it all, “I think I’ve come to learn… It wasn’t you I was mad at, but everyone else you reminded me of. And part of me knew that, and the unfairness of it made me hate myself more.”

“Wanna know a secret?”

“What?” she chuckled.

“I hated myself and liked you too.”

Grinning, she humorously exclaimed, “And that’s why we had sex!”

Astarion gave a hearty laugh. It was rich and deep, and sounded like relief from a long-ago burden.

Instead of joining his mirth, Vistri’s expression grew more serious, “I don’t believe there’s a single thing I could hate about you. Not now that I know you.”

“Not a single thing?”

“Impossible.”

He caressed the length of her ear, gentle like a caretaker, then kissed her cheek.

“So what was that you were saying, about thinking of how much you hated me when we first met?” he whispered, stroking the side of her face with the tip of his nose.

“I didn’t hate you, I was falling in love. That’s what I was thinking of. Falling in love.”

“With me?”

She laughed, “Who else?”

He kissed her forehead, waiting with bated breath for her to continue.

She breathed deeply, leaning into his kiss, “I wanted to run down and get you, but we can’t be together all the time.”

“Who says?”

Chuckling, she shook her head, “We can’t!”

“And the next best thing was my shirt?”

“The one I met you in.”

He’d almost thrown it out. Now that he had new clothes, he no longer needed Cazador’s old rags.

But he couldn’t. And he was glad he didn’t.

“And then you just decided to relax here? And daydream about me?”

“Uh…” she said way too awkwardly for him to just accept.

Brow raised, Astarion repeated, “‘Uh? ’”

“It’s just so incredibly lame!” Vistri looked horrified.

“Then I have to hear it!” he giggled, thrilled to have her in this little trap she set up herself.

“I was… Oh gods! ” she rolled her eyes, “Can I just… tadpoles?”

He laughed, “It’s so embarrassing you can’t speak it?”

“Yes.”

Laughing even harder, he agreed. He put his forehead to hers even though they didn’t need touch for brainworm-to-brainworm communication. Relaxing into his embrace, she let her memory play out through his senses.

Vistri was thinking of him, and Astarion found beauty in himself he could only see through her eyes. Like freedom, it was overwhelming. A goodness he could drown in. That she could drown in. He was her, and she was him.

Knots in her stomach, tied like strings of fate, spelling his name in her blood.

Rushing, pounding, flowing. Her heart.

Stillness. Serenity. Bliss.

After lying down on the couch, she held his shirt to her face and breathed into it. Even washed, it smelled like him. Like his heat and his lusts and his heavy soul. She kissed its loose threads like it was his chest, where his heart was. Imagined his arms around her like they were now.

Astarion felt Vistri loving him; fell into her blurred line of desire and devotion. He could taste it on her tongue as he kissed her now and felt her love him through that too. Past and present blended, and they shared all of it like one being. In her memory, her hand traveled between her legs at the thought of his laughing face. Then there was the sincerity in his eyes as they both kneeled over his grave. I want you, spilling out of his lips. She was touching herself, thinking of him, adoring him, with the shirt she’d met him in clutched to her throat. As they lived through it together on the same sofa, he kissed her again and again.

She didn’t even mean to break the connection, but his mouth was too distracting. He just couldn’t help himself. It felt like coming home after two centuries.

“How rude,” he muttered, “I seem to have interrupted.”

“It’s fine,” she said breathlessly, “I’m glad you came back.”

He chuckled warmly, “Darling I was just downstairs. At your insistence!”

“I know,” she said plainly, holding him tighter.

His heart ached, still absorbing what he’d just felt and seen through her memory, “You… Thinking about me–how you love me–makes you…?”

Unable to look at him, she buried her face in his chest, “I told you it was lame!”

Helping her out of hiding, he lifted up her chin, “I don’t think it’s lame.”

His tone sounded like he thought it was the most extraordinary thing. A miracle that couldn’t even be perceived, even with it plainly in front of him. It tore her heart open, but filled it rather than took.

Astarion kissed her neck, “I think it’s quite hot actually. Makes me want to finish what you started.” Vistri felt the heat of her blush again, and he moaned, “Fuck! I love when your blood rushes.”

He scraped his fangs hungrily against her skin. Her heart grew heavy with the weight of his need. She wanted to be the reason he felt better. Stronger.

“Go ahead, Astarion,” she said comfortingly, “Have a bite.”

He kissed her neck, from her chin down to the base of her throat, and bit into the muscle that connected her shoulder. Vistri gasped, surrendering to the sharp pain, and to him, leaning into his bite. Her blood dripped between them as it rolled messily off his lips.

Just allowing himself a taste, Astarion released Vistri from his fangs, licking up the remnants and kissing her wound until it closed. The hunger wasn’t sated, but he was dizzy with power nonetheless.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked, still concerned despite knowing how much she loved it.

“More than all right! Are you—?”

He met her warm smile with one of his own, “More than all right.”

“Good.”

No other partner ever cared. Neither had ever been asked genuinely what they wanted or who they were. No one else but them, making such questions a lyrical aphrodisiac for them to exchange.

Astarion could read her arousal in a thousand different languages. His tongue could feel it in her frantic heartbeat. His teeth could smell it in her glistening sweat. She was a meal ready to be devoured, prey begging to be taken. His hands traveled along her waist, and she twitched pleasantly. All the places that usually tickled made her shiver with want.

Vistri was always so ecstatic that it was him touching her this way, and no one else, that her skin would cry if it could. He could have clumsy hands and awkward touches, and still his embrace would make her shake. Astarion could easily bring ecstasy to her, even if he didn’t know what he was doing, just because it was him.

But gods did he know what he was doing! He played her body like it was one of her instruments, and all he did was fondle her torso.

His fingers lingered just under her waistline as he rubbed his arousal against her thigh. Throbbing under his pants, Astarion let his hand dive into her knickers. The wet lace made him groan.

“You’re soaking,” he sighed, licking his lips, “Might I have another taste?”

Whimpering as he teased her sensitive skin with brushing fingertips, Vistri pleaded, “Yes!”

First, he undressed her one article at a time, unwrapping her like a gift.

It was better than being alone. The whole purpose of her rest was to not think. She didn’t want to disappear, not anymore. She wanted to be present, but out of her head, and this was so much better. However, her heart still ached and missed him. Demanding more touch, more feeling. 

Being wanted by Vistri was the prettiest sight. Astarion had only ever known admiration, not adoration. Images of her in her memory ran through his mind; and with them came echoes of her emotion as she’d nuzzled into his old shirt, desperate for his lingering smell, pretending it still held his warmth. As the monster in his head screamed to devour her, he slid a finger up and down her soaking slit.

Following the roll of her hips, he almost lost himself in their rhythm as he teased her clit. Her desire was one he’d never known, a love he’d never felt. Vistri gave herself to everyone, but never like this. It was the same for him. Everyone had him, but no one knew him like this. Between them, old habits were entirely new.

Crawling his way down her legs, he had another taste. Vistri’s hands caressed his head and her fingers wrapped around his ears in a way that made him hum with security.

She cried out at every lash of his tongue.

He whined licking her, the rushing blood just under her skin overwhelmed his senses as much as her taste. It made him feel alive. Pangs of need made his fingers tremble as they pushed into her, stretching her. She moaned, a song promising this would always be his. He wanted to fuck her until he saw stars.

And it felt good to want. The desire he felt was his. All his.

“Astarion,” she called out his name in a breathy voice, her body tensing with pleasure. Even without tadpoles, he knew how close Vistri was.

The next words from her lips yanked his heart out of his chest and brought it to his sleeve.

“Yours. I’m all yours.”

He’d planned to pleasure her in so many ways, but those words took away his will to perform. They didn’t need ecstasy as much as each other. She’d touched herself thinking of his laugh and his expressions; of his being, not his figure. Vistri just wanted him.

Lifting his head up, he asked, “Can I—?”

“Get back here!”

She pulled on his shoulders as he rushed to her lips, climbing her torso. She was so small, but it felt like miles. Ages until they were face to face.

His mouth was like a bully, commanding hers about. Vistri struggled with things like self love and acceptance, but could adoringly savor her taste on his tongue. It was so sweet mixed with his underneath. Astarion took her by the wrist to rub her hand along the outside of his trousers, almost growling as rutted into her palm. Being used by him was the best thing in the world, just as being used by others was the worst. Her ecstasy from it was as sharp as her bruised soul.

One long, deep, “Uuuuh,” from Vistri was the final snap in Astarion’s composure. One hand went to her neck as the other started undoing his laces. 

He licked along her jaw, and spoke in the crook of her throat as it called to him, “Do you know what it means? When you say you’re all mine?”

“I know what it means,” she looked him squarely in the eyes, seriously, which was unusual for either of them, “I say it because I know what it means.”

When there was enough give, Astarion pulled his trousers and pants down in one motion, just far enough to reveal himself. He spread her thighs apart and rubbed his aching cock along her belly to show off how deep he’d go.

Writhing, wanting him, she uttered, “Fuck, I love you.”

Astarion buried himself in her, saying he loved her too. Vistri screamed his name so loudly it probably answered what was taking him so long to change to the others downstairs.

“Wait, is the door locked?” he asked, suddenly remembering.

Vistri groaned, realizing it wasn’t, “Shit. Nooo.”

It was a rare occasion for their rooms at the Elfsong to be empty of everyone but them. Anyone could come back at any time, and they were in the middle of the room.

“Well, we don’t want to make an unsuspecting audience out of Shadowheart’s parents. Do we?”

Cackling, she suggested, “Or Withers.”

Astarion giggled, “Old bastard might try to join.”

Vistri’s laughter made her shake and pulse so pleasantly on his cock, he didn’t want to leave.

“Go lock it,” she could barely get the words out, overtaken by hilarity. Like she was wearing that cursed amulet again. 

Sighing with frustration, he reluctantly pulled out of her and got up, tearing the rest of clothes off of his legs. Her slick covered his whole length, making the air cool on his dick as it bounced with his steps.

At the sound of the lock snapping shut, Vistri stupidly called out, “Please!”

He stood by the door smiling with his arms crossed, “Please, what?” The crimson-violet scream of his skin, his retreated foreskin, and the precum pooling at his tip betrayed his casual nature.

“Fuck me!” she begged.

He smirked and held up two fingers.

Vistri buried her face in the side of the sofa to hide her laughter, “I cannot stand you!”

Wishing to see her face again, Astarion dropped his game and broke into a full run. She squealed as he leapt to her, and then cried out as he tore through her again. He savored the look on her face. Her eyes spilled the truth of her heart. Their expression exposed her even though she wasn’t trying to hide anything. Vistri belonged to him, gave herself over to him to use and take care of at whatever whim. As long as she was his .

“What was that about not being able to stand me?” he smirked, distracting himself from the pleasure shaking his spine like a tree in a rough storm. He wanted Vistri to find ecstasy at least once before giving into his.

Running her hands along his chest and stomach made him almost whimper. Vistri licked his earlobe and kissed his ear before whispering, “I lied. I actually adore you, and want you all the time.”

Roughly, he pushed her down into the sofa. He wrapped a big hand around her delicate neck and held it firm, like a brace. Slowing his thrusts to an unbearably slow pace. A teasing rhythm.

“Do you adore me now?” he asked. It was impossible for even Astarion to tell if he was asking out of seduction or sincerity.

“Even more,” she promised.

A devious smile tugged at the corner of his lips, “Turn around.”

After tucking pillows, and his old shirt, under Vistri for a better angle, Astarion playfully bounced his hard cock against her ass. They both laughed at the smack, but grew serious as he began to touch her from behind. She rocked back into his palm so deliciously he had to angle himself against her. With a slight push, he was covered to the hilt. They shivered in tune with each other. Vistri felt ripped open at his thrust; his hands firmly holding onto her hips grounded her.

She reached back for one of them, and his finger twisted around one of hers as they met.

He froze, “Is this still what you want?”

“It is all I want,” she answered, caressing his finger.

Even though Vistri couldn’t see his smirk, she could hear it, “Then let’s give the others an update on our whereabouts.”

He roughly pumped his hips, angling deep.

“Astarion!”

He wanted them to hear it, everyone her voice could reach; hear the news that she was his. Going faster made her louder.

“Astarion! ” 

“Yes,” he groaned, as he felt her tightening around him, “Yes.” It was a word he wasn’t used to meaning, and the truth of it felt like the sun tingling like home on his skin.

Gasping through the edges of death, in unison, too quickly, they cried out.

Astarion wanted to see the stars, and there they appeared behind both their eyes. They never really knew why it was called a little death before they met. It became clear the first time they transcended flesh and spirit together under the thrall of an all-consuming ecstasy. In that bliss, they were gone from the world, and in coming back to it, were reborn into their shaking embrace.

He rocked his hips gently, even when there was nothing left to spill into her. Just because he didn’t want the moment to pass yet.

As Astarion sat back on his knees, Vistri turned around and covered his face with a flurry of breathless, grateful pecks. He chuckled, and wrapped his arms around her. Vistri threw hers over his shoulders too and pulled him tighter.

“Never leave me alone again,” she half-joked.

Astarion was so happy his words had a sobbing laugh under them, “Oh, I’m never leaving you alone again!”

They squeezed each other even closer at the same time. Never wanting to let go.

Miraculously, nothing got on the couch. So all they had to clean off was each other. After freshening up, they crawled into their bed. Which wasn’t really their bed. It was rented. But, unless tents and bedrolls counted, this bed was the first sort of home they’d claimed together.

“This is my favorite part,” she said as she nuzzled into his chest.

“What are you talking about?”

Vistri hummed happily and sighed, running her fingers along his arm, “This.”

Smiling, he bent to kiss her head. She gave another happy hum.

“You’re perfect,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Looking up, she poked him on the nose and refuted his denial, “Yes, you are!”

Astarion smirked and made a show of trying to bite her finger. Vistri squealed, laughing.

“No, don’t bi—”

A series of loud, rapid bangs on the door snatched them from their lighthearted moment, and instinctively, they got ready to fight. Each made a protective gesture over the other. Astarion sat up and pulled her closer by the waist, as she positioned her body in front of his.

Drunken shouts answered them before they could call out and ask who was there.

“—en it!”

“‘S’locked! ”

“OY! WHY’S THE DOOR SHUT?!” That would be Karlach.

Vistri smirked at Astarion.

Brow raised, he remarked, “Looks like this time, we forgot to unlock the door.”

She snickered, “Ready to let them in?”

He made a show of thinking about it for a moment as kicks and insults shook the door, “Hmmm, I don’t know. I think we should make them wait.”

The burst of laughter that left Vistri was loud enough for the others to notice, and the muffled shouting now included their names.

Astarion rolled his eyes and got out of bed, “You’ve done it now, love.”

As he walked to the door, he took a look back at Vistri, who had sunk back into their bed, holding her sides in a laughing fit. He felt as free as she sounded, and so full of happiness Astarion couldn’t feel his feet on the ground.

Vistri was wearing his old shirt. She’d insisted on changing into it when they got dressed. Telling him she didn’t want to spend a second without him wrapped around her.

The sight made him smile so broadly his cheeks ached.

[tortellini-bandit]

- Oh My God They Were Roommates: Chapter 2

Word count: ~4.2k

Description: Henry tells Pez what’s going on. Alex and Henry have sex for the first time

Edited by: @morbific-or-felicific

Chapter 2

“Kill him, kill him, kill him!”

           

“I’m not going to kill him, you soulless demon. What if he has a wife and kids?”

           

“Oh, so it has to be a wife, huh? Why can’t he have a husband?” Alex scoffs. “Homophobic much?”

           

“Alex,” Henry says slowly, like he’s explaining basic math to a small child. “I’m gay.”

           

“Sounds like an excuse to me.” Alex turns back to the screen, the fluorescent light from the TV glinting off his glasses, and distracting Henry for perhaps a moment too long. “Come on, look what you’ve done, he’s getting away!”

           

Henry sighs, also turning back to face their television.

           

Recently, Alex has taken to attempting to get Henry to play some sort of video game called “Skyrim”. Which, from what Henry’s gathered so far, involves running around mindlessly and attempting to find civilians to kill with a very large axe.

           

For the next hour and a half, Alex continues to get him to commit several war crimes. Henry continues to refuse to hurt any innocent people. Alex is getting progressively more frustrated with Henry about this. And every once in a while, Henry will find out a useful bit of information.

           

“Why didn’t you tell me you can wield magic in this bloody game? You should have led with that!”

           

“Because magic is lame compared to that two-handed battle axe you’ve got in your hands right now.”

           

“Magic is not lame-”

           

That argument goes on for a while. It ends in Henry’s triumph when he threatens to stop playing altogether if Alex doesn’t let him wield magic instead. He feels rather smug about it.

           

Henry’s relationship with Alex hasn’t changed since they fucked in their kitchen two weeks ago.

           

Alex still makes Henry a cup of Orange Pekoe with a splash of cream when he makes his coffee in the morning. He still falls asleep halfway through truly horrible comedy movies he spent half an hour convincing Henry to watch with him. He still sends Henry Instagram reels at all ungodly hours of the night and day, even when Henry is sitting in the same room as him. He still leaves lists, most of them completely unintelligible, scattered about their flat for Henry to collect and place in a neat pile on Alex’s desk. Still places a pillow under his head and a blanket over him when Henry falls asleep on the couch, reading, at 3:00am because he couldn’t fall asleep in his cold, lonely room. He still plucks the book carefully from Henry’s slack grip, marking his page, and setting it on the coffee table.

           

Well, nothing’s changed except now sometimes Alex will slide off the sofa during their movie nights, unbuckling Henry’s belt, and taking half of him in his mouth at once. He’ll bring Henry right to the edge over and over for what feels like hours, not letting him fall over it until he’s writhing on the sofa, crying and begging, movie long forgotten. Only then will Alex finally let Henry spill down his throat. He’ll open his mouth, showing Henry his cum on his tongue. And then he’ll make Henry thank him.

           

Nothing’s changed except now sometimes when Henry comes home, stressed and tense after a long day, Alex will put him on his knees. Will fuck his face, will pull his hair a little too roughly and squeeze the sides of his throat until he’s choking and gasping for air. He’ll call him a whore for enjoying it. And Henry’s mind will go blissfully blank for the first time all day.

           

Nothing’s changed except now Henry has gotten a taste of what it would be like to have Alex. Have all of him the way he wants him.

           

Nothing’s changed except now Henry can no longer shove down his emotions as easily as he could before. He finds himself staring at Alex more and more often. Expression open and raw, before he catches himself, schooling his features and forcing his gaze back to what he’s supposed to be focused on. His book. His essay. The breakfast he’s making.

           

“Hey, dude, I don’t mean to complain when you’re cooking for me and everything. But those eggs are looking a little… black.”

           

Henry startles, looking back down at the pan on the stove and realizing that Alex is right. What he’s been pushing mindlessly around in the pan now resembles a charred mess more than it resembles scrambled eggs.

           

 “Damn,” Henry swears, turning the stove off and removing the skillet from the burner. He stares ruefully at the blackened eggs, unable to meet Alex’s eyes. He didn’t miss the way Alex called him “dude” before. Like they’re just friends. Like they’re “bros”. Like Henry doesn’t know how Alex tastes. Like Henry doesn’t know the exact cadence of Alex’s breaths right before he comes. Like Henry can’t still feel the bruises on his inner thighs that Alex hasn’t let heal since he gave them to him.

           

Like Henry hasn’t been in love with him since he was nineteen.

           

“You seem distracted lately, sweetheart.” Alex’s lean body presses against Henry’s from behind, his arms wrapping around his waist. He can feel the small rise and fall of Alex’s chest with his breaths. Can feel his warmth through the fabric of their shirts. Henry shifts, leaning his body back against Alex’s, closing his eyes, relishing the small comfort.

           

In these moments, Henry can almost pretend that Alex actually wants him too. Can almost pretend they live together because they want to, not because rent is cheaper this way. That Alex wants him, and only him. That Alex isn’t just using him as a body to warm his bed because it’s convenient. At least until he finds someone he actually wants to spend his life with.

           

“Just tired. You know how I get when finals are coming up.”

           

Alex hums, pressing his lips into the spot in between Henry’s shoulder blades.

           

He suppresses a shiver.

           

After a long moment, Alex pulls away. “Come on, we can still get breakfast on the way if we leave now.” Alex looks mournfully at what was supposed to be their breakfast. “And perhaps pick up a new skillet.”

           

“Sod off.” Henry shoves at him playfully. “I absolutely did not ruin our frying pan. It just needs to be washed.”

           

“If by ‘washed’, you mean ‘thrown out entirely’, then yes, I completely agree.”

           

Henry rolls his eyes, but he knows the gesture comes across more fond than anything.

 

***

           

“My darling Hazza.”

           

Henry sighs.

           

“Do you mean to tell me that you’ve been letting our dear Alexander bend you over every possible surface of that sad excuse for a flat for two weeks, and you’re just telling me now?” Pez screeches.

           

Henry winces. “Technically speaking, he hasn’t bent me over any surfaces. We haven’t done anything past blowjobs.”  

“You know better than to think I’ll let you off the hook on a technicality.” Pez’s voice comes out so high pitched that Henry is impressed it didn’t crack.

           

“See,” Henry exhales, suddenly very tired, “this is why I didn’t want to tell you. Because I knew you’d overreact.”

           

“Overreact?” Pez looks like he’s fighting the urge to strangle Henry. Henry can’t really blame him. He’s also had the urge to strangle himself quite frequently these past few weeks.

           

“Mate, you’re having ‘casual, no strings’ sex with the man you’ve been in love with since the moment you laid eyes on. And that’s not even mentioning the fact that you bloody live with him! What are you going to do when all of this inevitably goes down in flames?” Pez throws up his hands in frustration.

           

“I don’t know, okay?” he snaps. He pushes himself angrily to his feet, going to stand by the window, watching the snow flutter gently to the ground, illuminated by the halos of light cast from the streetlamps.

           

 “I don’t know,” he says quieter.

           

“Haz.” Pez comes to stand beside him, voice softer this time. It’s lost its sharp edge of frustration, replaced by something else.

           

Pity maybe.
           

“I think you should break it off now, before this has a chance to hurt you any more than it already has.”

           

“I can’t do that.”

           

“Why not? Can’t you see what this is doing to you?” Pez implores.

           

“I can’t, alright?” Henry’s almost yelling now. “I can’t because this is as close as I’m going to get to having him.” He draws in a shaky breath. “He’s going to move on, he’s going to find somebody else, and this will all just be an amusing memory he looks back on sometimes, but for me.” He pauses for a moment, collecting himself, fighting the sting in his eyes. “But for me, this is everything. I would never forgive myself if I gave this up just to save myself a little pain.” Henry can feel Pez’s eyes on him, but he stares resolutely out the window.

           

The snow has picked up little, falling in delicate bunches rather than individual snowflakes. “Because right now I can pretend that this is more than it is. And that’s worth more to me than trying to protect myself from any future heartbreak.”

           

Pez stares at him for a long moment before finally speaking. “Then I think you should tell him how you feel.”

           

Henry whips his head around at that, staring incredulously at his best friend.

           

“I think he might surprise you,” Pez says gently.

           

“No. No, he won’t surprise me. He’ll stop whatever this is immediately. He’ll conveniently never have time for our movie nights anymore. He’ll start to look at me with pity in his eyes. ‘Poor Henry fell in love with his best friend who will never feel the same.’ And what if he moves out to try to make it less awkward between us? I’ll never see him again. I’ll lose any part of him I ever had.” Henry hangs his head.

           

“Oh, Henry.”

           

In the hollow silence that follows, Henry knows he’s right.

 

***

           

When Henry walks through the door of their flat, shoulders curled inward on himself, eyes downcast, melted snow dripping from his hair, Alex is by his side in an instant. “Baby. What’s wrong?”

           

Henry’s heart soars in its metal cage at the nickname.

           

“Nothing. It’s just– it’s nothing.”

           

Alex’s hand starts rubbing soothing circles over Henry’s shoulder. “Do you want me to make you some tea? Or we can get wine drunk and blast music; fuck the neighbours.” Alex tilts Henry’s chin up with gentle fingers, forcing him to look into his kind eyes. “Tell me what I can do.”

           

Henry juts his chin out, meeting Alex’s steady gaze, and says what he’s wanted to say for years.

           

“Fuck me.”

           

Alex’s eyes dart back and forth between Henry’s, searching for any sign of doubt. “Are you sure?”

           

Henry almost laughs. There’s very little else he’s more sure of than this. “Yes. Please, Alex. I– I need this.”

           

“Fuck, okay, yes. Yes, of course I’ll fuck you, baby.” Alex gently cradles the side of his face with his warm hand.

           

“I– I need you to be rough,” Henry tells him. “I need you to use me. So I don’t have to think.” He pauses. “Please, Alex.”

           

Alex’s pupils dilate, expression changing. Shifting into something less kind. Something crueler. “Yeah? You want me to put you on your back and give you a good fucking, princess? Split you open on my cock until you forget every word that’s not my name?”

           

“Yes,” Henry breathes.

           

“Yes, what?” Alex snaps.

           

A bolt of lightning shoots up the length of Henry’s spine. “Yes, sir.”

           

Alex smirks. “Such a good little slut.”

           

Henry shatters.

           

Alex lets his hand fall, taking a step back. His eyes languidly travel the length of Henry’s body, deliberating. “I want you on your bed,” Alex says. “Waiting for me come fuck you.”

           

Henry’s breath hitches. He nods.

           

“And if you touch yourself before I get there.” Alex’s eyes narrow. “Then you don’t get to come. I’ll fuck you open, and then leave you desperate and alone. Begging for more. Understood?”
           

Henry nods again.

           

“Good.” He jerks his head in the direction of Henry’s bedroom.

           

 Henry steps out of his shoes, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the hook. Alex lazily tracks his movements. Then Henry walks off down the hall without a backwards glance. Leaving Alex to stare after him.

           

One he’s in his room, he strips down to his boxers, folding his clothes and placing them neatly on his desk chair. Impossibly, he’s already half hard. From the way Alex had looked at him. From the anticipation of what’s to come. He lays on the bed, propped against his pillows, watching the door. He aches to wrap a hand around himself, to take the edge off, but Alex’s warning rings in his ears, stopping him.

           

He isn’t kept waiting long. When Alex walks through the door, forgoing knocking, he’s holding a condom, a bottle of lube, and– a length of rope. Alex’s eyes glint with something bright and dangerous when he sees Henry’s gaze linger on the rope.

           

Henry’s no stranger to being tied up, but this rope is rather thin. The kind that will dig painfully into his wrists if he pulls too hard. The kind that will leave marks tomorrow. If he’s lucky.

           

“Having second thoughts, princess?” Alex taunts. His tone is mocking, but Henry can hear the genuine question underneath. He’s giving Henry an out. Even though he’s the one who asked Alex to fuck him. To use him. Like he’s nothing more than Alex’s personal plaything.

           

Henry shakes his head. “No.”

           

“Good.” Alex’s smirk returns. It’s a little crooked and positively lethal. Henry wants to sear the image into his mind.

 

Alex approaches the bed, setting the condom and the lube on the night stand, but keeping the rope. Henry lifts his arms above his head, bracing them near the headboard, staring up at Alex expectantly.

           

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Alex breathes.

 

Henry’s heart stutters in his chest.

           

The bed dips when Alex braces his knee against the edge, leaning over Henry to tie his wrists. The rope is surprisingly smooth against his skin as Alex ties practiced loops, pulling them taut. The knots is just this side of too tight, so Henry knows there will likely be bruises tomorrow. He’ll probably have to wear a long sleeve shirt to cover them.

           

He doesn’t want to. He wants to show them off. He wants the world to see. Wants everyone to know that Henry was tied to headboard and used. Wants them to know it was Alex who gave him these bruises.

           

Alex, who has the body of an Olympic swimmer. Alex, with his infectious laugh. Alex, with his perfect curls he spends half an hour styling every morning. Alex, with his adorable glasses he refuses to wear to class, but insists on wearing when he’s playing video games because it ‘enhances the experience.’ Alex, who could have anyone, but who chose Henry.

           

For now.

           

Alex climbs onto the bed, hovering over Henry, arms braced on either side of him. He leans down, and for one utterly insane moment, Henry thinks Alex is about to kiss him. He doesn’t, of course. They don’t do that. Instead, he moves higher, and Henry gasps when he feels Alex’s warm tongue tracing patterns just below the delicate skin of his wrists. It takes him a moment to realize that Alex is tracking the path of his veins with his tongue.

           

“Alex, please.”

           

“Did I say you could talk?” Teeth dig painfully into his forearm. “Do you need me to gag you just to make you behave?” Alex soothes over his mark with his tongue. An apology.

 

A shiver runs the length of Henry’s spine, and he shakes his head, not making the mistake of speaking out of turn again.

 

He wonders if Alex would actually gag him. He wonders what else Alex might do if he talked back. If he was a brat. But that’s something to test another time.

 

***

 

“Fuck, Henry. You’re so tight.”

 

Henry gasps at the stretch, suddenly overwhelmed when he feels Alex push into him in one long, slow movement. So much bigger than his fingers. He writhes on the bed, instinctually pulling at his restraints, but they don’t so much as budge. The thin rope digs into his skin, and he almost moans at the dull sting.

 

Alex stops when he bottoms out, giving him a moment to adjust. His curls are falling into his eyes, and Henry aches to push them out of his face, but he can’t. So, instead, he settles for watching the pleasure painting Alex’s beautiful features, and the strain of his arm muscles from where he’s hovering over Henry, keeping most of his weight off. Henry almost wishes he wouldn’t.

 

He wants him closer, though he knows that’s physically impossible right now. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting Alex to break open his chest and make a home for himself, curled around Henry’s pathetic little heart.

 

He gives Alex a small nod, almost imperceptible if you weren’t looking for it, but Alex sees and understands.

 

He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in.

 

Henry almost blacks out from the intense combination of pleasure and pain, hands scrabbling for purchase against the headboard.

 

Alex starts to build a brutal, punishing rhythm, the bed banging unceremoniously against the wall. And for one, hysterical moment, he worries about the neighbours. Within the next moment, he isn’t thinking much about anything.

 

“Ngh–” A strangled moan is torn from his lips.

 

“God, Henry, you’re so, ah, desperate for it, aren’t you? Desperate for me to fuck your slutty little hole, aren’t you?” Alex rakes his blunt nails down Henry’s side, and he cries out. “Use your words, princess.”

 

“Yes, yes! I need you. Need your cock. Harder, please,” he begs.

 

“Fuck, you’re such a perfect little cockslut. Just for me, isn’t that, ah, right, princess?”

 

Henry’s back arches off the bed, very nearly coming from those words alone.

 

Yes! Yes, yours. Only ever yours.

 

“I’m going to wreck you for anyone else. No one’s ever gonna be able to fuck you like I can.” As if proving his point, he changes his angle, hitting that spot he was purposefully avoiding before.

 

“God, yes.” Henry’s tongue lolls out of his mouth, and stars explode behind his eyes. He’s pretty sure he’s drooling onto his pillows. His cock is red and angry and weeping where it’s trapped between their bodies, and the small friction in the drag of Alex’s body against his is everything.

 

His body feels like a livewire. Every sensation, every filthy word coming out of Alex’s perfect mouth feels magnified, somehow. But he also feels like if he moves the wrong way, he might shatter.

 

“Look at you, princess.” Alex’s thumb catches on the tip of Henry’s cock, smearing precum. “You’re so wet.” Alex *fists his cock, too hard, and Henry cries out, thrashing. His body trying to get away from the overwhelming stimulation, but his restraints, and Alex’s strong, warm hands keep him firmly in place.

 

“Please, Alex,” Henry whines.

 

“Please what, sweetheart?” Alex flicks his wrist, and Henry arches into his touch. “Please fuck you so hard you’re limping for a week?” A particularly hard thrust sends Henry’s thoughts scattering from his mind, and he’s too slow to catch them. “Answer me.”

 

“I–I don’t, ngh–”

 

“Please give you a collar of pretty bruises so everyone knows that you’re mine?” Alex grabs a fistful of Henry’s hair, yanking his head back, forcing him to meet Alex’s dark gaze. Mine to fuck.” Another hard thrust. “Mine to use.” Another. “Mine.”

 

Yes, yes, yes!

 

“Christ, I’m gonna– Alex, I’m gonna–”

 

Alex squeezes the base of his cock, effectively stopping his building orgasm. Henry cries at the loss.

 

Alex draws his mouth up right next to Henry’s ear. “You don’t get to come until I say you can.” Alex’s voice is quiet, dangerous. It makes Henry want to record it so he can listen to it again and again, long after their little arrangement has ended. “Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Henry voice sounds pitiful, even to his own ears.

 

Alex smirks. “Good.” He changes his angle again, somehow managing to get deeper than before. “Good bitch.”

 

“God, Alex, you’re, ngh, so big.” Henry can barely string two thoughts together anymore. Too lost in the feeling of being fucked open like this, of being forced to just take it. He can practically feel Alex in his throat.

 

“Fuck, princess, I’m, ah, close.” Alex attaches his lips to Henry’s collarbone, sucking at Henry’s skin like his goal is to leave a bruise so dark, Henry couldn’t possibly hide it. His hands are leaving bruises in the shapes of his fingerprints, and he’s making good on his promise to give Henry a necklace of bruises.

 

Alex wraps his hand around Henry’s cock again, strokes fast and rough, and electricity sparks at the contact.

 

“Yes, god, yes! Please. Let me come, I need, ngh, to come.”

 

“God, you’re so pretty when you’re begging for it.”

 

“Alex–”

 

“Open your mouth for me, baby.”

 

Henry blinks, uncomprehending, and Alex wrenches his head back with his tight grip curled around Henry’s hair. “I said open your mouth.”

 

Henry complies, and Alex flashes his teeth in a cruel grin before spitting in his mouth. Henry gasps, eyes rolling back in his head. His whole body shudders, and he wants. Wants to taste Alex’s lips against his. Wants to feel his tongue in his mouth. Wants Alex to bite at his lips until he tastes copper. Wants Alex to want him.

 

“Swallow.”

 

Henry shudders, swallowing Alex’s spit in his mouth.

 

 

Removes his hand from Henry’s hair, wrapping it around Henry’s dick, now slick with Henry’s precum, and his cock is nailing his sweet spot with almost every thrust. Henry knows he’s letting out little whimpers and moans, but he’s so close to the edge, if Alex doesn’t let him come, he’ll shatter underneath him.

 

“Fuck, fuck, Henry, I’m gonna come.” Alex’s breaths are coming in a staccato. He scratches his blunt nails roughly across Henry’s scalp, fucks into him once, twice, three times, and comes. Henry doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more than he wants there not to be a condom separating them; he wants to feel Alex, hot inside him.

 

Alex fucks Henry slowly through the aftershocks, still stroking him lazily, and Henry sobs at still being denied his release, unsure how much more he can take.

 

Then. “Come for me, princess.”

 

Henry cries as he comes, vision going white, streaking his cum across his stomach and Alex’s abdomen. He thinks he even feels some up by his chest.

 

Alex continues to stroke him until he’s whining and trembling and fighting to get away from the overstimulation.

 

When Henry comes back to himself, he notices Alex is staring down at him and stroking his hair softly. The expression on Alex’s face makes him look away. He looks– he looks like he’s never seen anything as beautiful as what he’s looking at right now. Henry can’t bear to look at him, not knowing it doesn’t mean anything. Knowing it’s just the post-orgasm haze.

 

Alex doesn’t say anything, just stares at Henry for a moment longer, and then starts to move. He pulls out slowly, placing a gentle kiss to his temple when he notices Henry’s grimace of discomfort. He ties the condom off and tosses it in the bin and shuffles up the bed, leaning over Henry to untie him.

 

When he’s free, Henry sits up, bringing his wrists to his face, examining the damage. There’s definitely a little bruising, though it’s not nearly as bad as it could have been, and there’s no rope burn. He’s rubbing his wrists, trying to soothe the tender ache when Alex gets up and leaves.

 

Henry’s not really sure why he’s surprised. They’re not dating. Alex doesn’t owe him anything. He asked Alex to fuck him, and he did. He shouldn’t have expected anything more.

 

A minute later, Alex returns, a warm, wet cloth in his hand, and a soft smile on his face. Shame floods Henry’s body. Of course Alex wouldn’t just leave someone after something like this. That’s not who Alex is.

 

Henry offers him his own shaky smile in return.

 

 

“You made quite the mess here, Your Highness.” Alex gestures to Henry’s cum that’s cooling on his stomach.

 

“All for you, dear.”

 

Alex tips his head back and laughs. A real laugh. Not the one he uses when he’s trying to charm someone, or flirt his way into getting what he wants. Henry watches the elegant column of his throat, his Adams apple bobbing.

 

Alex uses the cloth to gently wipe away Henry’s cum, and Henry hisses when he reaches his sensitive cock. Alex kisses over his hip bones in apology.

 

When he’s done, he stretches out on Henry’s bed like he owns it, smiling sleepily at him.

 

“Are you coming to bed, Your Highness?”

 

“It’s my bed, you insolent arse.”

 

“Exactly.” Alex grins

 

Henry exhales a long breath, gets up to flick off the light, pulls on a pair of boxers, then lays down, somewhat stiffly, next to Alex. He’s not entirely sure why Alex isn’t leaving to go back to his own room. But then Alex sighs contentedly and slings an arm across Henry’s waist before promptly falling asleep, snoring in his ear. Leaving Henry to stare at the ceiling, and wonder if he’ll still be here in the morning.

 

Eventually, some hours later, he falls asleep too.

[ghostinyourwalls]

Pits

You’ve had a bad day, so you go to the only place you feel completely comfortable being an ass. Could be a oneshot could be a story, who knows at this point. Angst. Reader has no gender. Highschool au, human au, reader is not called y/n

I need inspiration to keep writing this and improving my writing skills. I have no idea how long I'll keep this going or if I'll even post this fic again but here.

To say you were pissed would be an understatement. Your hair was charred at the ends from a failed chemistry lab, your favorite jacket was soaked in rain water. At least the water helped with the burn somewhere your mind tried to reason. It was minor but still hurt like a little bitch another part said whilst wishing you’d snapped at the careless classmate who did it. Instead of walking home to your house you made the short trip from the bus stop to Monty’s place, not even bothering to stop by yours to let your parents know where you were headed. Well, they probably knew where you were anyways.

You opened the door and let it slam closed.

“I’m home!” In response you heard a loud grumble from the kitchen. Instead of heading to greet your friend you immediately went down to the basement and began setting everything down. Carelessly you changed into some of his clothes and went looking for the stray bag of chips you knew he kept down here despite his housemates' protests. He stomped out of the bathroom and stared at you for a second. It must’ve been one of his housemates in the kitchen. You simply rolled your eyes at the blush creeping onto his cheeks as you kept searching for the chips.

“Do I even get to ask?” You only made a noise of discontentment when you realized the chips were gone and you found the empty bag instead. “What’s there to say?” you sat on the couch with a huff. It was clear as day he was finding some form of entertainment in your disdain and instead of comforting you he sat as well and started flicking through channels. He knew you’d blow up eventually, just like him you were a ticking time bomb of rage. All it took was him to glance at you with a raised eyebrow for you to cave and start shouting.

“Okay what the actual fuck man?!!?”

“Excuse me?”

“DUDE! You can clearly tell I’m pissed off and you aren’t saying shit!” To which he laughed and that only made you wanna explode even more.

“You know I love it when you’re pissed,” Your face was red with anger at this point but he continued, “The hell am I supposed to do. I’m shit with feelings and you know it!” Fists balling up with raise you went and punched him hard in the shoulder he laughed even harder. “Look mate, we aren’t gonna get anywhere by talking.”

He began to stand up and wander over to where his golf clubs were stashed. He grabbed a pretty hefty one and handed it to you before setting up his mattress on the wall. “Go nuts, just don’t hit the walls” He turned off the tv turned up the radio and you fucking beat the shit out of that mattress. You went at it for at least a good thirty minutes before finally stopping.

“Better?”

You grunted in response. You dropped the club and sat back on the couch, only to lay your head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and turned off the music. The silence filled the air as you watched the storm from out the window. You could feel him staring at you. "Get caught in the rain again?" "...yeah."

You hate how many times this has happened before. How many times you've had to come here so you didn't blow up on some innocent bystander. guilt gnawed at your stomach, and your rage had completely fizzled out leaving you in a… melancholy mood.

You tried to find a spark of emotion to express because that's what you and him do around each other, express everything… but it's gone. You're just… tired and hungry.

The hungry part was normal, eating food was always a battle of whether to let you enjoy the satisfaction or to try to make yourself feel better 'for longer' by not eating. The chips were the only thing that sounded good today and they were gone. A bird passed by and ate a worm, you frowned.

"Hey…"

For once he was trying to be gentle. He moved slowly closer to you, well as close as he could. He knocked his knee against yours successfully pulling you from your mind.

"Hm?"

"Let's go get food."

"I'm not hungry."

He just kinda sighed and closed his eyes for a moment,"you were looking for chips earlier, you probably haven't eaten all day." He wasn't lying and you just scooched further from him on the couch, in his mind it proved the point, "... Please?"

As if on cue one of his housemates called from upstairs, "MONTY! COME GET FOOD!"

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Do you want to willingly come or do I have to drag you?”

You sorta half rolled your eyes and watched him stand up. His eyes were open and held mischief and destruction, you realized he was being completely serious and would 100 percent carry me upstairs and make sure I your head would get knocked against the doorway thus not wanting a concussion you stand but very grumpily.

You both make your way up the stairs except you kind of freeze when you reach the top. Freddy, one of the popular kids from school, stood in front of you. Unfortunately he got caught in the cross fires when people were trying to put you out. You only had a few classes with him but you knew him well enough from that experience. He smiled awkwardly and looked at monty. “Are you two gonna eat?”

“I’m not-” “Yes.”

Freddy raised a curious brow at Monty but he didn’t question it. All of you made your way to the dinner table and you all sat together. It was awkward to say the least.

You didn’t talk much, trusting Monty to keep the conversation going while you picked at your food. In all honesty you wanted to back bydownstairs, to hide away in the little angry safe space that you two have created for each other. Eventually dinner and dishes were done and Monty dragged you back downstairs. You were afraid you’d disappointed him.

“Hey- fuck- I’m-” He got mad at the words and kicked the couch in frustration before turning back to you- “You’re really feeling like shit huh?”

You couldn’t look at him. Afraid he’d be angry or harsh about your feelings. Everyone was always rude or harsh about your feelings.

“I’m just feeling… sensitive” You heard him choke back a laugh. “What kind of uh… sensitive?” “just… hurt?” You could hear him sigh, he sat on the couch and you made a move to leave.

“I’ve gotta go home before my parents kill me. I’ll see you tomorrow,” and then you left. You didn’t bother to grab your bag or clothes, even after you got home you didn’t put burn cream on your neck or back. You just laid in bed and dealt with the pain. Your parents didn’t come home that night. Only showing up while you were getting ready for school.

Once more, you felt the familiar feeling of anger bubbling up. You were angry… again.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Hey heyyyy so i read ur "Inked Petals and Message Tones" and omg that was sooooo gooooooood...like i finished it in 2 1/2 days is it ok if i suggest/compliment/ask here about it? Cuz ao3 for some reason doesn't allow me to

If not, then feel free to delete the message

Lovee your work and take care of urself <33

Um, Absolutely.

I will take any and all opportunities to talk about my og baby here.

PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT IP&MT!

[arieslost]

falling for you | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: you and oscar should be more than just friends, but neither of you realize it until you’re on vacation… and his girlfriend is there, too.

word count: 2,956

warnings: angsty moments

masterlist — join my tag list here!

PART TWO

shoutout to my dream journal- i got this idea from a dream i had in 2021. also disclaimer, i love lily, she’s so sweet. we’re pretending that oscar is dating someone else here ok thanks <33

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

For the first time in your life, you were regretting taking a vacation, and it was all Oscar Piastri’s fault.

Your family and the Piastris had been going on vacation together for as long as you could remember, and you’ve been best friends with Oscar for just as long. He was in the background of every defining moment of your life. He could say the same about you— best friends forever.

And then, like the idiot you are, you went and fell in love with him. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint how, or why, or when; all you knew was that you woke up on the second day of your vacation, walked into the kitchen, saw him pouring himself a bowl of cereal, and it hit you like a damn truck.

“Good morning, sweetie,” your mom says, barely noticing your slightly panicked expression as you realized that you were very much in love with your best friend.

“Morning,” you mumble back, unable to tear your eyes away from Oscar.

He notices you staring at him, your eyes as wide as saucers, and frowns. “You okay? There’s still some of this in the box, I saved it for you.”

Great. Of course he has to be so thoughtful all the time.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Thanks, Osc.” You squeeze his arm as you pass by. He smiles at you, like he always does when you do that, and you want to die a little.

Especially when his girlfriend enters the room.

It’s the first time either of you have a significant other during your annual vacation time, and while you had aggressively lobbied against it (Oscar obviously had no clue), your parents and his parents had agreed to let her come. You were furious about it for weeks and couldn’t figure out why.

Well, now you know.

You can’t even enjoy your cereal, especially not when she kisses Oscar for everyone to see and then makes direct eye contact with you and smirks when he’s not looking. So, you decide to spend the entire day completely Oscar-less, as much as you wish you could just have him all to yourself like you always do when you’re here.

The thing is, you’ve never liked his girlfriend, obvious reasons aside. Even before Oscar started dating her, you’d never gotten along with her. It was like she had a personal vendetta against you, and always tried her hardest to be touchy with Oscar whenever she saw that you were in her line of sight. The most infuriating part is that literally no one else ever notices her behavior except you. Not even Oscar, your so-called best friend. Normally, you’d go to him to vent about something like this, because he’s always understood you in ways that no one else ever will. Now he’s the last person you can go to.

It sucks. You’re angry at your parents, his parents, and especially him for asking if he could bring her along in the first place.

You end up spending your entire morning and most of the afternoon at the beach. You don’t put on enough sunscreen because there’s no one there to make sure you use the proper amount. You hate getting sunburn, but you’d take that over seeing Oscar with his girlfriend. By the time you get back to the rental, everyone is off doing their own thing. Your parents are putting together a puzzle in the living room. Oscar’s parents have the door to their room shut, and you can hear the TV playing. You don’t have the courage to go looking for Oscar himself– once you see that he’s not in your shared room, you know that he’s either out or in his girlfriend’s room. Either way, you don’t want to know.

That was another thing that makes you wish this vacation never happened: Oscar had been allowed to bring his girlfriend, but the only condition was that the two of them had to sleep in separate rooms. That meant the two of you shared a room like always, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take every possible chance he could to go to hers, meaning you’re alone most of the time.

You might as well just pack up and walk home to save yourself the struggle of five more days.

It doesn’t seem like anyone is around to hear, so you let out a loud, frustrated groan as you flop back onto your bed. You look to your right, past Oscar’s bed, at the flowy curtains hanging in front of the doors that lead to the deck outside. One of the doors is ajar, and the slight breeze makes the curtains flap gently.

“You okay, sweetie?” Of course your mom heard you from all the way down the hall.

“Yeah,” you reply in a way that makes it very obvious that you’re not okay.

“Ah, I know that tone.” Your mom says, crossing the room to sit at the foot of your bed. “You need a boyfriend. You wouldn’t be this mopey if you had someone here with you, too.”

Like Oscar does. “You’re telling me,” you scoff bitterly. “I guess I’ll try a little harder for next year.”

“Well, are there any boys you’re interested in?” She asks, rubbing your leg comfortingly.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, turning your head away from her so she can’t get a perfect view of your face heating up as you think about your best friend.

She hums. “Yeah, I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“It’s Oscar, isn’t it?”

You cover your face with your hands. “Ugh! Leave now, and we can pretend this conversation never happened.”

“Nice try.” Your mom pries your hands away and gives you a look. “I just don’t think it’s the best idea that you like Oscar. He doesn’t exactly have the most stable lifestyle.”

“He doesn’t need stability, he’s rich.” You shoot back. “I don’t even care about that, Mom. I’m not exactly interested in him because of his lifestyle.” You consider not saying it, but you’ll feel better getting it off your chest. “And his girlfriend is a bitch.”

“You’re right,” your mom says, and you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I hate his girlfriend. I’ve always thought that you’re much better suited for him.”

“No kidding. Known him his whole life, everyone thought we were dating growing up, we’ve gone through just about everything together. I guess that simply doesn’t compare to the girl he’s known for five whole months.” You’re being snarky now, and you can’t find it in you to care. It should be you dating Oscar.

Everyone else seems to think so except him.

Your mom laughs, but in a way that you know that she agrees with you, as childish as you’re being. She continues to rub your leg, and the comforting motion has your eyes drooping. The stress of your newfound feelings and the warmth of the sun on your skin is more than enough to tire you out.

“Nap time?” She asks eventually, and you nod slowly.

“Mhmm.”

“I’ll come wake you up before dinner.” She kisses the top of your head, gets up, and then says something that has you wide awake. “Hey, Oscar. She’s sleeping.”

“Ah, okay. I’ll be quiet.” You hate the calming effect his voice has on you, even though now just looking at him has sent your heart racing.

One of them shuts the door, and shortly after you can feel the bed dipping under Oscar’s weight as he lays down next to you.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Missed you.”

I missed you more. Jerk.

“I know you’re awake,” he continues. “But you don’t have to talk to me.”

Good.

“I guess I deserve the silent treatment.”

Your resolve cracks a little, because he sounds genuinely upset. As much as you want to, you don’t open your eyes, but you do turn around to face him and move closer in the process. You can smell the faint traces of his cologne, and you have to fight a sigh of contentment. Damn him for always making you feel so safe. Besides, you’re a little cold now thanks to the air conditioning.

Your eyes nearly fly open in shock when he wastes no time in pulling you closer so you’re properly cuddled into his side and puts his arm around you. He lets out a breath, like he’s relieved, before he moves around a little and leans his head against yours.

The logical side of you is screaming to quit the sleeping facade and confront him right here and now about this rather intimate behavior, but the side of you that just discovered the strong feelings you harbor for your best friend tells you to just play along and enjoy whatever alone time you have with him. It’s not hard to pick which side to listen to.

The two of you stay this way for so long you start falling asleep again, and it only gets worse when he starts rubbing your back. It starts out very subtle; at first, his fingertips just move up and down along the fabric of your shirt. He stops for a moment, like he’s considering the outcomes of his actions, and then flattens his palm against your back and continues the up and down motion. You bury your head in his chest, mostly to hide the fact that you’re turning red but also because you just want to be closer to him. He hums a little when you do it, and you have to stop yourself from weighing the logistics of whether or not you could get away with kissing him right here and now.

You have to fight the urge to sleep, wanting to soak in every moment of his strange but welcome actions. Maybe this is all just an elaborate dream– either way, you’re not going to sleep through it.

The sound of him sighing again catches your attention, but you’re entirely brought back to reality when he starts moving.

You fully give up. You don’t want him to go, so you say his name quietly and look up at him.

He sits up a little to look back at you, and you reach up to smooth away the crease between his eyebrows with your thumb. “We’re on vacation. You’re supposed to be having fun.”

“So are you.” He points out.

Of course he’s picked up on it.

“It’s complicated.”

“Talk to me,” he encourages, shifting so he can keep you close. His little polite cat smile nearly has you spilling your guts to him about how much you wish you were the one he was kissing in front of everyone.

You press your lips together. “I… I can’t, Osc.”

You always hate his crestfallen expression, but you hate it more when you’re the cause of it.

“You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?”

“I know,” you reassure him. “Just… not this. Anything but this.”

He hums again, but not in the happy way that he did before when you were practically trying to crawl into his skin. This is more like a hum of concentration.

You have a moment of hope, thinking that maybe he’ll just let it go, but you know your best friend better than that. It doesn’t change your shock when he speaks again.

“Okay. I think I know what this is about.”

“I seriously doubt you do.” You can’t help but laugh a little. How could he possibly know about something that you yourself only just discovered?

He gives you a specific look then, a look that you have always despised being on the receiving end of. It’s a look that tells you he’s expecting you to explain yourself and see if he’s right. He usually is right, which only makes it worse.

“No.” You shake your head, starting to try and find a way to get up. “No, Oscar, don’t make me say it.”

He isn’t having it though: his arm stays snug around you, and he puts one of his legs between both of yours, hooking his ankle around yours so you can’t escape.

“Oscar,” you whine. “No fair, with your stupid reflexes.”

He whines your name back in the same exact tone. “Shouldn’t try to get away from me, then.”

You let out a groan of frustration. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Someone walks out into the hallway, and the sound of the footsteps coming towards your room makes the both of you freeze. The two of you are in a rather precarious position, with your limbs tangled and Oscar practically on top of you. Not that you necessarily mind, but if anyone walked in right now, eyebrows would be raised.

Oscar seems to be thinking along the same lines as you, meeting your wide-eyed stare with his own but not making any effort to move away. It clicks in your head at that exact moment, just as it did in the morning when you walked into the kitchen.

He does know.

“How?” You whisper, too wrapped up in your disbelief to even be embarrassed.

“I know you better than anyone,” he whispers back, head whipping towards the closed door when you hear a creak, like someone’s weight is shifting on the floor.

The footsteps recede. You both let out a breath, turning to face each other again. You’re close. Too close. Close enough that you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to.

You remember the last time you were this close to him— you were both 14, playing hide and seek at midnight at a friend’s birthday party. He’d accidentally chosen the same hiding place as you, a desk with a rolling chair in front of it, and you’d been forced to squish together underneath the desk in order to conceal yourselves well enough. You were mad that he chose the same spot as you because it raised the likelihood of being found, and he’d just giggled at you every time you glared at him. You remember how much you loved his giggle, and how you’d wondered what it would be like to kiss his smile.

Well. You really have been in love with him this whole time.

You want nothing more than to crawl under the bed and stay there for the rest of the vacation so you don’t have to look him in the eye. You never want to speak to him again. You want to tell him everything. You want to push him away. You want to hold him closer.

“Tell me I didn’t ruin our friendship.” Is all you can think to say, and Oscar reacts immediately, brushing your hair out of your face and hugging you tightly.

“Honey, you could never ruin this.” He presses his nose into your hair, brushes his lips against your head. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the one who should be sorry,” you grumble into his chest.

He doesn’t answer, instead choosing to alternate between playing with the ends of your hair and drawing shapes on your shoulder with his fingers. He’s always been affectionate with you, but this is a whole new level, and your overthinking has you worried that you’ll lose it entirely as soon as the two of you have to leave this room and face the reality of the situation. You close your eyes, trying your hardest to soak up every little detail of this moment in the event that you never get another like it.

You know Oscar thinks you’re asleep when, much to your dismay (and maybe his, too), he gets up and gently lays you back against your pillow.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” you hear him say, and then you feel his lips press firmly against your temple, his hand leaving the most featherlight touch on your cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

The soft material of a blanket covers your body, and the door opens and shuts. Your tears waste no time in soaking into the pillowcase.

You’re regretting this vacation, but it isn’t Oscar’s fault.

He’s not the one who fell in love with the one person he can’t have.

Things change, but not at all in the way you expect. Oscar still throws an arm around you for every picture and hoists you onto his back without hesitation for the obligatory piggyback photo that has been a vacation tradition since forever. His girlfriend still looks at you like you’re the pebble she can’t get out of her shoe, but for every dirty look and intentional display of affection, Oscar is there to make up for it. He goes to the beach with you and makes sure that you apply enough sunscreen, he goes to the amusement park with you even though he hates most of the rides, he takes you to breakfast at the risk of his girlfriend throwing a fit when you get back. She does, but he doesn’t care. He does it every year, and he tells you that he’d be damned if he didn’t keep up with it.

Maybe he pities you. It doesn’t matter. You can live with never even having a chance with the boy you think you’ve always wanted something more with, so long as you can continue to call him your best friend.

He leaves for his next race on the last day of vacation, and his girlfriend goes with him. You support him from home. He calls you every single day.

Oscar has never been able to go more than 24 hours without hearing your voice. He’s never been able to fully express just how much he needs you, and now he has to face the obstacle of breaking up with his girlfriend before he can even try.

note: this fic was low key my personal everest and i changed the ending at the last second because i hate angst. if anyone is interested in a part two, let me know because i’d be happy to write it at some point!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @littlemiss-arabella @notturlover @verstappensrealwife @oliveisunstable @hauntedphotographybookstaco @maddie-bell @hood-jabi @jupiter-je-taime @uzisplanet @akiraquote @average-f1-enjoyer @xo-mya1 @beth-712 @bingewatche @alex15marie @ana2delusional @tomhollandfics @cixrosie @simpluvrs @meko-mt

[kirbyskisses]

shared || satosugu/reader

1.38k words

this was supposed to be like two sentences about a dream i had but I just… couldn’t stop??

cw: spitroasting, light overstimulation, mutual teasing, established relationship (throuple), light breeding kink, cervix mention, gojo curses when he’s pussydrunk

maybe had typos idk it’s 1 am and I wrote a whole screenplay today cut me some slack. also geto never left au ig???

suguru using your mouth as satoru fills your pussy :(

you’re spread over the table as they stand on either side of you.

satoru playfully teasing suguru for cumming first, the latter leaving thick white ropes in your mouth that connect your plush lips to his twitching cock head.

his huge hand is caressing your face as he coos that “you’re taking satoru so beautifully, my jewel. satoru, be gentler. you’re probably bruising her cervix by now.”

gojo gives a large smile, crystal blue eyes still staring into yours even as he addresses your black haired lover.

“ah c’mon sugu. you know she can take it. look at that fucked out smile. you want this dick don’t you, honey bunny?”

you smile both at the euphoric feeling - your walls are practically melting at the loud wet slaps of gojo’s long, pink cock sliding in and out - and at suguru’s calm concern. using whatever strength you have left - that is to say, whatever strength they haven’t simultaneously fucked out of you - you hold geto’s rough hands. your heated body shakes

“ ‘m okay, geto. promise.”

he smiles with a glint of pride in his eyes - leaning down to kiss you lightly, tongue sliding over yours to taste the sloppy remnants of the milk he had just spurted down your throat.

“see, man? she’s our girl. she can take anything we give her.” there’s a laugh in gojo’s voice, his nails digging into your thick thighs. “b’sides what’s so bad about kissing that sweet spot? just means i’m that much closer to filling up this nice womb.” he spanks your side with a deeper thrust that makes you squeak into geto’s mouth, a sound both your boyfriends thoroughly enjoy.

“that’s where my cum is supposed to go after all, right (y/n)?”

he smiles when you break away from geto, letting warm air fill from your nose to your lungs before exhaling a lascivious moan.

“yeah, satoru. fuck - your cum goes in my pussy.” his confident smirk falters just a bit as you squeeze down on his length, a strangled moan forcing itself out of his throat, silvery-white hair shaking as his body buckles.

“shit- holy fucking shit baby.”

suguru chuckles, fingers massaging your shoulders and lifting you to sit up - partially to relieve you from the discomfort of the hard table of your shared living room and partially to get a better view of gojo’s cock slapping into your dripping folds, while hungrily swallow him in.

“who’s fucked out now, satoru?” he gives a breathy laugh at his best friend’s sweaty disposition.

gojo bites his lip. “sh’t up, sugu.” almost as if punishing him for the demand, you grind your fat, little clit onto his white bush of lower hair the next time he goes balls deep. your legs wrap around his waist despite feeling like putty and when he’s trapped in their grasp, you squeeze again.

“fuck - baby! can’t pull out if you’re holding so tight!” his breathing gets heavy - your insides have a vice grip on his cock and his balls twitch. he knows - all three of you know that he’s only a few strokes away from spilling into you and he’s grinding against your innermost wall absolutely desperate to do so.

“don’t be so mean to sugu, ‘toru.” you pout and suguru can hide his expression of pride - obviously as best friend and lovers he and gojo make jabs at each other all the time. it’s like a game of seeing which one of them you’ll side with and which you’ll chide for “taking it too far.” usually satoru would just laugh it off or tease more, or pout until he gets a kiss from one or both of you.

it’s a rarity of mythological proportions when he actually apologizes but so ravenous to spill his seed into your womb and keeps thrusting his cock into your sweet, sweet hole - he has no choice.

“okay. okay fuck -” he’s practically drooling when the word shake out of him. “sorry. fuck - sorry suguru - you don’t have to shut up and you aren’t soft for cummin’ so fast - i would’ve too with a pretty mouth like our baby’s - so let me do it in her pussy. fuck it’s so tight and warm suguru - she’s just begging for it.”

at suguru’s nod, you unclench and unwrap your legs from gojo’s waist and he wastes no time battering into your perfect hole - he can tell suguru’s groping and earlier use of your throat has made you wetter than ever and it’s driving him insane.

“that’s it, my treasure. just let satoru treat you so nice. cum when he does. can you do that?”

between their two huge frames you feel so small and obedient that you immediately nod, hips rocking to the animalistic pace of gojo’s hips as your nails find his back and he pull you into him, one of his huge veiny, soft hands squeezing into your hair and the other into your shoulder.

you bury your face - teary from just how deep he’s thrusting in - into his neck and bite down. with one more curse and a shaky breath his eyes meet geto and they both share a mutual look of a sort of possessive, mischievous confidence - taking pride in how they’re the only people on the planet who could tear you apart and make you cum like this.

there’s no announcement when you cum, just a loud cry of both their names when gojo’s fat, dripping tip juicily kisses your cervix. you shake and convulse and squeeze as geto’s hand roll along any part of you not covered by gojo’s form, cooing as the latter shoots his hot seed into you.

suguru’s cum is thick, as is his cock, but his orgasms are usually quiet and produce less than your other lover - he’s almost always more focused on your pleasure.

but gojo’s a different story. equally as thick but with more length that shoots out thin continuous ropes that you can practically feel filling your tummy. he’s loud and fucks your crying form through your simultaneous climax. for every drop of his you feel fall out there’s another thrust to fuck it back in until his groans stop and his twitching cock settles. he gives you one last spank that is immediately healed by suguru’s calming touch.

“that’s our girl. fuck, my love.” suguru’s voice is hot on your earlobe as you disentangle from gojo who kisses your head and goes to get desperately needed towels to clean all the sweat and sticky stains of white they’ve covered you in. “you’re still shaking.” he presses a tiny series of kisses to your neck as gojo returns.

“hold suguru baby. this might feel cold.” he gives a well-meaning chuckle at your jumpy form when he wipes the cool water against your lovingly abused thighs. unable to resist he gives your little clit apologetic kisses, lips curving up at how it tastes and smells like the spunk he’s left brewing inside you. you squeal when his kisses turn into nips.

“toru!”

suguru’s eyes sharpen and gojo shrugs in mock sheepishness.

“okay, okay! couldn’t resist. no more, scout’s honor.”

“you’ve never been a scout.” suguru rolls his eyes but gives a content sigh, wiping around your mouth and cheeks and pressing his lips to them ever so occasionally. “but he is right, our dearest better half. kissing you is very hard to resist.”

gojo smiles. “kissable lips, nice tits, big heart, tightest sweetest fuckin’ holes to fill… we really hit the jackpot huh, suguru?”

“i’d most certainly say we did.” he smirks, turning your head gently to have your eyes meet his sharp brown ones.

you can’t tell if your cheeks getting hot is from blushing at the heartfelt compliments or the remnants of physical exertion from having the thoughts fucked out of your head by not own but two beloved men.

“aww.” gojo coos. “say (y/n). how about next time we trade places? i’m certain geto wants a chance to breed this nice hole and i’d love to fill my sweetie’s mouth with my own cream.”

[imaginesandideas]

The love of the Endless

i’m sharing here what is meant to be the first chapter (out of gods know how many). for now, you may expect angst, alternating POV, soulmate AU undertones and reincarnation related themes 👀👀 

gender neutral reader ofc ❣️

for more details and upcoming chapters, hmu on A3O!

~~~~~

A stinging pain where one’s heart should reside, but could the mighty Desire have a heart after all?

What is this feeling, this tearfully painful fire burning from within, begging to be let out, begging not to be suppressed. To scream.

You’re as beautiful as the day they left you. The hair slightly different, clothes suitable for the current human era and yet somehow completely unmistakeable. Completely you.

And you just passed them by, down the street in a pouring rain, just like that, and yet completely knocking Desire of their rhythm. As if time on Earth never existed, as if it never touched you, not even once.

Unaffected by the centuries that passed you both by. Hundreds of years of what should have been only longing and loneliness.

Or maybe you’ve been blessed with the sweet oblivion, leaving your heart free and your mind curious and bright. Just the way you were when they’ve first met you, when Desire crashed right into your conventional little life.

In the darkest of ages, you, a mere mortal, too smart for your own good, too captivating for Desire to resist you.

But could it really be you, after all this time?

After so much time, so many centuries. You should have been… dead.

„Oh! Excuse me sweetheart, didn’t see you there.” Another pedestrian too polite for Desire’s liking. The person was even as blatant to continue speaking but the Endless dismissed their presence entirely.

In the midst of all this astonishment Desire’s powers somehow remained intact. And yet their golden gaze was glued only to you, following your footsteps on the cold damp pavement, persuasive as ever.

But still, they couldn’t draw your attention.

Those piercing eyes were now also a reflection of unfamiliar and undesired desperation.

If their siblings could only see them now, stripped of usual confidence, smirk washed off their face, speechless while their skin burned from within. A sight for Dream’s sore eyes, Desire would think.

Maybe it’s their sibling’s vile trick after all? What if they all teamed up in a cruel payback for the times they’ve been fooled by the power of lust? Did Dream have something to do with this? Were you just a projection, another project of his?

Your pace is fast, you’re in a rush, but where are you going? Do you have a spouse, are you married? Desire should know but feared the answer all the same. You’ve probably been in love a thousand times already ever since they’ve left you. How could they’ve left you…

 That fateful night it was also raining, but the rain was much heavier, practically blocking out any other sound with its monotonous hum. Curtain-like walls separating people from one another on the streets, those who dared to walk outside at least.

Desire’s just exited another one of the feasts held by a local nobleman after they planted another successfully spreading scandal in high society’s circles. It’s always been easy to play with people’s darkest desires just to sneakily smuggle them into the spotlight. The public will boil, there will be more and more lies spreading around. That part has always been enjoyable for the young Endless, but suddenly Desire’s attention crumbled into dust with the most captivating pair of eyes they’ve ever seen.

And those eyes stared right back into their golden flaming ones with such intensity and adoration that the infamous Endless, having handled their business already decided to stay on Earth a little longer.

 It started off simply, with lust and Desire’s charm - their eldest trick of all. But from the very beginning something felt different than all the other times with all the other ones.

You didn’t even seem to need those tricks, their magic, the hypnotic look in their eyes. Enchanting, but unnecessary. Because the desire was already there.

Then came love.

Nothing can ever be too easy for too long, not in this world. You had dreams, undeveloped potential, desires you were too shy to reach out to.

Desire felt like they were stopping you, holding you back with their endless life and duties. They knew that eventually you’d start asking questions, you’d think that they’re cheating or hiding something from you. And Desire just knew that, cause they've grown to know you, they've grown attached. You were too smart not to notice things.

Just the way you would notice how others stared at them in awe as you walked together. And soon enough you started to recognize the lust and adoration in people’s eyes when they caught Desire’s gaze. Your Desire, your love.

And then came the preachers, the envious who’d spit in your general direction, who’d send rocks flying through your window in the middle of the night, all the threats. Those would call you satan's emissaries, sinners. But is it ever a sin to love?

Desire knew back then that being with you, having you, was a privilege that they were abusing. It was no longer a game, nor was it harmless. Not when you and your life were at stake. Not when your heart was at a knife’s distance.

A day like that had to come, preceded by long nights of fighting and even longer periods of hiding away in their realm, away from you, thinking, seeking solution that wouldn’t require letting you go. Until one day they didn't come back anymore.

“Why are you following me?”

And there you are. The present day you. Close enough to touch. You look healthier, nourished, maybe even a bit younger perhaps. Features smoother somehow, but it suits you. Everything does.

Even your frown when a glint of confusion flashes in your gaze. It’s been so long, so long, and Desire cannot help the soft smile that graces their face. Of course you don’t understand, it doesn’t make sense at all, even to them! It’s impossible and yet…

Their brows twitch in an attempt to explain. But how does one explain so much.

“I-“

So pathetic for someone who belongs to the Endless, but what could they say when they’re so at loss for words. And you’re right there, in front of them, breathtaking just by being you.

Impatience and a dash of anger lingers in your voice when you speak again.

“Who are you?”

A heartbreak.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Hey! Look, it's Mini Fic Time!! I drew this art SO LONG AGO. But didn't want to post it until it had it's very own little fic to go with it. And here it is, with 985 words!

Just Your Friendly Neighborhood Pizza Delivery Man

Tuesday’s patrol was slow. So slow that Peter had been bouncing between the same few buildings for the hour without so much as a twitch from his spider-senses. He knew he should probably be appreciative for the lack of crime but having super powers and nothing to exercise them with was boring. He’d just about given up on crime fighting for the day when a minute tingle flared just below the base of his skull.

It took him a moment to identify the danger. When he did, he sighed. It was a speeding car. Not his typical crime demographic but he figured he may as well try to slow the person down. He swung down towards the road with the intent of gaining the drivers attention. He flipped, flailed his arms back and forth and shouted at the top of his lungs. Although whoever was behind the wheel didn’t seem to notice. Or care. He simply picked up speed and much to Peter’s horror started to run a red light.

Peter reacted quickly, grabbing the car by the bumper and digging his heels into the asphalt. The car slowed significantly but it still managed to clip the very back corner of another vehicle. The speedy driver tried gunning the engine, in a clear attempt to get away, but that’s to Peter held on tight.

When the man in the car finally realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he frantically jumped out of his car and ran towards the back to investigate. Peter propped his elbow onto the trunk and waited to be spotted.

“Wow. Speeding and an attempted hit and run all in one night?” he said the moment the man came into full view. “Not cool, man.”

The man’s jaw dropped and his eyed comically widened. “Spider-Man?” he asked, as if he couldn’t wholly believe what he was witnessing.

“The one and only!” Peter replied, while bringing both of his thumbs towards his chest.

“Shit!” the man exclaimed. His hand flew up to his hair in panic. “Are you going to call the cops?”

Peter looked towards the woman, who had been in the other car. She was completely unharmed, but there was significant damage to the back end of her vehicle. The bumper was mostly detached and It looked as though the license plate was hanging on for dear life. She was already on her phone rapidly speaking to someone in Spanish. “I think that nice lady over there already called,” he said after some thought.

“Shit!” The man repeated.

Peter shrugged and looked back and forth between the angry woman and the decidedly frazzled young man. “Well, you did sort of trash her car,” he assessed.

Unfazed, the man began to pace. “I can’t afford another ticket,” he strained but Peter couldn’t quite sympathize.

“But you have a job and if you weren’t-” he began to chastize, then tilted his head in curiosity. “Wait. How many tickets do you have?”

Rather than answer, the man’s head snapped towards the blue flashing lights that were quickly heading in their direction. “I gotta get out of here,” he shouted, then darted towards the driver's side door. However, Peter was swift to shoot a web.

“Yoink!” he quipped as the web made contact with the man’s back, causing him to stagger backward. “Sorry, Mr. Pizza Dude. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to stick around,” he said, pausing momentarily as he grinned beneath the mask. “Get it? Stick around?”

When the man didn’t seem to find the play on words nearly as amusing as he did, Peter huffed. Then he turned towards the closest building and readied himself to shoot a web. “On that note,” he cheerily announced. “I need to get going!”

“Wait!” the man shouted from here he was webbed to the side of his car.

“I’m not unsticking you,” Peter blandly replied. “You’re a bad guy.”

“No it’s just-” the man hesitantly began. “I still have one more delivery for the night.”

Peter vacantly stared at the man, slowly blinking the lenses of the mask for maximum effect.

“If I don’t deliver it, I don’t get paid!” the man shouted next, but Peter remained stoic. “And that poor customer won’t get their pizza?”

Sighing, Peter replied, “I suppose that would be tragic.” Then he snatched the pizza themed hat right off of the top of the man's head and placed it onto his own. “Guess I’ll have to deliver it for you. The address on the ticket?”

The man sighed defeatedly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Peter chirped. There was a single pizza in the passenger's seat. On top of it was a slip of paper with all the order information. “Hey! You were so close!” Peter said as he read the destination. “I know that street, it’s just around the corner!”

With the pizza securely in one hand, Peter shot a web with the other. “Adiós, señora! I hope you get your car repaired really soon!” he called out as he gracefully swung towards the nearby townhomes. It took a minute for him to locate the precise unit. When he did he skipped up to the porch and rang the bell.

“Spider-Man?” the person answering the door confusedly inquired.

“That’s what it says on my hero card!” Peter replied, then laughed lightly. “Or it would if I had one- But right now, I’m just your friendly neighborhood pizza delivery man!”

The person offered a mildly confused ‘thanks’ when Peter placed the box into their hands. Then with a little wave, he accepted the small cash tip and took off towards the top of the rooftop.

As it were, delivering pizza was kind of fun. And for a second or two, he wondered if Spider-Man could get a side job swinging pizzas through the city. The little bit of added money would certainly be nice.

...But only on the slow days.

[ficbrish]

Smoke Rings

[AO3 Link]

[Here we go! @flufftober Spring Edition 2024! Thank you for the prompt 🥰 March 13th - Spring Cleaning]

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

tw/cw: Sexual content, cptsd, blood, alcohol, weed/mushrooms, smoking, sex while high, post-battle scenery, gore, death, hanging reference, an unserious small dick joke, vague reference to past incest and CSA

After the game, but before the epilogue, Astarion and Vistri find a new home in the Underdark.

END GAME/POST-CANON SPOILERS!

Exhausted and ragged, they looked at each other in disbelief and clasped hands.

Their last enemy had been cut down; the fortress finally won.

“I believe we have a home now, darling.”

Astarion’s voice was strained from shouting, and moisture clouded his ruby eyes. His words echoed hollowly, but they were real.

A home, in the Underdark. That kind of life had been snatched from Vistri at the vengeful end of a serving fork. Dear Uncle Hurzeth really should have learned to shut his mouth, but like most religious men, he wasn’t known for his humility or impulse-control.

Vistri’s name and birthright burnt to ash upon his funeral pyre; stuffed in the gullet of his perverse corpse. In seizing justice, retribution wrapped around her own throat like an executioner’s noose, diminishing her to the life of a wandering Surface vagabond. Never to have a home in the violet gloom again.

Until the Nautiloid came along playing matchmaker and diviner of fate.

Their homecomings were each other’s exiles. As she reunited with the permanent dark, Astarion was banished to it. All that illithid nonsense allowed the sun to lovingly grace his skin without burning it to cinders. Now sans tadpoles, or the sacrifice of seven thousand other vampire spawn, his bright star once more turned to poison.

Luckily, Vistri was all the sun he ever needed. She dwarfed the real one in comparison to how she brightened his days and left a pleasant tingling on his skin. Its daylight cast shadows, while her spotlight chased away all shade. Its radiant touch whispered and dissipated rather quickly, hers shouted and echoed endlessly.

And even when it was the other way around, Astarion turned Vistri’s prison into a sanctuary. Maybe it was Sune herself who blessed them, for the love they found taught them the true meaning of home.

Standing back to back in the blood-soaked corridors of their brand-new ancient fortress, all they’d really gained was an address.

And a place to keep their stuff.

And host parties at.

…And for teaching and protecting all the others who’d broken from Cazador’s heavy chains.

Tiredly they turned and fell into each other’s arms, bracing themselves against their weariness. The rush of battle still flared through every muscle as their heightened senses filled with nothing but the other. Relief vibrated into a livid need, so furious at death that it came alive.

Her whimper wouldn’t have been half as charming if she wasn’t so completely oblivious to it building in her throat. He dwarfed it with a moan, taking her lips tenderly between his.

Breaking apart, she sighed and swore, “I’d let you take me over these corpses.”

“Wouldn’t be very sanitary though, would it?”

She giggled senselessly and twirled from his embrace to survey the room. Unsuccessfully clearing the ecstatic happiness from her lips with a smirk, she said, “It’s a fucking dump.”

Astarion threw his head back and laughed with such relief it sounded like sobbing.

Having carved a path of carnage all the way from the gates to that final corridor, they had a clear way back to the others. The halls seemed a lot longer when they were fighting their way through them. And populated with more vampires.

At some point along their macabre stroll, Astarion suddenly stopped them. “But where are all the spawn?” he asked warily.

“Perhaps they’ve met up already?”

Uneasy shivers skirted his neck. He felt them despite being just out of reach. It was enough of a warning for him to suggest they continue carefully, slowly. Even if there was nothing to worry about, a little caution couldn’t hurt.

The reason for his misgivings became apparent as soon as they approached the courtyard. Apparently everyone had met up already. A veritable feeding frenzy played out before them. Ravenous spawn were covering the cadavers like carrion. It was like the Shadowfell had descended, warping them into a Domain of sickness. The risen dead devouring a small village.

They thought they’d learned everything to know about the Dhampir, but clearly their education was just getting started. Astarion was one vampire, and that’s all they were used to. This was a horde. No stranger to the sight of him ripping off a bandit’s head and drinking from it like a chalice, Vistri still froze in fear at the scene before them.

Growling instinctively, Astarion stepped in front of her. Territorial feeders, the spawn were spaced like pieces on a freshly set lanceboard. Even so, the crowd was denser over by the gates, where most of the carnage was concentrated. His siblings feasted among them. He couldn’t help the sense of superiority that dawned on him at the sight.

He might not have ascended at Cazador’s death, but in observing his brethren’s lowly acts, thought himself lord of them all. The blood they supped on was dead and dull, no matter how fresh and warm. Astarion had Vistri. He didn’t steal, because she gave. She came to him willingly, and her blood ran with drow and dragon, so vibrantly full of life it was as powerful as a storm.

Vistri pitied them. How hungry and desperate, how alone they all were. She looked at Astarion in a new beloved light. He was the one who brought them together, the one who would guide them all to be better. 

Astarion was the first one to get away, to learn to control his nature. He was the one who killed Cazador. He was the one who broke their chains, giving them another chance. He was the one who had something to teach all the rest.

He felt such a bitter disgust; none of them should ever be this desperate, this starved. Feed, he thought proudly, looking out, Feed to your fill. They’d do better than animals and cooling corpses soon enough.

Realizing they were senseless of anything but the bleeding bodies stacked in front of them, Astarion scooped Vistri into his arms like a bride to carry her across the courtyard.

“You will not be afraid in your own home. I’ll make sure no one gives you a reason,” he said it so surely, it was more a statement of fact than a promise.

As he walked past the growling, slurping spawn, Vistri hid her face in his breast like a nervous child. The world was dangerous and threatening, but she was safe in his arms. Still, the relief she felt was full-bodied when they passed under arches and retreated into the fortress.

He carried her though the blooded halls of time-forgotten stone, unsure of where he was headed. Just somewhere else away from the others, away from the marks of battle. Astarion searched until he was satisfied he’d found a corner that could be entirely theirs. It took him far down the corridors, climbing stairs where he saw the opportunity.

Arms aching, he gave up on perfection and settled for what seemed like it would do. As they crossed the chosen chamber threshold, he kissed Vistri’s cheek and said, “Welcome home, my love.”

She giggled as he set her down with an, “Ooof! ”

The room was too spacious to be a closet, and contained no hints of its purpose. There were chairs everywhere, some broken, none matching. A desk was placed haphazardly near the middle, or maybe it was a table. Wooden crates were stacked to the side in a disorderly way, like they’d been quickly stashed and forgotten. Vistri wanted to open them immediately. She spilled out of Astarion’s arms and tumbled towards them.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here!” she said, rubbing her hands together. She hit one with an ice cantrip.

“Careful!” he chuckled as the air around them chilled and wood cracked.

The crate didn’t open, the side just sort of froze.

“Blast!”

Spotting the way Vistri frustratedly pulled her foot back for a kick, Astarion picked her up and pulled her away. She fussed in his embrace like an angry cat.

“By the gods, you’ll break whatever’s in there,” he chuckled, “Let me do it.”

Vistri crossed her arms, “Fine.”

Alas! There was wine. After he put her down, he pried the crate open with one of his knives, revealing dozens of bottles inside.

“I could have done that!”

He chuckled warmly, “My dear, you would have shattered them.”

Hopefully it was good wine, because every bottle was the same. Knife still in hand, he twisted off the cork and tested the first sip. 

His face screwed up with bitterness, “Just give it a little time to breathe.”

Tittering at his reaction, Vistri yanked the bottle from his grasp and took an impatient sip. “It’s not… entirely rubbish,” she said, warily giving her judgment with a thoughtful expression.

“Give it a minute!” he laughed.

Defiantly, she took another sip.

“You little minx,” he smirked, snatching the bottle back. After setting it down on the floor, Astarion looped his fingers with hers. He sighed against her lips before kissing them. Vistri forgot all about the wine, even as their tongues tasted of it.

“Astarion,” she said, and he thought she was just saying his name until she continued, “Is there something else I can offer you to drink in the meantime?”

Her offer brought to mind the courtyard below. He was better than that because she allowed him to be better. She barely let him say it first, always begging to be drunk. In the way that other lovers would ask, Have you eaten today? Vistri tilted her neck and inquired if he wanted a bite.

Resting his forehead against hers, he said, “I am feeling a bit peckish.”

Vistri jumped blissfully into his arms. Her heart beat ecstatically in anticipation as Astarion brought her over to that table in the middle of the room. She felt like a cloth being draped across it. Her legs opened as he climbed over her.

Before he pierced her with his fangs, she pulled him into a rough kiss. His thigh pushed hers wider apart. He felt himself grind into her, his hips swaying in tune with hers. Their song eventually spilled off her tongue, and Astarion moaned too, making it a duet.

“Bite my lip,” she suggested.

Smiling, he submitted to her suggestion, as gently as he could. With the point of his fang, he sliced her open, groaning as the first drop of blood hit his tongue. Astarion feasted like a king among peasants. Vistri wriggled willingly, longingly under him. She kissed him as he sucked her lip and nibbled it, coaxing her nectar to trickle forward. While part of him reached a point of satisfaction, another starved. Ravenously, he pushed into her mouth. They passed her blood back and forth on shivering tongues.

“Astarion,” she sighed as he let go of her lip, and this time she was just saying his name.

Their fingers tumbled with their lacings; their knuckles clashing together in the rush to free themselves from their leathers.

“Can—?”

“Yes!” she pleaded.

It felt like laying claim; to each other, this fortress, their power, and life itself. The tight, stretching ache of one another ripped through their senses with the thrust of his hips. Pleasure sighed through every pore, rushing like a white river over their skin.

Ecstasy erased their sense of self, dissolving them together in its realm. They were safe now. They could spend their lives this way. They were home.

Free.

Little did they know that table had been stashed there over a weak leg. It gave out from the power of their movements, and the whole thing collapsed. Shrieking as they fell, it turned to laughter as they realized neither were hurt.

“Are you okay?” she laughed, and he kissed her in response.

“I almost broke my dick!” he cackled breathily.

Vistri got up first, still giggling, and offered a hand, “Careful, you’re surrounded by wooden stakes.”

She was little help with how weak her limbs were, both from the edge of fulfillment, and their sudden shock that’d blossomed into overwhelming hilarity. They burst into another round of it when he slipped and almost fell back into a broken table leg. Vistri had to catch him with her spectral mage hand.

Stumbling over the trousers they’d pushed down to their thighs, they chased each other to another corner of the room. Astarion caught her and spun her around into an innocent kiss that easily descended into depravity.

His arms felt like mush and their muscles begged screaming for some rest, but Astarion lifted Vistri up again anyway to push her back into the wall. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, taking care not to leave bruises as others did. He hadn’t asked for that yet. But at his command, she’d tighten into a vice-grip and leave behind a physical reminder of their embrace.

Gravity turned the wall into a bed. Like the arches bearing their new home, they found a force and a balance when pressing together that held up their wary, rutting bodies. Staring into Vistri’s violet eyes, Astarion found himself falling into the abyss.

“Wait,” he absently whispered, slowing his movements.

Caressing his cheek, worry infecting her tone, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

His chuckle was a growl, “More like too right.” He kissed her and groaned, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Trapping her hips against the wall, he held them still and started to gradually rock his. Only allowing as much as the tip was a delicious torture.

“More,” she groaned.

As her desperation serenaded his ears, Astarion could feel her tightening and shivering around him, begging to fill her completely. He wanted to give in as much as she did. Controlling her was sweet, but controlling himself was even sweeter. His denial was power, and it subjugated both of them.

“Cum for me first, and I’ll give you more.”

Faster, he pumped in and out, growing in tempo until her screaming rang painfully in his ears. She was already on the verge of it, and seemed to let go at his command. Her pulsing pleasure was rough on his tender head, overly sensitized from repetitive penetration. Love and vice sparked through him and a wonderful pressure built behind his eyes.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. As Vistri surrendered to ecstasy, she dragged him along like a sweeping wave. She was still tapering off the feeling when, unable to wait, he finally buried himself to his root.

Unintelligibly crying out at his thrust, they quickly lost themselves. Gazing eye to eye, they saw past reds and purples into the depths of their exposed hearts. It overwhelmed them, like a cleric beholding their god. Together, they fell into fulfillment with a swooping terror that felt like losing one’s balance, and crashed into a brand-new plane of existence that banished all fear and held only the two of them.

Once they were back to reality, within these unfamiliar walls of their new dwelling, they sunk and sat up against the wall, holding each other tight. Vistri nuzzled her cheek against his and sighed with spent contentment.

“…You know you don’t have to stay,” Astarion said, his voice a shaking heart, “I-If you no longer wish to.”

The dreams already dying in his eyes in anticipation of his fears made her chest physically ache. Vistri caressed his beloved face without thought, just a need to save him from the horror.

“Oh, Astarion,” she chuckled sorrowfully, “Oh, my love.”

He closed his running eyes and felt her lips land softly across his cheekbones.

“I want you,” she whispered on his face, “All I want is you. Only you.”

Unable to bear witness to more of her affirmative words, he stopped them with a long, thankful kiss.

Her rare heart sat clearly in her expression. It was gift-wrapped, tied with red string, and addressed to him lovingly; his name written along the side.

“How dare I doubt you?”

“Exactly,” she giggled, “How dare you!”

Others still haunted their ability to convey and receive messages of genuine love. Having already pushed their limits, they sat embracing one another in pleasant silence.

Until Astarion muttered, “Almost forgot!” and got up to grab the wine they’d left over by the door.

Vistri excitedly ran after him, light on her feet like a fey.

Raising the bottle high between them, he toasted, “To our home.”

She took a smiling sip, then passed it back to Astarion. Swallowing felt like making a vow.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked, no bitter flinch present in his expression after his swig.

“You were right,” she smirked warmly, “Some things are all the better for waiting.”

v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v

They figured the hard part would be the conquering, but that was more like Spawn City Tutorial. After the initial looting and corpse-burning, there were some celebrations. Then the real work came. Starting with turning the captured fortress into a real home. Scrubbing, mapping, sweeping, dusting, assessing masonry needs, livestock needs, stocking, mopping—Cleaning! Cleaning!

“Cleaning! Enough cleaning!” Astarion exclaimed one evening.

Vistri giggled wildly as he wrestled her for her scrub brush. Their excited shouts bounced sharply across the barren, ancient stone. Successfully snatching it away, he chucked it out of the nearby window.

Running over to the sill, she chuckled, “Darling, we’ll have to fetch that.”

He scoffed, “I’ll make Petras go fetch it.”

“You can’t always bully Petras,” she laughed.

“Yes, I can!”

Turning to Astarion with a cheeky smile, she leaned against the window and asked, “Do you remember this chamber?”

His pout overturned into a devilish smile. He knew exactly which chamber this was.

“Oh, I think about it daily,” he smirked, joining her over by the window.

He couldn’t read the expression in Vistri's eyes, they were so far away, but her distance seemed filled with possibility instead of escape.

“We have a house,” he repeated, just to hear it out loud again.

“We do! We have a house!”

Flinging an arm over her shoulder, Astarion looked out and surveyed the scenery below with his beloved.

“Well,” she stated shakily, “We did it.”

She turned to him with a beaming expression that shined so bright it was like the sun sat right here in the Underdark gloom. More than joy, there was want and adoration screaming through her eyes. To be its witness, no, to be the direction in which it was pointed, made his undead heart skip happily.

Their old tower loomed over the glow of wild mushrooms like a proud lord. Who knows how many had peered through the same window. Who knows if they would be the last, or if others would eventually come to conquer them too. Who would they be? And what would they think, looking out over the same shades of grey?

“I like it because it’s ours,” she said. Astarion shrugged her closer and blessed the side of her forehead with a rough peck.

He pulled something from his pockets with his free hand, “Do you have a light, my dear?”

Gale and Halsin weren’t the biggest smokers, but they were inventive ones. What started as a few collaborative pipe blends turned into a shared hobby, and they took to it with the enthusiasm of two middle-aged men who had recently discovered model chariots. Before parting for the Underdark, Waterdeep, or the Shadow Curse-no-more Lands, they’d left the remaining team with tears, bear hugs (figuratively and literally), and a few packets of pre-rolled parting gifts.

Instead of filling for a pipe, their masterwork blend was artfully wrapped up into a smokable stick, like a cigarillo. The casing was as well-crafted and loved as their herbal fungi blend, made of dried fruit peels and layered in with rose petals that were kept magically fresh.

Vistri asked them what the blend comprised of many times, and although it was no secret recipe, she’d always ask once the stogie was already lit. There was a bit of timmask dust in there for sure, but the herbs were lost to the blurry memory of their excitedly recited list. The elevated joy that sparkled in Gale and Halsin’s eyes as they spoke stood out to her more than their words.

“You have the most brilliant ideas,” she smiled.

“I know,” he smirked, placing the stick between his lips.

Astarion leaned over as she snapped her thumb, making a small flame shoot out of it in the way Karlach taught her. Cupping his hands around it, he met her fire and inhaled. Tufts of smoke blew out the end of the cig, and drifted in tendrils from Astarion’s nose like a dragon’s breath.

Taking it between two noble fingers, he passed the gift from his lips to hers. Vistri smiled and took an eager pull. She coughed on her exhale, making Astarion giggle.

More than euphoria, the instant effect brought a giddy sort of security. Nothing was wrong with them or the world, a state they’d only found in each other’s embrace. It was nice to live in for a little while, and taught them existence isn’t inherently bad or painful.

Looking out the window, Astarion remarked, “I don’t think Petras could even run that far.”

Vistri’s chortle was so sudden she almost snorted, “Of course he can!”

“Poor fucker would get lost and need a break every few steps. Unless he had Dalyria with him, of course. Then maybe the five minute walk would be such, and not turn into a tenday’s journey across the yard.”

Too thick in the midst of giggling to answer, Vistri went for another puff and ended up choking on the smoke.

“Heavens! Are you ever gonna learn how to hit that?”

Over a series of coughs, Vistri fought to speak, “Astarion! ”

He grabbed the open wine they’d snuck into their cleaning session and handed it to her, “Have a drink of something. You sound awful!”

Suppressing another cough, she took a defiant swig.

“Good. Now pass that my way—Not the wine! You keep that. That funny, little cigar.”

As he took another puff, Vistri regained her breath and said, “It’s too small to be a cigar.”

Astarion, being Astarion, heard small and cigar in a sentence, and jumped on the cliche, “My, my! Imagine being told its too small to be considered a willy.”

“Astarion!—And don’t you dare take another jab at Petras! Poor Petras.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about Petras in that regard!”

“Because you know,” she said, raising her brow and reaching for the cig, “I bet he has a big—”

“Can we not talk about my brother’s Todd Johnson?”

She could barely breathe, “Todd Johnson?! ”

Wrestling her for another smoke, Astarion fell into her laughter until his ribs started to ache. Growing weak from it, he gave up the fight and sat back wiping his eyes. Vistri finally passed it over, grinning victoriously.

He placed the dwindling cigarillo between his teeth and flashed a smile to meet hers. Then with a cat-like pounce, suddenly bent to throw her over his shoulder. 

Upside-down her cackling reflected off the floor and continued bouncing between the ceiling and walls. Most of the furniture that was in the room previously had been dumped or moved elsewhere. Sound carried louder and longer than it had the day before, making their laughter haunt the stone like specters.

They could have been a thousand lovers.

“Sit with me, darling,” he cooed, his words slurred with the cig still tucked between his teeth. Halfway gone, it was now just a little longer than his fangs when fully-retracted, about to bite.

Two other chairs remained, but he chose their favorite. Its upholstery had a fresh, weathered look that reminded them of Astarion’s old clothes. Well-tended to with a consistent, loving hand, its rich fabrics held on despite their decay. It made them wonder which discarded body in the courtyard those hands had belonged to.

At least their life’s work wasn’t wasted. Lovers now took it as their preferred perch. They sat so lazily on it, it seemed to swallow them.

With another puff, Astarion released a thick ring of smoke into the air in front of them. Vistri rewarded his trick with kisses to his cheek and a round of applause, delighted by the way it slowly floated by.

“Every day your mouth shows me new wonders.”

“Does it?” he asked, leaning in for a kiss with a raised brow.

“Mmmm, it does.”

Placing a hand along her hip, he commanded, “Face me.”

Moving to straddle him, Vistri turned and settled over his lap. Her thighs spread wide over his; her knees sunk into the cushion cracks. The way she centered her balance over his middle sent another kind of high coursing through their senses. Reaching for the stick smoking in his hands, she wove her fingers into his to smoothly steal it.

A glint in her eyes, she inhaled. Letting the smoke slowly crash over his face, she leaned in to place her mouth on his and blow the rest of her hit into it. Astarion moaned, tasting her under the heavy scent of burning plants.

“How considerate of you,” he exhaled, grinning.

“I try my best.”

Pushing her hair back, Astarion looked suddenly thoughtful, “Do you ever wish it were just us?”

“All the time,” she chuckled, “But they need us. You know they do.”

He raised his eyebrow, “To their credit, none of them have tried to steal a bite.”

“I think that credit is due more to my magic and your promised fury.”

“Maybe a little of that too,” he smirked.

Warmly, she planted a kiss on his forehead. A silent, I’m so proud of you.

As reluctantly as Astarion played it, Vistri knew he relished his new role. It was important to him to be better than Cazador, but more than that, she knew he needed them all to get better together. That’s just the type of person he was, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

Another smoke ring danced in the air above their heads. Then a series of smaller ones.

Vistri was beaming at him, “Look at you, love. So amazing.”

“You’re very high.”

She snickered, “No, I’m not!”

“It’s okay, my dear,” he chuckled, “I’m right there with you.”

They broke into ugly laughter that clashed like two very different songs being played poorly on the same stage. Their ridiculous levity sounded like the echoing cries of some cursed reptilian god.

The stone thanked them for silence when Astarion took her lips between his. With gently rocking hips, he showed Vistri the extent of his desire. She was wanted, needed. Craved.

“You make me feel like a king,” he whispered along the crook of her jaw. Then chuckling, he continued, “I know how it sounds, of course. But I don’t know other words to say it. Not now.”

Her hands glided over his chest, rubbing it in absent-minded patterns, “I am a most willing subject.”

“Are you, now?” he asked, knowing the answer from the warble in her voice.

At the nodding of her head, Astarion untied his laces. He watched Vistri take another inhale of their dying nub. Cool air defied the heat he felt in the oven of their laps as he pulled his twitching dick free of his breeches.

The old robes she wore allowed for easy access, and she adjusted them to tent over their laps. Pulling one hand in through her sleeve, she caressed his cock. Pressing his silky skin against her rolling hips, Astarion gasped pleasantly at the brushing of her lace knickers. He brought a hand of his own to keep under her robes. His finger gently traced its patterns, feeling her labia thicken under it from his gradual strokes.

Vistri hadn’t planned for a moment like this. She figured she’d feel better wearing such plain rags if her finest knickers hid beneath them. The delighted surprise in his expression almost disappointed her. He should really know her better by now.

Rubbing each other under her robes, they passed the last of their treat back and forth with their free hands. On the final pull, Astarion brought her close to share it. Her exhale turned into a kiss; his tongue shyly met the tip of hers.

“Is it all right?” she asked, “We’re quite intoxi—”

He didn’t even mean to interrupt her. The consideration in her query was a splash of oil on his fire, further igniting the blaze.

“It’s all right,” he kissed her, “Are you all—”

“Yes,” she nodded, still unbelievingly grateful for his returned care.

Her eager hips rolled into his teasing finger. Arousal coated the inside of her knickers. It was beginning to soak through to his skin. He moaned, and pulled the bunching lace tight so her folds spilled over the sides, swallowing the string of lace between them. Grabbing his cock, he rubbed his head against her wet skin and the rough line of lace that ran down her middle.

“I could burst just from this,” he sighed.

His finger slipped under the lace, pulling it taught like one of his bows. Upon releasing it, her cry sounded in tune with its smack. She was caught prey, waiting only for death.

Placing her roughly used knickers aside, he lined himself up against her soak. As he pushed in, Vistri lowered herself to take in his length. Gasping from the squeeze and stretch, their high made every familiar ecstasy ten times brighter. Riding each other’s waves, they sunk into multiverses of gluttonous sensation.

“Shit. You feel like magic.”

“I am magic.”

Chuckling together in their embrace, their rutting didn’t cease.

It got faster. Harder.

Deeper. Like they were digging to the core of each other, prying open the gilded chest that housed their very souls.

Climax came over them so strongly it made their lips pull back and shiver. Pulsing together, their shouts dissipated to whines; bliss stuffing their throats.

Fighting overstimulation, they maintained a slow rocking of their hips. Not wanting to stop. Ever. His seed started to spill out of her from their movements and pool over his balls. From whence we came, we shall return.

Astarion thought the joke was too delicious not to share.

Pointing to the mess, he recited, “From whence we came, we shall return.”

Vistri laughed so hard, she tripped going to fetch them a fresh rag.

They made out after casually cleaning each other up.

Passionately, like lovestruck teenagers who’d just discovered it. Loving words and adoring vows came tumbling out of the hot ache. Promises for this new life; dedicating joy to each other’s names.

As sudden as it started, it stopped. Their furious need became a tight embrace, like fingers grasping the edge of a cliff. Beating together in sorrowful song, their hearts found an impossible happiness; a new music.

“I think I rather like this room,” he said in a tone that was light despite its heaviness.

Humming pleasantly, Vistri nuzzled into his chest, “Let’s make it ours then.”

A room of their own. Their chambers.

“We already have," Astarion chuckled, "A couple times, in fact.”

[tortellini-bandit]

- As You Wish

Word count: 2.0k~

Description: Post canon fluff and smut. Degradation, feminization, breeding kink

Edited by: @morbific-or-felicific

The first thing Henry notices when he walks through the door of the brownstone is scent of cooking pozole. The second thing he notices is David trotting lazily over to him from the kitchen with a pleased look on his face that can only mean Alex has been sneaking him food. Henry fails to suppress a fond smile.

“Hello, love,” he calls, scratching absentmindedly behind David’s ears, staring at his fiancé’s ass as Alex stands at the stove, seasoning his stew and swaying his hips to the music playing softly from their kitchen speaker, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants slung low over his hips and an apron tied around his waist. His glasses are perched on his nose.

Alex turns when he hears Henry, and his face lights up. “Hi, sweetheart. How were the kids at the shelter today?”

“They’re doing well.” Henry straightens, moving to stand in front of Alex, looping his arms around his neck. “They were asking when the next time you’re coming to visit is.” He leans down to press a gentle kiss to Alex’s lips, and he can feel Alex’s grin against his mouth.

“It must be so disappointing to know that the children at the shelter you run love me more than you.”

Henry rolls his eyes, lacing his fingers together with Alex’s and brings their hands up to his lips, brushing his lips gently over the ring on Alex’s finger. The ring that used to belong to Henry’s father.

Alex turns back to his pozole, adding a small splash of vinegar and the hominy. Henry’s hands find their way to Alex’s waist, and his lips find their way to Alex’s neck, sucking an absentminded bruise as Alex mixes in the new ingredients. Henry gasps when Alex starts grinding back against his clothed cock to the rhythm of the music, instinctively tightening his grip on his hips, pulling him closer. Alex tilts his head, and he pulls Henry into an open-mouthed kiss with one hand tangled in Henry’s hair. Henry reaches around Alex’s front, beneath the apron, and palms his slowly hardening dick over his sweatpants.

Alex’s tongue fucks into his mouth, and his hand tightens in Henry’s hair. Henry grinds forward against Alex’s ass, searching for friction.

“I need you to fuck me, darling,” Henry breathes against his fiancé’s mouth.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you? Fill you up with my cock, princess?”

“Yes.”

Alex turns the stove down to a low simmer and puts the lid on, untying his apron and setting it on the counter before grabbing Henry’s hand and leading him up the stairs into their bedroom. Alex leans against the doorframe, eyes raking lazily up and down Henry’s body.

“Strip for me, sweetheart.” Henry hurries to comply, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it somewhere on the floor before unbuttoning and stepping out of his trousers, tossing them aside as well.

Alex retrieves the lube from their nightstand, taking his glasses off and setting them aside, and drops to his knees in front of Henry. He mouths at the embarrassingly large dark patch on the front of Henry’s pale blue boxers, and Henry’s eyes roll back in his head, his fingers winding their way into Alex’s curls. Alex sucks teasingly on the head through the fabric before hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, exposing Henry’s hard cock, dripping precum.

“God, you’re so wet for me. Such a desperate little cockslut.” Alex swipes his thumb across the tip of Henry’s leaking cock, gathering some of the precum, presses his thumb to Henry’s open, eager mouth. “Suck.”

Henry wraps his lips around Alex’s thumb, sucking gently, tasting himself. He lets out a loud moan, uncaring that he sounds like a desperate whore. “Fuck me, Alex, Christ. I need your cock,” he whines around Alex’s finger.

“Fuck, H, look at you. Getting off on tasting yourself.” Alex bites roughly on Henry’s inner thigh. “What would your people think if they saw you now, hmm? Perfect Prince Charming whining like a bitch in heat, begging for me to fuck his needy cunt.” An intense shudder runs down Henry’s spine, and he cants his hips upwards, searching for a friction that’s not there.

“Yes. I need you. Fuck my pussy, please.”

“Sit.” Alex pushes him none too gently backwards, and he half falls, half sits on the edge of the bed. Alex takes the head of Henry’s cock into his mouth, sucking lightly, teasing. Henry whines, tangling his fingers in the sheets, trying to thrust up into Alex’s mouth, but Alex’s hands on his hips keep him in place. Alex pulls off, licking a gentle stripe from base to tip, circling his tongue back around the head, catching the precum that’s steadily leaking.

Alex uncaps the lube, pouring a small amount onto his hand, and pulls Henry forward on the bed, his first finger circling Henry’s rim; Henry gasps. Alex presses his finger in, building a slow rhythm.

“I can’t wait to fuck your tight little cunt. God, you feel so good.”

Henry whines, fucking himself back onto Alex’s hand, attempting to get Alex to speed up. In retaliation, Alex takes the head of Henry’s cock back into his mouth, sucking harshly, scraping with the barest hint of teeth; Henry lets out a pained whimper.

Alex adds another finger, moving faster, and Henry moans.

“Yeah? You like this? Like when I fuck your pretty little pussy?”

“Ngh. Yes, please, fuck.”

“You’re such a fucking slut for it, aren’t you? Begging for my cock.” Alex crooks his fingers and Henry writhes.

“Yes, fuck me, please. I need your cock.”

“Can’t even go five seconds without something filling your needy hole, can you? God, you’re such a fucking whore.” Alex half stands, pulling his fingers out, and tosses Henry farther up the bed like Henry doesn’t have four inches on him; Henry yelps at the sudden movement. Alex crawls onto the bed after him, pushes his legs up to his chest so Henry is folded nearly in half.

“Where would you be right now if I wasn’t here to fuck you full of my cum, huh? Probably out on the streets, offering it up to anyone who will take it.” Alex pushes two fingers back in, immediately hitting that spot inside him that punches all the air out of his lungs for a moment.

“No.” Henry shakes his head vigorously. “Only you. I only, ngh, want you.”

“Is that so? Have I ruined you for everyone else? No one else can fuck your perfect little cunt like I can?”

“Yes. Only you. Don’t, hngh, don’t ever want anyone else.”

“Good.” Alex bites down on Henry’s collarbone hard enough to draw blood, and Henry cries out, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.

Alex adds another finger, fucking into him roughly, and Henry gasps from the stinging pain mixed with overwhelming pleasure, torn between trying to lean into Alex’s touch and trying to pull away from it. Alex’s tongue is warm against his cheek as he licks away a tear as it falls. Alex slots his lips against Henry’s, and Henry tastes salt as Alex feeds him his own tears on his tongue.

Eventually Alex pulls his fingers away, and Henry whimpers at the loss, trying to chase after him.

“Jesus, you’re such a fucking whore. Can’t even stand to be empty long enough for me to get my cock out to fuck you.” Alex’s presses his thumb cruelly against the bite mark on Henry’s collarbone, and Henry cries out at the sudden, sharp pain. “Maybe we should get you a nice little toy that you can wear all day, keep you nice and full all the time.”

Henry keens.

“Or maybe,” Alex pushes his sweatpants down his thighs, tossing them somewhere at the foot of the bed, and fists his hard cock, “Maybe I should just jerk off.” He starts stroking his cock leisurely, almost like he’s bored. “Come all over your tits, and leave you here, desperate and empty and begging for my cock.”

“No,” Henry wails. “Please, I need you. Fuck me, use me, please.”

Alex smirks, pouring a little more lube onto his hand, slicking his cock. “Okay, princess. As you wish.” Alex thrusts all the way in at once and doesn’t pause to give Henry a moment to adjust, holding him by the hips and fucking roughly into him.

Henry tries to move, to meet Alex halfway, but Alex is holding him firmly in place, fucking into him like he’s some sort of sex doll. Henry moans, tossing his head back and most likely drooling onto their pillows.

“Do you think I’m going to, fuck, knock you up like this? Fuck you so good you get pregnant?” Alex fucks him harder, pressing his hand to Henry’s stomach where Henry swears he can feel him. “Then everyone will know that you’re *mine.” Alex bites down harshly on his shoulder, and Henry lets out a strangled cry, arching off the bed.

“Yes! Fill me with your cum, fuck me until I’m pregnant.” Henry tangles his hands in Alex’s dark curls, pulling him down until their lips meet in a bruising kiss, licking into Alex’s mouth. Alex nips at his lower lip, soothing over it with his tongue. Henry gets lost in the slide is his tongue against Alex’s, and the rough drag of Alex’s cock inside him.

Alex changes his angle, fucking into him harder, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. Henry whimpers into Alex’s mouth, raking his blunt nails down Alex’s back so hard there will probably be marks tomorrow. He can’t find it in himself to care.

Alex’s grip on his hips is harsh, and his pace is unrelenting. “Henry, fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Come. Get me, ngh, pregnant.” Henry thrashes at the relentless pressure against his prostate, eyelashes wet.

“Open your mouth for me, princess.”

Henry parts his lips, staring up at Alex with wide eyes, and Alex leans over him and spits into his mouth. Henry’s back arches off the mattress and he comes, untouched, with a surprised half laugh, half sob, spasming around Alex’s cock, painting his and Alex’s stomachs with his cum.

Alex follows a few seconds later, his forehead pressed to Henry’s shoulder, panting and rocking gently into him through the aftershocks. Eventually, he slows to a stop.

They stay like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, and Henry tugs Alex down and into a long, slow, gentle kiss. Alex is the first to pull away, resting his forehead against Henry’s.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Alex’s eyes are filled with such genuine love and concern, like he’s worried he went too far, and Henry smiles softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from Alex’s face.

“So good, love. I feel so good.”

Alex grins at him, wide and unashamed. “As much as I’d love to stay here forever, I need to take the pozole off the stove, and we need to have a shower.”

Henry hisses when Alex pulls out, and Alex presses and apologetic kiss to his temple before getting up to retrieve a warm, damp washcloth from the bathroom to wipe the cum and sweat from their stomachs. Alex pulls his sweatpants back on and bounds down the stairs, presumably to turn the stove off.

When Alex reappears in the doorway a few minutes later, Henry is still laying on the bed, stretching his sore limbs.

Alex takes his hand and gently guides him to their bathroom and turns the shower on. When the water reaches the right temperature, they step in together, and Henry stands with his chest to Alex’s back, massaging shampoo into his hair. When he’s finished, Alex turns in his arms and returns the favour. They stand under the spray for a few minutes, alternating between rubbing body wash on each other and making out lazily until Alex gets hungry enough to rinse the lasts of the suds away and turn the shower off.

They sit on the couch together with bowls of pozole, Henry’s with significantly less chiles than Alex’s, Alex’s feet in Henry’s lap, and Bake Off playing softly in the background. David is curled up on the couch between them, and Alex is gesticulating wildly, almost knocking his bowl over, and talking about how Chopped really has its merits and Henry should really give it another try, and Henry cannot wait to marry this man.

[ocwreads]

To Know Your Mind, Your Soul

@/neoncaskets- AO3