#they are sweating but let me tell u. i was sweating on my right collar and it was UNCOMFORTABLE and STICKY and GROSS

[lusalemaart]

uwu

[makethatelevenrings]

Shame // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested: Yes!

Warnings: vaginismus! painful intercourse! emotional outbursts! a lot of swearing! discussion of sex but no actual depiction of it so minors you’re permitted but ur on thin fucking ice, discussion of safe sex practices

Summary: Sometimes, your body doesn’t want to work during sex. People assure you that it’s normal, but the shame still causes you to lash out sometimes, hurting the person you love the most.

A/N: gotham knights jason is absolute babygirl and if u don’t want to *dolphin noises, car crash screech, tornado siren* him, then ur a coward (/j) but that leaves more for me ;)

“It’s normal,” your OBGYN had assured you. “And it happens. You don’t need to feel ashamed by it.”

But you can’t help the tears that burn at the back of your eyes when Jason first starts to press into you and it burns. It wasn’t the first time the two of you had fucked. Hell, it wasn’t even the tenth time. Having dated for three years, the two of you had fucked like rabbits many, many times. But sometimes, your body just didn’t want to, despite the fact that your mind was all for it.

Jason seemed to notice that you were tighter than normal and he drew back slightly before thrusting in again. Your fingernails dug into his shoulder, but you refused to tell him to stop. It would get easier the more he worked you open, right? Your OBGYN told you that in these cases, it was best to just rest for the night but-

A whimper escaped you as he rolled his hips and tears of pain built in your eyes. Jason’s harsh breaths grated on your ears and suddenly, it all became too much. You couldn’t do this. It hurt like a bitch.

“Blueberry,” you gasped out.

Jason slid out without question and immediately stood as you curled in on yourself, knees drawn up to your chest to guard yourself from the world. You rested your forehead on your knees and then let out a broken sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you cried.

“What’s wrong?” Despite being the scourge of the Gotham underground and a tank of a man, Jason sounded terrified in that moment. He kneeled down next to the bed and stretched a hand out towards you but you flinched back. Hurt flickered in his eyes and you instantly wished that you weren’t such a fuck up.

“Baby, you used the safe word. Please tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded. Jason Todd, the strongest man you knew, was on his knees and begging.

“I’m sorry. It hurt. I couldn’t…it wouldn’t fucking relax and I ruined everything.” Hot tears spilled down your cheeks and you inhaled sharply through your nose. Snotty breaths escaped you in short pants and you wiped futilely at your damp skin. Jason’s calloused fingers enclosed around your wrists and he climbed onto the bed so he could kneel beside you.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured you. “You did exactly the right thing by using the safeword and-”

“We shouldn’t need a safeword!” you exploded. “Don’t you see? Why the fuck do you put up with me and my broken fucking body, Jason? You could stick your dick in any warm body you wanted in Gotham but for some reason, you’re such a fucking masochist.”

Your chest heaved from your exerted shouts and you turned your head to stare at him and god, how you instantly wanted to take it all back. Jason stared at you with such a wounded look on his face that your already breaking heart was cleaved in two. Maybe this would do it. This was the time he would finally get up and walk out.

Jason hesitated for a moment and then he stood up and headed towards the dresser on the other side of the room. You watched him with glassy, tear-filled eyes, waiting for him to pull out a duffle bag and start packing. Instead, he merely pulled out a pair of sweats and tugged them on so he wasn’t fully naked.

“You deserve someone who can give you what you want,” you blurted out right before one of his shirts collided gently with your face. You scrambled to put it on, tugging the collar down just in time to see Jason whirl on you with his pointer finger outstretched and pain etched on his handsome face.

“Shut the fuck up and just listen for once,” he snarled. He reached up and tugged at his roots before beginning to pace the floor of your small bedroom. “Can’t fuckin’ believe what I’m hearing. For someone so smart, you are really so fucking stupid sometimes.”

Both of his hands were now in his hair, tugging and massaging across his scalp, and then he stopped and faced you again, hands falling to slap against his thighs.

“How could you say that?” His voice, deep and warm and every bit your Jason’s and not that modulated crap that came out of his helmet, broke.

“I could…I would never,” he stammered out. “We have the word for a goddamn reason and that’s because I would never be able to live with myself if I hurt you. Especially if you had the opportunity to tell me you were hurting but you felt like you needed to fucking…I don’t know, service me?! Goddamnit. Please, please, baby, tell me this has never happened before. Tell me that I’ve never hurt you.”

He fell to his knees before you and then he was crying. Your Jason was weeping. Strong, everlasting Jason who faced down the worst of the worst with a sneer and a quip on his lips had collapsed in front of you. You wanted to reach out and comfort him, but you felt like your touch would do more harm than good right now.

“No, never. This was the first time,” you whispered.

He buried his head in his hands and you could see his shoulders relax just a fracture before he was blinking up at you with red-rimmed eyes. “If I ever treat you like some glorified fleshlight that I use to get off, then I would personally drag my ass to Dick’s apartment and tell him to beat me senseless with his fucking escrima sticks. Do you understand me?”

His hands curled around the back of your calves and he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. You finally reached out and cupped your hands around his face, nodding in understanding. Jason chewed at his bottom lip, his eyes searching and scanning your face for some kind of answer or sign or way to fix this. He let his head drop to rest against your stomach and you slid your fingers in the silk short strands of dark hair that rested at his neck.

“I don’t deserve anyone, and I especially don’t deserve you,” he croaked out. “I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. We’ll take it easy. You have those dilators from the pelvic floor therapist and I can massage you and-”

You eased him back up to be face to face with you and you brushed his errant curls out of his face. “I’m sorry, I was just upset. I never meant to make you feel like this. Jason, you are the greatest man alive and I am so, so fucking sorry for making you doubt that.”

His large hand came up to cradle the back of your head and he pulled you flush against his bare torso. You tucked your face into the crook of his neck and yanked him down to lay next to you on the bed. He went willingly and covered half of your body with his, ensuring that he was between you and the door as if anyone would be stupid enough to go after the Red Hood’s girl.

“I just feel like a failure when it happens,” you explained. “Like I can’t give you what you want. And that’s not fair to you.”

“What’s not fair to me,” he corrected. “Is that you think that what I want is more important than your comfort and health. I’m not with you because you’re great in bed, which you really fucking are. This isn’t a one and done, screw them and lose them kind of situation. Jesus, my name is on the lease. We have plants. I’m all in, sweetheart. Don’t you ever forget that.”

You stroked your fingers along the planes of his face, squirming up so you were nose to nose with him. Jason wiped some stray tears from your cheeks and then grasped your hand so he could bring it to his lips and lay a delicate kiss along your knuckles.

“And we have a safe word because it’s called basic fucking safe sex practices,” he growled once he stopped decorating your skin with kisses. “It’s not just for when you’re in pain, but also when we’re going too hard. Hell, even I can use it. You got that? There is no fucking shame in using our word. And there’s no fucking shame in not wanting to have sex or not being able to have sex. If I ever, ever make you feel pressured into it, there’s a knife in the nightstand and I want you to cut my dick off.”

You let out a teary giggle and he squeezed a hand along your hip. “I’m not kiddin’, sweets. Hack it off and display it for the whole damn city. Viking women used to do that if their husbands wronged them. Can you do that for me?”

“I’m not going to chop your dick off, Jay.”

He squeezed your hip again, a little firmer this time, and looked at you with such deadly calm that you realized his enemies should be grateful that he wore a mask. “Promise me. Promise me that you will never let me hurt you.”

“I promise. But I know that you would never hurt me.” You slid your fingers along his collarbone, over the puckered stars emblazoned on his body that reminded you of the numerous kisses with death he had experienced. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss over a nasty knife scar on his left pec.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed against his skin. He stroked his hand up and down your bicep and tucked you impossibly closer.

“Apology accepted, sweets. What can I do to help you right now?”

You intertwined your legs with his and looked out at the orange light of the fading sun painted across Gotham’s skyline. A sigh passed your lips and then you laid another kiss to his shoulder.

“Just this.”

You knew he would have to leave in a few hours, donned in his usual body armor, leather jacket, and thigh holsters. But for now, you could just savor the warmth, the safety he offered. Jason buried his face against your head and he kissed the crown of your head.

“Just this,” you repeated softly.

Tag List: @khaetiin​ @mcrmarvelloki​ @gone-batty-fics​ @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @kat-nee​ @khaylin27​

[utookapictureofursalad]

In love with you in ages <3

As I said this is gonna be a series of one shots that share one specific theme and story but they are not necessarily related or in order. Just a series of scenarios that pop to my mind :)

Hope u enjoy this, and please share your thoughts and ideas with and tell me if I could do anything to make my writings better. Also I'm not a native English speaker so please kindly ignore any grammar errors haha.

#Fluff

#sweetness

#love theme

It was around 9 in the morning when I pulled up Infront of Matty's apartment. After checking myself once or twice in the morning I grabbed my stuff and got out of the car. I grabbed the collars of my khaki overcoat to block the cold breeze from freezing me as I entered the lobby.

I waved at the security guy who was still half asleep as I walked toward the elevator.

Few minutes later I was standing behind Matty's door. Fixing my hair once again, even though it didn't need to be fixed I knocked on his apartment door.

"coming" I heard Matty almost shouted from the other side of the door, his heavy accent a lullaby to my ears.

Few seconds later he opened the door and his handsome frame appeared at the door.

He was in his black sweat pants and grey shirt, his dark curls were capturing his face as perfectly as always and I wondered if he could Get any cuter when he smiled and showed me his perfectly imperfect crooked teeth. "Hey, love" he finally said. "hey, morning" I said as he made a space for me to enter his house. Matty had his hand delicately on the small of my back as he guided me inside.

"it's freezing outside" I said as we walked to his kitchen. "Did you sleep with socks on again?" He mocked me. "Don't... Start" I rolled my eyes at him. "It's okay Y/n, everyone can decide what they wanna be and you decided to be a psychopath and sleep with socks on" he mocked me again as his hand left my back and he went to Kitchen. I took off my coat and put the books on counter and sat on one of the chairs. I smiled and looked around the house, the windows were open letting the slightly cold breeze inside the house. The house was not that bright, the lights were yellow and dim creating a quite cozy environment. "Tea?" Matty asked. "yupp" I said now focusing on him. I couldn't lie, he looked really perfect standing in the kitchen making tea, almost like a pefect painting, his dark curls bouncing with his every small move. I could feel the smell of cinnamon in the air which was quite comforting. Matty's house smelled like cinnamon and sweets and cigarettes almost all the time and honestly I was kinda so used to this smell that I missed it sometimes when I was home alone.

He put two cups of tea on the counter as he sat right Infront of me, our knees touching.'cookies?' He asked his mouth already full of them and kept a bowl of chocolate chipped cookies infront of me. 'Thanks' I smiled picking one. I smiled as my hands touched my cup, the warmth of the tea spreading all over my cold hands. I took a sip and looked at Matty who was now rubbing his eyes. I realized that they looked red and puffier than usual. "You didn't sleep last night?" I asked. "What?" He said looking at me confused. "you look tired, you didn't sleep?" I repeated, " I did... well I don't know maybe only one or two hours?" He said twirling his hair around his fingers. "How about... umm...What do you say that we just go back to bed instead of studying today?" He said looking down and toying with his cup of tea. "Umm... Okay" I agreed way faster than I expected and he looked up at me shooting me one of his cute smiles. "Can I spoon you as well?" He said getting off his chair. "Yeah... I guess yeah." I said. "Cool" he said putting the empty cups in the sink and coming over to me. "Let's go love" he said taking my hand and guiding me to his bedroom. His bed was still undone and there was books on the floor. His ashtray was on the table beside bed and it was full. Sometimes it worried me just how much he smoked but I couldn't deny just how hot he looked while smoking. "Here love" He said lifting the white duvet for me to get under it. Honestly I felt so much better laying under blankets with Matty than having to teach him. He got under the blankets as well and layed down next to me. This was the first time we were sharing a bed and for some weird reasons it did not feel weird at all. It felt comfortable and safe like I was home. "Oh wait..." He said bringing me out of my thought and getting out of bed. I watched him walk to the music player that was placed in the corner of room "Do you mind if I play some tracks?" He asked scratching the back of his head. 'you're such a romantic.'I teased pulling the blanket up to my chin earning an eye roll from him. He connected his phone to the music player and a frank Sinatra's voice filled the room. "perrrrfect" he smiled getting in bed and laying next to me. We both layed on our sides looking at eachother for few minutes as the sound of rain and music mixed perfectly together.

"I... Can I hold you?" He said hesitating a bit. I looked in his pefect chocolate eyes for few seconds before answering "I think I have already agreed to you spooning me, so yeah" I said and he smiled. His arm wrapped around my waist delicately, carefully, softly and he pulled me closer to him. His other hand grabbed my head and placed it on his chest. My own arms wrapped around him as well and I placed my hand on his upper arms. We layed there still for few minutes, none of us saying a word. The sound of rain, chet baker playing his saxophone and our slow breathing was all I could hear. I never felt this comfortable around any guy in my whole life. Mattys touch was calming me down in stages that I didn't know even existed.

Then his hand went through my hair, his lips pressed a delicate kiss to my forehead, his fingers playing with my hair and messaging my scalp so softly and slowly that it almost made my head spin in so much relaxation.

"Where did you learn this?" I asked once I could overcome my feelings. "Feeling good?" Matty asked as we looked into each others eyes, his hand still on my head doing the magic. "Mhm.. very good" I said toying with the collar of his shirt. " I have so many talents love" Matty said sending me a wink and I giggled. "My Nana used to do this to me when I was a kid" he spoke looking up at the ceiling "eveytime that I couldn't sleep I would go lay next to her and she would touch my hair like this and I would fall asleep almost immediately." He said shooting me a sad smile and I looked at him silently for few seconds. "Do you miss her?"I hesitated to ask but I finally did. "Yeah from time to time" he nodded his fingers now playing with the hem of my shirt. "Can you do that for me?" He asked grabbing my face and looking at me. "what?" I asked Looking at him blankly "Play with my hair"

"Yeah... I think I can do that. I wont be as good as you tho" I said 'I'm sure you will be.' He asked as I pulled him into my arms. his head was now placed right under my chin, his smooth face in touch with my neck as I held him gently with one hand and ran the other through his hair, playing with his beautiful curls and rubbing his head delicately and carefully just like what he did to mine. I heard him him sighing and he held me tighter than before, leaving no space left between us. For one moment, it felt like nothing else really mattered, it was just us and the sound of music was making everything sound so surreal and so beautiful and so out of this world. "Am I doing this right?" I asked. "so right... I think I'm gonna fall asleep soon" he said and I smiled planting a soft kiss on his hair.

[envysnest]

Pity the Mayfly (ch. 3/?) - an Astarion/Tav fic

AO3 Link Here

Chapters: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6

You had come to the Gate to forget your past, discard your elven name, and pursue alchemy against your family's wishes. On a visit to your old keep, you're found by the Nautiloid, and everything tilts sideways.

“No.”

You blink. “No?”

The human druid crosses her arms. “Absolutely no outsiders.” She jerks her chin towards you. “And certainly not to some wayward wood elf with ridiculous paint on her eyes.”

You knew you shouldn’t have done your makeup again. You rub your forehead. “Terribly unkind of you, saer.” It's a struggle to keep frustration out of your voice, but there’s a literal, actual bear snarling at you right now, and you'd rather leave with all of your limbs intact. “We wish an audience with your healer.”

Wyll puts a hand on your shoulder. “Please,” he says to the druid. “She is a worshipper of the Oak Father. She offers medicine.”

Annoyance flares in you. “Wyll—”

“It’s still medicine,” he whispers to you.

A dwarven druid, who has been silent this entire time, finally speaks. “You must be the wood elf Kagha mentioned.” He beckons to the human. “Jeorna, this one knows about the viper bites. Let her through.”

Jeorna rolls her eyes at you. “Fine. You’re apparently wanted, woodling.” She looks down at the dwarf. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she hisses.

The dwarf ignores her and beckons you forward. When Wyll automatically follows behind you, Jeorna shakes her head. “No.” She points to you. “Just the alchemist.” In a low, warning tone, she adds, “Behave yourself.”

You look back at Wyll. He raises both hands in supplication. “I’ll be near the training rings,” he says. “Come right back when you’re able.”

The dwarven druid— Mino— all but frogmarches you through the Grove. It's a small, almost claustrophobic place. Wayward animals doze, graze, and wander through the grass. You feel an odd shiver of recognition when you pass a stone statue of Silvanus. Fox’s Keep had a larger idol near the Elders’s Hall, though it had long since mossed over with time. This statue, however, looked nearly new. The prayers around it are in a language you can't place. Magic hangs thick in the air, teasing at your skin like humidity on a summer’s day. A few druids meet your eye as you pass them; none are wood elves, and you feel relief.

Mino leads you down into the caves, deeper still than the tiefling camp, until the rock opens up into a large alcove. Your eyes need several seconds to adjust. A wolf, dozing in the corner, lifts its head, regards you with its dark orange eyes.

“Kagha,” he calls, and his voice echoes through the chamber.

Two other druids-- the only other residents in the chamber-- are focused on something in the center of the room. At Mino's voice, they turn to regard you.

A human druid steps aside. “A woodling,” he says. He isn’t smiling. “You’ve wandered far.”

You remove your hat. “Blessings of the Oak Father be upon you.”

The man’s eyebrow raises, but he still doesn’t smile. You clear your throat, look away from him. The wolf’s lips curl into a snarl. You look down at your feet.

Mino speaks beside you: “This is the one Kagha asked for.”

You look up at the other druid. With a start, you recognize her as a wood elf. It's too late to run, but your legs itch all the same.

It seems she's recognized you in turn, because she speaks to you in Elvish. “Welcome, sister.”

You feel vaguely dizzy. You take a step backwards and clear your throat. “Well met, sister,” you respond in turn. Your Elvish is clumsy, unpracticed: Even in the keeps, you preferred Commonspeech. 

“Are you the one going by a child’s name?” the woman asks in Common. “Is there any particular reason why?”

Fuck, you think. Fuck fuck fuck. 

“It’s my preferred name,” you answer. “What might I call you?”

Mino steps away from you. The human druid looks between you and the other wood elf, his curiosity plain. You feel cool sweat trickle down your collar, into your undershirt. 

The other wood elf tilts her head. “You may call me Kagha,” she says. “What is your elven name, sister?”

“Just Tav is fine,” you say, though your mouth is dry.

There’s a heavy pause after that. Kagha’s smirk widens, and for a moment, you think, I’m not going to get away from this, I can’t—

“Tav it is, sister,” says Kagha. To something— someone— at her feet, she says, “And where do you think you’re going?”

There’s a tiefling girl at her feet, no taller than Kagha’s waist. She’s crying heavily. “I didn’t…” she gasps, “I wasn’t— trying to— I’m sorry—”

Something on the ground moves, and you bite your tongue to keep from exclaiming. A horned opalite tree snake rears its head high in the air. You blanch when it turns to the girl. The child wails and turns away, as if to escape, but the human druid grabs her wrist and forces her upright. Even he looks a little ill as he catches Kagha’s eye.

“Please, Kagha,” he says quietly. He spares an uneasy glance at the snake. “Even Halsin wouldn’t—”

“Halsin,” Kagha snaps, “isn’t here, Rath.”

The tiefling girl is nearly incoherent, struggling in Rath’s grip. The snake sways back and forth as it stares at her. You know an intimidation display when you see one.

“Don’t,” you shout, and both druids turn to you. “That snake will kill her.”

Kagha narrows her eyes at you. “That’s the plan.”

The girl doubles over on herself, pushing at Rath’s hand around her wrist. “Let go!” she screams. Rath looks uncomfortable for a moment as he instinctively bats her hand away. At the last second, his face stills, and he yanks the tiefling girl upright again.

Kagha laughs.

Anger flares in you, red-hot. You stride forward and snatch the snake by the neck, just behind its head. 

Rath gasps. The horned opalite tree snake makes an abortive little sound as it writhes in your grip. As you loft it in the air, away from the tiefling girl, its body curls around your forearm. It squeezes, hard—

You turn the snake’s head to face you. “Oh, no, little one,” you say to it. “You’re no constrictor. You can’t fool me.”

Was it you or— was there a flash of indignation in the snake’s eyes?

From your side, Mino draws a blade. Rath takes a step forward, dragging the tiefling girl along with him. “How dare you—”

Kagha raises a hand. Both men hesitate. 

She addresses you in Elvish: “Unhand Teela immediately, sister.”

You reply in Common: “You can’t let her bite the child.” Staring Kagha down is difficult, but you try anyway. “At her age, she’ll die. Painfully. That is not the way of the Oak Father.”

The snake’s— Teela’s— tail flicks against your arm. Kagha scoffs. For a moment, you worry you've overstepped, that the snake will be turned on you--

“Do not harm the child," Kagha says to the snake. "Return to me.”

Teela begins to unwind herself from your arm. You guide her to the ground. Teela's species could lunge several feet, and so you leap back in anticipation.

Luckily, Teela ignores you entirely. Kagha kneels, and Teela crawls her way up her waiting arm.

“What know you of the Oak Father?” Kagha asks, her voice ice. Before you can answer, Kagha waves at the girl. “Begone, thief. Stay out of my sight.”

The girl hesitates. She stares at you, her dark eyes wide and wondering. Teela settles on Kagha's shoulders.

You kneel to her level. “Go on, little sprout,” you whisper. 

It’s as if your voice shocks the child awake. With a cry, she shoves past you and sprints up the stairs. Her sobs follow her all the way up until, finally, they disappear.

Kagha strokes Teela’s head as you straighten up. “You haven’t answered my question," she says.

You grit your teeth. “Tav is my name.”

“We’ve established this.” Kagha briefly turns to Rath, who bows. “Go and fetch Nettie.”

Rath nods and walks further into the cave. Kagha continues: “Where is your home?”

“My mother is Fox’s Keep.” The words are beginning to exhaust you. “I live within the Gate.”

“Far from both,” Kagha replies. “You seek a healer this far east?”

“I and my party—” This still feels surreal; you’ve never had a party. You’ve always walked in proximity to other groups, or you hitchhiked on other people’s carriages. You clear your throat. “We’re all trying to get home, but we have a…parasite. We seek assistance from your healer, but it seems he’s missing.”

“She’s right here,” says a new voice. Rath has returned with a dwarven druid in tow. He steps aside, and the woman puts her hand over her heart. “I’ll take her, Kagha.”

Kagha wordlessly gestures to Nettie and steps aside. Teela stares intently at you; her tongue flicks incessantly, scenting the air. Her neck curls into a small s: ready to bite, should you come too close. You don’t plan on it.

As Nettie leads you into the back of the cave, she speaks to you over her shoulder. “A tadpole, then?”

“Yes!” You rush to keep up with her. “Can you remove it?”

Nettie pauses to give you a strange look. “I’m going to be honest—” 

The two of you step up into a wide library. It's completely empty, and you realize Nettie has repurposed it into a study. You would kill for space like this. The animal statues appear to stare at you as Nettie weaves past tables. “Master Halsin would’ve known what to do with you," she says, "But I’m interested in trying.”

She stops at a small apothecary along the back wall. As she rummages through a shelf, you glance over the potions sitting around: Potion of Hill Giant Strength, Potion of Angelic Reprieve. Several other plant species sit around in haphazard piles. A salt of something-or-other sits, paste-like, at the bottom of a mortar. 

Nettie shoves a small stack of books out of her way. “As far as I know, there’s a cure for the mind-flayer tadpoles. Everything will be fine in no time, but this cure doesn’t come cheap.”

“Gold is no object—”

Nettie looks over her shoulder at you as she rummages more. “Gold isn’t of use to us.”

I beg to differ, you think bitterly. What you say is, “Fine.”

You shrug off your pack and open it. You tilt it forward so she can see the bottles inside. “This is Lesser Harpy Spider antivenom," you say. "I can make some for the Rosebush viper.”

“We have rosebush viper antivenom already,” Nettie says, exasperated.

What? Why were the druids keeping it for themselves? You point to the cave ceiling. “Do the tieflings know this? Because they’re getting bitten left and right.”

Nettie throws up a hand and turns back to the apothecary. “Then that’s their problem. It’s a difficult recipe, besides. Pain in the arse to make.”

“Let me look at it, then,” you say, pressing both hands to your chest in supplication. “Please, Nettie.”

She spins on her heel to face you, frustration in every line of her face. “The arrogance about you— rosebush viper antivenom is hard for any alchemist, and the yield is low. You’re not going to be any different.”

“Then I offer one more set of hands. All I need is the recipe. I can milk the viper myself.”

Nettie puts both hands on her hips and shakes her head. “Then that’s two things you ask of me.”

“If we can find Halsin— if we can get you your archdruid back— then will that repay our debt?” You’re begging now, but the tadpole aches behind your eye. Nettie’s jaw ticks. She stares down at the floor. 

A thought occurs to you:

—steal it steal it steal steal steal take steal it steal--

It’s a tiny, hissing voice: insectoid, high-pitched, like the Intellect Devourer from yesterday. It feels like you, or it feels like a you that’s been buried deep inside you for decades, one just awakening now. Something pops behind your eye, and you hiss in pain. Even the low light of the cave becomes excruciating. You cover your eyes and turn away from Nettie.

“Poor thing,” she murmurs. “Let’s cure you now, and we can haggle later.”

You feel her grab your forearm. Thankfully, the tadpole stops squirming, and you open your eyes. Nettie holds a long thorn in one hand. As you watch, she lines it up with your radial artery. The plant smells acrid, almost like grave dirt.

It's a briar from a Kelemvor’s Kiss. You know: you’ve handled it yourself, dozens of times. It burns the skin open as surely as wildfire. You writhe in her grip. “No!"

“Hold still,” Nettie grunts. Her fingers tighten painfully around your wrist. 

“That is poison.” You twist your own arm, struggling to escape Nettie’s grip, but the druid is stronger. “Nettie! Absolutely not!”

“This is—” She grunts again, yanks you towards her, “—the only way—”

“I have antivenom for that, too,” you snap. It isn’t wholly a lie, but said antivenom is miles away from the Grove. “I’ll just cure myself and be on my way.” 

Nettie glares up at you. “Not for this strain, you don’t. Hold still—”

The thorn brushes against your skin; you can already feel a hot itch start from where it touches you. Panic flares in your brain, and the tadpole squirms again. If you don't get out soon, she will let the briar's poison eat you from the inside-out.

You raise your other hand. “Let me go!”

And Nettie stumbles backwards, coughing. You’ve only thrown up smoke, just enough to disorient her, but you must’ve been desperate enough to overcast: it obscures the air, and no matter how much Nettie waves, it doesn’t dissipate for several minutes. The briar drops to the floor.

You draw your staff—

“Hold,” Nettie wheezes. Her silhouette holds up both hands. “No need for violence. A fight doesn’t cure you any faster.”

You can barely hold the staff straight. “You don’t have a cure,” you say. 

“The cure is death.” Nettie coughs again, waves around on a shaky inhale. You can finally see her face paint again. “You’re going to either die a mind-flayer, or die with your wits about you.” She points an accusing finger. “I know which I’d choose.”

“If I’m dead, you’ll never find Halsin.”

You expect Nettie to laugh in your face. It’s a flimsy bluff; surely she knew that. To your surprise, Nettie merely sighs. “I know. And I’m not enough to serve the whole community.” She clears her throat. “People keep getting themselves in messes.”

You remember her accusation around the antivenom: the arrogance about you.

You lower your staff. “You literally can’t keep up,” you say quietly.

“I’m one person.” Nettie puts both hands on her hips. The smoke is gone now, and she suddenly looks exhausted. “How am I meant to cure every idiot who wanders into a snake den?” She pinches her fingers together, points them at herself with emphasis. “It’s meant to be Master Halsin and I,” she says. “We’re meant to work together. Now it's just me."

You’ve strained your hands trying to keep up with orders before. This is an exhaustion you know intimately; you can almost hear the screaming voices reverberate in your shop. It was all the worse when you hadn't been able to sleep for your pain. 

You holster your staff across your back. “All the more reason to get him back, Nettie.” You hold out a hand. “You don’t deserve this.”

Nettie waves you off. “Maybe I don’t, but it’s the way of things, so.”

“I’ll see what I can do, yeah? Give me the antivenom recipe and a few hours.” You look meaningfully at her workbench. “And past that, we plan on looking for Halsin.”

Nettie scoffs, but she lets her arms hang limp. “Go on, then.” She jerks her head towards a shelf a few feet away. “Second scroll from the right.”

"I won't let you down," you say.

When you move towards the bench, she grabs your wrist again. You balk, but Nettie has nothing in her hands to threaten you with, and you breathe in deeply, trying to calm yourself. Her voice is low, conspiratorial: “Look at me, woodling, and listen well.”

You meet her eyes; they’re fierce, determined. Nettie continues, “You have to promise me you won’t let yourself go illithid.” She snatches a dark bottle up from her workbench, presses it into your palm. “Take this before you turn. Promise me you will.”

It’s wyvern poison, judging by the label. The viscous black fluid sloshes around as Nettie folds your fingers over the bottle. You have no intention of taking it— you know all too well how it works— but you can’t say no to her, not when she looks so desperate. Besides, would you even want the risk yourself? Hadn't you just spoken to Astarion about this?

“I promise, Nettie,” you say.

------------

You purposefully don't tell Wyll about Kagha's race: about how she was a wood elf, about how she saw right through your name. Everything else, however, you report to him.

Wyll doesn't take the news well. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Tav.” He rubs his forehead. “We’ll be squids before we find that druid.”

Screaming children run around your feet, waving wooden swords at each other. You keep your voice low. “She gave me wyvern poison and told me to take it. We’ve hit a dead end here.”

Wyll shakes his head. He watches the tiefling children with a keen eye. “The druid it is then,” he sighs. He puts both hands on his hips. “There’s got to be another way,” he mumbles to himself.

You proffer the scroll. “At least she gave me an antivenom recipe,” you say, but it’s half-hearted.

Wyll looks to you. “For the tadpole?”

You wince. “For the, um. The vipers, actually.”

Wyll exhales, hard, and shakes his head. He wanders a few steps away, stares at the ceiling, breathes deeply.

When he returns to you, he points to the scroll. “That will help. Those bloody things are all over, and their bite stings worse than a devil's tongue."

“I don’t think anyone deserves to get bitten.” You unroll the recipe, skimming it for the first time, and— oh. Nettie was right. This will be a pain in the ass to complete. At least you’ll have something to do. “She’s doing all this by herself. No wonder she’s antsy.”

When you look back to Wyll, he wears a soft smile. “Kind of you to offer your help,” he says, and it isn’t sarcastic at all. You smile back.

“Who’s training these children?” comes Lae’zel’s voice from the other side of the ring. She looks at the excited children with blatant disgust. “They are unsupervised.”

Wyll unsheathes his rapier. “Go make your witches’s brew,” he says over his shoulder. “Looks like I’m due to supervise.”

------------

Later in the afternoon, Wyll, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart leave to scout to the west. Gale returns to your little camp to study. This leaves you and Astarion alone.

He eyes you up and down, and then he smiles. “Let’s stay away from each other."

“Agreed,” you say. You have to find ingredients for the antivenom, anyway. The last thing you needed was Astarion in your ear, whining about charity.

There are merchants all over the tiefling camp. It’s a wonder how anyone ekes a living at all, given lack of coin and resources. Asking around points you to an older, human woman in one dim corner. You have to pass a tiefling loudly bragging about his internship with Lorroakan, and you shove the jealousy down.

The human lights up as you approach. “Hello, petal!” She clasps both hands together. “You look like you’re in need of something.”

You have to fight to be heard over the wizard tiefling. “I'm in need of quite a bit of somethings.” You unfold a small piece of parchment from your pack. “I have quite the list.”

“Let Auntie take care of you, then.” The woman tilts her head. “Tell me everything.”

The merchant, it turns out, is knowledgeable and well-equipped. Speaking with her feels easy; the tension of the Grove melts off of you as you card through her wares. She even has rosebush viper venom ready. For this, you trade off the last of your Lesser Harpy Spider antivenom. After all, you could always make more when you got home; you need to survive to do that, and Nettie needed the antivenom immediately. Having something to do— someone to talk shop with— calms your anxiety, if briefly.

If you weren’t illithid yet, and if there was truly no cure for the tadpole, you might as well work to distract yourself. It wasn’t the first time you had worked your way through pain: you’ve done plenty a late-night horizontal study in your bed, using Mage Hand to hold your books aloft. Judging by the blood in your smallclothes this morning, it was only a matter of time before it hit you again.

Hesitantly, you ask the merchant— who insists you call her Auntie— if she has any Yellow Gnoll’s Ear.

She hums in thought. “For pain, dearest? What ails you?”

“Inflammation, actually.” You recall the Upper City healer’s explanation. “I…I struggle.” You lower your voice. “With my—” You cough, averting your eyes. “My cycle.”

The woman holds her hands up high. “Ah,” she sighs, “the curse of being a woman.”

It’s a little more than that, you think, but you stay quiet.

The women shakes a finger at you, smiling. “I’m fresh out, unluckily for you. But if you come down to my cottage, I know I’ve got a box-full, and more besides. We’ll get you fixed up in a shake of a lamb’s tail.”

You perk up. If the cottage wasn't far, you could try convincing the group to go. “Where?”

“Why, just south of here. Down the path, where the river splits.” The woman waves a hand. “You can’t miss it, petal. Let Auntie Ethel take care of you.”

You push away the voice in the back of your head, the one saying, Something is wrong. “I’ll try to make time,” you say. You kneel to close your pack, which now bulges with bottles and raw ingredients. Ethel had been unfairly generous with you, and you had more than enough supplies for your party. You’d surely be up all night for Nettie’s antivenom, but maybe the recipe was faster than it looked. You fumble with your pack’s latch and curse under your breath.

“Allow me,” Ethel says, and she snaps her fingers. The air crackles with magic— brief, smelling like ozone and wet leaves— and your pack snaps shut.

“Thank you,” you gasp. As you stand, you heave it onto your shoulder with a grunt. “I didn’t think to do that. Perhaps that Yellow Knoll's Ear is needed more than I realize."

“Don’t worry yourself a whit, petal.” She waves a hand. “Off you go, then. And visit your Auntie soon, won’t you?”

You hesitate. Something was definitely wrong.

You stare at Ethel for a moment, but her smile only grows— impossibly— wider. The tadpole twitches.

You nod at her. “Be well then, Ethel.”

“Please, dearie,” she simpers, with that too-wide smile. “Call me Auntie.”

You clear your throat and turn away from her.

The pack is heavy. At least you were getting some well-needed exercise; wasn’t that what the healer had suggested? The last thing you wanted to do when you were screaming with pain was exercise. Better to get it in while you were still well.

But if you didn't get that Yellow Gnoll's Ear...

You try to distract yourself at another merchant’s table. This one is piled high with clothes of all colors and fabrics. You slow as you pick through, gently nudging shirt sleeves and robe collars out of the way to look at the wares hidden below. Your other set of robes was still that embarrassing, dirty orange. You set your pack down on the floor. You didn't have much money, but you could try to haggle.

Astarion’s voice floats to you: “—and really, who was I to say no, with them looking so delectable—”

You scan the crowd for him. After a minute, you spot him at a potion seller's booth several tables away. The merchant's red cheeks have turned a dark violet shade with embarrassment. They giggle, averting their eyes from him. Astarion carries on with renewed vigor, gesturing wildly. 

“Welcome, stranger,” says a voice in front of you: a drow in a long black robe. They steeple their fingers as they look appraisingly at you. “Might I be of assistance?”

You realize you still have a fresh set of robes in your hands. They’re a rich blue velvet; you eye them with envy. “Oh.” You set them down and try to smooth out the wrinkles. “Just browsing, unfortunately."

The drow makes a thoughtful noise and nods at the robes. “A pity,” they say. Their voice is tranquil, almost musical. “Those would have matched your eyes quite splendidly.”

Well, that was a change from the druids; maybe it was worth doing your face after all. You shrug and rub the back of your neck. “Thank you for noticing.”

“Another victim of the Nautiloid, I presume?” 

“You presume correctly.” You press your hand to your chest. “Tav.”

The drow bows to you. “Xane,” they say. “Pleasure.”

Folded among Xane’s wares is a white ruffled shirt. You hesitate. The construction is sturdy, stitched with care. Embroidered roses trail up one side of the the chest in off-white thread; you run your finger over them.

Unbidden, you think of Astarion mending his clothes. His shirt had been so thin, and he was wearing the very same doublet with it this morning. You remember his knobby spine, his shaking fingers on the needle. How long had he owned those clothes? 

“May I?” you ask, gesturing to the shirt.

Xane nods. “Be my guest.”

You skim your fingers over the shirt's ruffles. Cotton fabric: durable, yet soft on the skin. You shake it out and hold it up to your torso. It’s a little oversized, but you figure Astarion’s a little broader than you, anyway. It would fit him perfectly, and it would last longer, too. 

Xane hums with approval. “That looks good on you.” They pinch the shirt’s waist, tilting their head thoughtfully. “Perhaps it will need taking in. For a small fee, I can do it for you by nightfall.”

“This isn’t for me,” you say. “It’s for my…” 

You glance at Astarion, who has leaned entirely over the table to flirt with the potion seller. The story he tells would make a whore blush, and the tiefling claps her hands with delight.

Astarion puts his hand behind his back. Something shiny and golden glints between his fingers: a ring, pilfered from the merchant's table. As he laughs, he tilts it between his knuckles and slips it onto his pinky.

You look back at the drow before they can follow your gaze. “Friend,” you say to Xane. 

Xane raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Why don’t you bring your friend here? Let’s see how it fits them, yes?”

You turn again. Astarion’s back to browsing the potion seller’s wares as they attend to another customer. His right hand, now sporting the stolen ring, makes a fist behind his back. A twitch of his thumb, and the ring slides into his back pocket.

“Astarion,” you call.

He jumps. His head whips around to you. “Yes, darling?”

You jerk your head towards the drow. “Come over here and give me your opinion on something.”

Astarion grins. “Oh, finally. You’ve come to your senses and decided to wear something nicer than those beaten-up old robes.” As he approaches you, he presses his fingers to his lips. “Mm.” He stops at your side and shakes his head. “No.” He points to the shirt in your arms. “That’s all wrong for you.”

“It’s not for me,” you say.

“It’s not?” Astarion leans into you, his grin turning a little smug around the edges. “Oh, tell. Who’s it for?”

You unfold the shirt and hold it up to Astarion’s chest. All at once, Astarion’s smirk disappears, and he goes very still.

Xane smiles, makes a noise of understanding. “I see,” they say, clasping their hands together. “A better fit for the gentleman.”

The drow was right: the shirt is just to the width of Astarion’s shoulders. You feel a little bit of pride, seeing Astarion so speechless. “A perfect fit for him,” you say.

Astarion stutters. “I…for me?”

You nod at Xane. “I think that does it. We’ll take it.”

“Fifty,” Xane replies. They’re already reaching for their coin purse in anticipation.

Fifty gold pieces: steep, but it was less than such a shirt would cost in the Gate. You open your own purse to dig out a fifty-gold piece. You were running low on coin; perhaps you could sell off some ingredients to make up the difference. Before you can second-guess yourself, you hand the coin off to Xane.

“How much?” Astarion asks you quietly. 

“Think nothing of it.” You push the shirt into his arms. You gently pat his shoulder. “It’s a gift. It’ll look good on you.”

He stiffens under your touch. You look up.

Astarion—

Astarion is white as a ghost. His lips press into a thin line as he stares at you. 

You take a few steps back, your smile falling. “Oh. I’m sorry, Astarion.”

A beat. Then—

Astarion throws his head back and laughs. “Aren’t you polite?” He rubs the shirt’s fabric between thumb and index finger, looking down on it with a critical tilt to his head. “I suppose it’ll do,” he muses aloud. “Though I’ll have to take it in, slightly.” 

Xane tsks. “I firmly disagree, saer—”

“Ah.” Astarion holds up a finger. “I know what I’m doing. But,” and here he gives Xane a pinched smirk, “Thank you.”

You bow to the merchant “I’m so sorry about him,” you say. “Moon elves, you know.”

Xane shakes their head as they hold your coin up to the light. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, unfortunately.” They're as placid as ever.

Astarion huffs indignantly. “Rude girl,” he snaps at you. “If you hadn’t just spoiled me, I might’ve had to do something about your attitude.”

It’s just a shirt, you think. How were you spoiling him? Surely he could afford it.

Couldn’t he?

You pocket your coin purse and wish Xane a good day. As you turn to go, someone grabs your wrist.

“Wait a moment,” Astarion says, sounding frantic. He drapes the shirt— carefully— over his forearm. “Fifty, was it?” As you turn to face him, he digs out his coin purse from his pack. It’s beaten around the edges, just like yours. “I wish you’d warned me,” he grumbles. “We’re not exactly high rollers out here.”

You wave a hand at him. “No! No. Astarion, it’s…” 

Astarion scowls at you. “Absolutely not. I don’t do debts.” He retrieves a few coins, holds them out in a closed fist. “Let me give you the gold and be rid of it. Then we can put this behind us.”

You make a gentle pushing motion with both hands. “I’ll not have it.”

“I’ve got to pay you back somehow,” Astarion snaps, but there’s a desperate edge to his voice. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it.”

Astarion looks livid. You inhale sharply. “Um.” 

You look around. You needed something concrete— something you needed, just as badly as he had needed a new shirt. There are a few tieflings having a meal just feet from you. Above them, radiant sunlight filters down from a crack in the cave wall. 

“Name it,” Astarion says, “But don’t you dare hold this over my head.”

“Just…you can...” You think back to the awful, watery coffee from camp that morning, and it clicks.

“You can…buy me coffee!” You give Astarion your brightest smile; you’re sure you look faintly manic. “How’s that?”

Astarion withdraws his hand, raises an eyebrow at you. “Fifty gold pieces buys an awful lot of coffee,” he drawls; suspicion laces through every syllable. “I’d rather take coin, myself.”

His words feel familiar; you’re hesitant to acknowledge why. “Just the one cup will do,” you say. You tuck your hands behind your back; you’re the very picture of nonchalance. “One cup of good coffee, yeah? And we'll call it even.”

He’s still staring at you as if you’ve transformed into a Candlekeep dart frog, but he drops each coin, one by one, back into his purse. “Aren’t you a cheap date?” he murmurs. 

“If you’re going to survive the chill at night,” you say, nodding to the new shirt, “You need something more durable than what you’ve got on. This isn’t the Upper City, you know.”

Astarion huffs again. “No,” he says. “I suppose it isn’t.”

------------

True to Nettie's word, the rosebush viper antivenom is dastardly. You stay up as long as you can and only eke out two bottles's worth. When the sky begins to turn navy, you slip into a quick trance.

You wake to the smell of hot coffee in your tent. A large wooden mug sits just outside the entrance, steaming with black coffee. You sniff it experimentally, but you can smell no poison.

Your first mouthful tastes thick and heady, almost burnt. You hum with satisfaction.

Astarion is on you the second you step out. “There,” he says, nodding to the coffee in your hands. “We’re even now.” He sneers at you, waves a hand dismissively. “Put on your face, won’t you? You look exhausted.”

You note, with satisfaction, that he’s wearing the new shirt.

[mrs-monaghan]

The hell you mean, we don't talk about Yoonmin. I don't talk about Vmin. Vmin have me sweating sometimes. I'm not gonna lie. Tae be staring at JM like he's ready to eat him. Just watch the Dynamite dance practice during JM's solo. Tae for real gasped when he looked at JM and could not take his eyes off him. I don't blame him. JM in those loose jeans and that loose grey shirt, with his fluffy blond hair and licking his lips too. Damn, I don't blame Tae. I mean he did describe JM's eyes as temptation. Then I'm like naw, they're just best friends, then Tae drops a song about bring in love with his best friend. And then I'm like no way, he means another best friend or its just for the show. Then he goes on record saying it was a personal song and Jimin is his ONE AND ONLY best friend. Then I suddenly find it hard to swallow & my collar getting tighter. LOL. Then I'm nah, its all good, Jikook real. Then I see JM post he's watching The Notebook for like the 7th time during his recovery and a few days later on Valentines Tae requests JM's favorite song, Nothing by Bruno Major where the song talks about watching the Notebook for the 17th time. And then I'm like ain't no way, like hello, JM gave JK a hickey, FOCUS. Oh and JM calling Tae My Love and not long ago Tae played a snippet of a song in his car & posted it on his IG story & the song says My Love & mentions 4 am (which is Vmin time cause of Tae's 4 o'clock) also mentions stars, driving, etc and Vmin did say they go on long drives together & watch the stars together. So yeah, I don't talk about vmin. They scare me. LOL I have just come to the conclusion all of BTS members are in love with JM at one point or another. LOL

I'm kidding honestly, I am confident in Jikook, but Tae acts sus as hell toward Jimin and you all know I'm right. Even with how much he's been talking about JK, hell no, not even comparable to how Tae acts toward JM. They all wanna eat Jimin.

I......... just woke up anon. I'm not mentally equipped rn. Nope nope nope.

On second thought, let's talk about it.

Jimin is Hellen of Troy. Agreed. Sometimes they all be fighting for his attention. Facts. They treat him like an artifact. True. (Which is why its so funny to me when Army shit on Jimin when the Tannies worship the ground he walks on. Watch enough of their content and tell me he's not the unofficial BTS leader)

Now idk about no notebook or Bruno something. All those things they have in common that u listed, I will take your word it.

But first let me clarify why we don't talk about Yoonmin. Suga is probably super gay or bi/pan. But there is more proof of him being interested in men than women. But then he also says his tongue can drive both sexes mad so there's that. Anyway, Suga has been caught in 4k eyeing all his members. Even JK 👀 Suga is me and I am him 😂😂😂 but the reason we don't talk about Yoonmin is because JK sees that shit and hates it.

JK is not threatened by Vmin. He's reacted to all members doing skinship with Jimin, yes including V. But its not that often. And definitely not as strongly as with Minimoni and Yoonmin. JK alot of the times will chuckle at their antics or ignore them all together. Cant say the same for Yoonmin though.

The other thing u mention. Jimin calling V my love or baby. That's not... anon that's not idk...I wouldn't put too much weight on this one. Even international fans do this with their bestfriends. And he did the baby one to comfort V and Jimin comforts all members. They go to him for comfort coz he is good at being there for them. Plus he's always babied Taekook from jump. (JK being less receptive of the two since he dont like Jimin to treat him like the maknae he is)

About V looking at Jimin like he wants to eat him he does this with all the members. I recently shared this Vmon post i mean.. isn't that what u mean by him looking at Jimin like he wants to eat him? And then this compilation where again, all members

And then you're saying their moments are fire? Have you seen Taejin? I'm sorry but that ship in my opinion has all V ships beat.

V and Jimin taking long rides together, I have never heard about this but didn't we see Vhope take a long ride together ITS2? Did they take a trip with both their families? I've never seen Vmin do that 🤔

Maybe in the beginning Vmin were super close and shit Anon, but damn. They done drifted apart over the years. More especially recently. I do not see the same Vmin from before I'm sorry. I have a higher chance of believing Jihope is real before I ever buy into Vmin.

My bottom line is, all those things you're talking about can be copy pasted to every. single. member. When it comes to V he does this shit with all of them. Yeah, he called Jimin his favourite but is that even the case anymore? Idk anon. I do not and have never found Vmin to be the least bit suspicious. A member won't be sus to me if they do the same thing with everyone else. And I like to pay attention to JK when it comes to these things. He's the one you look for to know if someone is sus or not. And JK just isn't bothered by Vmin.

[sasster]

food for lopard or maelia :] or. if u want both. maybe i send another?

Right, anyway.

One word prompt please specify muse

And if you prefer to read white on grey, here's the Google Doc :)

--

Though the demographic of the bar was geared toward higher bloods, especially the ones that found their dwelling in the sea, it was always a surprise to find a new one patronizing the place. Doubly so if they happened to be of the fuchsia variety. On top of that, while you were no stranger to regulars that happened to be fleet officials, that didn’t stop you from nearly swallowing your tongue when you spotted The Basilisk occupying most of one of the booths in the corner.

Your name is Lopard Etkuri, and you are about to serve food to General Maelia fucking Drakon.

Typically, you are warned when someone that is going to make your heart leap out of your chest decides to enter the establishment. Achina would’ve come to the back losing his mind about it.

You peel your eyes off of the General to cast a borderline terrified glance back to the bar, where Achina and Demuye offer back to you a devilish grin and a look of pity, respectfully. Achina punctuates his deviousness with a little finger wiggle and a thumbs up.

Oh, he’s dead if you survive this interaction with your ego intact. When you turn back to the booth you see the man being assaulted by his much smaller date. The purple blood leaned far across the table to press his mixed drink to his lips.

“Give it a taste! For me?” His enthusiasm is met with a sigh.

Well, that makes sense! Lazali is a frequent visitor. He always makes sure to sit at the counter and point out eye candy while you’re working. Excellent company, usually. Did he need to bring the muscle with him?

How the hell did he convince, in his own words, the pickiest eater this side of the galaxy to eat at a bar. Your bar! Fuck, you really should have let Aneixe cover for you today when he offered.

Briefly, you consider forcing Demuye or Achina to bring the food over, but don’t get a chance to make up your mind about it. Lazali, apparently satisfied with the small sip General Drakon took from his drink, calls out to you.

“Lopard! Hey!” He’s in good spirits, as usual. His date does not turn to meet you, however. God, is he one of those doesn’t speak to the help types? Lazali is waving at you with another wave of enthusiasm. You use your head to gesture to your hands that are full of their plates, as a way of explaining that you are currently unable to reciprocate his vigor.

“Evenin’ Laz. Happy to see you, as always.” You say as you set the food down in front of them. Your eyes dart to the fuchsia. Fuck, he’s bigger in person. You have to address him too, right? With what fucking name?

Lazali must catch onto your reservations. He giggles his acknowledgement.

“Lopard, this is my mate! Maelia!” When you look back at him, he is nodding his head. That’s what you should call him. “He’s already heard all about you and how talented you are!”

You could have a stroke right here, right now, if you weren’t trying to look professional. Why would he go and give him expectations!

“An honor to finally meet you,” you hesitate, despite being given the okay. “Maelia. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Of course you have. He is, once again, The fucking Basilisk. Whom you just referred to by first name. Try not to faint about it.

He finally tears his gaze from the food in front of him to make eye contact with you. Suddenly, you remember Lazali mentioning how much his mate preferred eye contact when addressed. The collar of your shirt feels the kiss of the sweat that starts to form along your neck. It barely registered that he was judging your presentation.

“A pleasure. Tell me, Lopard.” His gaze drifts over your shoulder toward the bar, where those two idiots are staring from no doubt, then back to you. “Does the owner always serve tables, or is Laz a special case?”

“Oh! I like to keep my hands busy. I’m always all over the place here.” As you speak, you manage to swallow the ‘sir’ that tries to crawl its way out of your throat. You think that might’ve been embarrassing. “Besides, you might not have seen Achina. He’s a bit..” You say with a laugh as you move your hand to about waist height. Exaggerating his smallness. This earns a grin from the General and another giggle from Laz. That guy is downright giddy tonight, huh?

“I suppose you raise a good point.” There is humor in his voice as he reaches to steal another sip from his partner's drink. Lazali guffaws and pulls it closer to himself when he’s finished.

Maelia laughs this time.

“Tell you what, kid. If the food is as good as the drinks, I’ll say his argument in your favor holds some merit.”

The praise kind of makes you a little giddy yourself, you contain the urge to bounce on your heels about it.

“I’ll leave you guys to it then.” You say quickly, waving your goodbye to Laz before beginning your speed walk back to the bar.

Behind you, you hear the pair pick their conversation back up.

“He held it together better than I thought he would. Looked like he was gonna burst.”

A faint smack, Lazali hitting him on the arm. “Hush! He’s just a little shy!”

[miszswan]

hello can you do something for the big brother jack thing pls, like he meets her bf or gf? pls n thank u.

BAE MEETS BRO

Sage knocks on her boyfriends door. She rocks from heel to toe as she waits for him to open the door.

Moments later she hears the sounds of his footsteps approaching the door before it’s pulled open.

The moment Xolo’s eyes met the shorter girls hazel eyes he couldn’t stop staring. “Is something on my face?”

“Nope.” He responds before pulling her into the apartment and closing the door behind her.

He gently cups her face before pulling her in for a gentle kiss, they both smile in it before pulling away. He wraps his arms around her waist while hers go around his neck. As Sage pulls away, Xolo peppers kisses all over her face.

“You just look amazing.” He answers as his eyes scan over her outfit again that she matches with a gold necklace that’s has her name, Xolo got it for her. “Now help me impress your brother.”

He takes her hand and drags her to the familiar bedroom. Her eyes widen when she notices the massive mess.

“I’m freaking out. I don’t know what to wear and I was hoping my lovely girlfriend could help.” He pleads.

A small smirk comes to her face as she skips to his wardrobe. The Hispanic boy watches in awe as she pulls things out of the wardrobe and puts them back. A few minutes later she manages to pull out something that works.

“Will he like this?” He asks as she looks in the mirror.

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s perfect, as long as you dress like you, Jack will get to know you for you. Which is all he and I want.” She says as she walks and stands in front of him.

“What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Clay and Urban loved you, my parents and cousins love you. Jack has to love you and whatever happens I will still love you.” She are assured him as she fixes his collar.

***

They walk into the restaurant, hand in hand. Sage could feel the sweat pool in her boyfriends hands.

Xolo knew how important Jack was to her, he was her big brother, a person she practically idolised and he didn’t know what he would do with himself if Jack didn’t like him.

Sage takes off her sunglasses and scans the restaurant. Once she spotted him she waves, the two make their way over.

Sage runs over and hugs her brother has Xolo wipes his hands on his pants. “J, this is my amazing boyfriend, Xolo.” She introduces them as they shake hands.

After a few minutes the three settled and have ordered their drinks and foods. The three have spent the first few minutes talking about Jack and his upcoming album.

As the few hours went by the three shared many laughs as Jack got to know Xolo. Their afternoon was coming to an end. Sage excuses herself to go to the ladies room, so Jack decided to take the opportunity to have a one on one conversation with her sisters lover boy.

“You know you can relax right.” Jack speaks up, from the moment that the two walked in, Jack noticed how nervous he was. “You’ve been tense since you and Sage got here.”

Xolo let’s out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in. “I’m sorry, I’m usually not like this, I promise you. I couldn’t risk-“

“Messing up with her big brother?” Jack interrupts, Xolo nods quickly making him chuckle. “I think you’re cool. Sage loves you, which is something that she never got the chance to say to the other people she’s dated.”

“Your sister is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.“

“I can tell, besides my parents are basically waiting for you to propose to her.” Jack adds Xolo sends him a small smile. “But I have been right about her past significant others. She didn’t listen but I was right.” Memory’s of the fall outs between the few girls and boys that Sage had dated began to flash in Jacks mind. He hated seeing his baby sister like that, so heartbroken.

“I really hope I don’t get a bad feeling about you because if I do and I’m right. She’ll turn into me.”

Somehow, Xolo gathered the courage to speak, “Why would that be a bad thing?”

“I’m considered a playboy in the industry and as much as I’ve accepted it I don’t want that for her. She deserves a Disney love story.” Xolo nods is head. “But so help me God, on the state of Kentucky and my career, if she gets to that point because of you I will hunt you down.”

At this point Xolo’s nerves were on edge, it felt like Sage had been gone for hours. “Got it?” Jack asks the frightened man.

“Mhmm, yep. Got it Mr Harlow.”

“But you actually seem to be cool. Besides you two have been dating for over a year, no fights just her constantly spamming the family group chat with stuff about you.” The Hispanic boy let’s put a chuckle. “And I haven’t had a single bad feeling about you. So let’s hope I’m right.”

A/N: protective Jack>>>

I love Xolo sm, I’d also be nervous ngl

Hope y’all enjoyed <3

<3

@msliz

Masterlist

[modx-reborn]

fuck n now you mention cumming dry for succubus eret, holy shit bro

she finally, finally takes off the ring, and she tells you if you wanna cum so bad you'll cum til you're dry. and you do. just for her. just for your mommy. and by the time she's satisfied you are covered in your own cum, you're sobbing, your voice is hoarse fron yelling and you can't stop shaking. also i think she would be suprisingly sweet with her aftercare teehee

(also. u should totally draw succubus eret sometime)

-🐉

Maybe I will 🐉, Maybe I will...

The court had long since cleared out, guards and nobles alike leaving their ruler and pet alone on their throne, hand still wrapped around your cock slowly flicking their wrist and drinking in the cries and whimpers of their name and 'Mommy' mixed together. A wonderful mix that they would be certain to hear again and again for as long as you live and wear their collar, but you had been so good sitting through the court day and not once trying to remove their hand or remove the cock ring that had placed on you.

Good pets deserve treats.

Your treat was the pressure of the ring being removed and the pace of Erets hand increasing not by much but enough that the feeling had you throbbing and whining their name and a desperate plea to be allowed to cum. Every plead met with a hum and a coo before the brush of their lips against your ear was followed by a deep voice telling you to cum for them, to paint their fingers white, and be a good pet for them.

"That's a good boy, been so patient for mommy, letting me show you off and having kept that ring right where I left it. If you want to cum, then cum but know the moment you do I will be making sure you cum till your empty, till your face is stained with tears and every throb of your cock in my hands is your cumming dry..."

Your mind had begun to fuzz over at the praise and only heard the permission to cum, bucking your hips into the lazy movements of their wrist was all it took to have you shivering, dripping ropes of your cum across their still moving hand, pressing your head back into their shoulder as they brush their thumb against the head of your cock, swiping the cum that lingered their and filling the air with slick sounds as your cum acted as lube for them to continue.

Keeping their word and working you through many, many more orgasms and leaving your face heated and stained with tear tracks as you came again, their hand, your hips, and thighs now a mess of cum and sweat from how you had exhausted yourself. This final time had you reaching down with shakey hands and grabbing their wrist, the first time you hand moved your hands since they had first made the move to start stroking your cock.

That was all it took for them to slow to a stop, pulling a cold cloth from somewhere, cooing soft words and praise into your ear as they gently cleaned up the mess you had made, cooing when the towel brushed against your spent length, the rough cloth just shy of too much even as the cool feeling helped ease the heat of your skin.

You had done well and every word told you so, as did the gentle hold that carried you off and out of the court hall, spent and shaking was how you had left but you would not be alone, Eret would be there and be with you helping clean up and ease you into sleep.

After all, good pets get treats and good pets get all the care they deserve.

[leossmoonn]

I love ur work homie. head canon or like whatever u want lmao, how Matt would be with reader in labour with Jackie please and thank you!!!<33

Thank you! OMG I LOVE THISSSS

This really exaggerated for shits and giggles

“GIVE. ME. MORE. ICE. CHIPS!” You yell.

“R-Right away!” Matt stammered.

“NOT YOU! YOU STAY HERE!” You grab Matt but the collar. “If you ever leave I will make sure you never have contact with this baby.”

Matt is like 😟 and he makes foggy get you ice chips.

“We are never having another baby again!” You cry as you begin to push Jackie out.

“I can count on my both hands and toes the amount of times mother’s have said that,” you doctor chuckles.

You glare at her and she awkwardly laughs.

“Alright, hon, another push.”

You out a heartbreaking and honestly, kinda scary scream as you do a second push. You’re sweating buckets, you’re gripping Matt’s hand so hard he’s afraid it’ll fall off, and it feels like your insides are being ripped apart. You’ll never complain abt period pain after this, that’s for sure.

Since Matt’s hearing is better than every one else’s he can hear Jackie cry a little sooner than every one. He leans in to your ear.

“I can hear Jackie. You’re so amazing, sweetheart,” he kissed your cheek.

And for a second you relax and you look at Matt. You smile brightly and put your forehead against his.

“I love you, Matt,” you whisper. “I love you more,” he pecks your lips.

“About two more pushes, Y/n,” Dr. Montgomery says.

“But I do not love this!” You exclaim as you give another push.

Matt continued to say words of encouragement and kiss your cheek as you push your baby out. You then hear Jackie cry and a huge weight is lifted from your shoulders. You collapse back onto the bed, eyes searching for Jackie as she’s being swarmed by doctors.

“She’s beautiful, Dad,” a nurse says as she hands Jackie to Matt.

“U-Uh, no, let her mom handle her first,” Matt says.

You loosen your grip on his hand and bring it up to your lips. “I want you to be the first one to hold her.”

The surprised look on his face is so cute. He slips his hand out of yours and holds his arms out. He is so nervous. He’s never held a baby and this is his. You can tell by the look of terror on his face that he’s worried about dropping her, but you know she’s safe with Matt.

“You got it, baby,” you pat his arm.

Once Jackie is settled into his arms he just melts. He looks down at his arms and although he can’t see her, his eyes are shining with love and pride. He leans down and kisses her head.

This moment is so sweet youre abt to cry lol. He holds her until you’re done delivering the placenta then he gives the baby to you.

“Hi, baby girl!” You gasp as she lays on your bare chest. She looks up at you with the widest hazel eyes. “Oh, Matt. She has your eyes,” you awe.

“Only good thing she’ll get from me,” he jokes as he sits down in the bed next to you.

You nudge him softly and look back at Jackie. Man, is she beautiful.

Like ik babies look like weird little men but Jackie is gorgeous

And the way Jackie looks up at her parents with her big eyes and her little mouth is open and she’s just like “tf did I just walk into” lmao.

“What’re you guys gonna name her?” The doctor asks.

You and Matt look at each other with big smiles.

“Jacklyn Margaret Murdock,” Matt answers.

[ahfbhdfgdx]

Please | Diluc x f!reader (NSFW)

Summary: diluc tries out some aphrodisiacs on u <3

Warnings: Smut, aphrodisiacs, intoxication, slight dubcon, oral, unprotected sex (lmk if i forgot any!)

Note: First post! If you like my writing, requests for nsfw or sfw are greatly appreciated :)

"Are you sure this is going to work..?" Diluc peered into the little vial that Albedo had bestowed upon him. It was a little bit foggy in there, a light pink tone. "This little of an amount too?"

Albedo nodded in silence, then walked back to his desk. "I think you'll find it actually works quite well. If it doesn't, let me know." He sat down and straightened the loose papers that were strewn across the tabletop. Diluc simply nodded in thanks and scurried out, closing the door behind him.

-xxx-

The sun has long set, nearing about midnight. Diluc stood in the tavern among the last few patrons chugging down their drinks. He wiped glass after glass, occasionally checking the clock. When would you finally be here, he thought to himself, placing another glass away.

"Don't get so worked up over her, Di!" Kaeya laughed, words slurring a little. He was sat at the counter with Rosaria. The rain pounded heavily on roof of the building, sending Diluc into further panic, although he hid it well. Maybe you had gotten caught in the rain? You could catch pneumonia out there! He tossed the rag down and leaned on the counter to catch a breath.

Rosaria glanced at Kaeya, both of them equally intoxicated and giggly, and turned back to Diluc. "Yeah, why are you so tensed up about her? It's not like she needs to abide by tavern hours anyway, she'll get here when she gets here!" She shouted the last line a little, Diluc scoffing at the stupor of these two. The tavern was closing in only half an hour. He could leave it open just for the two of you, it would make it easier anyway.

Suddenly, the door whipped open, and there you were, squeezing out your hair outisde the door. Head to toe, you were dripping wet. The three last people in the tavern turned to look at you as you laughed sheepishly. "I missed the forecast," you shivered and came to the bar counter, leaning over to kiss Diluc on the cheek, much to the delight of Kaeya and Rosaria.

He tensed up looking at you. Even fresh out of the pouring rain and all disheveled, you were still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. You had mentioned being ok with what he was going to do before, so he knew that he wasn't in the wrong, but the feeling of doing something so taboo got him going, especially with you standing right in front of him.

Glancing at the time, 12:30 am, he quickly ushered the drunken Kaeya and Rosaria out of the bar. "Shall I get you a towel to dry off?" He patted your soaked hair as he turned to the stairs. "Nonono," you laughed, "Drink first. Then towel."

He gulped. Now was the time he needed to do it, arousal and nerves swirling around his mind. "As you wish," He breathed out as he poured a glass of dandelion wine, your favourite. While his tall frame was turned against you, he carefully slid the vial out of his pocket, pouring it into the glass. It dissolved quite neatly, save a few sparks that flew out.

He picked up the drink, turning around and placing it hastily down in front of you. Giving him a weird look, you picked up the drink and looked at it for a good few seconds. Shit, I've been caught, he thought as he stared straight into your confused eyes. Shrugging, you took a swig of the wine.

Eyes widening, you looked up at his looming figure, "This is great! Did you put something in it?" You joked and giggled as you took another sip. His heart skipped a beat and shook his head. "I'll go get you that towel," Diluc started climbing the stairs, looking down over the railing to see you take another swig.

Looking down on the glass in front of you, your head started to feel a little floaty. Your wet skin started to feel a little warmer, maybe the warmth of the tavern was helping. That's all you thought, until you started feeling a pulsing feeling. Where's Diluc is all you thought as you took another short sip from the oh so delicious wine.

Diluc came back down the stairs, sneaking up behind you to place the towel over your now damp hair. Whipping around, you grabbed onto his waist and pulled him closer. "Diiiiiiluc.." You groaned into his stomach. "I'm so hot.. and so wet.." Your doe eyes looked up to him, gauging his response. His crimson red eyes looked back down on yours, starting to fill with lust.

He thought whether to just satisfy you now, or let you finish the substance he oh so intensely bargained for. "Don't you want to finish your drink?" In your foggy brain, anything Diluc says goes, so you nodded, still cuddled in his chest. He could get used to this, he thought as he gently grabbed the back of your head.

Bending down to whisper in your ear, "Would you some help with that?" You nodded again, turning your head to try and kiss him. "Yes please, Luc." That set a light inside of him as he picked up your spiked drink, pulling your head back a little. Moving the glass up to your lips, you parted them just enough to latch onto the glass, drinking it thirstily as he tilted the glass further and further, right till the very last drop.

As the wine went down your throat, you felt a sudden jolt of pleasure, moaning into Diluc's arms as he picked you up. It was as if any touch had you off the rails. As Diluc carried you up the steps to the third floor of the tavern, you peppered little kisses and nips all over his neck and cheek. "Where are we going..?" You breathed into his neck as he pushed the top floor door open with his hip.

Diluc placed you down carefully on the guest room bed, then stood back to admire the blank canvas in front of him. How beautiful you were lying there, moaning as you grabbed onto the bedsheets, a hungry expression on your face.

"Diluc, come here," you called out, shaking him out of his trance. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself on top of you, pinning you down. "Yes, my dear?" He cooed, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. You in turn grabbed his collar a bit harsher than you meant to, staring straight into his moonlit eyes. "Fuck me, Diluc." You whispered just close enough for him to hear. "I need it. Please fuck me.." You trailed off, feeling him start to trail his mouth down your neck.

"As you wish," He smirked slightly, unbuttoning your shirt one by one. "You really want it that badly, darling?" You nodded your head vigorously in return, threading your hands in his red locks. "I need you Dilu-" You were cut off by the man biting your hard nipple. Moans escaped your mouth in a steady flow as he licked and sucked it, playing with the other in his hand. "M-More please!!" You cried as the spike really started to set in, causing an unsatiable fire inside of you.

"You're so greedy, you know that?" Diluc growled, pinching your nipple with his hot fingers, it felt like a zap in your system. "I did this to you and no one else," He continued as he bit at you more and more. "By the end of tonight, the only thing that'll still be in your mind is me.." Only half of it registered in your mind, but the sound of his low voice vibrating through your system is all you needed to remember.

"Repeat it, my love.." He raised his face to be inches away from you, slowly reaching his hand down your unbuttoned pants, "Only I can make you feel this way." He toyed his finger at your entrance as you gathered the words in your mind.

"Only you can make me-"

He shoved his fingers inside you deep in, finishing your sentence with a scream. "D-Diluc-!" You huffed out as he started pushing in and out fast, curling at your g-spot. "More! More-" You yelped, bucking your hips, pushing his fingers in further. "Oh you want more?" He licked your jaw, sucking at the rainwater still left over. "Almost.. There-" You prepared to have the orgasm of a lifetime but was stopped short by Diluc pulling his fingers out.

You whimpered as he raised himself back up to your level. You were so cute laying there quivering, he thought. "What do you desire, y/n?" He inquired, toying with your wet hair strands, your face now a mix of rainwater, sweat, and tears of joy. "Give it to me, DIluc," You pushed his head down, craving that sweet release that was stripped from you.

He scoffed at your selfishness as he pulled down you pants and underwear, as if he didn't do this to you. He'll make you understand the manners you need to use for him. His tongue slit against your throbbing clit, sending you back on the ride. as he dined on your clit, his hand found its way back to your sopping entrance, continuing the pace he was going at before.

Your sight was blurry as you looked down, all you could see was the shape of Diluc. Him and the stars that filled your vision. You've never felt like this before, each lick and suck he did felt like its own orgasm. Diluc's doing this. Diluc's the one making you feel like this. Only he can make you feel this way. The words he put in your mind were the only words left at all as he took your brain away piece by piece, he was all that was left.

"Diluc.. Diluc.. Diluc!!" You screamed as you got pushed to the very edge. Suddenly, as if he could tell you were about to fully become his, he pulled himself away again. Tears rolled down your pretty cheeks as you brought your hand down, needing to finish yourself but to no avail. "Tsk," He sat himself up, giving you his fingers to suck off.

"I'm afraid only I can make you cum, my dear.." He peeled your hand away from your clit, and you moaned in defiance, at least as much as you could with his fingers in your mouth. "But you made a vital mistake," He took his fingers out, trailing them gently down your waist. "You didn't say please."

"P-Please Diluc.." You choked out, taking extra time to remember the word please, all you could think of is Diluc. "There you go! Was it that hard?" He tucked your disheveled hair behind your ear as he unbuckled his pants, taking the pants and shirt off. "Now you'll get what you deserve, my love." You pulled his underwear down in a frenzy, positioning his hard cock right at your entrance to take the work off his hands. "Oh how kind you are, y/n, positioning my own cock for me." He smiled a rare gleam as he pushed himself into you, finally getting to moan.

"You're s-so beautiful, so perfect," He complimented you for every deep thrust he blessed you with, "And you're mine." He growled the last one as he sped up his pace. Your head lolled back and all you could see is red in your vision. Not that you were to notice, but all you've been doing is chanting his name as you bounced from his thrusts.

"You come when I come," he pushes the words out with great effort as his pushes got shakier. Your legs were already shaking violently from being edged like you had, and you nodded your head as best as you could. "Ready?" He called out as he thrusted the deepest he could go.

"3... 2... 1..." He came with a loud groan right in your ear as you cried out his name, clawing at his back to get as close as possible. He filled you up to the very brim, burying his head in the crook of your neck as he slowly thrusted, coming down from his high.

Your eyes stayed close as he took himself out, resting on top of you with his hands in your hair.

"I love you darling.." He whispered as he pulled the covers over the two of you, but to silent ears. "Y/n..?" He lifted himself slightly to get a better view of you. There was no way you were going to have any senses for a good day at least. He sighed into a smile, and cuddled up close.

[aenaxes]

omg!! congrats on 200!!!! 🥰🥰 ur my fav crosshair writer so: crosshair + trust, with a gender neutral reader? nsfw or not, it's up to u!! congrats again 🎉🎆🎉

kinesthesia

[crosshair x gn!reader] with precision, there is control, and with control, there is tension, not easily soothed. you take it into your own hands to prove that wrong.

warnings: nsfw, fellatio, (kind of) sub!cross

w/c: 3.0k

a/n: prince my he a r t 🥺💕 ily bb ! this was also a super fun prompt to write hehe, and look i openly accept that i’m a pillow princess bottom, but i think i would enjoy making crosshair squirm. uno reverse card on his oral fixation—mine now.

“I’m still not entirely sold on this,” Crosshair admits as he takes a seat at the edge of your bunk. His toothpick bobs anxiously between his lips, chewed down flat where his lips brush up against the bleached wood. It’s not often that this breed of restlessness finds hold: stiff shoulders and hands folded tight over his lap.

Nerves.

“That’s why we have the safeword,” you quip from across your quarters, voice rising as you struggle to twist out of your heavy uniform jacket.

(Un)surprisingly, Crosshair makes for a quick study. Beneath the stony, oftentimes sullen disposition, he’s a simple man. Of course, that simplicity didn’t necessarily limit himself from branching out into an actual person, but you could boil him down to one thing and one thing alone: control. Whether it was his genetic acuity that shaped him into the sniper persona or vice versa, control centered him, grounded him, tied him so close to his sense of duty and personhood that sometimes it was hard to tell the two apart.

So when you had offered two rotations prior to take the reins—offered both as something new and the hypothetical of release from, well, everything that kept him in a perpetually alert state of coiled tension—you honestly hadn’t expected for Crosshair to pause, rolling his toothpick thoughtfully between his teeth, and accept.

There’s certainly a part of you that hopes the manufactured brevity to your tone is enough to soothe the anxiety radiating from where Crosshair makes himself prim and small on your bed, smaller still without the bulk of his dark armor weighed over his shoulders. But, against your better judgement, a low-lying anticipation simmers at the base of your lungs when you finally shuck the day’s sweat and blaster smoke to the side.

He’s seen you undone under him time and time again, beads of sweat following the smug lines of his expression as he bent you to his—and, to be entirely fair, your own—pleasure. And as satisfying as that arrangement has proven itself to be, curiosity has always been that single, nagging vice at the back of your head.

Who can blame you for wanting a taste?

“You remember it, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, and you catch the heavy dregs of uncertainty (perhaps even bashfulness, ha) dragging at his voice.

“Then say it,” you prod. You gently nudge the point of your knee up against Crosshair’s calf and offer him a mirthful glance. And when that doesn’t seem to banish his withering hesitance, you drop down onto the bunk beside him, grasping his hand in yours and squeezing snug.

“I—” he clears his throat with a soft wince: embarrassment. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Cross,” you warn. Because if you were going to do this, you were going to do this right.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, scrubbing his palm over the highest points of his cheeks. You wonder if the warmth over his cheeks is the same as your own, desirous and shy as you venture into those dark, uncertain places hand in hand. “Tooka, happy?”

“Very happy,” you grin, and you lean close to press a quick peck to the corner of his mouth.

Crosshair leans towards you, lips parted to chase your touch, more, more. But he’ll have his fill, and you’re quick to dart away, leaving him even more disoriented than he already is, all wide eyes that seek you like fading light.

You’re tempted to indulge him because it’s not often that he looks like a kicked loth cat (and he does a damn good impression when he does). But you manage to stuff down the creeping sympathy, opting instead to reach into the pocket of your trousers and produce a well-worn headband.

“Please tell me that’s not Hunter’s.” The rosy edge of desire vanishes from Crosshair’s voice as he catches sight of the broad black swatch of fabric in your palm. In its place, the testing edge of judgement so often home in Crosshair’s snide play.

“Ew, no—what? That’d be weird. And gross. Who do you think I am?”

That seems to do what your previous efforts could not, and your heart jumps when Crosshair responds with a soft snort and shrugs. He’s not resentful, not in the slightest. It’s just trepidation, jumping into uncharted waters with nothing but the trust that your hand, snug over his, would hold fast.

But the laughter settles, drawing back to reveal something that hums quiet between the small eternity between you. Even with your thigh pressed close against Crosshair’s own, you feel him drawing away, hesitant and wanting all at once. You gently pull his hand between you, squeezing once.

“Trust me?” you murmur.

Crosshair offers you a tremulous look, more nervous than apprehensive. You suppose it’s only fitting of him that relinquishing his steady grip over control might be more appealing in concept than on the eve of practice. Nonetheless, when you meet his gaze, you find the kind of uncertainty that heralds excitement, careful but enamored all the same. He nods.

“Then let me take care of you.”

Finally, as you raise your hands to his temples, pressing the dark fabric over his eyes, the tension pulls away from his coiled muscles, dropping his shoulders and bowing his head as you reach around him and tie a knot over the back of his silvery hair. He exhales long and slow as the knot settles snug over his scalp, warmed by the creases left behind by your fingertips and the sudden comfort yet complete unpredictability that shrouds his senses.

Testing the waters, you bring one hand to his cheek, just barely ghosting your fingertips over the lean lines of his jaw, and you are rewarded with a full-bodied shudder that shocks through Crosshair’s form as his lips gently part around his toothpick. Without that precious ability to see, he sits in your palm at your every whim.

You lean forward, gently biting your teeth around the tapered free end of his toothpick, and you feel him swallow hard when you free it from his mouth and drop it to the floor.

“Trust me.”

Chest heaving, he nods again.

“Safeword?”

This time, there is no snark to accompany a begrudging response. “Tooka.” Instead, his voice dips breathy and low between the long breadths between his soft exhales, his beating heart.

“Good boy.”

You surprise yourself at how natural the praise feels, rolling from your tongue and rising over the ambient hum of the ship around you. It fills your chest with something like affection, bordered pride that only swells as you watch him shudder, his lips parting just a little wider to pass that barely-there whimper riding on his exhale.

The hard planes of his body, that star map you’ve committed to the deepest parts of your heart, are familiar terrain under your skin as you flatten your palms over the sharp jut of his collar and travel lower. You pause the heels of your palms over the base of his ribs, pressing softly against the quickening rise and fall of his chest. Satisfaction curls sweet and rich over the tip of your tongue as his stuttering inhale shifts the air around you.

With slow, firm force, you push him backwards onto the bunk, Crosshair’s elbows catching his slow descent over the dark grey sheets until finally drops his head back onto the firm mattress. His chest heaves.

Your fingertips pass over the sinew and soft scar of his abdomen, chasing how his breathing expands from his chest and leaches tension over the length of his torso. You’re certain this isn’t new, not when your intimacy has you stealing the other’s breaths between stuttering gasps. But to feel it under your palms, thrumming and deep—it sets your nerves on fire.

Control. It’s wholly and entirely yours.

You still as the pads of your fingers catch the faint ridge of his waistband. And a part of you is smug with the power of reversal, that it wasn’t Crosshair offering you a knowing smirk as he parted your thighs and pressed close, that it was you, privy to only the deepest intimacy Crosshair could offer.

But it’s exactly that which keeps the power from rushing to your head, stymying the teasing mischief for something warm in your stomach when you trail lower and gently cup over the straining bulge in his blacks. And it grows fonder when Crosshair’s legs jerk with a labored puff of breath, the same one he breathes into your ear when he finally pushes up deep inside you and presses his skin close against yours. He whines, a straining, soft noise through his bitten lips, and you’ve teased long enough.

Crosshair makes a soft noise, somewhere between a gasp and a whining moan, when you finally hook your fingers over the hem of the dark fabric and expose the curved strain of his cock. He’s so open, you think as you reach forwards (though, you suppose being deprived of the one sense that reigned king would do that to you).

You don’t need to be able to see the half of his face rising above the bridge of his nose to envision the soft knit of his dark brows, eyes squeezed shut and lashes fluttering with every soft noise that passes his lips. You don’t need to see the half of his face bound under that broad swath of fabric to envision how his expression breaks from restraint to unbridled euphoria when you trace the edge of your nail down the underside of his cock.

“Please,” you think you hear him whisper past a breathy moan.

Whatever he might have had prepared, the whole gamut of biting, bratty demand to wide-eyed pleas, tumbles back into his throat when you finally climb onto the bunk by his hips, lick the flat of your tongue over your palm, and wrap it snug around the middle of Crosshair’s cock. Instead, you watch with a satisfied awe as he jerks up into your touch, spit-slick lips parted in a silent cry.

“You want my hand or my mouth?” you croon, pumping slowly from the thick base of his erection to the ruddy tip. You want him to feel every quiver of your touch as you run your thumb over the pearly drop of precome beaded at the crown of his cock, reveling in his shudder beneath you. You want to be the only thing he feels.

“Mouth,” he chokes out. “Please.”

“You’re so polite today,” you muse, reaching up with your free hand to rub your thumb over the plush bitten skin of his bottom lip. Emboldened, you slip your finger past his lips, grazing over his teeth as you push the pad of your thumb over his tongue, all the while slowly working your hand over his cock. “The good boy gets what he wants, then. Right?”

For a brief moment, something like disbelief occupies the warm air between you—you, amazed at how easy it is to hold the reins tight; him, stunned that somehow, you in control was as good, if not better, than being the commandeering weight to push your face into the pillows.

Crosshair nods, trembling as you squeeze softly over the base of his cock.

“I need to hear it, mesh’la.”

The last line of his restraint crumbles at the sound: one only ever given from him to you, yet suddenly brought back to him with the full brunt of lust, affection, the secret words you’ve come to call your own. Crosshair bucks up into your hand with a low groan, gasping soft and breathy when you slip your thumb from his mouth and hold him down to the mattress.

“Yes, please.”

You smile and dip low.

Unlike the slow deliberation of your earlier touch, you seal your lips over his ruddy cockhead with one smooth motion, pressing your tongue flat against the underside and hollowing your cheeks. And the heady taste of salt, of trembling anticipation, of him, only sweetens when you flick your eyes up to catch Crosshair tip up his chin, dig his heels into the mattress, and sob.

You sink his cock deeper into your mouth, achingly slow while you continue to work your fist around the base of his cock, and close in a way that coaxes soft, whimpering noises from his lips as he turns his head and clenches his jaw.

Flicking your eyes upwards, a pang of regret shocks through your chest that you aren’t able to see Crosshair come undone from the slightest of touches, tame in comparison to some of your particularly energetic nights. But you do away with the thought as quickly as it comes as his blunt cockhead brushes over the back of your tongue.

His pleasure has always been yours, yours his, you think as you pull back, just until your lips part around the tip of his cock while he shifts and gasps beneath you. You’ll have your turn soon enough.

Before you can sink back down, swallow him as deep as you can, the air by your cheek shifts, and expecting the worst, you lift your chin. But where you expected some stifled yellow light, Crosshair’s fingers feel blindly around you until they find purchase over your cheek. His relief is palpable as his stuttering touch curls over your skin and holds you close.

You smile.

“Trust me?” you ask again, your lips mouthing softly over his cock, catching thick smears of precome over your skin.

“I trust you,” he whispers.

Crosshair cries out, hoarse and as loud as he’s been all night, as you drop your mouth near-midway down the straining length of his cock in one motion, lavishing your tongue under his pulse. His hand tenses over your jaw, blunt nails digging light into your skin as his fingers curl with that bone-deep shock of pleasure. And if the breathy, desperate noises he whimpers into the alcove of the bunk are of any indication, you have a good feeling he’ll want to do this again.

You moan around him in answer. It doesn’t matter to you that his brothers might hear, only a few panels of durasteel away and connected by the reverb of a narrow ship corridor. They probably do hear, but all that matters now is Crosshair, coming impossibly more undone under your tongue as he runs his trembling thumb over the skin of your cheek.

His hips buck up towards you, catching the back of your throat with a soft sting that reaches your nose. If you weren’t so desperate, you might have pinned him down harder or pulled away entirely to let him think about what he had done. But as much as you want to chase this power play, hearing him lose himself to you has you desperate for his touch.

You follow him with every uneven jerk and thrust up into the wet heat of your mouth, letting him take his fill. You simply stroke firmer as his skin warms over your tongue. It’s all so hot, the air heady and thick as you breathe in sharp through your nose and lean into his palm, and you wonder what it feels like, anchored to nothing but you, his sole light in a world gone dark.

His motions fall uneven, his hips twisting against your touch, his breaths becoming deeper, louder as they bounce over the steel ceiling overhead. He’s close.

You twist your fist over his cock, redoubling your efforts. You sink down so far over his cock that your eyes water as you crush the head up against the back of your throat. Heavy and thick, it muffles down a soft gag for you—it’s the deepest you’ve ever taken him. Crosshair notices, and he nearly wails.

He’s been good, you decide as you all but choke around him. He can take that coveted control back. You gently rub his hand, unspoken assent, and his hand slides up your jaw to finds purchase at the back of your head to fuck you down onto him in earnest.

And you take it, eyes blurring with tears and shallow inhales through your nose, holding still and letting him fuck over your tongue until he’s taken his fill. It doesn’t take long for him to spill down your throat, a low, hoarse groan passed between his lips as you struggle to breathe between every dutiful swallow of his thick come down your throat.

“Good boy,” you rasp as you pull the blindfold from over his head.

Crosshair meets you with unfocused eyes, full of wonder and a shaky haze that finds focus on you alone in the low light. Over the ache in your knees, you crawl up to meet him, collapsing down beside him with a soft sigh. He meets you with habit, practiced and true as he tips down his chin and presses his lips to yours, tasting himself on your skin when he swipes his tongue over your lip.

“How was that?” you whisper, breathing soft over his lips.

You tilt your head up enough to catch your nose over Crosshair’s. He still meets you with that same stupor, but you see it begin to mellow into something other than the shock of enjoyment in submission in a man who has only ever known control to be his. It’s quiet and raw, splitting open your chest with that rare kind of warmth that the broad expanse of space and war leave little space to grow.

Yours, whispered and cradled close between your beating hearts, yours alone.

“I’ll remember the safeword,” Crosshair says finally, his voice distant and soft as he still rises out of the aftershocks of his orgasm. But in that weary daze, you catch the rosy relaxation, vulnerable and yet increasingly less rare in your palms. Relief, pride, joy, honeyed goodness rises to the apples of your cheeks at the sound.

“I still think I won’t need it, though.” And you both laugh, curling close.

[mandoalorian]

so you have any angsty writings about max raising his voice at u?

my tears ricochet

Maxwell Lord x GN!Reader

Summary: Everyone had warned you that dating your boss would be a bad idea. So when you make a crucial mistake at work, a mistake that leads into your biggest fight yet, you wonder if your relationship with Maxwell Lord will ever be able to recover.

Rating: T

Warnings: ANGST :( a few curses, hurt/comfort with a happy ending, but most of this is very very angst-y. Bruce Wayne makes an appearance (because for some reason, he always does?) and he’s a dickkkkk lmao.

Word count: 2.2k

I haven’t wrote anything in a few weeks, and I haven’t wrote for Maxie in well over a month. Reblogs would be so appreciated because I kinda need the motivation atm ;-;

You never normally messed up, or at least, not like this.

You were a good secretary for the most part, as you’d been working at Black Gold Cooperative for almost three years now. You knew your way around the office, and most importantly, you knew your way around your boss, the dashing and charismatic business mogul, Maxwell Lord.

Everyone had warned you not to mix business with pleasure, and that dating Maxwell Lord was a bad idea because he was your boss. You could get behind that idea; as you’d never really been one to date colleagues or co-workers. But you swore that he was different. They were probably right, you knew that deep down, but you’d made the mistake of falling hopelessly in love with him.

You and Maxwell had been together for half a year now, and things were going good. Things were going better than good. You really believed he could be the one. He seemed happier when he was with you. He smiled more. You gave his life meaning, and a purpose that strived past his failing business.

He treated you different to his other employees. He was softer with you, and more gentle. He never raised his voice or talked down to you. He was a gentleman, and treated you to luxuries on every occasion that he could manage. Work was sometimes difficult, but he was good with you. You had zero complaints, really.

He’d buzzed you into his office, his dark blonde hair a mess and his patterned tie pulled apart. The first three buttons of his white dress shirt were undone and his collar was wonky. You had to refrain from walking over to his side of the oak wood desk and fixing it for him. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his tan forearms and the golden Rolex that adorned his wrist, and he was staring at you, his dark brows furrowed together.

“I just spoke to Bruce Wayne,” Maxwell started hesitantly, his index finger impatiently tapping away on the telephone.

“Oh?” you hummed. You knew it was coming, but you tried to remain calm.

“He said he didn’t receive the oil distribution report you sent on Friday,” Maxwell said, followed by a wary chuckle. “But I told him you sent it. Because you did send it. Didn’t you?”

You winced, and it didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend.

“You sent the reports, didn’t you?” Maxwell repeated, this time his voice having dropped an octave and his eyes staring dead at you. There was no love in his expression, no happiness. Just pure anger and disbelief.

“Uhm…” you trailed off, your voice breaking nervously. “Wayne Enterprises didn’t get the report on last month’s oil distribution because uhm— I sent the wrong thing instead.” you fumbled with your fingers, shyly looking away from your Maxwell.

Max blinked, and stifled a laugh. “What?”

You folded your arms across your chest, feeling vulnerable as guilt coarsed through your veins.

“Uhm yeah,” you replied, ducking your head down. “I thought I sent it but I just— I found the reports on the main desk at lunch time. And I was going to tell you. I just— I just—“

You were flustered, and could feel your cheeks burn up as you stumbled over your words.

“You just what?” Maxwell prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“I just—“

“You just thought you’d keep it to yourself? Thought you wouldn’t tell me just because…? Because of what, exactly? You know this means we could potentially lose millions of dollars,” he raised his voice, sliding out of his chair and leaning over his desk, balling his fingers into fists.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “It was a mistake. A one-time mistake—“

“—a mistake that could potentially cost us thousands—“ Maxwell repeated bitterly. Money was a sensitive subject right now, you knew this. He had every right to be mad, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“—It won’t cost thousands.” you finished, your words trying to ease him. But it came out patronising and you immediately regretted it. Maxwell slammed his hand on the desk before pointing his finger at you.

“Don’t interrupt me!” he shouted.

He’d never spoken to you like this. Hell, you didn’t think he’d ever spoken to anyone like this before. Or at least, not that you’d heard of. His cheeks were red with rage and little beads of sweat glazed his hairline.

You flinched are his tone, not used to him raising his voice at you like that. Max noticed the change in your demeanour and his face softened, his brown eyes widening slightly when he realised what he’d done. He slowly sank back into his chair, ripping his gaze from you. You stood there awkwardly, trying to hold back tears.

Maxwell regulated his breathing and pushed his hair out of his face before pointing to the door.

“Leave.” He ordered, his voice shaky and not even bringing himself to look at you.

Your lips were trembling. “What?” you croaked out, your voice merely above a whisper.

“Just— go home.” he waved his hand in a dismissing manner.

You stood there a little longer, lingering on the other side of his desk and praying that he’d have a change of heart. You didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. Was it a break-up? Was he firing you? Was he simply just telling you to go home?

“Max…”

Your boyfriend rubbed his temples before picking up the phone and re-dialling what you assumed to be Wayne Enterprises. He had nothing else to say to you, so, you sadly sauntered out of his office, quietly shutting the door behind you.

The entire sales team was staring at you as you walked over to the elevator. No doubt they’d overheard the whole fight. Raquel tapped your shoulder and offered you an apologetic smile. “Are you okay?” she asked.

You nodded and forced a grin, desperate to just get outside and feel the cool evening air. The office felt stuffy and hot and you just had to get out. You opted to take the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. You could feel their eyes burn into you as you left Black Gold Cooperative.

It was raining when you got outside, and you managed to catch a cab just down the street.

After a few rings, Max finally pushed through Bruce Wayne’s receptionist and was waiting to get on the line with the big man himself. He breathed a sigh of relief when Bruce picked up.

“Hi, Bruce, it’s me Max. There’s been a mistake with the reports,” Maxwell said quickly, feigning confidence as he tried to forget about the fight that had just happened. But he couldn’t get it out of his head. He was terrified that you’d leave him. He’d leave him.

“Let me guess— it’s that secretary of yours?” Bruce smirked, twirling the phone wire around his finger as he waited for Max to try and salvage the business deal.

“Wh—what?” Max laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“You know, your arm candy? The one that always accompanies to those charity events and galas? The one you’re fucking on the side?”

Maxwell’s face hardened and his heart dropped in his chest. “Excuse me?”

He hated the way Bruce was talking about you. Bruce was always like that, Maxwell knew that much. He treated everyone like they were lesser than him. Maxwell was able to shrug it off when it happened to him, but he wasn’t going to let it happen to you, too.

“Please, we all know it,” Bruce rolled his eyes. “I learned the hard way about mixing business with pleasure. Never works out, my friend.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Wayne, but you know nothing about Y/N and I. So if we could please get back to the topic at hand…”

“You still want to secure the deal?” Bruce quizzed. “I supposed as much.”

Jesus, he was insufferable. Maxwell knew what it took to climb to the top of the business world. You had to be cold and brutal; everything that Bruce Wayne was. That’s why he was so successful, and truthfully, that was the difference between the two men.

It was probably the reason Black Gold was failing too. Ever since you came into Maxwell’s life, the business had been losing more and more money. Maybe it was because Maxwell worked less, always choosing to favour his time and spend it with you. He wasn’t hardened by the business world anymore. He was softened by you.

Max wouldn’t allow the entrepreneur to hurt the ones he loved. At the end of the day, you were infinitely more important than some reports on oil distribution.

“Wait,” Maxwell paused, unable to escape the invasive thoughts that consumed his mind. Thinking about your glossy eyes and your timid voice, and the way you flinched when he yelled at you. You looked terrified. “No.”

“No?” Bruce repeated incredulously.

“No,” Maxwell confirmed. “I have to go.”

“You’re making a big mistake Lord,” Bruce warned. “If you’re thinking about throwing this entire deal away over some nobody secretary—“

And with that, Maxwell tore the phone from his ear and slammed it down on the hook. He rose to his feet and grabbed his pinstripe suit jacket, hastily throwing it over his shoulder before leaving his office in a rush.

When he got home, you were curled up on the sofa, enveloped in a blanket with balled up tissues scattered around you. When he saw you, his heart broke. He dropped his keys on the coffee table, the noise alerting you. The rattling sound made you jump and you looked over at him, your eyes red and puffy.

“Hi,” you said quietly, watching as he sauntered over to you. He offered you a weak smile before sliding down on the sofa next to you.

“Hi,” he said, gazing into your eyes.

You shuffled around and sighed. “I’m sorry.” you both said at the same time.

You giggled gently, always cherishing the way you and him were so in-sync. Maxwell smiled too, a dimple appearing in his left cheek.

“I thought you hated me,” you admitted with a sniffle, and Max frowned, leaning over and cupping your face with his hands.

“No my love, I could never hate you,” he swore, shaking his head. “I— I’m sorry I yelled at you like that. I got so worked up over this deal and—“

“I know,” you cut him short, pressing the palms of your hands flat against his chest. “You don’t have to apologise. I know. It’s been a stressful few weeks.” you said knowingly.

“Still,” you Maxwell sighed. “It can’t be excused.”

“It won’t happen again?” You asked hopefully.

Maxwell smiled. “Never again, honey,” he promised. “Can I hold you?”

You nodded desperately and nuzzled into his warm embrace. He wrapped his strong arms around you and smoothed out your hair, pressing a chaste kiss into your forehead.

“I love you so much, and I won’t ever let anything come between us again,” Maxwell whispered. “No job or business deal is jeopardising what we have together.”

You smiled, squeezing him tight and never wanting to let him go. “I agree.” you replied, pulling yourself up onto his lap and nudging your nose against his.

Maxwell’s smile spoke a thousand words. It wasn’t the forced smile he showed the world when he hyped up his business on the television. It was his real, genuine smile. The smile only you got to see.

Everyone had warned you not to mix business with pleasure, and that dating Maxwell Lord was a bad idea because he was your boss. But in that exact moment, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—————————

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[lmaoplsdontlookatme]

im so obsessed w dads friend bo this got out of hand and is way too long lmao 🥴 thank u @slasherrabbitmadness for letting me dabble w dilf bo 😭🖤🙏🏻

🚫 minors 🚫 sfw

It was the first time you’d visited the shitty little bar in the town where your dad lived, some back end swamp that gave you chills and you were both wondered and disgusted how people could live with so much heat and humidity. You’d been home on summer break from college, staying with your father rather than your mother and while you loved him more than anything, the mosquitoes and constant sweat on your brow was beginning to make you regret your stay.

That was until you found yourself at the only bar in your father’s town, dark and dusty and full of mean looking strangers and you’re sure you’re in a movie. The bartender does’t check your ID when you order yourself a vodka cranberry, but he tilts his head and stares at you long and hard enough that you blush. You’re tucked into the corner of the bar, silently watching its inhabitants while you drank iced vodka over iced vodka - your phone had no service here.

You’re three drinks deep when you buy a pack of cigarettes from the bartender and when you fish your wallet out to pay the rest of your tab to leave, there’s a smooth voice at your side and you give the speaker weary eyes - until you see him, that is. Taller than you, and clearly muscular under his clothes. He’s got a thick neck and a strong jaw and a dirty baseball cap over dark curls - his fingers are dark and covered in what you assume to be old, built up engine grease. A mechanic. He’s got a brow raised at you and you blink up dumbly at him, face heating.

“What?”

The older man’s lips curl into a grin that’s all teeth and your heart skips a beat as he dips down ever so slightly, just right into your personal space.

“Real loud in here, huh? Sorry, was askin if you’d mind if I bum one - left my wallet back in the truck.” He motions over his shoulder and you see his truck outside before giving a nod, offering the tall stranger the pack of cigarettes. His toothy grin shrinks into a side smile and you feel your knees go weak - his deft fingers quickly pack the cartridge before opening the plastic and tossing the garbage onto the bar. He takes a cigarette from your pack and lights it with a match from his pocket before offering it to you - you take it with a slow blink and watch as he lights his own before sliding you back the pack.

“Bo Sinclair. Mechanic for a couple towns over - I own a specialty shop so i’m here pretty often.” He’s got a thick southern drawl that makes your stomach clench and you have to tell yourself to breathe - why the fuck were you going nuts over some backwoods hillbilly? You blamed the vodka, though you knew that it wasn’t the case. Instead, you squeeze your legs together to quench the throb of your clit while you smoke. You offer your name quietly and he repeats it with a satisfied hum before motioning the bartender over. “Double whatever she was havin, and give me a couple of whiskeys too.” The bartender is friendlier with him - /BO/ - than he was with you and your drinks are served promptly and when you take the shot glass and the cool vodka cranberry, you glance up at Bo with drawn brows. “Owner and I know each other. My brother does some work for him now and then.” He finishes his sentence with a wink before tapping his shot glass against yours, urging you in.

It’s a few hours later when you’re thoroughly buzzed and gone through over a pack of cigarettes and your eyes are red and puffy from the weed offered to you and Bo just outside the bar that you find yourself giggling along side of the main road in town, fingers laced loosely with Bo’s as he lets out soft chuckles behind you, eyes dark as he takes in your form. You had every intention of leading Bo back to anywhere you could and fucking the brains out of him, but hesitated when you thought of your father’s small home.

“Hey. Wait. This is, uh. Weird.” Your voice is breathy and you have to stop to laugh, but then you steady yourself as Bo comes close to you, dropping his forehead down against yours and pushing you gently into the shadows of the buildings along the street. You swallow and reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and he’s there, hand instantly wrapped around you and lifting you and you’re being pressed against some sort of brick wall with Bo’s hands at your ass. He kisses you harshly and you moan against him, all teeth and tongue while your fingers wrap into the dark curls of his hair and Bo grinds up against you, already hard behind his pants. “Can’t, uh. Go back to mine. My house. It ain’t mine. My uh, my dad is there.” You’re breathy against him as he sucks harsh bruises into your neck and collar while you pant and whine against him. He bites down and you let out a cry, Bo’s hand shooting up to cover your mouth. He sucks in a harsh bruise that you’d have no possibility of hiding and you wonder for a moment if he was a high schooler in a man’s body because who else would leave this many hickies?

He lets you down after a long while and pulls you from the wall and Bo ducks for a moment and you only have a second to catch your breath before he’s lifting you and you’re slung over his shoulder, hands at his ass with your ass at the side of his face. He presses a harsh, bruising nip against your thigh that you’re sure would bruised and you’re being carried away through the dark streets. There’s a noise and Bo grunts and you’re being gently slung into the passenger seat of his truck, old leather still hot from the day earlier.

Bo slides into the seat next to you and while he’s sitting, you can see how hard and thick he is behind his jeans. He shifts his truck into gear and you jump and bounce and you’re on your belly against the bar seat of the truck, face against the rough fabric of Bo’s pants while you whine and groan around him, soaking the front of his pants as much as you could. He’s got a hand in your hair and he occasionally lifts it to shift gears - the ride is smooth and you can feel his eyes on the back of your head and you pant against his fabric hidden cock. You weren’t sure where you were going and the thought crosses your mind that you were totally about to be brutally murdered somewhere and when Bo’s hand tightens in your hair, you groan around him as your clit throbs between your legs and then you don’t care where you’re going, as long as Bo fucks you.

The drive feels like forever but it couldn’t be more than 15 minutes and suddenly the truck stops and Bo pulls you up for a harsh kiss before shoving you back to your side of the truck - you’re out of the door and Bo is at your side in seconds, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you up into his house. It’s big, two story, and there are multiple vehicles outside which leads you to believe that there are others than Bo staying at the house. You wonder briefly if he’s married with children and a sinful shiver runs down your spine. There’s no lock on the door and you follow Bo in quietly. The house is dark and you trip over the edge of a carpet, but Bo is there and he leads you upstairs with his fingers tight around your wrist.

As soon as his bedroom door is closed behind you, Bo’s attitude changes. He’s slower, calmer, a cheshire grin across his face. You’re panting, clit throbbing between your legs, limbs trembling as you sink to the floor and drop to your knees, staring up at Bo. “Wanna suck your cock. Please.” Your voice is low and Bo’s grin only widens at your words - he’s quick with his jeans, popping the button and flicking down his fly to shimmy them down his legs. He’s thick behind his underwear and you watch him rub over himself with dark eyes staring down at you, panting against the warm bedroom air. You reach up and tug Bo’s underwear down his thighs, letting out a slutty little moan as his cock comes free - he’s thick, thicker than anything you’ve had before, and he’s got enough length that you have to use two hands to jerk him off. Bo hisses above you as you press sloppy wet kisses along his shaft, lubing him up while you tug and massage at his balls with one hand, the other balled into a fist at your lap.

He doesn’t give you long to get used to him, not before he’s got his hands at the sides of your head with his own slammed back behind him into the door, hips tilted forward as he fucks your throat. You’re doing what you can to take it, both hands at his thighs while you choke and gag around him, drool and spit and pre puddling under the two of you. He’s fucking loud above you, airy chuckles and panting your name and you’re so surprised that he’s so expressive and it only turns you on, humming around Bo as he assaults your throat. That makes him stutter and you can see his thighs clench around you and his fingers tighten painfully in your hair as he chokes. He stays like this for only a few seconds before yanking your head back with a growl. You pop off of him as you choke, coughing painfully and spitting against his carpet. You’re given only a moment before Bo’s hands are under your arms and he’s lifting you like you’re a fucking child - you’re tossed back onto his bed and he lifts his hand to circle his finger, indicating for you to flip. You comply immediately, hands under you to open your own pants and you’re shimmying out of them when Bo is there behind you, face pressed into the ass of your underwear as he licks and nips at you from beneath the fabric. You whine and push back against him, using the leverage to get your knees under you and you find yourself face down in a stranger’s pillows that smelled like way too much Old Spice and there was so much warmth between your legs that you thought you might drown and die.

Bo’s fingers are there along with his tongue and he works your wet cunt open from behind, humming against you as you moan and writhe and pant into his bed, a hand behind you in his hair while the other grips the blankets desperately for something, anything. The thick fingers inside of you speed up and you press back against him and he sucks and licks at your clit and you cum harder than you remember ever having in your life, knees shaking as Bo fucks you through it, lapping your orgasm soaking around his fingers. He doesn’t break, only shifts his hand so he can slip a third finger inside of you and you stretch around him, delirious with sex as you push back against him with your sluttiest of moans. You can hear him behind you, panting and letting out small whispers of ‘fuck’ and ‘god damn’ and then suddenly it’s not enough as you clench and whine hard at Bo, shaming your hips and ass, inviting, begging him to fuck you.

He pulls back and is gone for a moment and you try to catch your breath, repositioning yourself on your knees with your ass up and hips spread, how you to like to be fucked deep and harsh. You hear plastic and he’s putting on a condom thankfully, though with this much heat in your belly it was hard to care if he had one or not.

“Look at you, just beggin for it. Fancy little city slut desperate to get fucked in my bed.” Bo’s tone is harsh and you moan loud at his words, his accent thicker in his lust and when he grabs your hips and pulls you back, you let out a small yelp in surprise. You’re expecting Bo to plunge into you, to be taken brutal and harsh but the head of his cock is at your cunt and you hold your breath as he slowly, slowly sinks in. He’s fucking thick and you gasp at the burn and stretch, eyes wide against the bed. He feels like he could split you in two on his cock alone and you press back into him suddenly, fulling seating yourself against his hips with his thick length buried deep in your pussy, deep enough to feel his throbbing head against your cervix. You moan, low and long around Bo and he picks up his pace then, drawing back with his cock nearly spilling out of you and then he’s back with a sharp snap of his hips - you cry out at the second assault in your belly and then he sets his rhythm, rolling his hips to snap harshly into you and pulling you back onto his cock with each thrust.

You don’t know how long you’re bent over and fucked like this, Bo groaning and brutal behind you, hips already marked with countless bruises in the shape of his fingers and you’re so sweaty, a pool under you where Bo fucks into you and you leak around him. You’re sobbing into his sheets, bouncing your hips back to meet him with each thrust and Bo gets louder as he spanks you harshly - on his fourth slap, he grabs your cheeks in a hard knead before picking up his pace, bucking into you and chasing his own pleasure, using your cunt like a fleshlight as he chases his own pleasure with your body. Onetwothree pumps and he pulls out of you with a slick sound and your knees collapse under you, a cry passed your lips from the sudden loss of contact and then Bo’s fingers are under your shoulder and you’re being flipped. You obediently sit up on your elbows and open your mouth with your tongue out, eyes locked on Bo’s and he yanks off the condom just in time to finish against your face - thick, warm ropes of cum that splash into your mouth, over your lips, across your neck and into your hair. You moan and lick him cum from your lips, hiding the wince at his bitter taste.

Bo falls asleep quickly afterwards, snoring and with an arm slung over your back. You lie awake and watch him in awe - he’s the first older man you’d ever slept with, and he fucked you better than boys your age did. You sigh and crawl out from under him, pulling your pants back up. The walk back to town and to your own car is long, a good hour, and you’re so sore when you get back to the bar that you slump against your car for a moment before settling in. You flip down your mirror and take a look at yourself and blush at the dark teeth marks and bruises littering high on your neck and down your collar. There’s no chance you’d be able to cover them and you sigh to your fate of having to explain to your father why you have hickies in your 20s.

The next morning you’re sore in places you didn’t know you could be sore - you rubbed your clit in the shower and came to the thought of an old hillbilly who probably wasn’t even that cute, you were only wearing beer goggles. Your dad doesn’t say anything about the bruises on your neck, but you see him shake his head out of the corner of your eyes. You’re red in embarrassment throughout the morning and when your dad suggests you get out of town rather than staying cooped up in the house, you gladly take his keys and drive the two of you to town, old truck chugging along. Your father didn’t like your car, said it was too small and hard for him to get in and out of, so you learned stick so you could drive him comfortably in his own truck.

The two of you eat at a diner that serves you greasy biscuits and gravy but their coffee is halfway decent so you sit with your father and enjoy a companionable silence. It’s broken by a loud, familiar voice and you furrow your brow as it comes closer and then he’s speaking your father’s name and his voice lights up as he stands.

“Well, Bo god damned Sinclair! I thought that was you, what other bastard is crazy enough to go muckin about dressed like that?” Your father’s voice is all smiles and he pulls Bo into a hug - he was dressed in all black as it he were coming from a funeral. “Hey, sorry, ain’t meanin to be rude. This here’s my daughter, come home from college for the summer.” You close your eyes and sigh through your nose because you’re surely in some kind of shitty romcom. Bo looks down at you and blinks, eyes widening only momentarily before his lips curl into the same cheshire grin he had when you fucked him. “Well how about that.” Bo reaches down and you shake his hand, his fingers squeezing yours tightly, and you see his eyes raking over your body, over his bruises and teeth marks left on your neck and collar and shoulders.

Your dad invites Bo to sit and he does so, eyes locked on yours with this big shit eating grin. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and when you come back, Bo’s made himself comfortable at your table with his own cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes. You wipe the sweat from your hands on your pants and return to the table and the mess you’d gotten yourself into.

[hoodharlow]

Mine

AN: bc this bitch can’t give me a minute to get my fics done, y’all are getting this instead of the workout!cal from the other day. Thank you to @cherryxwildflower for helping me with my scene, ilysm Mede 🥰🥰🥰Also pic from @calmfolklore​  💕💕💕

requested? By my coochie

Warnings: jealous!Cal, smut, use of possessive language during sex, kinda rough sex???

Word Count: 2.2k words

Calum watched Claudia struggle carrying her bookbag, backpack, purse and lunch bag when she exited the middle school. It wasn’t much, but in 86℉ weather it was. He chuckled to himself as she still kept a bright smile as she passed her students. He got out and helped her with her things. 

“Why am I doing this again?” She huffed when she sat in the cool car.

“For the kids.” Calum said, starting the car.

“Fuck them kids.” She grumbled. 

She climbed to the backseat and rummaged through one of Calum’s duffle bags that he kept in the car for when he stayed in the studio and needed to change clothes. She grabbed his red and black striped jersey and took off the dress she wore. She also grabbed a pair of Vans she had and swapped out of her sandals. She fell off the seat as Calun did a sharp U-turn. 

“Dude what the fuck!” Claudia cursed from the floor.

“Sorry, I forgot the ice cream shop you like is on the other side.” He said.

Claudia pushed herself up and got back in the front seat. She clicked her seatbelt as Calum pulled up at the front of the shop. 

“I’m going to find a spot. Can you wait in line for us?” 

“Yeah,” she said. Claudia leaned over and gave him a kiss. 

She grabbed her wallet from her bag and hopped off the car, pulling down her biker shorts. She pulled her hair into a bun and entered the shop. She took her spot at the very back of the line. Claudia looked out the window and saw Calum’s car drive around the corner. She pulled out her phone to text him that he should stay in his car and wait for her to send him another text to come get her since there was a long line. Mid text she felt someone tap her shoulder. 

“Miss. Santos, what brings you here?” It was Christian Rosas. 

He was one of her co-workers at the middle school. He graduated from UCLA last year where he got his Master of Arts in Teaching for mathematics. Claudia met him on her first day when she went into the wrong wing. 

“Hi Mr. Rosas.” She said. Calling each other by their last name was their inside joke because one of the other teachers claimed it was unprofessional to call each other by their first names.

They slowly fell into conversation about school and how the heat is getting to the students. Claudia’s message to Calum was long forgotten until she saw him enter the shop. He approached her.

“I was gonna text you but I ran into Christian.” Claudia said, reaching for his hand. She turned to Christian. “This is my boyfriend Calum and this is Christian. He’s one of the other teachers that works with me.”

“Nice to meet you.” Calum said politely. 

He extended his hand out to shake Claudia’s co-worker, but he dropped it when the guy left him hanging. He was iced out by the guy. He took all of her attention while he trailed behind them. If someone saw them they would think that the guy and Claudia were dating and not Calum and her. She was too busy talking to the guy that he ended up ordering. He stood off to the side and read over the band’s group chat.

"Are you in grad school too?" The guy asked Calum.

"No." He said, looking up from his phone.

"So you're done with school?" He pressed.

"No, I didn't go to college." Calum said curtly. 

"Oh." 

Calum knew that tone and it made him feel inferior. Like his success wasn’t equivalent to someone who got an education. Even more when it was said in front of Claudia. It always made him feel less intelligent when someone pointed out that she has a college education and he doesn’t. Like he doesn't deserve someone like her. 

He focused on his phone and barely heard Claudia tell the guy that he’s a successful musician. He didn’t hear what the guy said, but he could tell it wasn’t good from the face Claudia made. Luckily their order was ready. 

Claudia handed Calum the box of paletas while she took her nieve flotante de limon and Calum’s diablito. She ignored Christian when he bid her goodbye.  

The pair quietly entered the car and were on their way home. Fortunately there wasn’t traffic and they made it home in less than half an hour. Calum angrily entered the house, placed the paletas in the freezer and locked himself in his home studio. Claudia awkwardly stood outside of his home studio and knocked. 

“I have your ice cream.” She said, offering him his diablito when he opened the door.

“Thanks.” he said, taking it. “I’m going to work for a bit. Then I’ll order some dinner.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Listen Cal, what Christian said about—”

“I have some work to do.”

***

The next few hours were silent. Calum was still in his home studio. Claudia heard him playing his bass. It wasn’t actual music, it was more of him just taking his anger out on the bass. She knew Christian’s comment upset him thus upsetting her. 

No one has the right to diminish Calum’s success to nothing. She’s seen him work hard for almost two years. He’s one of the most successful people she’s ever met. She admired him for his determination and drive. Hearing her co-worker say that being a musician isn’t going to take him far pissed her off. 

She finished her grading and went upstairs to shower. She emerged from the bathroom, refreshed and with her mind somewhat at ease. She grabbed a pair of black lace panties from her drawer and pushed the sliding door of their walk-in closet open. She looked through some hangers with some of Calum’s t-shirts and tugged one off. It was black with a skeleton dunking around a circle of fire. 

She sniffed into the collar, surprised that it didn’t smell like him. She went to a small shelf where he had all of his colognes and spritzed her favorite one all over the shirt. 

Claudia skipped down stairs and settled in the living room. Duke crawled to her chest and curled up on her. They both decided to watch 102 Dalmatians. They were at the part when Spot flew away with a puppet in balloons when she decided to get a paleta.

Calum emerged from his home studio and stood in the kitchen in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. 

“I’m gonna order. Do you have— Is that my shirt?” Calum said, cutting himself off. 

“Duh,” she said before sucking down her paleta. “I found it in the closet.” 

“Don’t you have your own clothes to wear?” He snapped, taking a few steps to her. 

“You’re kidding me right?” She scoffed sarcastically. “Is this really coming from the guy who begs me to wear his clothes? Since when is me wearing your clothes such a big deal?”

“Claudia, I just bought it. I haven’t even worn it.” He argued. His hand tugged the bottom of the shirt, pulling her to him. “That’s my shirt. Mine.”

Claudia swallowed hard. It was rare for Calum to use that tone on her. She can count the times he's used it in one hand, but nonetheless it left her dripping with desire. She met his gaze and smiled sweetly at him.

“Then take it off me.”

Calum towered over her and took her paleta, tossing it in the sink. Before she could make a comment, he grabbed her face and kissed her. They moaned into each other’s mouths, tasting the sweet chile and chamoy on their tongues. Without breaking their kiss, he grabbed the back of her thighs and picked her up, sitting her on the counter. 

He slowly pushed the t-shirt up her body, kissing up her body. Claudia wordlessly lifted her hands up as he continued to slowly remove the shirt. He swiftly tugged it off and took a step back to drop his sweats. He reached for Claudia’s panties and pulled them down her legs. 

They resumed their kissing. Calum pressed his hips into hers. Claudia let out a soft gasp of pleasure. He pulled away and thrusted into her once again, earning louder sounds from her. 

He stroked his length a few times then coated himself with Claudia’s arousal. He placed one of her legs over his shoulder and slid into her. 

Claudia nails dig into Calum’s biceps as he pounded into her. He took her rough and possessively. She knew Calum was in a mood where he just needed her to know she was his and only his. And she let him. She didn't mind it. She knew he needed some quick way to distract himself with whatever was on his mind.  

He snapped his hips, burying himself deep into her with every thrust. It didn’t take long for Claudia to come. She chanted his name and wrapped her legs tighter around him, wanting to feel all of him. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

“Can you take another?” Calum asked her. 

“Yeah.” she nodded, breathless.

Calum pulled out of her and carried her to the couch. He laid her down and patted the couch 

“Hands and knees.”   

Claudia nodded and knelt in front of one of the arm chairs. She felt his hand on her back, gently pushing her over the armrest. He leaned forward and kissed up her neck.

“This is to remind you you're mine.” He whispered in her ear. “Ready?”

Claudia nodded eagerly. She looked over her shoulder and pulled him into a kiss. Without breaking their kiss, she turned her whole body so she was laying down.  Before she did anything else, he grabbed her and draped over the armrest like she was seconds ago. He shoved himself in one satisfying thrust.  

Calum pulled out and pushed himself in her once more. His hands gripped her waist as he slowly rocked into her. He twisted his shirt around his hand, using it so Claudia could stay up right. As the minutes passed, his thrusts got rougher, and Claudia couldn’t hold back. She begged Calum to keep fucking her at that deliciously slow and rough pace she loved. He leaned over his chest against her back. 

“Fuck.” Calum moaned out.

His lips kissed all over her neck as he continued to fuck Claudia. She rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts.

“That’s it, take me so good, pretty girl.” He groaned in her ear. Calum shifted his hips as he thrusted into her. The new angle he was fucking her made her beg for him. 

“Tell me I’m yours, Cal.” She moaned. “Please, fuck—” 

“Shit.” He groaned. 

“Cal, please tell me.” She cried

“You’re mine, Claudia. Is that what you want to hear? You’re mine.”

“Yes!” she nodded.

She pushed back rougher to meet his thrusts. He gripped her hips with one hand while the other went back down to her clit. Calum worked his fingers roughly as he pushed his hips into Claudia. 

He buried his face in her neck, kissing her sweet spot. She quietly whimpered his name, lazily meeting his thrusts before her orgasm took over. Calum’s orgasm followed soon after. He cried her name and pushed himself deep inside Claudia, spilling every last drop in her.

“I love you so much, Claudia.” Calum mumbled against her lips. 

“I love you too,” Claudia giggled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

Calum grabbed a blanket from behind the couch and covered them. They laid in silence, exhausted. Claudia ran her fingers over his blonde curls. 

“Were you upset with what Christian said?” She asked him quietly. 

“No.” He said, sitting up. “If I’m being honest, I think I was just jealous of him. Not because of his looks or whatever, seeing you laugh at your inside jokes made me feel left out. Then I got over it because I’m the one who gets to hear you come undone… What did he say?”

Claudia rolled her eyes. “He thinks you’re just starting out in music and implied that you’re not going to make it. Like, hello, you’re Calum-fucking-Hood. You have four albums out and working on your fifth one. You have tons of hits and you tour around the world playing sold out shows.”

“He kinda has a point. I mean, he has a degree and I don’t. What if something happens to the band, and I can’t make more music and tour? I would be fucked because I don’t have a degree or whatever to fall back on. Then I wouldn’t have money to support us.” He shrugged.

“I mean yeah, but that doesn’t matter to me.” She said. “If shit hits the fan then we can just open a dispensary and I’ll bake edibles.”

“You’re right,” he chuckled. He got up from the couch. “I gotta do something real quick.”

Claudia gave him a confused face as he went to the kitchen and grabbed the shirt and his sweatpants. She trailed behind him and slipped on her panties. She got even more confused when he stopped out on the patio and started taking selfies. She watched him grab his bucket hat off the table and snapped a few more pictures. After he typed on his phone and took off the shirt. He went inside and handed her his shirt.

“Here you go,” he said, kissing her head. He leaned down and whispered, “tonight you’re riding me with this on.” 

Taglist: @aquarius-hood1996 @suchalonelysunflower @f-mu @another-lonely-heart @sunshinebabycal-deactivated2021   @calumscalm @karajaynetoday @cherryxwildflower @ashtonsunflower  @idontneedanyone @findingliam-o @5-secondsofcolor @mulletcal @polycashton @fckingpernico @2fangirl4u @calpops

Special Guest: @nowherebound @wastelandcth

[seka1-k0k0ro]

night of fun

y e s

i had way too much fun with this thank you anon for feeding my mind u-u

see part one here!

summary: a week has passed since the ‘incident’ and megumi’s thoughts have gone haywire and are utterly filled with you.

cw: smut with a semi plot (shes long cuz i got carried away), fem! reader

[lower case intended + not proofread]

—————————

the air was thick and it was hot. megumi was training with the third years while you sat on the sidelines with yuuji and nobara. his focus was all on you. how your skin has a slight glow from the heat; how the sun rays caused your skin to heat; how the heat caused you to hike your skirt up though it was against school rules. you were infecting his mind—his body.

panda landed a ruthless blow into megumi’s stomach, launching him a couple meters across the field. coughing, megumi sat up, and the third years walked over.

“what’s up with you megumi? you’ve been so distracted lately,” maki began.

“tuna,” inumaki agreed from behind her with one hand on his hip. with a final throat-clearing cough megumi began,

“i’m fine. just have a lot on my mind. nothing serious.”

“is it y/n?” megumi’s head jerked in shock, and he could feel his cheeks slightly heat. he only hoped he could mask it and blame it on the hot day. “it is so y/n,” maki smirked, “did y’all fight or something?” megumi deadpanned.

“no, we didn’t.”

“she blue-ball you?” she asked again. megumi scowled and stood, his cheeks now flaming.

“it’s not like that. stay out of it. it’s my business.” he stomped away like a child. the third years huddled together and unanimously agreed that it indeed was like that.

megumi approached the group of three sitting on the sidelines. he saw you sat in between yuuji and nobara showing them something on your phone. he looks at your thighs which were missing their stockings from you possibly running late. your uniform jacket was missing--replaced by the tight, white button-up shirt you wear in case it gets hot. he’s always loved that shirt.

then he noticed how seemly close yuuji was sitting to you. he knows neither of you would ever do anything but he’s always felt slightly self-conscious of yuuji. yuuji was physically stronger; yuuji had pure power and he didn’t. he saw yuuji place his chin on your shoulder and snuggle into your neck.  

you noticed megumi’s presence and gasped. your eyes sparkled and you had the biggest smile. you dropped everything you were holding and ran over to him, holding megumi in a hug. though megumi knew he shouldn’t feel the way he did, he felt smug and looked at yuuji in the eyes with a glare and a smile as he hugged you. yuuji looked back confused.

“we were just watching part of a movie that yuuji watched while he was training with gojo.” his smile returned to a frown. for the past couple of days, yuuji has all you’ve been talking about. it’s been yuuji this and yuuji that. “speaking of yuuji, i’m gonna be in his dorm after school helping him study.”

“oh? until when?” you shrugged.

“i don’t know. whenever we finish.” megumi sighed and pulled away. 

“alright. well, let me go back to--” yuuji interrupted him.

“y/n come back so we can play the movie.”

“gimme a second, yuu,” you said back. megumi turned to you confused.

“yuu?” you cocked your head to the side and giggled.

“what? it’s just a nickname, megumi. anyways get back to training before they yell at you.” you turned around and went back to the duo waiting for you. megumi stood there shocked for a second then turned and walked back towards centerfield. all he could think about was the stupid nickname and how you didn’t kiss him goodbye. 

—————————

the sun was now setting. megumi was gathering his things and inumaki came up to megumi. he handed him a note.

just talk to her, don’t let things get between you two because you didn’t voice what was bothering you. you know what’s wrong, but she doesn’t. instead of staying quiet, use your words and open up. that is the only solution.

inumaki left megumi to think on his own with a final shoulder pat. megumi looked back at the note and read it over again. he sighed and rubbed at his eye in exhaustion. he folded the letter back neatly and slipped it in his pocket.

—————————

“nothing is working!” yuuji laughed as you continued to complain. “i mean, think about it. we came with this plan to make megumi jealous and nothing has worked. i didn’t even give him his good-bye kiss today!”

“well, there’s still one last thing we could do.” you rolled your eyes.

“and what might that be oh wise one?”

“megumi always gets to the dorms at 8:30, right?”

“yeah, and?” 

“we’re supposed to be studying, right?” your shoulders slumped, and you groaned.

“where are you going with this?”

“if megumi hears some...uhh...well- how should I put this?...questionable noises as he passes by the room--that’ll be his last straw.” you nodded understandingly. you agreed to the plan with one final worry,

“i just hope he doesn't break up with me.”

—————————

the corridor was dark as usual on his training days. never missing a beat, megumi walks down the hallway expecting to only hear his footsteps, though we don't all get what we expect.

“yuu! fuck-- please!” megumi’s footsteps stop right before he can fully pass itadori’s dorm. 

“come on, y/n. try a little harder and maybe i’ll give you what you want.”

“yuuji, please, I need it. please!” the little show was accompanied by grunts and groans from you. 

megumi felt something inside of him snap. he tore the door open almost breaking the doorknob in the process. he saw both you and yuuji standing while yuuji held something--he assumes its school supplies--over your head while you’re trying to grab it. both of you are in casual clothing and out of your daily school uniforms. you both stare at megumi in the door entrance.

megumi fumes and grabs you by your wrist. he dragged you into his room, locking the door behind him. megumi turned on a couple of the lamps in his room. he drops all of his stuff and turns jaggedly to face you.

“what has been going on?” he asks surprisingly calmer than he looks.

“what do you--”

“you know what i’m talking about. what between you and yuuji, huh?” you crossed your arms and frowned.

“first of all,” you stepped closer and turned your nose up to him, “do not interrupt me. second,” you turned around sheepishly, “itadori wanted to see what you would seem like jealous, and” you slumped, regretful, “i agreed.”

megumi sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. he walked up and hugged you from behind. “so you still love me?” you scoffed.

“what? of course I do.” megumi nodded. you two stood in silence, until he spoke up with an idea.

“will you make it up to me?” 

“i will...but how?” his hands slowly lift your shirt, letting just his hands under. he moves his head from your neck to rest against your ear.

“i have something in mind,” he said. his left hand reached towards your right tit while the other hand played with the waistband of your athletic shorts. you leaned back into him feeling him harden. you turn in his embrace and kiss him. the kiss was passionate but soft.

megumi led you towards the bed, laying you down. he caged you in, pinning you to the bed. he sat on his heels to see you. your face was flushed, and you were slightly trembling.

“don’t just stare.” he laughed breathlessly.

“i’m sorry, y/n. you’re just so pretty,” his voice trailed to low whisper as he leaned into your neck, “it makes me wanna go all the way.” he peppered feathery kisses onto your jaw—so intoxicating it made your mind spin in circles and your body squirm.

“wait,” you said. “are you sure?”

“what?” he asked lazily, still suckling on your skin.

“what if gojo comes in and—“ he kissed you, then rested his forehead against yours.

“forget gojo. i want you,” he went back down to your collarbone, “i want to make you feel good.”

“megumi,” you managed to say.

“hmm?”

“take me.” he stilled, but the words shot straight to his dick. the way you would say his name in the breathless, pitched voice made his cock twitch. he stuffed his face in the dip of your neck and groaned. he collected himself and crashed his lips into yours. it was messy. teeth would clash and spit covered each other’s mouths. though the love each had for one another never diminished. you could feel him pouring his love, heart, and soul—telling you, through the kiss, to take him as well.

his thumbs hooked the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down along with your panties. you sat up and took your shirt off and your bra. he pushed you back down and kissed you. he kissed you and kissed you, and you felt your lips bruising from his force. your hands reached to his shirt, and you signal for him to take it off. swiftly, he took his sweats and shirt off, leaving him in his boxers.

he went back to kissing you. he couldn’t get enough. megumi wanted to kiss every angle, crevice, inch—he wanted to kiss all over—he wanted to make sure not piece of you was left untouched. if you’d let him, he’d ravage you in one blow.

his hands began to tease your inner thighs, but always too high or too low. his kisses began to follow the path down you jaw to your collar bone. his fingers finally touched you where you wanted—needed him most; his middle finger spreading your wetness between your folds. his kisses turned impatient. he marked you with his teeth, leaving love bites behind as he moved farther down.

your gasps, breaths, and soft moans were music to his ears. they made his mind go fuzzy and his eye sight waver. he was drunk on you; he was drunk on the sounds, the smell, the taste of you.

megumi’s lips attached to you left breast which made you yelp. at the same time, a finger slipped into your cunt, followed by a second, then a third. one by one, each stretching you out, and preparing you for him. the sensation made you wriggle around. your knee dug into his cock, making him moan out. you continued to pleasure him, the vibrations from his sounds heightening your own pleasure.

“megumi—“ you whined, “please. i need more.” he chuckled and detached from your breast with a slight pop. his lips hovered against yours, not entirely kissing you.

“patience, princess.” his fingers sped up and his thumb grazed against your clit, making you arch your back.

“please,” you whimpered back. “fuck me, megumi. please?” you bucked your hips into his hands, in attempt to convince him more. with a final cry, megumi cursed at himself and removed himself from you, leaving you on the bed catching your breath and your thighs twitching. megumi got rid of his boxers—throwing them on floor with the rest of the scattered clothes.

his rummaged his drawers for the condoms maki got him as a gag gift for his birthday. megumi tore the packet open with his teeth and slipped it on. you look over to see him walking back. the bed creaked with his added weight, and a smile of anticipation graced your face. megumi gave some final kisses to your inner thighs while he got comfortable. he held the back of your thighs up, using his shoulder as leverage.

you helped line up his cock, and he pushed in. finally in, megumi moaned while you let out soft puffs, trying to adjust. he moved slowly, not wanting to hurt you as the way felt against him made it awfully hard to.

“so good—ahh!” you couldn’t help but get louder. “megumi,” you moaned, “you feel so good—fuck!” your hips moved along with his, and megumi felt something in him snap. he groaned and apologized,

“i’m sorry, baby. i can’t help it.”

“s’ okay,” you managed out before your head finally turned to mush. megumi’s thrust sped, and his hands moved to your hips pulling them into him harder and harder. megumi’s eyes crossed, getting lost in the pleasure. he felt your walls flutter against him, signaling you’re close. his right thumb found your clit again. he felt you tighten against him. “oh! megumi, i’m gonna cum!”

“cum for me, baby.” you tensed, and your voice cracked at your final wail. he rode out your orgasm and into his. he came into the condom, and he dropped next to you. you took the condom off and tossed it in the bin.

megumi welcomed you back into bed with kisses and cuddles under the covers. “that was amazing,” you whispered.

“it was,” he whispered back with a smile. he dug his nose into your hair with his arms around you and dozed off to sleep.

—————————

the door being opened harshly startled megumi awake.

“rise and shine-“

“gojo-sensei!” megumi yelled, stirring you awake. gojo saw the bedsheets fall from your bare shoulders and understood what had happened. gojo bursted out laughing and closed the door, still laughing after it was fully shut. “shit!”

“what’s wrong, baby? who was that?” you asked still groggy.

“gojo.” the sleepiness was replaced with adrenaline quickly, and you bursted from the bed naked.

“gojo?!” megumi smiled seeing you flail around for your clothes.

after both of you were decent, you walked out of megumi’s dorm, and gojo was still laughing. yuuji was also laughing. megumi rolled his eyes.

“hey megumi, did you at least wrap it before you tapped it?” gojo’s laughing increased.

“yeah, you two were quite loud. please remember the thin walls next time,” yuuji snickered.

“sorry, yuuji. his dick was just too big.” you shrugged and dragged megumi away past the bathroom area. both of you were laughing after seeing yuuji’s disgusted face and gojo’s eyes popping out of sockets from laughing too hard.

[1kook]

commercial break; SEVEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series ! happens a few months before part 7 

summary; And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan.  warnings; horny jk, jk wants to roleplay... everyone point n laugh, mentions of his impreg kink lol, making out, tits, honestly jk is just very horny n in love lol, jk in a vampire costume w fangs O_o rating; mature (18+) wc; 2k

notes; if u don’t know who lindsay is first of all ur sick, second of all here’s my queen’s top moments. also i just gotta say, this was originally gonna be a larger fic (a halloween special) for my ncouple, but i got a lil busy with school n ultimately didn't have time to invest in this as a whole installment so..... enjoy this commercial break instead!!

Jungkook loves Halloween.

He loves the pumpkin carving and the decorating. Loves the spooky music and the abundance of candy. He loves it, absolutely adores it, and for the second year in a row, he gets to spend it with you! Yet another person he loves very much.

He doesn’t remember ever being this excited for Halloween. Last year, you had roped him into going to some frat party with him, had egged him on, begged so cutely that it was your last year in college, baby until he caved. The two of you had spent the night drinking until you blacked out, Ubering home with your costumes half on, and then unceremoniously fucking in his living room with the blinds wide open.

(The next neighborhood meeting had been very awkward for Jungkook.)

It was his first time ever drinking with you like that, and he vaguely remembers, through his own drunken gaze, how cool you had been. Had absolutely owned a bunch of greasy football players at beer pong in your little sexy nurse costume. And when the crowd cheered your name, shrieked in awe, it had been him that you turned to for praise. “Did you see me, baby,” you had giggled, crowded him against the wall of this random house until Jungkook was sweating profusely. In lieu of a costume, he had worn a silly jogger set with a skeleton design that was supposed to glow in the dark, according to Amazon. You had told him he looked adorable, had kissed and squeezed his cheeks until Jungkook was a flustered mess.

It was still early into your relationship— if Jungkook did the math, you were only about five months in at that point —so he didn’t know how else to cope with the rapid thundering of his heart, the confession sitting on his tongue, the then scary L-word begging to be heard. So, he took you home and fucked you until your little nurse cap slid off your head and you were begging for him to let you cum, thus earning him his first ever offense for violating the neighborhood rules (i.e., traumatizing a group of middle schoolers by fucking in plain sight).

Long story short, Jungkook loves Halloween, and he loves it even more when he gets to spend it with you.

(He’ll never admit it, but he’s a hard romantic. He wants to do cheesy things with you, like cuddle you into his arms when you get scared, pat your head until you can look at whatever is happening on screen again. He wants you to feel safe in his arms, wants to be your refuge when things become too much. He likes to think he’s done a pretty good job so far.)

Jungkook’s plan goes like this:

First, welcome you with that Halloween basket you’ve been sending him tweet links about all month. The cute little Jack-O-lantern candy bucket stuffed with candy and hair ties and a soft Halloween themed blanket. It’s so cheesy, makes him blush when he catches sight of it in his closet, but Jungkook will do anything to please you.

Next, after presenting you with your Halloween gift and having you coo and tell him he’s a good boy, he’ll invite you to break your new soft blanket in. The living room will be prepared with an assortment of your favorite foods, the flat screen ready to play whatever horror movie the two of you settle on.

And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare.

It’s a perfect plan.

It’s the best way to spend his favorite holiday, with his favorite girl by his side and some of his favorite horror films on the big screen. Jungkook spends all of October geeked up for it, even considers hanging up lights around the living room to really set the mood. He’s so excited, can’t wait to spend another wonderful holiday at home with you, that he doesn’t fully realize why you haven’t brought up the long awaited topic of costumes.

“You like?” you ask, standing at the door of his bathroom with a sultry look in your eye, tits practically pouring out of the tight top you’ve wiggled into, skin oiled up scandalously. He fumbles with the fake vampire fang prosthetics he’d been trying to glue in for the better half of an hour.

He had heard the door open downstairs when you got here, had called out his mandatory greeting as he heard you come up the stairs. But none of that had prepared him for the sight of you in… whatever this was.

Jungkook doesn’t really understand exactly what you’re supposed to be dressed up as until the two of you are back downstairs—blinds drawn, full moon slipping in through the cracks—with some random horror movie pulled up on the TV. “I’m Lindsey,” you whine, brand new fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It shields your boobs from view, but he’s not sure if that’s a win or a loss. “From Total Drama Island!”

He settles in beside you, doesn’t get too comfortable because it’s nearing sundown now and he knows the herds of children are bound to start flowing in. “Uh huh,” he says mindlessly. His collar feels itchy, the overly-detailed vampire costume he meticulously scoured the internet for being one size too small. You snuggle into his side anyway.

“You don’t know anything about cinematic masterpieces,” you frown, avidly tuned into The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, because apparently you love horror movies all of a sudden, a fact that genuinely throws Jungkook off. He’s not sure what it is about you that had deluded him into thinking you would be a scaredy cat, but he doesn’t take the new bit of information too hard.

The doorbell rings right as the first gorey scene ends and you make a big show of huffing and whining as he rushes to answer it. But it’s only the beginning of the long night that awaits, and, as Jungkook comes to find, running back and forth from the door to the couch is harder than it seems.

Anyway, Jungkook’s neighborhood is a little posh, or ‘bougie’ as you like to claim, and trick-or-treating hours end a little before eleven pm. By then he’s tired, having refused your offer to switch places in fear that your boob might fall out of that scrap of fabric you call a top and earn him his second neighborly offense.

However, that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to your boobs falling out in private.

“Stupid,” you giggle when he gets caught in his long cape, the sound slowly melting into a whimper as he slips his hands beneath your top, fighting with the ridiculous push-up bra you’ve donned tonight. Hands tangle in his hair, mess up the careful side part he’d styled up for tonight, and legs lock around his waist. “Your curtains closed?” you tease.

He huffs, catches your chatty lips with his roughly, presses and presses until your mouth must bruise. He belatedly remembers about those sharp fangs he’d glued on—hey, if he was going to dress up as some gaudy monster it might as well be realistic—and doesn’t realize until he tries to bite your neck and you let out a little yelp. Truthfully, he feels bad right away, but then you’re practically dissolving in his arms so he plays along. “Shh,” he hisses.

The roar of a chainsaw and terrified screams fill the living room, almost drowning out the soft sounds you release by his ear. “O- Or what?” you pant, flinch when he pushes your sad excuse of a skirt up over your waist. “Gonna b- bite me?”

And so Jungkook does.

You shriek. “That hurts, you idiot!” you scold with a tiny whine in your voice, but Jungkook’s cock is so hard. Your tiny, tight outfit does you no favors. Tits in his face, tiny thong against his bulge. He wants to make you sob, litter bites and marks all over your skin until his love makes you ache. You must see the crazed look in his eyes, because you drop the scowl. “Hey,” you say slowly, hand on his chest. “You look like you’re gonna eat me.”

He lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wonders if you can feel his thundering heart beneath your palm. “Fuck,” he sighs, leaning away to regain his senses. Was it something in the air? Was it the fatigue? The full moon? Why did he want to fold you in half and fuck his cock into you until you were a crying, shivering mess? Something about you tonight, laid out for him to take, makes him feel absolutely insane. Starved and psycho; he just wants to take and take until you don’t have anything more to give. He purses his lips, tries to ignore the hot feeling in his lower abdomen when your hardened nipples register to his eyes. “I think I’m becoming evil.”

Of all the idiotic things his brain can come up with, this one is definitely top five. His cheeks flush right after, fueled by the boisterous laughter that escapes your lips at his statement. “Oh my god,” you gasp in glee, hands falling down beside your head. “You’re becoming evil?’

Jungkook frowns, flopping down on top of you to hide the embarrassment that paints his face. “Shut up,” he mumbles against your neck, warm and safe.

A hand cards through the back of his hair, nails dig lightly into his scalp. “Aren’t you the cutest little vampire,” you coo, seemingly ignoring the rock hard cock Jungkook presses against your thigh. He’s still so horny, has this sick thought that he could just pin you down right here, tear that silly costume to shreds and swallow you up in his lust. But your voice is so sweet, has his eyes fluttering shut as you gather him in his arms. “Silly vampire,” you hum, one leg thrown around his hip, a subtle roll of you hips up into him.

Jungkook huffs, licks a flat strip along the base of your neck. It draws a shaky exhale from you, has your hands digging into his back when he begins to slowly lap against the skin, nibble and tug until your back is deliciously arching up into him. “Wanna push you down,” he confesses quietly, hands securing themselves against your hips as he leans back. You're all dazed, eyes trained on his fanged mouth when he hesitantly adds, “l- little human.”

You could laugh, tease him for his sudden weird need to role play with you, but you don’t. A look of understanding crosses your face, sly smirk slowly following. “Oh?” you grin, hand coming around to cup his cheek. “The little vampire wants to use my body?” Jungkook tightens his jaw at your jab, but nods nonetheless.

You’re a feast before his eyes. Boobs in his face, pussy begging to be filled. You’re his, just like Jungkook is yours. And when you indulge him and his stupid whims—kinks, he should say, occasional interests that sometimes make him question himself—his heart feels warm and full. Proud and unashamed, like the truest version of himself when you look at him with those eyes. And your words only confirm it.

Your hands reach down for your top, pull the flimsy material over your head in one swoop that has your bra coming off with it. It drops to the floor. If it makes a sound, Jungkook doesn’t hear it over the shrieks of terror on screen. the blood deaths, the suspenseful music. All he hears is he hammering of his heart. 

It’s two of your sneaky fingers that come up to play, pinch one nipple tenderly as you meet his eyes. “It’s all yours,” you purr. “I’m all yours.”

And the thirst he feels, well. It’s a little vampiric, to say the least. 

—

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