#time theft my beloved

[mommytimmy]

useless men letting mom do all the work

[sarah-sandwich]

⚠️ WARNING Cat 5 Girlfail Event In-Progress⚠️

forgor my earbuds 😔

[nenoname]

"The red screwdriver that Grunkle Stan just made reference to has a lot of importance in Season Two. That's the screwdriver that Soos returns to the Mystery Shack that gets him a job at the Mystery Shack." - The Time Traveler's Pig Commentary

[keeps-ache]

i need to walk into a field and just sit for for a while.. maybe forever hbfsh...

[luckyemo]

i always forget naegi/togami is like... a popular ship i guess so theres ppl who think like Deeply about togami and i just wha

[magpiesbones]

.

[windmillcrusader]

had to edit something in real time while sharing my screen and my boss was like wow you’re so fast! now they’re gonna expect me to work at this rate all the time. sorry scotty I’ve let you down

[fiona-my-love]

I meant general relationship hcs! Can I request for hcs of what they’re like on a date when you're done with my request? Thanks!

What Stolas, Husk, Blitzo, and Alastor are like on dates

Of course! I’ll finish this first since it’s what I thought what you meant originally, so I already made some of it!!

Stolas

- Oh my! You want to go out with him? Well, then he might as well prepare an entire festival for you!!

- But in all seriousness, he’s quite over the top. But at the end of the day, he kind of prefers to stay indoors and just decorate.

- But it’s pretty 50/50, depends on his mood! He’ll either treat you to a fancy restaurant or just decorate his dining hall for you, and end the date off with you two heading to the bedroom. ifykyk

- Despite being a horny bastard, he’s quite the gentleman on dates!

- He’ll always be courteous to you, opening each door for you and paying the bill.

- He’s pretty good at giving compliments, you gotta admit. He knows just how to fluster you!

- But say anything back and he’s lovestruck, beet red, and turned on.

- He thinks you look absolutely ravishing, no matter what you wear! You’re his queen/king/royal, how could you not be stunning?

- Very good with small talk, but he can get burnt out if you don’t talk much. Just make sure to seem interested in him and you’ll have a great time!

Blitzo

- He’s.. quite creative, you have to admit!..

- His dates are rarely something as simple as getting lunch. Nono, he wants them to be memorable.

- So, what’s his idea of memorable? Hmm..

- Sneaking into a horse riding class on earth. Murder. Arson. Treason. Theft. Public indecency.

- So yeah.. have fun with that!

- But at the end of the day, one of his favorite things to do with you is just kick back, relax, order some food, and cuddle on the couch while watching shitty romcoms.

- He doesn’t really care what you guys do, honestly. You guys could literally be sky diving and he’d just be happy to be with you.

*LITERALLY FALLING FROM AN AIRPLANE THATS HUNDREDS OF FEET IN THE SKY*

“OH SHI- Hey, have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?”

- But at the same time, he likes it when dates mean something.

- For example, murdering your ex together!

- But seriously, he loves to just spend time with you in places you went to when you were still in the crushing phase.

Alastor

- Oh boy! He’s quite the gentleman, he’ll take you anywhere you want! It’s not like anyone can turn him down!

- Loves dancing with you, he’d absolutely adore to go on a date where you two just dance to his favorite songs!

- He’s always dressed to the nines! And by that, I mean dressed to the 1900s!

- Not particularly a fan of newer fashion. But hey, he’d be more than happy to fetch you some clothing from his time period if you so wish!

- He spoils you absolutely rotten! You are his one and only, after all!

- Oh, what’s that darling? You’d like some dinner? Why, of course! He’d say, before going on a killing spree, on the search for the perfect meat. Only the finest for his beloved!

- Would absolutely melt if you cooked for him.

- He actually enjoys cooking with you! He’s pretty good at cooking, and by that I mean he’s good at cooking people.

- All in all, he’s a classy guy who likes to show his darling the finer parts of this afterlife!

Husk

- Let’s get one thing straight. He’s just not really all that romantic of a guy.

- But hey, if you want to go out, then who is he to deny you?

- He’d be more than happy to spend some of his hard-earned gambling money to treat you to a lovely dinner at the local bar.

- He’s gotta admit, he loves the way you get so happy whenever you go out together.

- And my god does he love to see you dressed up all fancy, just for him. As much as he is a grump, he’s really fell for you!

- If you go shopping together, he’ll act annoyed when he has to help carry your bags, but if you offer to carry them all by yourself he’d act like you’re asking too much of him.

- He also acts reluctant to spend money on you out of embarrassment, but he refuses to let you pay for anything.

- He may be a bit of a gentleman with you, but that doesn’t mean he’s gotta be happy about it!

- He really likes going to bars with you. Shots on him, obviously.

- To give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s really trying to be a gentleman, but don’t expect him to last more that an hour without getting blackout drunk.

[cloudcountry]

AUB AUB AUB PLEASEEEEE

it’s a really basic riddle hc of him sharing his tarts but i can’t really eat sweets bc they make me feel sick and i don’t like wasting food and a thought occurred

giving riddle the half of my tart i can’t finish only to see their smileeeeee

AUGB I LOVE MY WIFE

SUMMARY: riddle tries to puzzle out why you keep giving him your half eaten tart slices.

COMMENTS: marmar i hope you enjoy your wife she is such a scrimple i would pinch her cheeks

Riddle doesn’t think much of it the first time you do it, too absorbed in just how lovely it is to have you by his side as an official couple at an Unbirthday Party. He accepts your portion of the tart gratefully, but only after asking if you’re sure over and over again.

Riddle doesn’t think much of it the first time you do it, too absorbed in just how lovely it is to have you by his side as an official couple at an Unbirthday Party. He accepts your portion of the tart gratefully, but only after asking if you’re sure over and over again.

It takes a few instances of this for him to realize that you’re either giving him extra tart to make him happy, or your appetite is just too small for something so rich and flavorful.

Each outcome makes him just a bit embarrassed—I mean, you’ve essentially been offering up indirect kisses, for one reason or another. And regardless of the reason, he is getting more of his beloved tarts...

The next time they’re hosting an Unbirthday Party that Riddle invites you to, he asks Trey to cut you a much smaller slice. The Vice Housewarden agrees, and even though it goes against tradition 

Trey can’t remember which rule states that that tart must be cut into eight even slices, but since it’s one of the ones Riddle decides to break for you maybe it’s okay that he doesn’t know.

Riddle watches you carefully to make sure the slice is satisfactory enough for you, and notes when you seem satisfied or unsatisfied with the portion. If it’s the latter, by the next Unbirthday party you will have a different sized slice, depending on how you reacted to the first one.

If and when you’re satisfied with the slice you get and are able to eat the whole thing, Riddle feels a swell of pride in his chest. He enacted a simple method of process of elimination just to make sure his love is well taken care of.

This isn’t the last time he’ll go above and beyond for you, just so you know. Riddle doesn’t half ass anything, and as the most important person in his life, he’s most certainly not going to half ass anything to do with you.

-> riddle's roses . . . @amaribelt @cookiesandbiscuits @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

[skzdarlings]

the heist team | the threesome series ; skz ; minho/reader/changbin

masterlist.

threesome series part 2/4.

pairing: lee minho/reader/seo changbin content info: sexual content. threesome. friends2lovers. very cheesy criminal heist shenanigans (very "we're in" style hacking and some laser grids lol). "fake" kissing, getting sexy as a distraction, giving sex directions, sexual tension that gets resolved. pussy eating, dick sucking, coming inside. purple haired minho bc meow <3

-

The camper van was the best idea you ever had.  It is much easier to enact dastardly schemes while inconspicuously hiding in plain sight. 

On the outside, the van looks like any civilian camper, but the inside is a veritable den of high-tech con-artistry.   It has a place for Minho to hang the get-ups for his grifting gambits, a compartment for Changbin to store his weapons and down-time dumbbells, and it has the sexiest, sleekest, most mouth-watering computer apparatus that has ever existed.  You love it more than anything in this world. 

Every job, you sit in the midst of your beloved computer screens, directing the operation while your boys do the ground work.  Despite knowing of your undying love for this system, your best friends and partners-in-crime are presently trying to separate you from your baby.

“Is she calling the computer her baby again?”  Minho asks from where he is getting dressed behind a curtain. 

“Yes,” Changbin says.  He is sitting in your computer chair with his arms distractingly crossed, his biceps bulging in his tight black shirt.  He is wearing a lot of lycra, having formerly anticipated he would be doing physical work tonight.

That all changed when you realized the nature of tonight’s job. 

You only ever target the obscenely rich, the kind of wealth that is obtained through its own nature of theft and villainy.  Tonight’s targets are a bunch of pompous elites celebrating themselves.  Upstairs is a gala kicking off a week-long set of dinners, auctions, and celebrations.   Downstairs is millions of dollars worth of art and antiquities, set to go up for auction the following day.  

It looked like a typical job, the kind where Minho could sweet-talk some fools while Changbin punched some security guards and you hacked the vault from the van.  The security system around the haul turned out to be far more advanced.  Operating with a form of artificial intelligence, it essentially learns as it goes, meaning hacking it from the outside is incredibly difficult as it will understand and respond to invasion.  It will be easier to outsmart from the inside, where you can reach your hand into its virtual heart and pluck its digital ventricles one by one. 

The boys do not have that kind of computer knowledge.  So now Changbin is in your chair, Minho is doing his make-up, and you are waving around an emergency cocktail dress. 

“Who’s gonna watch my baby if I’m in there!”  

“Yah! Rude woman!  You remember who helped you build this thing?” Changbin pats one of the computer towers to make his point.  “I can do the basic work in here, but I can’t do your complicated nerd things.” 

“I’m not a nerd!”  You definitely are.  You stare at the cocktail dress morosely.  “You’re forgetting something super important. That I am a total weirdo and I panic whenever someone looks at me! There’s a reason I don’t do the people side of things!  That’s what you guys are good at!”

“Technically I just hit them,” Changbin says. 

“You are plenty charming when you want to be and you know it,” you say. 

Changbin folds his hands behind his head, flexing all his muscles while grinning. 

“How charming?” he teases, cocky.  “Describe it to me.” 

“Shut up.”  You hit him with the cocktail dress to hide the fact he got you genuinely flustered.  “I can’t go in there.  People will know I don’t belong the second I walk in the room.  We won’t even get close enough to the computer bank for me to disarm it because they’ll get one look at me and throw me out the window.” 

“That won’t happen,” Minho says.   His changing area is behind you and you hear the metallic slide of the curtain opening.  “Because you won’t be going in there alone.”  

You don’t even have to turn around to know Minho looks devastatingly gorgeous; it is written all over Changbin’s shocked face.  His arms lower from behind his head and his cocksure expression shifts, his lips parting as he stares past you.  

Despite having the benefit of bracing yourself, you are still struck dumb when you turn and look at Minho.  It was always in the plan that Minho would serve as a distraction at the gala.  To stand out accordingly, he dyed his hair with temporary dye this morning.  The vibrant purple was more amusing than sexy when his hair was messy, but now it is neatly styled back, slick and off his handsome face.  He is dressed all in white, his asymmetrical suit partially slit at the side to show some skin.  There is an extra sparkle from his jewelry, plus the lightest dab of glitter in the sharper contours of his face.  He is practically glowing. 

He knows he looks good.  His mouth quirks in a little smirk at your expressions.  You and Changbin are both gawping at him, and it goes on long enough that his eyebrows lift and his smirk puckers with a surprised laugh. 

“What? Really?” he asks, still laughing at you. 

Changbin does an unexpected sign of the cross.  You hit him with the cocktail dress again. 

“Fine,” you say, mostly to have an excuse to duck behind the curtain because you think you might explode from lust and embarrassment and anxiety all at once.  “At least no one will be looking at me.” 

You step behind the curtain and snap it closed, leaving the boys to their banter. 

You like dressing up so this part is no problem.  The problem with parties is other people.  You wholeheartedly admit you are better with zeroes and ones than human beings.   

You try to focus on the fun elements of tonight: the dress, the glamour, and beating a high-tech security system at its own game.  It will be so fun to have a real challenge for once.  You know you can beat it but it will definitely push you more than your usual digital adversaries.

Also, you get to look at Minho looking like that.  Your view of the boys is usually through security cameras, nestled in your van surrounded by your operating system, so the proximity will be a treat. 

You open the curtain, scowling.  You do not enjoy socializing so you seldom have occasion to dress up, so you anticipate the boys will lovingly berate you.  But when you step forward, Changbin looks at you with the same dumbfounded expression he had for Minho.  Minho is sitting on the bench, knees apart and arm slung across the backrest.  His expression gets very serious when he looks at you.  He shimmies his hips, his knees parting further. 

“Turn around,” he says.  

The van feels so tense and quiet that you obey, more confused than anything else. 

Changbin’s gaze drops to your ass immediately, his jaw visibly clenching.  Minho tips his head like he is studying something. 

“Thank you,” Minho says. 

You face them again, hot in the face.  You cross your arms angrily. 

“What was the point of that?” you demand.

Minho lifts a single eyebrow.  “I wanted to see your ass,” he says, like it should be obvious.  “It’s a good one.  You should be proud.” 

You throw your sweatpants at his stupid smirk.  He catches it smoothly. 

“Can we just go already?”  You punctuate this with a stomp of your foot then storm out of your precious van. 

It is very strange being on this side of the operation.  You always have Minho and Changbin nattering in your earpiece, but usually you are sitting at your desk wearing proper headphones.  It is strange wandering around with a tiny bud in your ear, listening to Changbin report from your usual seat. 

You already have control of the hotel security cameras as they work on a separate operating system to the storeroom AI.  You replaced the live feed with a looping reel of empty rooms so the security team inside will not see you moving around.  It also gives Changbin a bird’s eye view of the gala and the rest of the hotel.  You feel anxious at not seeing it for yourself, but you are placated when Changbin whistles and teases, “You two are the best looking there.  You would be second best looking if I was there, so you’re lucky I’m not.” 

You and Minho both smile, your expressions fond.  

Minho gets you in the door with little more than a wink at the doorman.  You stay quiet, hiding your nerves as best you can.  Minho is a competent con-man and Changbin is plenty reliable so you try to focus on your own tasks.  First you need to get to the ground floor network base so you can get the AI to chase your red herring.  Once you are in, the AI will start responding, but with your virus acting as a decoy source within the building, you should be able to buy yourselves time to move onto the next phase of breaking down the system. 

“There’s a lot of muscle at this party,” Changbin says seriously, no doubt taking stock of all the burly security guards.  It is only natural Changbin would be as twitchy as you, also out of his element for the night.  “I don’t like not being there with you,” he says.  

“Easy,” Minho says in a calm voice.  You think it is directed at both you and Changbin.  He puts a hand on your lower back and gives you a knowing look.  “You’re doing fine,” he says.

You feel like terror is written all over your face.  It doesn’t help that Minho draws eyes the second you step into the hotel ballroom, men and women looking at him with the usual desire he draws.  They are equally curious to look at you, their eyes on where his hand rests intimately low on your spine. 

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say.

“Not a bad idea,” he says.  He smiles with so much effortless charm that no one would suspect he is whispering criminal tips.  “The best con,” he says, his lips brushing your ear, “is one that is close to the truth.”  You shiver as his fingertips brush up your spine.  He rests his hand on your nape.  “Look sick,” he says.  “We’ll say we’re looking for a restroom if someone asks.” 

You follow his lead, weaving your way through the party.  Looking sick is the easiest instruction to follow because you feel genuinely ill, your anxiety a toxic twist in your gut.  

Only when you are wandering the empty hotel corridor do you feel at ease.  You feel even more at ease when you find the ground floor network hub.  Your first obstacle is a regular alarm code, twelve digits in length.  It is obviously too long to guess so you physically unscrew the alarm box and start some manual fiddling.  There is no way to fully disarm it without also setting it off, but that’s where your own AI gadget comes into play.  You plug in your cypher scrambler and let it do its thing.  It flickers through numbers, seeking the correct pattern, learning from its errors.  You designed it yourself and though it is always accurate, it takes a while to pull the numbers.  You and Minho are forced to hover in the hallway while it gradually reveals each piece of the code. 

You are up to number seven out of twelve when Changbin inhales sharply. 

“There’s a waiter walking in your direction,” he says.  “It looks like he’s taking a shortcut to somewhere else, but you have less than two minutes until he’s on you.”

 “What!”  You start to panic immediately.  “My decipher machine could take longer than that, what do we—”

“Relax, relax!”  Changbin says at the same time Minho steps behind you and grasps your shoulders.  He makes little shushing noises while massaging you, not that it does much to help. 

“We’re good,” Minho says.  “It’s just a waiter, not security.” 

“I’m gonna get us killed,” you say. 

“By a waiter?”  Minho asks.  He gives your shoulders another squeeze.  “Is he going to beat us with a baguette?  Hey, hey, relax.”

You are a vibrating bundle of nerves.  Minho is not usually the type to dive into a hug but he turns you around and pulls you into his arms.  You wrap your arms around his middle and hug him back, hiding your face in his neck. 

“Yeah, that will work,” Changbin says. 

“Huh?” you say, lifting your head. 

Minho is staring into a security camera as if having a mute exchange with Changbin.  He nods in agreement, though you still don’t understand. 

“What will work?” you ask. 

“Distraction,” Minho says.  You just look at him with confusion. 

“Baby,” Changbin says in a soft tone, “listen to my voice.”

The sudden gentleness of his voice makes you shiver.  Your fingers are shaking when Minho takes your hand and rests it over his heart.  You look up into his dark eyes as he smiles at you with familiar fondness.  You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, shushing you gently.  His eyes drift to the side in anticipation of an intruder. 

“Baby,” Changbin says, his honeyed tone softening your nerves, “Minho is going to kiss you.  Just do what I say, okay?” 

Your heart skips a beat, your eyes widening.

“You trust us?”  Changbin asks. 

You nod, answering Changbin, gazing at Minho. 

It’s the truth.  You might be scared but you have been scared before and your boys always come through.  Even when the rest of the world left you behind, when you turned to crime to keep yourself alive, Minho and Changbin were there.  They have never let you down.  You trust them with anything and everything. 

Minho slips his hand around your waist, pulling you close to him.  You have been close before, sharing the van, sharing hotel rooms, but this feels different.  He looks at you with intent, his handsome face so close, a strand of dark purple hair curled over his forehead.  Your hand finds that patch of bare skin when you touch his side.  He is familiar and foreign at once, your Minho, and also a character, one who clasps his hand behind your back and ducks down to gently kiss your lips. 

“Take a breath, baby,” Changbin says with a little chuckle.  “You look like you’re going to pass out.” 

“Mmf,” is the noise you make, affirming that observation.   It makes Minho laugh, a breath against your lips. 

“Waiter is thirty seconds away.  You just want to look like a dumb, horny couple that wandered away from the party,” Changbin says.  “Listen to me, I’ll tell you what do.”

You nod, sucking in a breath when Minho kisses you again.  This time his mouth is a little more insistent, his lips coaxing yours open. 

“Close your eyes, baby,” Changbin says.  “Let your shoulders drop.  Minho has you, it’s okay.” 

You didn’t even realize how tense your shoulders were.  You listen to Changbin, letting yourself go lax.  Minho holds you, as promised, his arms sturdy around your waist as he kisses you deeply. 

“Let Minho move you,” Changbin says. “He’s going to lean you against the wall to hide the device, okay?  Put your hands on his shoulders.  Higher, baby, go around his neck.  Just like that.  Let him lead you.” 

Minho walks you backwards, carefully pressing you against the wall, hiding the dangling cypher scrambler with your bodies. 

“We wanna give our intruder a little jump scare, okay?”  Changbin says.  “Minho.”  

That is all the direction he gives Minho, trusting the adept con-man to know exactly what to do.  Minho does, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull them flush against his.  It arches your back.  Your hands are hooked behind his neck and you squeak, your fingers instinctively sinking into his hair. 

“God,” Changbin says.  The sudden dark colour to his voice sends a spark of heat shooting through you.  It clearly surprises Minho too, his lips parting with a caught breath.  “You both look hot.  Fuck.” 

Changbin takes a steadying breath.  You and Minho look at each other.  You get to see his smirk for a split second, then his mouth is on yours and it is no longer gentle and questioning.  It is a demand, hot and wanting, your lips opening with his guidance, your heart skipping beats when he licks in your mouth. 

“Do it back,” Changbin says.  “You want him to fuck you, baby.  Make him believe it.”

You think the him is question is the waiter.  Isn’t it?  You don’t even know where the waiter is anymore, if he’s around the corner or watching.  In the haziness of your kiss, it hardly seems to matter.  You kiss Minho back with the same urgency, pulling him closer, whimpering when he bites your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” is the gentle whisper that Minho can’t fight.  His brow is crinkled, his eyes closed.  He kisses you again, his hands jumping up to gather yours.  He laces his fingers with yours and presses your hands into the wall on either side of your head. 

“Wrap your leg around his waist,” Changbin says.  “Like that, that’s it, you’re okay.” 

You lift one leg, shaky and unsure.  Minho catches you under the knee and pulls it more certainly around him.  He holds you there, his other hand grasping your throat very gently as he kisses and kisses and kisses you.  Your hands are still splayed open by your head, thoughtlessly awaiting direction.  Your fingers curl into your palm and you moan for real when Minho presses against you. 

Minho is a good actor, but the hard shape in his pants is very real.  When he grinds against you, so open and soft with your leg around his waist, it draws all those guttural sounds right out of you.  Minho makes one back, swivelling his hips in a maddening grind against you.  It is all too easy to imagine him fucking you like this, the effortless back-and-forth of his hips, your sweet sighs as he takes you, imagining Changbin there, his breath also stuttering. 

You do not forget he is watching all this, especially when he lets another low laugh and asks, “She feel good?”

“Yes,” Minho answers without hesitation, breathing the word against your lips. 

“Hold his face, baby,” Changbin says.  “Kiss him like you mean it.  Ask him to fuck you with it.”

You know what he means by that: to kiss Minho with fervency and heat.  You do obey, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him deeply, but the fuzziness of desire mixed with Changbin’s words makes your brain go screwy with want.  Not only does your kiss convey that desire, but words rush past your mouth, crashing into Minho’s lips in a breathless flurry.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please,” you say, your voice pitching up into a little whine as you rock against him.  “Want you to fuck me so bad, baby,” you say, thinking of both of them at the same.   You kiss Minho’s surprised, open mouth, your eyes closed, your voice loud in this hazy space as you say, “I’ve been thinking about it all night.  Need it so bad.  Please.  Want you inside me.  Want my mouth on you.  Come in me.  Come on me.  Take me, please.  I’m so hot and wet, it’ll feel so good, don’t you want to feel how wet I am?  Don’t you want to fuck me too?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Changbin says, followed by a rush of even more inventive curses.

Minho settles on another simple, surprised, “Fuck.” 

Then someone is clearing their throat.  Minho jumps, his hands clamping tighter around you, protective. 

“Oh, right, this clown,” Changbin says.  “I hate that he’s too far away too punch.” 

You giggle in spite of yourself, which is good because you think you might simultaneously die of embarrassment.  You drop your leg and Minho lets you go, pulling himself together faster than you. 

You let him do his thing, sliding a hand through his hair and smirking at the waiter as he saunters over.  He makes his little speech, something-something-something a moment alone with the missus, something-something sorry-sorry-sorry.   He walks the waiter back around the corner, giving you a knowing glance over his shoulder. 

Thank god your cypher scrambler has its act together, even if you are a mess.  It takes you longer to right yourself than it does for the scrambler to finish its job.  Your hands are shaking as you break into the hub, but muscle memory takes over when you have your mini-laptop open. 

Minho joins you a minute later.  Your entire body lights up like a firework when he steps close to you.  Nothing in his expression conveys anything more than professionalism – his queries are about the job and the job alone – but there is an ache between your thighs that won’t subside.  You know he feels the same way as you can see he is still hard despite how much he glares at the wall.  He adjusts his pants several times while standing in that closet of a hub with you.  You keep glancing at each other, your gazes heady, speaking volumes more than your polite conversation.   

When you leave and he puts his hand on your lower back, you shiver.  You think you might double over from the persistent thumping of your easily-distracted pussy. 

Changbin lets out a long sigh and a nervous giggle.  “Good work, team,” he says. 

You have worked enough jobs that you manage to set aside your personal feelings for the time being.  It is easy to lose yourself in your work, especially when you really have to fight the security system.  

You get inside the storeroom.  You know it is filled with more traps and alarms so you sit down beside the door and type away on your laptop.  You nearly break a sweat with the intensity of your work. 

“She’s hot when she’s doing her thing,” Changbin suddenly says. 

You lift your head and catch Minho’s eye.  He smiles at you.  “I agree,” he says. 

Your heart starts skipping beats again.  You look down at your laptop, feeling uncharacteristically shy under his gaze. 

“Don’t distract me,” you say, making both of them laugh a little.  You glare at Minho but there is no real animosity behind it. 

At least they both acquiesce, going silent while you work.  You manage to disarm most of the storeroom.  The best you can do for the remainder of traps is trigger their subsequent lighting rigs so you can see them all.  A labyrinth of blue light brightens the dark entry room, revealing each laser trigger that blocks your path to the locked compartments. 

You look up at Minho whose calculating gaze is already tracing each intricate beam. 

“Got it?”  Changbin asks.

Minho starts unbuttoning his suit.  “Always,” he says, smirking. 

Minho flips the blazer down his arms, revealing just a tight white crop top beneath it.  His jacket, shoes, and jewelry form a pile beside you.   Minho does a few quick stretches before confidently approaching the laser grid. 

Before his criminal life, Minho was a dancer, and a good one.   He draws the same graceful lines with his body now, making each manoeuvre look easy even though you know it is incredibly difficult. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” Changbin says.

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip and watching Minho move.  “Gotta agree.” 

Minho slips over and under each laser, twisting and bending and sliding with ease.  He pops up on the other side with a graceful twirl, throwing you a wink over his shoulder before flipping a switch on the control panel.  It powers down the censors so you can scurry across the room to join him. 

The compartment door unlocks with your final hacked access code, the door swinging open to reveal your loot.  Changbin gives a successful holler into your earpiece, making you and Minho duck with his volume. 

“I’ll bring the car around, baby,” Changbin says while you two roll your eyes but smile. 

You pack your fold out bags with your selections.  One key to success is never being overly greedy.  You walk away with a substantial victory nonetheless.    

You hurry out of the storeroom with your prize haul.  Minho gets dressed again, though he doesn’t button up his jacket.  He takes a second to catch his breath while you restore each alarm so nothing appears out of place.   When you are ready to go, he takes your hand, smiling.  You run hand-in-hand back down the corridor, making a few sharp turns until you find a staff exit.  There is a small drop so Minho jumps down first then holds out his arms for you.  Though you could make the jump easily, you still let yourself fall into his arms.  

He holds you close as he puts you on your feet.  You are riding the high of adrenaline and success, your heart soaring, which might be why you so easily surrender to desire.   You kiss him, sudden and brief but tantalizing.  He blinks back at you with surprise, his face scrunching with that astonished little laugh of his.   

You smile at him.  A line of sweat dots his hairline and you reach up, smoothing some messy strands of purple hair.  The gentle caress changes the whole shape of his face, his eyes heavy-lidded, his breathing harder.  You feel yourself change too, your heart pounding against his chest when he pulls you close. 

You got greedy with that kiss and greediness has consequences.  You are so distracted with each other that you don’t notice the security guards coming at you from the opposite direction. 

“Hey!” one shouts.  “What are you doing out here?” 

You and Minho look over, then at each other.  There is no time for conversation.  You grab each other’s hands and start running, your bags of stolen goods bouncing on your shoulders. 

“Hey!” the security guard shouts again.  You can hear their heavy footsteps thundering after you, fast despite their muscle and bulk. 

You turn the corner onto a backstreet just in time for the camper van to swing into view.  The door slides open and Changbin jumps out.  You pass each other, dropping hands so Changbin can dart between you.  

Panting, you and Minho watch as Changbin effortlessly takes down the guards. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” you say, giggling.

Minho laughs, nodding.  “I agree,” he says. 

Minho takes the steering wheel so you can apologize to your baby for abandoning her.  Changbin jumps back in the van and the three of you drive away with another successful haul. 

Later, back at the penthouse, Minho takes the longest shower in an effort to scrub the purple out of his hair.  You are in your bedroom when he finally emerges.  You can hear him and Changbin talking in the living room.  By the sounds of it, the purple is still threaded in his dark brown hair, likely to last a few more days.  You smile to yourself, listening to their playful back-and-forth as Changbin teases him and Minho snarkily retaliates. 

It is tradition after a successful job to have a few drinks and relax.  Contacting your fence and taking care of business can wait until tomorrow. 

You can hear the usual music playing through the speakers, can hear the clink of bottles and glasses, can hear Changbin and Minho laughing and talking. 

You look at your reflection in the mirror.  Though you seldom have occasion to wear pretty luxuries, you have enough money at your disposal to treat yourself.   You have been changing in and out of different lingerie sets since you got home.  You think this one might be just right: a silky black set worn under a lacy black dress that falls to your thighs.  It is suggestive but arguably casual.  You could just be wearing it as pyjamas, right?  Sure.  Sure.  Totally normal pyjamas for a totally normal night.

The best con is one that is close to the truth, Minho had said.  Then he stuck his tongue in your mouth and you begged him to fuck you with Changbin’s help.  Even you, who is terrible at reading and understanding people, know what truth was in that charade. 

You take a deep breath and march to your bedroom door with determination.  You throw it open so hard that it smashes into the wall, startling the boys in the other room.  You ignore the crash and scurry into sight, avoiding eye contact.

“Hello,” you say.

There is a moment of prolonged silence then Changbin says, “Hi.”

You look up.  They are both staring at you, both wide-eyed, both in sweatpants and t-shirts with their hair undone and fluffy.  They look very casual and very surprised.  Minho is clutching a beer bottle and Changbin is holding a bowl of popcorn.  Both of them are frozen.

You smile a very awkward smile.

“Hello,” you say again.  “I am… I am… dressed.  For bed.  My bed.  For being in my bed, like this, as I am dressed right now.  I am going to that bed, now, like this.  You can… join me.  If you want.  If you don’t want, then, okay.  Hello.  And.  Goodbye.  Bye.” 

You run back to your bedroom and slam the door closed. 

Other than the soft music still swirling in the air, the penthouse is quiet.  You cannot hear the boys, not a comment, not a sound, not a breath.

Then you hear the popcorn bowl hit the ground and a bottle smash.  They shove and yell at each other as they stumble on the way to your bedroom.  You are standing awkwardly in the middle of your room, hands folded in front of you, waiting as they crash into your bedroom door and curse at each other. 

Changbin then very casually opens the door and they calmly walk inside. 

“Hello,” you say. 

“Hi,” Changbin replies. 

You wish thoughts could be hacked like a computer.  You cannot think of what to say or do next.  You just stare at them and they stare back, although their gazes are considerably less nervous.  Their stares are thirsty, drinking you in, looking from top to bottom and back again. 

“Turn around,” Minho says, his gaze low. 

You meet Changbin’s eye before obliging, slowly turning.

“Okay,” Minho says after a long moment, giving your heart plenty of time to go crazy in your chest.  “Thank you.” 

You turn back around, just as embarrassed as earlier but not angry at all.  You cross your arms over your chest, flicking your gaze between them. 

Minho reaches out and lightly punches Changbin on the arm.  Changbin looks at him and Minho gives him a look, one you cannot decipher.  You continue to stare at them. 

Changbin nods at Minho then looks at you.  He holds out his hand. 

“Breathe, baby,” he says.  “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

You laugh but nod, taking his hand.  He wastes no time pulling you close, guiding your hand to his heart as Minho did earlier.  He holds your hand there and waits until you make eye contact so he can wink at you. 

“I know I am the best looking man you have ever seen in your life,” he says, making you laugh again, “but I’m me.  You trust us?”

You look at him then at Minho.  His dark hair is still tinted purple, his bare face open and soft as he meets your eye.  You smile and look back at Changbin, nodding. 

“Always,” you say. 

“Good,” Changbin says. 

He cups your face and you lean towards him, anticipating a kiss, but he gently turns your face aside.  You don’t even have time to be confused before Minho is kissing you.  He swiftly draws all those sweet sounds out of you, pulling you towards him.  Changbin steps behind you, holding your hips and kissing his way up your neck to your ear. 

“Baby,” Changbin says while Minho slows his kiss to something gentle but heated, his tongue swiping at yours.  “Listen to my voice, okay?” 

You nod, light-headed but eager. 

“Good,” Changbin says.  “Come sit in my lap.  Over here.” 

Changbin is strong enough to haul you around.  You barely have to move, letting yourself go soft in his arms.  He sits on the edge of the bed and puts you in his lap, spreading your legs over his thighs.   You stare up at Minho, out of breath, your thighs twitching to close for pressure.  Changbin slides a hand down, stroking your inner thigh and making you jump, his other hand tugging down your dress and immediately going for your breast. 

Minho sweeps a hand through his hair, taking a breath before stepping up to you. 

“Still want your mouth on him, baby?”  Changbin asks, reminding you of all the things you whispered in that heated moment.  

You nod, whimpering when Changbin slides his hands into your panties and touches you directly.  He circles and circles the most sensitive cluster of nerves, grunting and pressing his lips to your neck. 

“She’s so fucking wet,” Changbin says.  He slips his hand out of your panties and abruptly grabs Minho by the hand, tugging him closer.   Minho brings that hand to his mouth, licking your wetness off Changbin’s fingertips.  “Touch him baby,” Changbin says.  “You see how hard he is for you?”

You can see.  You can feel Changbin too, hard under you.  Their sweatpants do little to disguise it. 

You do not hesitate obeying, tugging on the waistband of Minho’s sweats.  Everything feels so dreamy and good, surrounded by touch.  It all seems to happen quickly; suddenly Changbin’s hand is in your panties, Minho’s dick is in your mouth, and Minho’s hands are tugging the straps of your dress down.   This ends with you drooling messily all over the end of his dick, sucking on the head and murmuring nonsense while Changbin makes you come on his fingers.  Then Minho kneels in front of you both, your legs end up over his shoulders, and you find yourself hurtling towards another orgasm on his mouth. 

You dress ends up somewhere, the panties too.  The bra is barely on, the straps hanging down your arms.  Changbin finally kisses you when you are on your back in the middle of the bed.  He lays between your open legs, his fingers filling you up as you continue to gush all over his hand.  You grab him, squeezing his biceps as he effortlessly moves that strong hand between your legs.  Minho climbs up too, his shirt somewhere across the room.  He grabs your hands and pulls them over your head, pinning them into the pillows before ducking down to kiss you.   You come for a third time before either of them even fucks you. 

Then they do.  Minho first, with you under him, listening to every direction Changbin murmurs in your ear.  You lift your legs around his waist when Changbin says, then touch yourself when Changbin asks, and shudder when Minho comes inside you like you earlier begged. 

Then Minho is behind you, holding you, touching you, protective and familiar while Changbin fucks you.  Changbin has a surprisingly filthy mouth, continuing to tell you how good you feel and how good you look.  Minho is quiet but fully entranced by you, his hands constantly wandering.  He slides one hand down and rubs you off while Changbin fucks you.  Then he leans over your shoulder and kisses Changbin on the mouth, making Changbin finish too.  

The music is still playing in the next room.   The three of you lay there in various states of undress, you in the middle, sweaty and messy, the boys panting and gently stroking your arms and thighs. 

“I love you guys,” you say.  It is incredibly cliché to make a love confession after several mind-blowing orgasms, but you don’t care.   You don’t need to play games or tell lies or be good at socializing, not with your boys.   You can just be your nerdy self, confessing your feelings even while drifting into sleep. 

You smile when you feel Minho kissing your cheek, Changbin giggling on your other side. 

“It will have to be big,” Changbin says.  “The biggest.”

“Hmm?” you ask, looking at him strangely. 

“The diamond we steal to put on your finger,” Changbin says, holding up your hand and circling your ring finger.  You laugh and try to pull your hand back but Minho catches it, nodding in accord. 

“I agree,” Minho says.  He kisses your temple.  “I know how criminals work,” he adds.  “You’re not getting stolen away from us.” 

He and Changbin exchange an affectionate glance over you, nodding at each other, then they are each kissing a side of your face as you squirm and laugh.  You swipe at Minho’s purple hair and kiss Changbin’s cheek, then nestle into their arms as they wrap around you, protective as always. 

[officialdaydreamer00]

Is idia my fated Hades? Can flowers of happiness learn to bloom in the land of death? Does he wither from missing me as I? Does distance make the heart grow fonder?

<3

"The King of the Underworld and the Maiden of Springtime

Destined to cross paths, distance be its prime

Despairing indeed, but the Fates have yet to end

Their bond prevails, beyond death they shall meet again."

pairing: idia shroud x reader

content: fluff, (kind of) use of clichés, idia being socially awkward, just a sprinkle of angst, greek mythology

the oracle speaks — i'm really proud of the prophecy i made!! ^-^ love how my first request is about idia lmao, so early event entry!!

May the Fates be kind to this soul.

— a beat of silence.

that was all it took to wake you up-- since when had you dozed off?

blinking the sleep away, your thoughts got all jumbled up. what was that voice you heard in that short nap? and what did it mean by 'destined'?

quiet murmurs and whispers entered your ears, a blatant reminder of reality pulling you back to the land of living. right, you sighed, you were in a library. and in the presence of people.

your eyes swept through rows of bookshelves and immersive readers, before they stopped at a far corner of the library. there, you see a person, simply reading the time away. you couldn't see their face, as it was covered by the oversized hoodie they wore.

what you noticed, however, was the distinct glowing blue hair. like fire, you mused; pretty, and rather hard to miss.

the more you stared at the mysterious person, the stronger you felt a sense of familiarity. the warm feeling buried deep within your heart, resurfaced. a feeling you never knew you could experience until today.

have you met this person before? you couldn't have, right?

... a soft voice echoed, snapping you out of your stupor.

your eyes met gold hues, and that feeling came crashing down like tsunami waves.

he was tall, towering over you even, he had to hunch down to look at you. the hood was pulled down, revealing his ghostly pale face, and long fire-like blue hair cascading down his back. and his eyes, a molten gold so bright and eerie, yet so soft as he stared at you with an expression difficult to read. melancholic? wistful? you couldn't tell which.

again, his soft voice snapped you out of your thoughts. he was fidgeting with his hands as he quietly asked if you were okay, since you were spacing out. you blinked, oh right, you still had a job to do.

wordlessly, you checked through the books, fighting down a blush in embarrassment, all while sneaking little glances at him. in the few chances your eyes met, you looked away as if nothing happened, spare for the heat presented on your face. only after he left, did you let out a relieved sigh.

"what was that all about?" you murmured, your hand hovered over where your heart was. the strange feeling was real, you mused, but why did your heart feel so empty when he left?

you made it your mission to get to the bottom of this. perhaps you could find that boy again, if the fates were on your side.

his heart was hammering as he left the building. through the darkened glass panes, he could make out your figure standing there behind the desk. he found himself smiling at the sight of your thoughtful look. his soul longs for you, craving for you to be in his arms.

it seems like the fates have smiled at him once more, weaving his destiny to reunite with his beloved.

"I have found you at last. My Persephone."

🏷️ @identity-theft-101 @twistwonderlanddevotee @krenenbaker @dove-da-birb @siren-serenity @cave-of-jade @xen-blank @edith-is-apparently-a-cat @lyle-my-beloved

remember to reblog if you like my works ^-^

[luxmoogle]

The news about AI scraping also reaching this nook of the internet (tho' I don't doubt there's been scraping already before this) has been going around and I'd like to write a little word about my feelings on it.

For awhile this direction of art theft in the art and writers communities has been weighing a lot of people down. I've seen many familiar faces stop posting at all, probably out of fear of their beloved work being thieved away.

I don't really talk about it, but many times it has deterred me from posting or even working on some pieces purely from a sense of melancholy and sadness. Every time news about the topic comes out it creates a new kind of wave of despair. I get the feeling, what's the point, if the AI created sludge is enough for the public, if such surface level imagery fulfills peoples wants for art, then what's the point of me sharing my work at all? To just keep posting to feed a machine.

But then I sit at my desk and draw something. Paint something by myself. And I remember, why I do art at all. The feeling of creating is irreplaceable, the joy I get out of the struggle of creation can't be taken away from me. The way one pours their thoughts, feelings and even the tiniest things that might feel so insignificant to oneself so candidly onto paper. And then. AND THEN. One might be brave enough to share those pieces to others. Post them online, show a friend, a family member. To show your vulnerable self to others, and those others respond. They comment, ask questions, perceive it and best of all... ..might get inspired, and create something for themselves!

I remember reading a magazine once, that had a page at the back with all these art works readers had sent in, and I though 'wow, these are great'! And that really inspired me to create more than I already was doing, and most of all to share it with people. That's why way back when I started sharing my art in online spaces. And I don't want to stop, because I don't want us to lose that connection. That human connection, because that's what sharing art is really about, our humanity. Sharing thoughts and feelings, not about generating the most technically perfect piece of art, void of all human error.

So, I'd like to say, do not despair (but keep fighting). There are always people out there to receive your heart.

Thank you for reading and sorry for the ramble, but I really do hope these words find you all well.

[kx0e]

2 people asked for it so here's my shuakes ao3 bookmarks for the shuakers most of you probably have already read but whatever

free fall (psychological horror my beloved)

a heart against a feather (flirting with tarot cards is crazy)

please don't ever become a stranger (your name au ughh)

liminality series (be your number one hater)

the next time around (italy can fix your situationship)

throw away your mask (11 yo making friends but he also has a gun)

faith for the second run (sumi youre doing great <3)

the fall of fate's palace (theyre robbing shit for real this time)

fancy seeing you here (cringefail akira the fic)

marigolds (i cry, he cried, we crode)

love, theft, and other criminal acts (robbing people for real again)

plantslaughter (plant battle)

[writefightandflightclub]

Blurb request?

What if you stole Santiago's favorite hat, and he caught you wearing it, very casual, nothing to see here, nothing at all.

Make you mine: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN!reader

Thanks so much for sending this, Rally! 🧡☺️ I wrote a hat-based thing with Frankie x reader, but I gave this a bash too as I love the concept with Santiago (my beloved) too! I hope you like it!

Warnings: fluff, steam, lots of mentions of erections, cum kink sorta (brief), light-hearted. 🧢 🍆

A hard swallow trails down Santiago’s neck as he clocks you. Wearing his hat.

He’s arrested by the sight of you, an instant flare of heat blooming across his skin as he realises, in no time at all, that he likes it. Likes seeing you in something of his. Or more so, looking like you’re his by association.

The attached and very intrusive thought is powerful and sudden on the heels of that realisation.

He’d love to see how you’d look wearing his hat and nothing else.

He quirks a brow in interest. He didn’t know that, specifically, would do it for him, but in fairness, he’s pretty sure you are the common denominator here. With you, he’s always discovering new ways that you turn him on.

Shame he can’t act on it though. You and he have been flirting back and forth, sure. But, you’d told him, not long after you’d met that… things were complicated for you. You and him? Maybe there was an instant spark, but you’d been clear the two of you would be nothing outside of friends.

So, he tries to compose himself as you walk over to him. A glass in each hand - one for him. “Thank you,” he smiles smoothly, clinking his glass with yours in a “cheers”.

The other boys have retired inside, after a poker night out on the deck. But you and he have lingered. For some air.

He lets his gaze linger on you, confident enough to drink you in for a stretched moment, your coy gaze even more alluring than usual from beneath the brim of his hat. He tries his best to ignore the blood thudding to his crotch. But you make that difficult to do - no-one else could ever.

“I’m cosplaying you.” You tease, brazenly acknowledging your blatant and unforgivable theft. “Pass me a stick of Wrigleys, Santi? It’ll really up my authenticity.”

He chuckles. Unable to take his eyes off of your bright smile. Your gaze flits gently over his face in return. Lingers on the creases radiating out around his eyes. Dips to his mouth. It makes him self-conscious - which he isn’t used to. Then again, he’s never met anyone who has quite the effect on him that you do.

He perches himself on top of the wooden porch rail. Gestures for you to join him and you seat yourself there too, body angled in towards him.

He can’t help it now. Looks up at his cap perched on your pretty head. He spreads his thighs a little to accommodate his growing bulge between his legs. “-You know. If any of the boys touched my hat…”

“Oh, I know,” you pout comically, shaking your head side-to-side. “Dead to you.” So you know his hat is famously off-limits then? In that case, either you must have put together that he’s a soft-touch for you; or, you’re trying to provoke him. But hey. He doesn’t exactly mind either option. “So.” You take a casual sip of your drink, your eyes flashing with mischief from over the brim. “The boys would be in for it. But what will my punishment be?”

Santiago takes a deep, steadying breath he dearly hopes is subtle as the bulge between his legs grows uncomfortably swollen, pressing up against the seam of his jeans in a way that makes his eyes prick with tears.

Fuck, he doesn’t normally have this much trouble controlling himself; but there’s something about you. Lord knows, he’s trying to keep his internal monologue clean but all he can think is: mine.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Undoubtedly, he can think of a few (hundred) ways he could “discipline” you, if that’s what you’re into. His palm itches where it rests against his thigh, becoming suddenly tacky.

“Well. First of all. Here,” he offers, pulling a pack of gum from his pocket. “You’re not really nailing ‘me’ yet. Needs more work.”

Nailing him? Fuck, that’s an unfortunate choice of words when he’s trying to take his mind off of ravaging you.

“No?”

“Not seeing the resemblance, cariño.”

“Well. That checks out.” You tug performatively on the brim of his cap as though you know exactly what you’re doing to him, actually. “I am a hell of a lot cuter.”

Fuck, you’re not wrong. You’re fucking adorable.

You take a piece of the offered gum, beginning to chew rather obnoxiously on it. “How about now?”

An easy laugh bobs in his neck. “Holy shit. Now it’s like looking in a mirror.”

You slide closer to him, shimmying yourself along the porch rail. An urgent heat prickles at his skin. Your proximity slips a warm snake down his spine.

“So, you approve, Santi?” Santiago could swear your voice has taken on a lusty quality. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part. “You like me wearing your hat?”

He almost chokes on his masking swig of his drink. Christ, if you only knew how much he approves. If you could see the sordid images playing on a loop in his head right now? Well, you’d probably throw your drink in his face, to be honest. Actually - he could do with it, to cool off. Maybe he can pour his own drink over himself if things get really dire.

“You think Frankie’s cap would suit me too? Or do I look better in yours?”

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Even the drum of his heartbeat feels like it’s trying to claim you. Trying to bust out of his chest to reach out for you.

Fuck. Are you trying to kill him? He doesn’t have a gasket, but he’s pretty sure he’s about to blow one all the same. “You know you look good,” he assures huskily, voice hollowed out by want, though still trying his damn best to toe the line.

Friends. You don’t want him to do the things he’s doing to you in his head right now. Right?

You smirk, looking all too pleased with yourself before taking a swig of your drink. His gaze is fixated on you as you wrap your plush lips around the mouth of the bottle, your fleet of pink tongue poking into the rim. The image certainly is… inspiring.

Fuck, he’s sweating. Swipes the back off his hand across his forehead, catching the moisture gathering inexplicably at his temples.

Then, to his horror, you stand, slinking towards him and slotting your hips in between his spread thighs. You crane around his form, careful that the brim of his own hat doesn’t poke his eyes out, and you dip your plush mouth towards this shell of his ear. Your whisper beds down right under his skin. “How do you think I’d look wearing this and nothing else, Santi? Would I look like I was…yours?”

Wearing my hat. Wearing my hat. Wearing my cum.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Santiago’s brain fully short circuits. He blinks dumbly at you, mouth slightly agape, as you simply look on in amusement, biting down on your lip.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to jump at the chance to find out, but…

He sniffs. Shoots for non-chalant and doesn’t pull it off. “I thought we… I thought. Just friends?”

“Santiago,” you purr. “I stole your hat. Catch-up.”

Catch-up? Holy shit. Maybe he’d have a clue what you were up to if he could think straight. His erection is straining against his pants so hard now he has to shift his hands to cover it. Has to bite back a strangled whimper at the painful pinch.

Your mouth twitches around a delicious self-satisfied smirk as you clock the state he’s in. You giggle, brazenly eyeing his bulge with interest. “Benny told me this might do the trick.”

Santiago’s eyes tighten then. He pouts up at you, eyes twinkling, almost wistful. “Honey.” He lifts the hat from off of your head, setting it down on his own instead. “You? You don’t need any tricks.”

“No?”

Fuck, the way you’re both so devious and so shy at the same time is killing him. “Nuh uh. I’ve wanted you for a long time. You’re gorgeous.”

He boxes you in a little more tightly with his sturdy thighs. Slips his hands on to your waist. Your breath hitches, and he likes the fact he’s finally managing to turn the tables. He dips his mouth towards you, and you manoeuvre around the brim of his cap until your mouth is a whisper away from his kiss. “Wait,” you urge. “I have gum.”

He can’t help but laugh - a resonant chuckle shucking in his throat- as you take a moment to toss it aside, and then he’s just looking at you again. Gaze flitting softly over your face. Arms drawing you close to him once more until his lips brush yours. The contact sends tingles all the way down to his toes; he’s waited so long for this.

He deepens the kiss, soft and more tentative than he’d usually pitch it, his tongue probing into your mouth, but you return his growing fervour. Your palms brace against his sturdy thighs, and he swallows the smooth moan which blooms from your mouth as he clasps you to him.

You pull back for air, looking slightly giddy, and you survey him, a cheeky, devilish glint in your eyes. “You know. You look really fucking good in my hat, Santiago.” Your dark, teasing voice is like honey poured into his middle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You look like you’re mine.”

He shucks air from between his teeth in surprise, his face splitting into a lopsided, awed smile. His eyes turn dark with hunger, pupils eating away at warm umber.

He is. He is yours, if you want him.

He decides then, that he can push this a little further. You seem keen - and Lord knows he is. And so, with a knowing, playful smirk, he dips his lips forward towards the shell of your ear. Whispers to you. “So, how about I wear this and nothing else for you?”

You visibly shiver as his words wind their way into you, your smooth facade cracking apart. “Santiago. Fuck. Are you trying to kill me?”

With his erection continuing to throb against the seam of his pants, he really thinks it’s the other way around.

“No,” he promises. “Only trying to make you mine.”

Mine. Mine. Mine.

That’s all he’s wanted since he met you.

He devours your mouth in another hungry kiss, tongue shoving against yours, opening you up. Stubble raking over your skin.

And, before your delicious kiss knocks every other thought - and word and concept - right out of his head, he logs the fact he definitely owes Benny a favour.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He always wanted to be more than friends.

[lineffability]

The Serpent Files 🐍

chapters: 5/5 rating: M/E wordcount: 13.9k au: human, the magnus archives

summary: Aziraphale works as the head archivist at Eden Institute. Crowley has been supplying them with potentially cursed artifacts over the years -- until he himself gets entangled in a case that turns him from associate to client...

[ art credit and support credit and 1000 hugs to: @chernozemm my beloved ]

start reading:

“Ouroboros. Yes. The introductory statement is meant to be concise, though, akin to a title. You can describe the necklace in detail in your statement, Crowley. Also, I need you to state your name. It occurs to me I don't actually know it. I mean. I'm not saying I want to know your full name, or anything. Just, all these years– erm. You'd have to state it anyway. For formality's sake. We have a system.”

“Sure. So. Name's Crowley.”

“I… know that part. [sighs] Full names, please, throughout.”

“Ah. Anthony J Crowley.”

“I said full names, please. What's the J stand for?”

“Erm. Uh. Just a J, really. Thought it added a certain gravitas, y’know, flair. Je ne sais quoi. Makes people treat you serious, a J like that.”

“Uh. Alright. Well. Anthony J. Crowley, then. I suppose. Seriously? [clears throat] So. Please start from the beginning.”

“Mmmmhhhh wellll. I’ve been coming to Eden for, what, now, six years maybe?”

“I believe so. Yes.”

“Anyway, not like I go here often. We’ve met a handful of times, you and me, maybe nine, ten? I mean, it was ten times. I know. Uh. Not like I counted or anything. Just, coming here, it stays with you a bit, doesn’t it? All that occult shit. Which is why I come here, of course. I’m – what should I call it? A… supplier. Of sorts. I work with – this is confidential, right?”

“Yes. Internal use only. We don’t give out those files. Your words are safe with me. Erm. Us.”

“Good. Right. I work with the Doomsday Group. Can’t really talk about it much, but you’ve heard of them. Shady stuff, crime, theft, trade, religious artifacts, apocalyptic jazz, all that. Supernatural stuff, too, sometimes. Or claimed supernatural. You know I don’t believe in all that. Well. Didn’t. I didn’t believe in it. Now… uh, anyway. Sometimes we get those weird artifacts, right, apparently cursed, so I bring them to you, to, to check, or verify, or call bullshit. Or to lock them away, or whatever you do with them when you buy them off our lot. That’s how we met. Best part of this shit job, really, if I’m being honest. I didn’t ask to be– hm. Wish I could just– ngh. Confidential, right? Wish I could just be done with them. Run off. Can’t, though. But erm. Forget I said that, alright? Please.”

[pause] “You're rambling a bit, de- Crowley. Or should I, should I call you Anthony now?”

“Hell no. I mean – Crowley's fine. You've called me Crowley for years, haven't you? What, now you don't like it?”

“No, no, I do in fact quite – well, for propriety’s sake, the official documentation, I thought – nevermind. So, Crowley, while the background information on your…job is reasonable, might I politely remind you why you’re here? Please talk less about our personal relationship, or at least only insofar as it pertains to the case, and more about what happened to you since… since you put on that necklace.”

“Right. Righty-oh. S’ just, never been in this room before. The tape recorder, all that. I’ve only ever been here as a sort of… co-worker? Nah. You’re not my co-worker, you’re better than that. As a tradesman. So to be here as a client , it feels… surreal.”

“That is understandable. I trust you will muddle through, though.”

“Hey – remember the first thing I said when I came here? Today, I mean.”

[continue reading]

[icequeenlila]

Context: They just confessed in a sunflower field. (Bradley has cried a little bc he's secretly insecure.)

"What are you doing?", Bradley asked when Max suddenly pulled away.

He still felt dizzy, his nose clocked up and his face sticky with dried tears and soda. He felt fucking raw. Like his chest had just been ripped open, every part of him laid bare.

It was kinda what happened.

"Picking flowers for my beloved", Max said, his back turned towards him.

Bradley frowned in confusion, a giggle escaping him. It still sounded a bit pathetic, a wet sound to his voice.

"We already vandalized a grocery store today", he said, wiping at his stuffy nose and sniffing softly. "You really want to put theft onto the list?"

Max shot him a conspiratorial grin. "Nobody will ever know." He tipped his head back, inspecting all the sunflowers to choose from.

Bradley crossed his arms, watching with a grin on his lips as Max nodded slightly and went right for the biggest and prettiest one. The flower was easily two heads bigger than him, its blossoms bright yellow and velvety smooth.

"Don't hurt yourself", Bradley chuckled when he watched Max stand on his tippy toes to grab the flower at a narrower part of the stem.

"Do I hear mocking there?", Max joked, hand wrestling with the thick stem.

Bradley laughed at the sight and his heart felt fluttery with it.

"Never", he lied.

Max grinned up at him, now bending the flower's stem until he could swing one leg over it, like sitting on a broom.

Bradley couldn't stop laughing, watching the boy struggle with that poor flower, now hanging half broken on its stem, but it refused to give in to Max' pull.

"What did they water this thing with?", Max panted, pulling and wringing. "Steroids?"

Bradley's belly hurt already, the tears in his eyes now ones of laughter. The dizziness still hadn't worn off fully, his head feeling airy and light. He had to sit down on the ground as the world started spinning around him.

"Just leave the damn thing", he rasped, trying to catch his breath, one hand pressed to his tummy.

"You want that flower, I'll get you that damn flower", Max said through bitten teeth.

"I never said I wanted it!"

"You want it!"

God, Bradley felt giddy. All attempts to calm down thrown into the winds when Max somehow slipped and tumbled to the ground, landing directly next to Bradley.

"Bwahahaha!"

Bradley couldn’t help it. Max was lying on his back, eyes big in shock, blinking up a Bradley as his brain still tried to catch up with the situation.

"My hero", Bradley said, wiping black strands out of Max' face.

Max' lips split into a grin, dark eyes gazing up at him. Bradley felt his insides twist in that delicious way. Max was looking at him like a love-struck puppy. He had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn't imagining it.

"I got it", Max said, holding up the poor flower.

Its petals, big and smooth before the assault, were now knitted and littered with dark spots all over. The best part: Max had pulled out the whole thing by the root. So now he was holding a half-smashed sunflower, hanging on for dear life on its half-broken stem, roots still attached to it.

"I love it", Bradley said, taking the flower from Max' hand. "Thank you so much."

If possible, Max grin only widened at that, his dark eyes filled to the brim with affection.

"Anything for you."

+

From chapter 6 of 'Good Luck, Babe!' on ao3.