#does it make it better or worse that she doesn’t. and won’t. catch feelings for him.

[quietwingsinthesky]

crucial to the vision that lucifer does not actually like. make up for torturing sam. or possessing castiel. or some other third thing he did to dean. it’s just that he’s mary’s boytoy now and they can’t kick him off the team because of it.

#combined power of ‘im fucking ur mom’ and the baby antichrist wanting his dad around and also lucifer being a fairly powerful piece on the #board. and they can’t get rid of him. #have fun guys <3 make nice with the devil <3 he’s part of the family now <3 #most people just have to deal with their mom seeing the poolboy after the divorce. sam and dean have to deal with mary sleeping with satan. #does it make it better or worse that she doesn’t. and won’t. catch feelings for him. #for sam and dean i mean. #because on the one hand they gotta be like thank GOD for that. but on the other. what kind of horrifying knowledge is it to know that your #mother keeps the devil around because he’s a good fuck. #i need them to have just the worst family dinners i really do #have sam and dean invite over crowley and rowena. seperately. of course. they wanted moral support from their own flings turned #situationships. castiel is also at the table sitting in the dead middle of one side like ‘did anyone try the meatloaf. i thought the #meatloaf was nice.’ and desperately not making eye contact with anyone.

[ddarker-dreams]

Worthy Motivator.

Blade x Reader.

Warnings: Typical Blade morbidity, Blade's slightly yan because I can never write him as Normal, and not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

Author notes are at the end of the story!

Washcloth in hand, you wipe away the perspiration clinging to your skin. 

While doing so, you squint, an act your reflection obediently mimics, confirming that yes; this disheveled figure is indeed you. You smooth out your hair, moisturize your face, then apply a light layer of toner. The process is completed in a timely fashion. A few hand motions made midair dim the bathroom’s lights.

Yawning, the door slides open at your behest, retreating into the wall like a turtle does its shell. The room is dome-shaped and customized to your liking. A light birch wood floor, pale pink walls, and windows showcasing scenery of a tulip field stretching on for miles. Windmills dot the distance, turning at their leisure. Gentle orange hues from two rising suns envelop the room in a cozy glow. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you’d believe you were actually on the planet Ethos, not traversing the cold, unforgiving space between galaxies.

While playing with the settings to change the time being depicted to twilight, it finally dawns on you that you’re not alone. 

Blazing eyes freeze you in place and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Blade,” you greet, wincing at how gracelessly the word rolls from your tongue, “I didn’t expect…” 

You cut yourself off, figuring that finishing the sentence will strengthen the bizarre atmosphere. What can be said, anyway? ‘Thanks for that,’ or ‘couldn’t have done it without you,’ maybe? Both options seem equally terrible. To make matters worse, he doesn’t explain why he’s stuck around. He continues to stand beside your nightstand, arms crossed over his chest, his lips drawn in a straight line. 

You’re the only one boasting signs of your previous tryst, the most obvious being your unsteady gait. Hoping to convey some decorum, you clasp your hands behind your back and straighten your posture. Surely, he’ll spill whatever’s on his mind and then make himself scarce. That’s been his modus operandi ever since this undefined relationship stumbled into existence. You tried not to take it personally. You’re both adults, if he doesn’t want to stick around for pillow talk, you won’t fault him for it. 

His eyes sear through your being. 

“You’re going to Illij.” 

You blink, thrown off by the flat delivery and the intentions it conceals. He’s either painfully blunt or cryptic in his word choice. It’d be nice if he could find a middle ground between both extremes, but that’s wishful thinking. 

With unusual impatience, he adds, “Alone.” 

Ah. 

A certain magenta-haired beauty’s previous words resurface in your mind. 

“—Alone? Not taking Bladie along for the ride?” she had tutted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.” 

You thought she was teasing, as she’s wont to do, yet your developing dilemma proves otherwise. That, or you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the truth in her words. 

Whilst shifting your weight from one foot to another, you meekly reply, “Kafka gave me permission.” 

He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you. 

“Permission, huh?” 

The condescension corrodes your former sheepishness. 

Placing a hand on your hips, you reply, “That’s the word I used, yes.” 

Your room pulsates with palpable tension. He stands to his full height — having been seated on your bed’s edge — sauntering over like a cat poised to pounce. You cross your arms over your chest as the distance shrinks. He’s yet to fully dress himself, wearing only his signature gray pants. His bare torso is marred with innumerable scars that vary in length and angle. Every time you both succumb to the heat of passion, his bandages occupy a new spot, depending on the circumstances of his latest battles. Presently, the cloth coils around his midsection and upper left arm. 

He’s close enough now for you to notice the latter unraveling. 

It isn’t anything logical that urges you forward. The sentiment resides deep in the recesses of your psyche, unsuccessfully shoved down by denial and trepidation. This formless substance takes shape as you meet him halfway. Blade towers over you. Given the massive gap in your abilities, you should fear him, but you know your pounding heart isn’t spurred by negative emotion. 

Much to his perplexity, you set aside the nascent quarrel, focusing your attention elsewhere. Nimble fingers resecure the rebellious cloth. 

“You’re terrible at taking care of yourself,” you mutter. “Honestly, what am I s’posed to do with you…?” 

It’s subtle, but this shift in tone relaxes his muscles. That is, until you admit: 

“I don’t like you being my bodyguard.”

Confusion contorts his countenance, then something more raw; something dangerously intimate. 

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt because of me,” you continue, lowering both your voice and head. “It’s… it’s awful and— and then— you don’t even care!” 

Hoping to avoid further humiliation, you stop there, taking deep breaths to prevent tears from flowing. This wasn’t the direction you wanted the evening to take. You wanted to take a bath, dip into a game Silver Wolf wouldn’t stop raving about, and then prepare for your imminent trip. The trip that’d put thousands of lightyears between you and a man whose blood spilled for your sake could rival an ocean. 

“I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve got Silv’s disguise software and she knows how to track me. So — I don’t know — take it easy, or something. You’ve got the month off.” 

His response is immediate. “I can’t.”

“Wh— did you not hear anything I just said?” you sputter. 

“I heard,” he confirms. He raises his hand to the bandage you rewrapped, as if trying to savor your lingering warmth. “When you’re gone, I cannot ‘take it easy.’” 

Blade uses your stupefaction to his advantage. He takes your much smaller hand into his and places it over his heart. It thumps at a slow, steady pace, like it hasn’t been obliterated and formed anew thousands of times. Your fingers twitch. His body, though colder than the average person’s, emits just enough warmth to indicate life. You feel the raised, textured skin that’s present above his every vital organ. It speaks of untold horrors; untold suffering. 

His chest rumbles as he says, “If I’ve no choice but to live… you’d make for a worthwhile reason.” 

You rest your forehead against his chest and squeeze your eyes shut. 

Kafka… are you sure it isn’t my feelings that’re in the most danger? 

A/N: owing to mental illness, aside from nexus, i devised another storyline for (slightly) less unhinged blade, this time with a stellaron hunter reader. while it has the material to make a series, i don't plan on starting up another multi-chaptered work until i make further progress into my current project 😭 still, i'm happy to talk about it if anyone's curious! here are some tidbits that give additional story context for this universe:

reader isn't super thrilled to be a stellaron hunter. a desperate situation ended in them joining the ranks. they're the emanator of the aeon of illumination, whose name i'm still undecided on. essentially, they're a 'consumer of stars,' capable of absorbing + storing well. you guessed it. stars. as you can imagine, this ability can provide immeasurable energy or devastation depending on its usage.

as a consequence, when reader's performing the sealing process, they're extremely vulnerable. it isn't exactly subtle, people tend to notice when their nearby sun is going cyaaaaaa ✌ and try to stop them. that's where bladie comes in. he kills anything and anyone that threatens them.

ethos is a pretty meadow planet that's known for harvesting clean energy (hydro, solar, wind) and using minimum technology. most of its inhabitants go their entire lives without ever seeing a computer. long distance communication is carried out through a dedicated fleet of carrier pigeons.

illij is a laissez-faire paradise. consumerism galore. ads projected in the night sky, ads projected in your dreams in certain low income areas where people can't afford space adblock™. it's a lot but sometimes reader appreciates the distraction.

#blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #stellaron hunters x reader #hsr blade #reader insert #blade brainrot #my stuff

[pursuitseternal]

“You had better tie me up, darling…” very nsfw (f*ck or die) update for Rogue Astarion in part 7 “Bites in the Night”

Astarion x F!Reader |E| 5.5K F*ck or Die Smut

Summary: He isn’t well… something he’s consumed… the blood of a Succubus in the heat of battle by mistake. He needs release… help… or else undead won’t be an accurate description of your vampire rogue any longer.

CW: rough sex, bondage, Sex Pollen Trope but blame those Succubi, feral rutting, blood kink (does that go without saying yet?), implied shared infection, tongue bath, raunchy and yet sweet confessions from his undead lips.

Read on AO3 | Series on AO3 | Master List

Better get your rope…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Sunset always brought the demons out to play… and this time it had been real. Everything about the Shadow Cursed Lands fit the name… but you had all made it at last to the Last Light Inn.

Not without blood spatter and slaughter, fear and relief once victory over the Hellspawn was won.

Now at last, you can take your rest. In peace.

Most of your companions still drink and eat to their heart’s content. Of course, not your Rogue. After the fight, he had looked… gaunt. Tired. You had promised to come and let him feed, but first you needed your fill. He had flashed his smile at you before heading up the creaking stairs.

That was an hour ago. Now, you make your way to those same stairs, only to catch Shadowheart hustling down with wide eyes, Gale looking much the same as he follows.

“Come with us,” they whisper, leading you up the stairs in a hurry.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, anxiety darking your tone.

“It’s Astarion, he’s… unwell.” Gale… always so vague and polite.

“He’s in a rut,” Shadowheart snips back, exactly. “Literally.”

“What?” you startle.

“During the fight, he must have bitten and drank Succubus blood.” Gale rubs his fingers at his temple. “He’s locked in his room, but I fear he will claw his way through the door until he finds… relief.”

“Sex, you mean?” you can’t help but correct him too.

“It’s bad,” Shadowheart presses her lips together. “The blood is ten times worse than the spittle. Like, if he doesn’t find relief soon he could expire. Again. It’ll last him a full day to work out of his system.”

Your eyes go wide, your stomach sinking as well as your jaw. “Isn’t there some countermeasure? Some spell or… or potion?”

Shadowheart opens her hands, a small scroll in it. “Not for him, but for…”

“Me…” you realize. Your body tingles with the idea, that heady mix of fear of death and thrill of fucking with him. It always swims in your system before you go to his bed, but this time. It feels… more… exhilarating. More deadly. Riskier.

“It’s a scroll of Greater Protection… just in case he gets carried away.” Gale’s face screws into a look of discomfort.

“Keep your cunny from giving out on you.” Shadowheart winks.

That sinches up the knots in your stomach now. And by the time your cleric recites the spell, the dust in the air swirling into your lungs, you know you can’t turn back. You can’t forsake him.

You take a breath once they both wish you good luck, reassurances that the spell should be enough to keep you safe… but that they would come running if needed. That’s when Shadowheart stops you one more time, behind Gale’s back. She makes her face shush you silently as she shoves something into your hands.

A coil of rope. It tingles… enchanted probably for extra strength… that it could hold a deranged, sex-crazed vampire if worse came to worse.

That’s when you head up another flight of stairs, your heart beating faster with each step. Especially as you hear the grunts and growls that crescendo as you reach the landing. It’s easy to tell which room is his, the light under the door burns bright… the sounds of his voice raw and feral…

You hover your hand over the knob, sensing the magic that’s sealed him in. But you stop… that sound inside, you can tell already how he’s plagued. Rough, wet, and fast. The slap of his own hand tending to his… need.

You swallow, the beating of his fist on his cock already making you wet. Hells below… if there wasn't part of you that was just… tantalized. A small part, mostly cloaked in that heady fear to preserve your life.

But you feared no danger. And you by now… he would listen.

Maybe.

One last squeeze of the chord in your hand, you gripped the charged metal of the door, throwing it open.

He is naked, sitting on the edge of the bed at the back of the little room. His teeth glint in the firelight, his ivory skin glowing with sweat. Gods, if he had blood in his body, you are sure he would be beet red. His profile cut like the masterpiece he was. His throat bobbing as he swallows, the muscles of his arm bulging as he pleasures himself at a terrifying pace.

The sound as you shut the door behind him finally draws his attention.

He is… wild. Feral. Eyes so dilated, you can barely make out the ring of scarlet in them. His face shines from his exertions, he growls… like an animal… the second he sets eyes on you. His nose sniffing so hard at your scent… you can watch it open and close.

“Out!” He snarls, rising to his feet. That’s when you take in the full extent of his… suffering. He’s so erect, bigger than you have ever seen him. Harder. Throbbing so hard you witness it… where it stands almost vertically. Those intricate veins that usually rise subtly from his length strain dark, a web over his pale skin. “I’ll not hurt you, darling. Not you. Get out! I won’t have you!” He snaps his jaws. Every muscle in his body straining as he stands in place.

As if he’s fighting with himself.

“You will have me,” you snap back. “You don’t have a choice, do you?”

“Of course I do!”

“Not if you want to keep yourself in this realm. Undead you might be, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive… undead…”

That made him smile. Dark, wicked and still slightly manic. But it was there.

His eyes rake down your body, devouring you as he dares to let himself take one step. His eyes fall to your hand, the tangle of rope hanging visibly at your side. “Seems someone had the wisdom to not to send you in here defenseless and you stink of protective magic. Good,” he shudders as he talks. That voice sounding hollow. Pressed. Barely above a snarl. “I haven’t said this to many… but you had better tie me up, darling…”

He groans, forcing his body to move stiffly to the bed. The wood frame creaks and cracks as he crawls in, his rigid frame laying down.

That erection makes your mouth water, despite the obvious agony your vampire is enduring. But you can’t help but be mesmerized by how tall it stands as he pants on the bed. You cross to him, he can’t look at you, holding his hands out for you to bind.

Your hands work quickly, securing his arms firmly together, wrapping them to the scrollwork of the headboard.

His breathing is rough, ragged. His body twitches, shuddering each time your fingers barely grazie his arms and wrists. “Please,” he groans. “If you’re going to do this, then by the hells do it!”

His eyes are wide as he strains to look at you.

Your body aches, sympathy pains twitch down your spine to watch him quivering on the sheets. Your skin feels hot, your own body breaking into a sweat. He’s licking his lips, “Gods, if you go any slower getting something on this cock of mine, I can’t promise your safety, darling…”

You reach for that straining length, the second you wrap your fingers around it, he throbs and groans and twitches. His hips bucking into your hand, legs propped up so he can fuck anything you can get around his cock. You beat against his thrusts, that hardness unrelenting even as you move quicker than you usually do. Looking into his face, you move even faster, his face contorted in agony, his teeth biting so hard into his lips he’s bleeding.

He thrusts and groans and cries as he comes. Spurts of his seed drip down his shaft, coating his already damp lap, trailing milky streams as far as his belly.

But his breathing eases for a moment, his muscles softening just a bit perceptively. And Astarion gives a single contented sigh. “All that with just your hand. You little minx… pacing yourself?” he purrs. “Won’t you at least kiss me hello?”

You give him a small grin, at least he sounds like himself. His eyes are a bit more focused, his voice a bit more silken.

What harm could one kiss do?

You lay alongside him, pressing your lips to his.

The moment you touch, you can feel it, the heat, the lust, and the agony roaring full force through his veins. He’s straining on his bonds, trying to claw you into him. His mouth consumes you, sucking your lips inside his mouth, drawing them deep enough for him to bite. The tang of blood covers your tongue. And his.

He’s frenzied for more, biting you again and again. Drinking the blood that leaks from your kiss. Then you feel it, his legs, untethered, grip around your waist, sliding you to cover his naked, throbbing body. “Astarion!” you cry, muffled by his mouth. But he has you pinned between his thighs. Not unlike that first day in the wreckage.

His erection presses into your belly, he’s grinding it against the linen of your shirt. Rough and aggressive. As if he means to tear a hole in the soft fabric. He keeps you there, humping and riding into your abdomen. Grinding against your mound. Sucking and drinking your kiss as long as you let him.

Not that you have much of a choice, caught in his legs. “Easy,” you breathe, managing to steal your mouth back for the moment. “Easy…” you soothe again, making your body bear down against where he dry fucks against you.

“There is nothing I have in mind to do to you that would be easy…” he hisses. His voice almost sounds… not of this realm. And you press out of the clutches of his fangs. But he just raises his head higher, eyes crazed at the sight of the wounds he’s made on your bleeding and split lips.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you catch his throat under your palm. “It’s for your own good.” You feel his breath rasp, the ragged swallows of spit under your palm.

“The minx has claws…” he growls as you keep his head down.

“Only when you make me use them, Astarion,” you smirk. “Now, if you can keep your mouth to yourself, I’d be more than happy to put mine to other uses.”

“Gods, yes,” he moans. “It’s unbearable, the lust, the need to drive into you. Please put me out of this agony, darling. Please…”

The second you wrap your lips around that fleshy, pulsing head, his cock twitches out of your reach. With a smile and a lick of your tongue, you grip his straining, iron length, holding it steady as you run from base to bulging tip. The bitter tang of his cum fills your mouth. Making you swallow. Making you realize just how used to it you will be before the day of this torment is through.

You manage to still him enough with his squirming and bucking to get your mouth around him. Gods, it’s like stone in your mouth, every vein dragging over your tongue and you suck. You manage to bob your head up and down, avoiding the way he’s thrusting to get more of him down your throat.

The noises from his throat sound pained… agonized panting for more. “That’s it…” he’s hissing as you swirl your tongue around that ridge of his head. “Gods, do that again.” You do, laughing in your throat as you run your tongue over that seeping slit in his tip… so tight as you lap the stains of his cum. You feel it under your hand that works the base of his cock, that thickening, quickening spasm.

He howls, jamming his length into your pursing lips. And this time, you let him. His seed spills down your throat, spurting over your tongue and dripping in your cheeks. More with every pulse as he slowly begins to still again.

One last suck, you swallow him down. Greedily. Wondering if that succubus magic isn’t somehow in your system too. It’s heady, intoxicating. The way he’s glaring at you with his flame-kissed, glistening sweaty face.

But for now, he’s calmer. For now. “Darling…” he’s sighing as he tries to ease into the bed. “You… didn’t have to do this, you know. It’s still such a risk… if I didn’t… care for you… who knows how much of your body would be in one piece when this finally passes.”

“Oh I’m sure I’d leave in one piece… but maybe mostly bloodless and unable to walk straight…” you laugh leaning over him, placing a kiss on his dampened lips.

He slips his tongue in right away, searching for the taste of him in your mouth. He growls again, that throbbing suffering of lust raging beneath his skin again. “I want to see you,” he snarls. “I want to take you naked this time, my pet.” You shiver at the echo of pure desire in his silken voice. As if it doesn’t always drip with seduction. This… you shiver. This was even more wild, unchecked, feral. The need to rut. To fuck.

He looks at you with those heavy-lidded eyes, so dark with his lust, his attraction for you, you feel your own arousal dripping between your thighs. He purrs,“I want to be inside you, darling…”

Your hands couldn’t tug your clothes off fast enough, cursing the practicality of breeches. At last, you stood as he wished. Bared. Ready.

You scramble on the bed, throwing your legs around him. He seems… steadier. Still harder than rock, but less desperate. He strains against his binds, wriggling his lean and wiry body beneath you. So beautiful, every etched line of his muscles, every rise of his stomach, every vein that protrudes in his arms.

You caress him, once on his chest. So damp with sweat. Running your tongue up the center of those muscles, he shivers. The salt of his body makes your mouth water again.

“Hells, are we sure you haven’t ingested the same as me, my sweet?” He croons with a soft little laugh. “Or is this just all for me, darling, to ease my suffering.”

“To keep you alive? I’d do so much more than just lick the sweat from your body,” you taunt back, your voice so low and sultry, you barely recognize it.

He flashes his fangs at you, licking his lips. “Like slipping that sweet cunt on me? Riding me until you are dripping again?”

Ugh… you moan. “Yes,” you pant, “like that.”

The moment he feels your drenched folds hover over his cock, he spears into you. He screams at your union. “Sweet hells,” he groans, voice rasping and sore. “Yes, darling, give me everything. I can take it all…”

You lean over him, your hair cascading down in a curtain as you splay your hands on either side of his head. Barely brushing against his damp, unruly silver locks. You give the smallest rise of your body, the steadiest drag of your walls around his cock. He cants his hips beneath you, timing just right to shove up into your cunt as you settle back down.

A chorus of groans escape you both. He’s sputtering, “Please, darling, again,” over and over. Each time you give him what he wants, only to have him careening up into you harder. Begging for you to go faster.

Soon, your pace is breakneck, your own body shimmering in sweat as you buck and writhe and groan.

His eyes never blinking, those dark black pupils are wide as he watches your face twisting as you chase your own climax, flickering to the swaying of your breasts as they slap together each time you fuck him. They dart to watch where you are joined, where his stiffening cock pierces between your thighs, drenched in his cum and your arousal with every loud, squelching slap you make.

He’s merciless, finally hitching his hips to drive the hardest into you yet. You feel it when he comes inside you now, the sheer volume of his spew, hot and dripping from inside those walls where he’s buried in deep. Your belly aches from where he’s hammering against the end of your channel. More cum with each twitching spurt you feel. He screams like one wounded, his orgasm drawn out as you chase your peak yet. But he’s panting beneath you, catching his breath as he licks his lips.

Even more limp this time.

You’re relieved in your heart, even if your loins ache from the friction, the need to still release your own bliss. His brows furrow, his lips pouting as he looks into your eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” you gasp, even as your arms quiver and your thighs shake with the need to continue.

“No,” he squirms and tugs at the tethers. “Infernal rope. If you just let me free, I swear I’ll make it up to you…”

Your mouth waters. He would probably just find a way to break it or chew through that rope if he had to. A smirk plays across your lips, leaning forward to reach your knots. His cock slips out from inside you as you do, making him groan again.

The rope tugs apart in your fingers. Instantly his hands pull free, he shoves you over his face, so close already as you lean forward. He growls, his tongue slipping into your folds. His hands claw into your, gripping at the backs of your knees, spreading you wider as he eats into your cunt with all the hunger you feel raging in his body.

Starving, he feasts on you, and it takes all your strength to hold yourself up, hands splayed on the mattress over his head. That swirl of his tongue… that sucking of his lips on your clit, you already creep closer and closer to that swirl of heat simmering ready to consume you. It sweeps through you, cresting and tearing from your core up your spine.

And then, the world spins. His arms clutch around your legs, throwing you over. You're screaming, still spasming and clenching around nothing. Until your back is sprawled on the bed… until he’s shoved his cock into the last dregs of your orgasm. It makes you whimper his name once more, until you feel another spasm ripping through you.

Only this time, he’s pounding into you, thrust by thrust. Giving you something long and hard and cold splitting you in two as you go limp beneath him. His mouth descends on yours, sucking your breath from your body even as he traps your lips, your tongue with his own.

Manic, driven, he fucks you like one possessed, eyes wide as he finally pins you beneath him. Having his way with you as he chases that required release.

You lay back, still swollen and numb from your pleasure. But he is nowhere near close, not as his hands claw down your side, latching around your legs to make you wrap around his narrow waist. “Gods, you’re so tight, so wet… there have been none like you, darling. None I have wanted as badly as you.” He growls, fingers reaching around the backs of your ass, clamping into your cheeks. He raises you just enough to drag his length all the deeper. Making you keen and mewl and sputter incoherently.

Every nerve in your body hums, every patch of pleasure between your thighs feels him inside you. Gods, if it wasn’t for that scroll, you are certain you would pass out, lying there unconscious while he works this tainted blood from his own body.

By using yours.

By using you.

It makes you smile. Twisted and delighted to be so at his disposal. You were used to his fangs in your neck, his cock plowed into your cunt and his hips clenched between your thighs… but this…

This was intoxicating. Unbridled, unihibited fucking.

For his own sake of course.

That tainted blood and its magic being burned up with each time he filled you to bursting with his seed.

And as if his fixated eyes, hazy with his lust, can read your thoughts, he groans as he thrusts the harshest into you yet. So deep and hard and wild, you wriggle and claw against him as if you could shove him away from where he prods at the end of your cunt. But he only laughs. A laugh swallowed up as he is thrown off by another climax, another spilling of his cum that runs down your body and sticks to your skin. He pants as he looks straight into your face, manic and depraved.

“By the time this is through, your belly will swell from me, won’t it, darling? So filled with my cum, gods, you’ll be leaking for a week. For a fortnight.” He kisses into your neck, your body shivering at the chill of his breath on your skin. “And I’ll have the pleasure of smelling it, of remembering every time you took it so well, darling. I’m so very pleased…”

You look at him, half lidded and panting as he lifts his mouth from your flesh. “As I am…” you hum, running your hands up the ridges of his back, over those mysterious lines of Infernal, to thread your fingers into his damp silver hair.

He purrs as he kisses your lips, a sigh of his satisfaction as he tangles his tongue with yours. You taste yourself still in his mouth. Always so hungry, he is. It makes you wonder… “Aren't you going to beg me to feed, Astarion?”

“Hmm, if the offer is on the table, I’d love nothing more than to sup on… all… that you have to offer…”

He slowly slinks down your body. Your breath quickens, heart racing as he wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs. “Sweet hells, you're going to…”

The lap of his tongue up your seam again unravels you immediately. Your hands fly into his hair, pushing him away and pulling him deeper into your cunt with equal measure. You don’t know which you want more. He’s feeding on you, humming in delighted pleasure as he licks his cum from your folds, his eyes gazing up into your face as you pant and watch. Mesmerized by every dart and swirl of his pink tongue.

He licks his lips, “There is only one thing sweeter than the taste of us,” he purrs, low and deep in his throat, before he laps in a long, wet streak up your thigh. “Your blood, darling, my first living blood, and the last I ever want to drink in the realm…”

Your heart skips a beat, his words sweetening the pain of his bite into your thigh’s supple flesh. “Yes, love, yes,” you feel the wave of your joining… your connection by blood as you now fill him as he has filled you.

“That’s why I call you my sweet, you know… my little treat. None I have tasted… nothing comes close to how your blood sings in my veins like the way your body trembles beneath me.”

He bites you again and again up and down your thigh… little nips of his fangs, making blood drip down the softness of your skin as he licks every tiny trickle.

And all the while, he growls hungrily as he feeds.

It isn’t pain that fills you… not even pleasure. It is pure rapture. Pure bliss that rides up and down your spine. His fingers slowly, languorously curling into your folds, catching on that secret spot just inside that he knows so well.

“You’ve been so generous,” he purrs, letting the low rumbles of his voice shake into your already throbbing folds. “So good to help me through this. Giving me everything.” He glances up from between your thighs, pure wicked delight on his handsome face. “Well, I hope you haven’t given me everything. I think this tainted blood is going to take much, much more before it’s through…”

He pauses his sweet words to circle your clit, sucking it hard in time with the pulsing of those long, cold fingers inside you.

“You will come for me again, won’t you?”

You can’t even get a word in before he builds you to bursting. Driving you to shatter on his hand, under his mouth, as that voracious tongue laps at the arousal that spills from you. Your world spins, nothing but his touch on your skin, his fingers still clenched deep in your cunt.

You’re floating, limp as your muscles flood with warmth and pleasure. Steadied only by the bed at your back and the little sucks of his lips and the wet passes of his tongue over the blood on your thighs.

“Mmm,” he hums as he draws himself up to sit between your outstretched legs. “Every time with you is just perfect. And not just because it’s chasing the devil from my veins, you know…”

He shifts over you, dragging that heavy, cold, unyielding body across your skin. Making you shiver. Spasm. Making you reignite with desire for more of him again and again. That knee… that wicked, provocative knee… it creeps beneath yours to hook you, to spread you wide again as he glides his cock through the mess of your unions already drenching you.

“Seems you still have some of the devil in you, needing to be driven away, hmm?” you flirt, trying to maintain some composure, until he grinds against your already overstimulated folds, your aching clit, reducing you to nothing but moans and spasm.

And he laughs. “Why, my darling, it seems your body is as raging as mine.” His hands stroke against your cheek, fingers teasing their tips into your errant strands of hair that stick to your face. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the one infected, if I didn’t still have this raging erection needing release…”

You catch him by surprise, buckling your knees around his waist, the wetness of your cunt almost drawing him inside you as you buck against him.

He groans, just a little thrust of his hips and he’s sheathed, so deep and already pulsing with that tainted, blinding need to fuck again.

You giggle, watching his eyes darken, his lids lowering to gaze with all the raging lust in his body upon the one he desires. The only one. As he is yours. You sigh, running your hands up those intricate scars of his back, “I am infected too, you know. Infected by my need for you, perhaps.”

His kiss descends to cover your lips, but it is one of tenderness. Longing. Unsated need softened by the affection that brims in the way he takes you this time.

He is slower, deliberate. Each thrust an offering of adoration for your body. Each drag of his cock inside your folds an expression of his gratitude, his devotion.

His proclamation that you are, in fact, perfect.

Your body rides his, melting into every motion your legs tight around his narrow waist, his arms slinking around your shoulders, pressing your face into the broadness of his shoulder. You gasp against his neck, wrapped in his pleasuring of you, as if you could pull him into your very being more.

That rhythm, that rocking, it begins to sweep you away, binding you to his body. Claiming you for his own. That same fever crawls in his veins as he clutches at you, that tempo increasing harsher. Faster. Until he’s groaning with all his feral drive again.

He pulls out from you, only to slam himself into your cunt, every inch of that long, pulsing length of his filling you to bursting.

He can’t take his eyes off you, raised up in his hands now. His crimson glare consumes your every reaction, every twitch and grin and grimace of painful bliss that he commands from you. Pummeling into you over and over again, your hands claw into his shoulders, slipping down his back to savor the feeling of every undulation of his hips into your core.

“So good… so perfect…” he purrs, ravenous in his gaze, “my only blood… my living blood…” the hard lines of his body ride over every nerve in yours. Your body burns. On fire. Consumed. His words tingle in your ear, caressing your heart that raps in your chest, pattering in time with his merciless thrusts.

It’s brutal, it’s unrelenting.

It’s wonderful. The sliding of his sweat soaked body over yours, your skin flaming and damp. “Hells,” you groan as that thick head of his cock presses and drags over that sweet spot in your channel. “Astarion…” you moan his name, almost incoherent aside from all he is.

“Mmmm darling,” he rasps, “no sweeter sound than my name on your lips… well,” he hums giving you thighs and extra hard slap that squelches with all your sweat and arousal, “aside from the way your body sounds as you take me over and over again so eagerly…”

Your eagerness peaks, your body ripping in two around the rapid plundering inside you. You sputter his name again, a moan that tears from your throat, a scream that makes his handsome face twisting in ecstasy as he rams hardest yet, pulsing and hitching and forcing his eyes to stare as you unravel. Sopping and drenched, the warmth of your fresh slick mingles with his, coating your thighs and his as it seeps from where you couple.

He groans, dropping his weight on you, blanketing you in his scent and sweat and panting frame. He places his damp forehead against your cheek, his cool breath making you shiver as he finally seems to relax. Even if his cock is still hardened and buried inside you.

You feel the rigid planes of his body slipping across yours with every one of your combined breaths. Signing in relief, you relish just how dirty you feel.

How dirty you’ve been.

“Once this has worked its way from your system, you will need to bathe me,” you pant. Your fingers linger and stray through the damp and sweaty curls of silver that stick to his face.

“That can be arranged…” those eyes, that face suddenly twisting again with all the depravity he still has simmering under his skin and in his mind. “Or would you settle for my tongue instead, darling?”

You shake your head, face bright, amused and skeptical. “As if you could accomplish that without bending me over in your state…”

“Mmmm,” he nuzzles against you, tilting his face to run the cold, damp pad of his tongue up your jaw. Laughing as you tremble. “You assume I could accomplish such a feat as resisting your charms without this suffering of tainted blood…”

He slips his cock from inside you, and you moan into his mouth, turning to bring that taunting smirk against your lips. Just for a moment kissing him, before he returns to lapping and caressing your sweat soaked cheek. You sigh with relief, stretching your legs, clenching them together to relieve the throbbing of your muscles.

And this was with that magical healing to sustain you.

You shake your head, in amused, affectionate irritation. Feeling his still erect cock beginning to rub against your hip. His tongue darts across your neck, the unvoiced question in the deliberate lapping and dragging of his fangs on your flushed and pulsing neck.

“For the love, please,” you pant, arching into him with your feverish body, your lust still matching his each time it rises, even as your muscles and marrow scream for reprieve. “Just a bit of rest, love, surely that tainted blood’s hold on you is lessened…”

“But what of your hold on me, hmm?” he rasps into the rapid pulse of your neck. “What if it’s not the succubus whose magic has consumed me, driven me mad and feral, making me no more than a rutting beast…” he gives that low throated giggle. “Your fault, you know, my sweet.”

You breathe heavily, aroused and exhausted in equal measure. “I take full blame,” you laugh weakly, “but it’s only because you’re so beautiful…”

“And witty… and passionate…” he adds a roll of his hips as he utters that last word, grinding that still hardened cock against your side.

“Just… a breath,” you plead. “Just a moment. You don’t seem to be so near death’s door now…”

“I’ll try not to take offense at that barb, given how good you’ve been and how much I’ve fucked you senseless,” he chides.

You laugh again, a bit of a whine in your voice. “Can’t you take care of just one by yourself…”

He murmurs in your ear. “Darling, I’ll take my pleasure from you in every way, in every hole, until this tainted blood is burned up in the blaze of my lust for you,” he groans, “or until I’ve completely exhausted you, leaving you spent and heaving. And then I’ll simply seek my own pleasure just at the sight of you sleeping.”

You stretch, clenching your whole body hoping for that release and rest. If he lets you have it for a moment. “Mmmm, well love, sounds like I’ll really need that bath in the morning any way you come at it…”

He giggles again. Naughty. Dirty. His hand now wrapped firmly around his cock, rubbing for himself, letting it beat against your skin softly. “Oh… I’ll come at it, don’t you fret… darling.”

#astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x f!reader #reader x astarion #fuck or die #sex pollen #but let’s blame the succubus blood #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion #vampire rogue #astarion romance #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 smut #bg3 spoilers #baldur’s gate iii #baldursgate3 #baldurs gate smut #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate

[togrowoldinv]

Sinking Sand

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

Wanda finds her way back into your life and you can’t resist her

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, needy Wanda, oral (W receiving), thigh riding, Wanda being 🔥

Note: I woke up thinking about her so here we go. Enjoy!

Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear a knock at your door. You look through the glass and are surprised to see the woman you broke up with last week.

Actually, you’re not sure if you can even call it a break up. You were never really dating. Just keeping each other company, or at least that’s what she called it.

That misconception of what you were ultimately led to the end of whatever it was. Or so you thought. Why would Wanda be at your door anyway, you wonder.

For better or worse, you open the door for her. Wanda has a smile on her face, but you don’t reflect it.

“What are you doing here?” You ask her.

“I missed you,” Wanda says simply.

“You don’t get to say that,” you reply. “Not after last week.”

“Oh, come on sweetheart. Can’t we just go back to what we’re good at?”

Wanda crosses the threshold of your apartment. You sigh and shut the door. She’s not going to make this easy.

“Shouldn’t you be off with your ex husband?” You ask her.

“Honey, I am not sleeping with him,” Wanda says.

She takes off her coat to reveal a gown that is definitely not meant to be worn out in public. You curse yourself for letting your eyes drop to her breasts.

“Well, we’re not sleeping together either,” you try and hold your ground.

She sees your stance slipping though. Like a house built on sand, you won’t withstand the storm that is Wanda.

Wanda sits on your couch and doesn’t have the decency to cross her legs. You know she’s not wearing panties under that gown. She never is.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she says, catching your gaze. She pats the spot next to her but you sit further away.

Wanda scoots closer to you and closes the gap. Her thigh brushes against your leg. You try not to react, but she knows what she does to you.

“How- um- how are the boys?” You try to distract her and yourself.

“Just fine,” Wanda replies. She leans in closer and is just inches from you. “Their mommy needs some help though.”

“Wanda,” you warn. “We called this off.”

“So let’s call it back on,” Wanda brushes off the seriousness of your tone. “Please, baby. Would you deny me this?”

Wanda’s lips move to your neck. She leaves hot, open mouthed kisses there as she grabs your hand. She takes your hand to guide it where she wants it.

You can’t take it anymore, so you stand up from the couch. Wanda groans in frustration.

“Y/n,” Wanda says. She reaches her hand out for you. “It’s okay. Come back.”

“Wanda, this back and forth is not healthy.”

“But we were having fun, y/n.”

“Wanda, it’s not about fun. You need to start acting your-“ you stop yourself short of calling her out for the obvious.

“My what?” She stands up and walks to you. You take steps backwards until you’re pressed against the wall. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

“It’s nothing, Wanda,” you say. “Forget it.”

“It’s not nothing,” she says. She pins your arms to your side and slips her leg between yours.

“It’s just- you’re older than me,” you say, not quite making eye contact. Wanda grips your face to make you look at her.

“I thought you liked that I’m older than you,” Wanda says. Her voice comes out a low growl. “That I’m a desperate mother who needs you to make her feel so fucking good.”

“I did like that, but-“

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Wanda says.

She takes control and kisses your lips. You let her deepen the kiss. When her tongue brushes against yours, you realize that any resolve you had is gone. You’re doing this.

“I want you to fuck me so hard,” Wanda says between kisses. “I missed the way only you make me feel.”

You feel on fire on at her words. Pushing her back to the couch, you lift her gown over her head. She’s not wearing any undergarments, as you suspected.

You kiss every inch of her. Her collar bone that perfectly frames her body, her silky neck, her nipples, the perfect valley between her breasts, all the way down to her dripping pussy.

“Fuck,” Wanda moans as you bury your face between her legs. “Please baby.”

“I’ve got you, Wanda,” you say against her.

The whines Wanda lets out are the best sounds you’ve ever heard. You missed making her like this. She unfolds under your touch.

You take her clit into your mouth and Wanda’s hips move to be impossibly closer to you. She puts her hand on your head to push you closer into her. Your hand reaches up to grip Wanda’s breasts.

“I’m so close, sweetheart,” Wanda says. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

Wanda’s movements become erratic before she comes hard against your mouth. You don’t move your mouth away until Wanda is pushing you away.

“Fuck, baby,” Wanda says. Her voice is breathy.

You kiss her lips and she moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. Wanda pulls you up onto her lap and you straddle her lap.

Even through your pants, you feel the wetness pooling in your underwear. Wanda taps your hips and you stand up. She unbuttons the pants and kisses your lower belly with every second she spends on taking your pants off.

Wanda pulls your underwear down with your pants and brings you back to her lap. Your core brushes against her thigh. She doesn’t miss the way you shudder.

“Wanda,” you breathe out.

“Do you want to fuck yourself on mommy’s thigh?” Wanda asks, her voice dripping with lust.

“Please,” you say.

Wanda’s hands help move your hips over her thigh. You kiss her as you grind against her thigh. It’s hard to breathe but you don’t mind.

This reminds you how much you love being with Wanda. She has a way of making you feel like the only person in the world.

“You’re so good for me, sweetheart. I feel so good,” Wanda says. “You’re so wet. I want you to come against my thigh.”

“Fuck,” you mumble against her lips.

Wanda moves your hips quicker and you come hard against her thigh. You bury your face into the place between her shoulder and neck. The perfect place to be.

She kisses your head and holds you close. You remember this part too. She makes you feel loved even though it’s no more than hooking up.

“Y/n, thank you for opening the door,” Wanda says. You nod against her. “Can we do this again?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I really did miss you.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” Wanda says.

She smiles to herself as you rest in her arms. Maybe next time she’ll tell you that she felt like it was more than just a hook up. But for now, she’ll be here to make you feel good over and over again.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #milf!wanda #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff smut

[buckysbabygorl]

Punching Bag (Bucky Angst)

Summary: As much as Bucky can't stand Y/N, he's tired of her taking all the blows on the field. They have to come up with a plan.

Word Count: N/A

“Get your hands off me.”

She shoved him away, as best she could given her state.

“I can do it myself.”

She took the med kit from his hands, in her drunken stupor she stumbled to the dining table, fumbling with the latches on the case.

Bucky was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep after a long—god awful---day and put the mission behind him.

He dropped his mission bag at the doorway.

“All you’re going to do is make it worse. I don’t need you waking up tomorrow complaining about your drunken hack job.”

She glared at him, pulling out supplies.

“Sober or not, I can stitch myself up fine. Just because I’m not an army vet doesn’t mean I don’t know basic field medics.”

She mumbled something more under her breath; probably dick or asshole, some of her common artillery when insulting him.

He didn’t need this. He really didn’t need this right now. Today had been hard, and for Bucky that was saying something. Whether it was being back in Russia, during its coldest and iciest period of the season; or being stuck with the person he loathed the most, he wasn’t sure what had triggered him.

But he was on edge and exhausted, and he wanted this night to end.

Then she had to go and get stabbed of all things, and now this dark hour was dragging on and on and on...

It was then Bucky realized that this sad excuse of a safe house would not give him enough space from her. It was a bachelor style apartment, something small enough that would never catch the eye of enemies, tucked away in an complex that was filled with much more shady individuals that them. There was a kitchenette, a dining table with two chairs, and a couch that pulled out. There was also a rickety old rocking chair, which looked far from comfortable.

This night wouldn't get any shorter.

“Ow.”

She stabbed her self softly with the needle, swaying slightly as she tried to stablize herself.

“Jesus Christ," Bucky said, "did you even wash your hands?”

“Fuck you.” She retorted.

His jaw tensed as he stopped himself from raising his hands, he wanted to tear his hair out strand by strand.

Why was she always so fucking argumentative?

“Would you stop saying that?”

He strode across the room, kneeling in front of her chair and grabbed her arm.

She attempted to pull away from him, which was stupid to do with a needle in hand.

“Let go.” She demanded.

She pulled back, hard, and Bucky gripped her forearm.

“Will you just—enough.” His voice stern and commanding.

She halted, slightly hazey and swaying. But she stopped.

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh.

“For once, can you just shut up and listen? For five seconds, can you do that?”

She blinked slowly at him, pursing her lips.

He recognized that look in her eye; it was always followed by a sly grin, a tilt of her head that said “what are you gonna do about it, Sergeant?”

This time, she slumped back into her chair. She relaxed her arm and used the other to shove the kit towards him.

“Fine. Do your worst. I don’t give a shit if you leave a scar.”

He waited a moment, to see if she’d say something more or change her mind, maybe smack his hand away one more time.

But she didn’t.

So Bucky picked up the needle and went to work.

She didn’t look at him while he stitched her up, remaining in her dead stare as she looked straight at the wall.

She winced a few times but said nothing.

After a few minutes, the quiet made Bucky’s skin itch.

“Why did you jump at her, anyways? I had it covered.”

Y/N closed her eyes, inhaling through gritted teeth.

Responding wasn’t worth the effort, so she shrugged.

“Really? You’re not going to say anything?” He asked.

She groaned. “Does it matter? Not like I can do anything about it now.”

He shook his head, continuing as if he hadn’t heard her. “--And downing a bottle of tequila won’t make you feel better.”

She bit the palm of her hand as he worked his way along her side.

Her breaths stuttered as she inhaled.

“Hurts less.” She mumbled.

He paused a moment.

He remembered what that felt like. How much these kind of things could hurt you. He could imagine the pain she was going through, he could see it in her face. But he tried to ignore it. He was still mad at her.

“I don’t get you. You do this every time, you’re not invincible you know—”

She slammed her hand on the table.

“I know that! Jesus, you tell me every time—AH!”

She pulled away from him, hurting herself as he had tightened a stitch.

He looked up as his hands steadied her, and his voice softened.

“Y/N, sit still...”

Her head was turned away from him, but he could still see the corner of her eye and the downturn of her lip.

He hadn’t realized she’d been crying.

He tilted his head down, biting on the inside of his cheek. Best to just get this over with.

“Just… sit still. I’m almost done.”

They fell into silence again. The winter snow was building up on the safe house windows, the wind pounding against the panes.

He tried to shut it out. But it was either listen to the howling storm or rehash the scenario in his brain.

Her voice came over his ear piece, she told him to watch his six; that agents were entering through the south wing of the building. He ignored her, he had it covered.

She must’ve taken his silence the wrong way; she figured he was in danger. She was like that, she’d assume the worst and abandon her post to cover. Fuck, why did she have to do that…

“Did you get a hold of Sam?”

Surprised by her question, Bucky looked up from his hands. She still wouldn’t turn to face him.

“Called him while I was walking back. Said he can get a jet in a 4 am. With the storm it’s hard to get here—”

She winced again. He groaned.

“Stop moving.”

She awed at the ceiling and clenched her hand into a fist.

“My god, would it kill you to have some sympathy?”

He tied off the suture and snipped the thread.

“I don’t have sympathy for idiocy.”

She scoffed, “Fuck you.”

Which she had said for the umpteenth time today.

He decided to ignore it. But he was still fuming, still angry at her… why, why would she do that?

He should’ve watched his six, he knew he should’ve.

They came up behind him, 4 out of the 6 agents had decided to cover his wing.

He was holding his own, but the one was smart. Patient. Waiting while the others hammered Bucky with brute force to deliver a fatal blow. She had been aiming for his right side, probably trying to stab between his right ribs or his into his spine…

“You know, normal people say thank you.” He nodded to her left side, where 10 stitches sat neatly in line.

“I could say the same thing to you.” Her words were icy, she nearly spat them at him.

Bucky scoffed. “Why should I thank you? I had it covered, you jumped in and now I have to patch your drunk-ass up—”

“I did it because it’s instinct. I saw my partner outnumbered and I saved your ass. Sorry it’s an inconvenience to you because I’m not a goddamn super soldier.”

The slam of his hand on the table made her jump, and her eyes went wide at the thought that he might actually make her shut up for once.

"You can't throw yourself in a fight where you'll get more hurt than I will."

His eyes faltered when he looked at her, "We... we talked about this Y/N--"

Silence fell between them again.

She fumbled with the bottle cap on the table, and Bucky stood still at her side.

He didn't know what more to say, and she didn't know how to respond.

Because he was right, they had talked about this before many times.

There were never tender moments between the two, but the closest they'd ever gotten to something like that was usually Y/N's recovery. They were paired together more often than not; aside from them loathing one another, they were extremely compatible.

But each time they teamed up, something like this happened.

Y/N would get stabbed, she'd get shot, she'd break a bone or two, she'd pick a fight that was out of her depths.

He'd get mad and so would she, then a day or two would pass and he'd watch her struggle with something. Whether it was taking the stairs, or doing her physio, or getting back into training...

Somehow they'd end up alone and they fell back into this same conversation.

You can't always put yourself at risk for me, I know you're skilled but there's situations where you need to be more careful.

She'd sit with it, and usually come back with the same response.

I know you're capable of taking more than most people, but it doesn't mean you get to be a punching bag. If my partner is in trouble, I'm going to step in.

There was never a solution made, because he was the immovable object and she was the unstoppable force.

In short, they were both too stubborn and too proud.

Normally, she wouldn't bring it up. But feeling brave, or drunk enough to be brave, she did.

"We're going around in circles, Barnes."

She didn't look up from the table, but he continued to stare.

"We can't fight about this every single time we go on a mission. We've requested to be separated, and that's not happening. So tell me what the fuck you want me to do, because I'm not just gonna take a seat every time it gets ugly."

He sighed, "What I'd like you to do is not be an idiot out there--"

"Hm," She took another drink, "And I'd like you to stop being an asshole."

His jaw clenched again. Every time with this girl...

"Do you not see where I'm coming from?" He gestured to her ribs, "Look at you, Y/N. How many scars is that now? From our missions alone?"

She shook her head, fiddling with the cap.

"I don't know Barnes, that's not the point."

She did know, it was nine now.

"The point is I'm not going to change my mind and neither are you. So figure it out with me instead of fighting me every chance you get. Pick a different fucking solution."

It seemed Bucky couldn't stop sighing, he wanted to walk away from this night and be done with it. But he knew they'd be back in this position a month from now, and a month after that, and so on.

So, begrudgingly, Bucky sat down at the table.

"Fine. If you won't stop being reckless--"

"--And you won't stop being a dick--"

He pointed at her, "Okay first. Stop doing that. I get you're frustrated but you swear at me a lot. I hate it. It feels like you try to pick a fight."

She went to speak, but all she could think of were insults involving curse words. He'd proven his point.

Her lip curled in a scowl, "Fine."

He nodded. "Okay."

She shifted to sit with her arms crossed on the table, eyes flicking up to him.

"Stop telling me I'm an idiot. And stop saying I'm reckless. You think it's reckless 'cause I'm not Steve or Thor, or whoever else was enhnaced on the team... just because I'm not like you guys doesn't mean I'm being stupid when I'm out there."

God, he wanted to fight her on that.

Different capabilities meant different actions in certain situations, at least in his eyes.

But he kept it to himself, at least they were starting to work on something.

"Okay..." He drew out the word, subtly saying he wasn't okay with it, but Y/N didn't care.

He could think what he wanted, but he didn't get to throw it in her face every time he wanted.

"I can't control what you do on the field." Bucky started, "You make your own calls and you... you know what you're doing out there."

Y/N smirked at the look of pain on Bucky's face, she know he hated to admit it. But she was damn good at her job.

"--but if there's a situation that I think you need to stay out of, respect me when I ask."

"What if I think I can handle it?" She questioned.

He lifted his hand off the table slightly, halting her to let him finish.

"If I need you, I'll tell you."

She rolled her eyes, "So I'm supposed to wait until my coach puts me in?"

His fists balled in frustration. "No, I'm saying be there but..."

He leaned back in his chair, looking up to the ceiling.

"I don't know, maybe we have a call sign when we both need each other."

He said that to appease her, he didn't think there would ever be a time he'd need her, but maybe she would need him. And at least it would keep her from jumping in and getting sliced to bits.

She snorted, "What, like a safe word?"

He huffed slightly, "I guess so, yeah."

That seemed to be enough conversation for her, as she stumbled out of her chair and clambered over to the musty pull out couch in the corner. She was still nursing that damn bottle in the crook of her arm.

Bucky sat, somewhat surprised that that was the end of it.

"I'm tired." She mumbled as she slipped onto the mattress, kicking her go-bag onto the ground.

I guess I'll take the floor, Bucky thought.

He raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug, his words laced with contempt. "Any thoughts on the safe word?"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, already feeling the early effects of a hang over.

"Yeah," she muttered, "Punching bag."

Bucky waited for more from her, but after a few moments of silence, her snoring began and he accepted that as the end of their conversation.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

He accepted his place in the awful rocking chair, but not before picking the bottle of tequila out from beneath her.

He took one final look at his patch up of her ribs, before settling into his seat, eagerly waiting for Sam's arrival.

~

They didn't speak more of their truce after that night, but there had been an unspoken agreement on both ends to keep their promise.

They'd be less hostile towards one another; and they'd work their roles independently during missions unless someone asked for help.

And, oddly enough, their "safe word" popped up more and more with each mission. It was easier than saying the words "I need your help", because both were so stuck in their pride to ever admit that. But "punching bag" worked just fine.

In fact, they had gotten so comfortable using it during their duo missions, that it became an oddity to the rest of the Avengers in team missions.

"Barnes, what's your location?"

"Intersection of Francis Street and Main."

"I'm west of Francis by one block. Alice Street. Punching bag."

Within less than a minute, he was there.

It was rare for Bucky to use it, but every so often he had.

One time, it had been used because Bucky's metal arm had adhered to the FOD magnetic sweepers of their combatant's tank.

Y/N had laughed when she arrived, but never brought it up afterwards.

That was another thing, an interesting development so to speak. In its month's of usage, "Punching bag" somehow became "come, no questions asked."

Sam, Joaquin and Sharon had all taken notice of this new addition to their lingo; but decided not to press it. Ever since it had been implemented, the two were actually getting along. Sam would argue they were somewhat friendly with one another.

It was a peaceful three months since their Russia mission, and the team was going to ride it out as long as they could.

~

Bucky felt numb. Which was bad, because usually that led to an anger spiral or a drawn out dissociation episode. Neither were good options for him.

It was a bad day. A really fucking bad day.

He had called his therapist, but at the fourth call with no answer, he had assumed she was asleep.

Of course she was, it was 2 in the morning.

Bucky tried to remember what she had taught him; their so-called "game plan" when things went south.

He didn't want to listen to music, he had tried going for a walk, he had tried using that dumb journal she recommened he'd buy but he couldn't write anything down.

Call someone, she had said, your line of work has a select few that understand what you're going through. And those select few happen to be your friends, you can lean on them . That's what they're there for.

He had hovered over Sam's contact for—about—15 minutes. But he didn't want to.

Some nagging feeling in the forefront of his mind pulled him back, to lean towards someone else.

He scrolled down, clicked the contact, and sent a quick message.

Punching bag.

And then he waited.

-

Bucky had left his location on in their group comms chat, and Y/N was surprised to see that he was in his own apartment.

Her mind jumped to an intruder holding Bucky hostage in his own home; or him being kidnapped, leaving his phone behind and it was the last message he had been able to send before being taken away.

She got paranoid like that. She was working it out in therapy, or whatever.

Bucky rarely used their safe word, which she resented him for, but when he did she knew it was serious.

She was there in 10 minutes.

Bucky heard shuffling outside his door; as stealthy as she was, he had the fortune of super-soldier hearing.

Then she gave their call sign, an additional one that was in early development. One knock, a pause, then four knocks.

You're, one syllable, an id-i-ot, four syllables

He'd respond back with two hard knocks to signal it was clear; two syllables for "fuck you".

Apparently their old habits died hard.

He had left the door unlocked, and she entered slowly.

With a quick scan of the room, she deemed the coast was clear. Even more surprising considering the text she had received less than 15 minutes ago.

She looked at him with question, "Our safe word is usually for emergencies, y'know."

He nodded, but said nothing.

She pursed her lips, more confused but coming in regardless.

"...Alright."

She slipped off her coat and kicked off her boots. She found it odd to see him on the floor, then noticing the pillow and blankets laid out on the hardwood, she realized that's how Bucky slept.

Late at night, she put two and two together; he'd tried to sleep and couldn't.

She folded her coat and sat down across from him.

She stayed silent, patiently waiting for him.

He continued to say nothing.

She waited for a few minutes longer, prompting him to give some sort of explanation for his text.

But again, nothing.

She clapped her hands once on her knees, and stood up. Bucky panicked, fearing she would leave---

"You got back at 10, right?" She asked.

Bucky was taken aback by her knowledge of his returning home, but nodded after his pause.

She hummed, "Okay. Have you eaten?"

"Uh--" Bucky thought for a moment, realizing he hadn't. "--No."

She nodded. It was a start.

"Okay. Then uh---I'm gonna get you some food."

After digging through the cabinets whilst Bucky sat on the floor, she mustered her supplies; butter, cheese, and bread.

Grilled cheese wasn't the fanciest of meals but considering the situation, it would have to do. Besides, she didn't know how to cook anything else.

5 minutes later, a plate plopped down in front of him, and she sat cross-legged as she started on her sandwich.

He watched her for a moment, before she looked up at him with a mouthful.

"Don't let good eatings go to waste Barnes," she wiped crumbs from her lips, "I put my blood, sweat and tears into this meal."

Shockingly, even to himself, Bucky laughed. And then he ate.

"I would've added onion," She said, "But you don't seem to have... many ingredients in your fridge, Buck."

He was surprised at her wanting to use onion, and even more surprised at her usage of his first name. But he let the latter slide.

"Onion?" He questioned.

She sent an odd look back at him, "What? You've never had onion in your grilled cheese?"

When he shook his head no, she went into a ramble.

"My god, you're missing out. I'll tell you this; one time, my Pops went into this diner, you see--"

Bucky felt himself smile as she went on, telling a story of her grandpa recommending the restaurant make it a special of the day, "grilled cheese with onion", and how it had been such a hit with the locals, that they gave her grandpa a free grilled cheese every day from that day on. Which was how she knew how to make it.

She told more stories about her grandpa, then about her family, and Bucky realized he'd never heard more about her in one sitting. In fact, he realized he had known nothing about her personal life the entire time they had been working alongside eachother.

He sat happily listening, grilled cheese in hand, and even took her up on seconds as she continued to talk.

Y/N figured that, sometimes, that's what someone needs. To fill the silence, to feel the normal, especially on days that were less than good.

And eventually, the other person would start talking too.

People need distraction. Sometimes they need to talk, they need advice, or they need help and action. But when someone needs you, and they can't find the words, talking of nothingness can be the best thing.

Y/N could be good at that, something Bucky never knew about her. And, something Bucky never knew he liked.

A silence fell over them, but not like before. Not the tense words-unsaid sort. But comfortable. She washed dishes and he sat on the floor.

She flicked her hands at the sink before drying them, Bucky wondered if she did that all the time.

"So," She said, "do you want to talk about it?"

The question might have been jarring to others, but to him it wasn't. Bucky just shrugged.

"I don't think so."

He didn't need to, he thought. This was enough.

She nodded. "Okay. Do you want me to go?"

He was shaking his head before he knew it, and she smirked.

Not the spiteful one she used to adorn with him, but more of a cheeky one. One a friend might give to another.

"Alright. Do you want me to stay?"

He picked at his ratty blanket he had tucked beside him.

"Kinda." He thought before adding, "If you don't mind."

She checked her watch, "I've got nowhere to be."

She said something about a deck of cards, and went to search his house, which for some reason he didn't mind.

She found a deck, Bucky hadn't known he owned one.

"So, I'm gonna teach you how to play King's Corners, kick your ass at King's corners, and then we're gonna talk about this bed situation which is unacceptable..." she trailed off in her teasing, and Bucky found himself laughing more.

She did teach him how to play, and he ended up kicking her ass, which she claimed was beginner’s luck.

She stayed all night.

More nights like that began to happen, sometimes Bucky spoke and sometimes he didn't.

Sometimes they fought, most times they didn't.

The fights happened less and less. The all-nighters happened more and more.

And Bucky noticed more things he liked. More than her grilled cheese, more than her comfortable ramblings, and soon he found there were more things he liked than not.

She trusted Bucky to hold his own on the field, and he tried not to be as protective of her, letting her choose her own actions. They found out that was what he was afterall, and she realized she had been too.

She had been staying longer and longer. The next thing they knew, she wasn't leaving at all.

~

@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

@dumb-ass-3

@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @agni-l @niiight-dreamerrrr @julipmoon @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes @emmabarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barns imagine

[pb524830]

anyone else

part: 3 pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 3.3k c/w: slight mention of blood, language a/n: hi guys! so sorry this is probably much later than you expected, i've just been so busy with school and other stuff. here's part 3. let me know what ideas you guys have for other fics and what you might want to see :)

OCTOBER 2020

Ava you good?     8:24 PM

Yo I’m waiting at mine       8:43 PM

Avaaaa      8:46 PM

I’m going crazy thinking about you dude      8:52 PM

I’m serious         8:52 PM

Don’t leave me hanging like this      8:52 PM

I read over Paige’s messages tiredly. I feel so incredibly stupid. How many times has she used these lines on girls? Probably more than she can count. I nearly laugh out loud. Poor Paige, I think to myself. Keeping track of a roster like that while being such a shitty person must be hard. The hatred is bubbling in my chest, angry and scorching. It pushes me to my feet, out my door, and to Audrey’s room.

Before I know what I’m doing, I knock on the door, plastering a smile on my face. “Hey, what’s up?” Aubrey says brightly when she opens her door. “Nothing much. Who was that, though?” Audrey smiles sheepishly. “Swear you won’t tell anyone?” She asks. My heart pounds painfully. Paige had asked me to keep quiet about us hanging out, too. I nod nonetheless. “It was Paige Bueckers.”

I knew that. I knew that. But somehow, hearing it out loud hurts even worse. “How-how did y’all meet?” She giggles, covering her mouth. “Okay, you remember that night we were at the gym? Doing serve-receive? Like last month?” I nod, the thudding in my chest suffocating me now. “She ran into me and she just, like, asked for my snap. And she’s hot so I gave it to her.”

The night she walked me home. The same night she told me I was pretty and told me that my smile was beautiful. 

She played me.

“Was she good?” I ask bluntly, my voice foreign to my own ears. Aubrey’s eyes widen. “Uh, yeah? Like, really good. Oh, my God - she did this thing with her tongue...” There’s a roaring in my ears all of a sudden.

She fucking played me.

“Avantika? Are you okay?” I nod, too wrapped up in my own thoughts and back away, stumbling back to my room. Had I liked her that much? Why does it hurt this bad? I glance around my room, my eyes landing on an article of clothing. Her hoodie. A UConn basketball hoodie. She’d given it to me after walking me home from practice one night.

She’d come to the volleyball gym just to walk me home. She told me I looked good in her clothes, but that I’d look better in her bed.

I’d slept in it for three days straight after. 

I want to burn it now.

NOVEMBER 2021

The surprise party is at Paige’s apartment. I haven’t been there in over a year. But I find myself standing in front of her door, too nervous to knock. Which doesn’t make any sense, obviously. There’s no reason to be nervous; it’s just like any other party. I’m dressed in a strappy green tank top and cargo pants, my hair down and curly. Taking a deep breath, I rap on the door with my knuckles.

Paige opens it. My breath catches, and I hate that it does. She’s in a pair of blue shorts and a sports bra, drying her hair with a towel. Her hand drops to her side, towel in hand, when she sees me. “Avantika, hi.” I smile slightly. “Hey,” I reply. “Am I early? I didn’t wanna be late, so-”

“Nah, ur good. You can help set up, actually,” she tells me, shuffling to the side to let me in. Her apartment looks the same as I remember. I catch a glimpse of her familiar, ludicrous purple bed sheets through her cracked room door. I turn to her, inhaling deeply. “What can I help with?” I ask, holding out my present for Azzi. Her eyes linger on me, trailing over my body as she takes the gift in one hand and continues drying her hair with the other. “I blew up balloons, but I didn’t string them together yet. You mind?” 

She sets the present on the counter, hopping up onto it. Her legs dangle off the edge, spread wide as she watches me string together balloons that say ‘Happy Birthday’. She fishes a dab pen out of her pocket and takes a hit. “You want?” She asks. I glance at her, shaking my head. She shrugs, tipping her head back to release the smoke. My eyes draw to her jawline, fingers going slack. I curse myself for still letting her have this effect on me. Her head lolls back forward, catching me staring. I see her mouth twitch into a smirk, ever so slightly, before she clears her throat. “You all good there?” She asks, gesturing to the balloon garland I’m supposed to be helping with.

I laugh shakily. “No, yeah. All good.” Paige shakes her head, grinning. “Here, I’ll do it. There’s a package in my bedroom with streamers. Go grab it?” I roll my eyes, handing the balloons and string over to her. “You remember which one it is?” She hums, eyes flicking to mine. My mouth twitches. I nod wordlessly.

The silence is so suffocating. I’m not used to being alone with her - at least, not anymore. I hate that her presence is still so intoxicating, that there’s still this undeniable force pulling me to her. I hate the way she laughs and the way she talks and the way she looks at me.

I get in and out of her room as quickly as possible, snatching the Amazon package off of her bed. I grab a knife from the kitchen to slice through the tape, but I’m so distracted that I accidentally slash my own finger. I hiss in pain, dropping the knife onto the counter with a clatter. “Fuck,” I whisper agitatedly, Paige’s head whipping up. “Avantika?” She asks. “All good,” I say, turning away from her, holding my finger to my chest, trying not to get blood on my top. It’s really flowing now, in rivets down my finger, pooling in my palm.

“Yo, Avantika,” Paige says, turning me towards her by my shoulder. “Oh, shit,” she breathes, grabbing my hand. “Okay, wait, it’s fine-” I try to get out, but Paige already has my finger in her mouth. My eyes widen as she licks away the blood, walking me backwards with her to rummage around a kitchen drawer. “Paige!” I say. She shoots me a look, taking my finger out of her mouth and wiping at her lips with the back of her hand. She fishes out a bandaid and an alcohol wipe. 

“I can do it-”

“Hush.”

I shut up immediately, watching as Paige cleans my cut, shaking her head when I hiss at the sting of the alcohol swab. She tears at the bandaid package with her teeth and applies it smoothly, wrapping it tightly around my finger. “How’d you even manage that?” She muses. I narrow my eyes at her, snatching her hand away. “It was very strategic, actually, I wanted to slice my hand open-”

“Clearly-”

“What are you, fuckin’ pre-med now?” I demand.

“Might have to be, if you can’t take care of yourself,” she laughs, shoving me lightly.

I shove her back, smiling back at her. I can’t help it.

Her eyes meet mine. “No ‘thank you'?” She asks.

I scoff. “You put a bandaid on me,” I ridicule.

Paige’s eyes widen. “I could’ve let you bleed to death,” she says.

I gape. “You are so dramatic-”

“And you’re ungrateful as hell, come here,” she complains, grabbing at my waist and pulling me against her more or less bare torso, hands going to my sides to tickle me. I shriek with laughter, fighting at her, clutching at her hands to pull her away from me. But Paige is relentless, hands going everywhere, ordering me, “Say thank you! Say thank you and I’ll stop!” 

“No shot!” I gasp, eyes welling with tears of laughter, trying to ignore the scent of strawberries that invades my nostrils. 

“Say it!” She demands, an arm winding all the way around my torso to hold me against her as I fight harder. 

“Yo, why the fuck is nothing set up?” I hear a voice demand. Paige’s hold loosens, but doesn’t relax. Her arms hang limply from my body, and when I see Evina standing indignantly in front of us, I shove her away. Paige clears her throat, backing up.

“Hi, Evina,” I say, my tone suddenly solemn. “Hi, E,” Paige says. She at least has the sense to look sheepish.

“Well, if y’all are done fucking around, Caroline’s about to drive Azzi back. Let’s get it together,” she commands, clapping her hands. Paige and I snap into motion, finishing up the decorations and hanging them up in a relatively organized fashion.

The party goes smoothly - Azzi does a good job of acting surprised, though I’m sure she’s well aware of what the girls were going to do in the first place. We cut cake and load her up with presents, before Paige calls for a round of shots.

And that’s when the night really takes off.

Soon enough, Paige has made some sort of insinuation that she can drink better than me, and I’m going shot for shot with her. She’s really putting me through it, knowing just how to push my competitive nature. Me, her, and Azzi begin alternating between vodka and tequila. We’re about 5 shots in before Aubrey and Christyn challenge Paige and Azzi to a game of beer pong. Azzi shakes her head adamantly. “If Paige loses because of me, I’ll never live it down,” she insists. “Ava will go!”

I protest immediately when Azzi pushes me towards the table, Paige in hot pursuit. “No way! I’m not playing beer pong with a bunch of basketball players,” I say indignantly. Suddenly, I feel Paige’s breath hot on my ear, and her hand at my hip. “Hey, I got you, okay? Trust.” Her voice sends shivers through me, and I feel my eyelids flutter. Damn her. I elbow her ever so slightly, shooting her a grin. She smirks back. 

Paige dips a ping-pong ball into a cup full of beer on our side, shooting it to theirs. It swirls into their middle cup, and she hands me the other one. I mimic her actions, making it into the cup at the tip of their triangle. We get the balls back, and Paige makes another shot, holding up a 3 on her hand when it plops into a cup at the corner of their triangle. I giggle at Christyn and Aubrey’s annoyed expressions, staggering into Paige. She braces her hands on my shoulders, her chest vibrating with laughter. “You good?” she laughs. I look up at her, her stark blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes, her perpetual smirk. “Yeah,” I breathe. “You want help with this shot?” She asks.

Paige doesn’t give me time to respond before she turns me around, wrapping her arms around me to position my arms, then flicking my wrist for me. The ball lands in their middle cup, and the other two girls groan, reaching for the cups to chug them. I expect Paige to move away from me, to drop my arms the second I’ve made the shot. But her hold lingers, an arm looped around my waist as she laughs, jeering at Christyn and Aubrey, tossing them the balls out of pity. Her arms stay around me, my head leaning back against her chest, hands lingering on her arms, swaying to the music I’m too drunk to recognize, dancing with the girl I’m too drunk to push away. She doesn’t remove her arms from around me until she has to shoot again.

I don’t remember who loses or wins that game of beer pong. I remember the taste of beer in my throat. I remember Paige’s voice in my ear - “Shot of Pink Whit?” I remember Azzi giggling as she leads me into the kitchen, her arms linked with mine as we down the shot of pink liquid. 

I remember Paige’s eyes hot on mine, her gaze challenging and curious. 

I walk up to her, holding out a shot of Pink Whitney. “Drink,” I command. Paige takes the shot from me, not breaking eye contact. She tips it back down her throat, straight-faced, and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

Fuck, she’s hot.

I clap gleefully, spinning away, but she catches at my waist, pulling me into her. “Avantika,” she murmurs. I cock my head. “Paige?” I ask. My heart is beating out of my chest, and I’m so drunk I don’t even realize how close we are. “Are you okay?” She asks sincerely. I nod happily, looping my arms around her neck. “Are you sure?” She repeats. I close my eyes, tipping my head back and laughing. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me,” I slur, lolling my head back towards her.

I must be drunk. I must be, because that’s not a flash of hurt that flits across her face. It can’t be. 

So I continue.

“I mean, you never really cared about me, did you?” I scoff, hanging off of her neck. Her brow furrows. “Avantika, what are you-”

“You just wanted to have sex with me…” I say sadly, pouting, tracing her face with my finger. Paige’s eyes widen.

“It’s okay. I wanted to have sex with you, too,” I admit, shrugging, tapping my finger against her lips. Paige shakes her head. “Avantika, you’re drunk,” she says. My hands trail down to rest on her chest. “No, I’m not,” I say indignantly.

“You are.”

“No, you are,” I retort, getting frustrated.

“Ava-”

I push her away immediately. “Do not fucking call me that,” I spit. She holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry,” she tries to amend, reaching for me again. I stagger away. “No, fuck you,” I snap. “Avantika, you’re so drunk right now. Please, just come lie down.”

She’s pleading with me. I hesitate. “Please,” she begs again, holding a hand out.

I hesitate. “Okay,” I whisper, taking her hand. She pulls me into her chest, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. We stumble through the apartment, the din of conversation in music echoing faintly in the background. Dimly, I hear Azzi’s concerned voice cut through the haze. “Is she okay?” Paige nods. “She was trying to keep up with me,” she explains. “And you let her?” Azzi demands. “Look, I’m sorry-”

“Put her to bed in your room. And no funny business. She’s my friend.”

“Whatever, Azzi.”

Before I know it, Paige’s soft bedspread is tickling my nose. “Avantika, you want water?” She asks. I stretch out, nodding sleepily. “Here, sit up.” I let Paige feed me water, her fingers fumbling with the cap of the bottle. Then she lays me back down. “Sleep, okay?” She turns to walk out the door.

And then, like it has a mind of its own, my mouth opens. “Paige?” I whisper. She turns around immediately. “Will you stay?” I ask softly.

Wordlessly, she climbs into bed with me, kicking off her shoes. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me against her body, and I let her, breathing her scent in, happy that I get to touch her. I snuggle into her, too drunk to care about the implications of how close we are or what we were doing the last time we were both on this bed.

“Paige,” I say quietly. “Hm?” I shift to look up at her, tracing the line of her nose with my eyes. “I don’t actually hate you,” I mumble. She laughs. “You better go to sleep before you say something you regret,” she murmurs. I blink, not fully understanding her words. But I nestle against her chest, letting my arm loop around her waist.

“Avantika?” She asks after a few minutes. I don’t respond. I feel her hand tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Ava,” she repeats, more firmly. I still don’t answer, too tired to move my mouth, humming softly.

Her breath whistles against my forehead when she says what she says next.

 “God, I missed you.”

NOVEMBER 2020

“Ava.”

It’s just after a tough loss to Georgetown, and I’m exhausted. As soon as I exit the gym, though, Paige is waiting for me. I have no idea how she’s managed to get anywhere near the volleyball locker rooms.

I deliberately ignore her, brushing past her.

“Ava, come on, talk to me!” She calls, jogging after me.

“I have nothing to say to you,” I say shortly, walking faster.

“You owe me an explanation,” Paige pants, catching up to me and grabbing my arm. She spins me around to face her. “Why haven’t you answered my texts?” She demands. There’s a hint of hurt in her voice. There’s purple under her eyes. 

Fuck her.

“Didn’t even realize you’d texted me,” I say casually. 

Her eyes narrow. “That’s bullshit and we both know it.” 

I shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe I just don’t think about you as much as you think about me,” I say, rolling my eyes. She looks taken aback. The truth is I’ve thought about her every single day since that night about a week ago. I’ve replayed every moment, every touch, every word of everything she’s ever done or said to me in my head. And then I remember her leaning in to kiss Audrey. The way she cupped her face. The way she grabbed her waist and pulled her in. The way she smiled that heartbreaking smile against her lips before she pulled away.

Paige recovers from her shock quickly, reaching for me again. I step back away from her.

“Ava,” she tries again.

It hurts to hear her say that. That name for me that only she’s ever called me, and it’d only been a couple of months, but this girl had made her way into my head and my heart.

“Don’t call me that,” I tell her coldly.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer again.

“I said don’t call me that. Are you deaf?” I demand. I know I’m being rude. Mean, even. I don’t care. I need her as far away from me as possible.

Hurt flashes across her features.

“Matter of fact, don’t text me at all,” I say, disgust lacing my tone. I force it there.

“Why the fuck are you acting like this? You were all over me a week ago, just begging me to fuck you-” Her voice is raising, but mine can, too.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you piece of shit,” I snap at her.

“You know what, you’re being such a bitch right now-” She accuses, her features twisting with annoyance.

“It’s not my fault you can’t take a fucking hint,” I sneer.

She crowds my space, towering over me, leaning down slightly to snarl against my face.

“And what was the hint I was supposed to take, hm?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s anger in her tone, dripping into me in the way her breath hits my face. She’s so close, her scent so intoxicating, that I just want to give in. “Was the hint that you were stripping for me in my bed? Or that you were moaning my name? Which one was it, Avantika?”

I slap her. Not hard, just enough that she stumbles back. Her hand flies to her cheek, eyes widening in shock. 

“I don’t want you,” I say coolly. Liar, liar, liar.

“So leave me the fuck alone.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #fic #wcbb #paige bueckers x oc #✂️ anon #uconn wbb

[stars-and-inkpots]

True Love's Embrace | Gale x Reader

Finding those rings gives you the chance to protect Gale. Sure, he would never agree to you putting yourself in danger for the sake of himself, but he doesn't have to know.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Canon-typical violence, blood and injury, codependency, self-sacrifice, forehead kisses, hurt/comfort

Notes: Inspired by some combat in my playthrough and thinking about the reactions some things may have caused. I simply think that Gale would have an opinion on using those rings, and it wouldn't be a good one (mildly hypocritical, of course).

Ao3 Link: True Love's Embrace

Word Count: 1,785

You know what those rings can do. You know what the wife who gave her husband the matching ring did. What she did was horrible, but you aren’t going to use them like that. 

You know Gale won’t approve of it at all; but the thought of the ring's magic protecting him (even if it was at the expense of yourself) gave you peace of mind. The thought of his safety is enough to drown out the thought of his disappointment if he does manage to find out. 

He didn’t question when you placed the silver ring in his hand. You almost worried that he would know what it was, that he would immediately see through your plan. You gave a relieved sigh when all he did was thank you for the gift and slip the ring on his finger before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. 

When you put your hand on his shoulder later, it was simple to let the magic of the rings flow through you. You feel the invisible thread that connects you to each other. Gale doesn’t seem to notice.

“Is everything alright? You seem distracted,” Gale asks. 

Guilt runs through you once more, urging you to tell him, but you ignore it. You needed every reassurance you could get to keep him safe here. You could take a few extra hits in battle, it wouldn’t matter. As long as he was safe. 

“I’m fine, just have a lot on my mind… and well, in it, I suppose,” you say, hoping the joking tone will hide the real concerns you have about the danger that surrounds you; and despite the distaste you have for the parasite that has made its home in your skull, you aren’t one to give up the opportunity for an admittedly awful joke. 

Gale groans, but huffs out a reluctant laugh all the same. 

“Hold on-” All of you hear Karlach begin to warn the group from her place in the front, but she isn’t quite fast enough. 

Creatures of vines and shadow shamble out of the bushes ahead. The biggest of the group creeps quickly out of the shadows as it towers over all of you. You barely have enough time to dodge the first round of thorns it shoots at you. 

Karlach is quick to start rushing at the nearest monster, axe swinging wildly as it cuts through wooden tendrils. Astarion manages to get himself further back where he can shoot safely. You and Gale, can’t move away quick enough before the ground erupts into a swarming mass of roots that entangle around your feet, trapping you. 

You do your best, blocking most strikes when you can, swiping your blade across the roots and vines that try to reach out, but your lack of movement makes it increasingly difficult. Several hits make it through your defence, thorns cutting through your armour, pinpointing the weak spots. You can feel the ring working its magic when pain blossoms from phantom wounds as Gale is hit behind you. You endure, knowing that Gale’s injuries would be far worse if you didn’t have these rings. 

You can feel the heat from yet another fireball launched into the thick of the trees. Gale is doing his best to avoid catching anyone else in the crossfire of the blaze. 

When the last creature finally falls, you can take the time to untangle yourself from the roots at your feet. You finally notice the sheer amount of blood that coats the ground around you. Despite the lightheadedness you feel, you push on. 

Gale, though still injured, looks far better than he could have been. That makes this worth it , you assure yourself. It’s nothing that Shadowheart’s magic won’t be able to fix. 

---

Hoping for a simple excursion through the Shadow-Cursed Lands is a laughable desire.

The next day is much like the last. You and your companions are walking through the darkness, ready for some new horror to lunge out from the shadows; and are entirely unsurprised when they do. 

You’ll never get used to the shadow creatures. The tall and imposing beings of pure shadow, but still very much physical and capable of hurting you. Their claws are sharp when they dig into your flesh, and there are so many of them that it’s hard to keep track. They suffocate the light around them, plunging anyone nearby into darkness. 

You can feel each time one of them slashes at Gale. You are made painfully aware of each time the wizard isn’t quite fast enough when jumping out of the way. Even though the pain is lessened by the magic of the ring, combined with the strikes that you’re taking yourself, it leaves you struggling. Standing on unsteady feet, hands shaking as you hold your sword out in front of you, you realise that you might not be strong enough to protect him like you wanted after all. 

Exhaustion takes hold of you quickly. It pulls at you; your muscles feel weak. You let yourself collapse to the ground, unable to hold yourself up any longer. Stars dance across your vision, the world blurs and darkens at the edges. You keep your eyes open as long as you can. Distantly, you can hear someone yelling your name, frantic and scared. Sleep overtakes you, and you slip into the oddly comforting darkness of unconsciousness. 

---

The world returns to you in moments. In one, you are held tightly against someone’s chest, their arms wrapped around you, warm and strong. It is Karlach, you recognise vaguely. You drift away again. In the next, you can hear Shadowheart speaking to someone. Her hands are warm on your arm. You can feel her magic seep through your body; the wounds closing steadily. Then darkness once more. 

The next time you wake up, you aren’t sure where you are for a moment. 

You try to sit up, immediately regretting it as your whole body is wracked with pain. You lower yourself back down on the bedroll which has been covered in many plush blankets. It is then that you recognize the blue fabric of the tent and the books around you that are stacked neatly along the walls. 

With a sudden clarity, you feel the absence of the ring on your finger. 

Shit.  

Pushing through the entrance of the tent, is none other than Gale. He looks down at you, relieved, but also clearly upset. 

“Care to explain what these are? And perhaps, if you would be so generous, tell the truth this time?” Gale holds the two rings in his hand. 

You’re quiet for a moment. You feel awful for lying to him. 

“The rings we found. I thought maybe they were just normal rings, but after reading the diaries we found with them, I realised they could cast a one-way warding bond. I just wanted to protect you. It was something I could actually do to help keep you safe. I’m sorry, I know I should have told you, but you wouldn’t have let me if you knew-” 

“Of course I wouldn’t have let you!” Gale cuts you off. “Why would I let you do something like this? It doesn’t matter what the rings do, I’ll have none of it if it hurts you.” He sighs, frustrated, but clearly only because he is worried about you. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is quiet, wavering only slightly. 

Gale kneels down beside you, putting the rings aside and taking your face in his hands instead. “I care about you. I care about you a lot, in fact. When I saw you fall out there, I was terrified. I never want to get that close to losing you again. I know you had only the best intentions, and I am not angry with you; I love you, so very much. I never want you to put yourself in harm's way for the sake of me. Promise me.” He sounds desperate, like the thought of you doing something like this again physically pains him. 

“I promise.” In all honesty, you aren’t sure how much of the truth it is. If there was ever a moment where you would have to make a decision between him and yourself, you can’t promise that you won’t protect him then too. 

But Gale can’t fault you either. He isn’t sure that he wouldn’t do the same for you. In all honesty, if he was in your position, he might have used the rings very similarly, and he can imagine you giving him much the same lecture. 

Both of you are too ready to bleed for the other, for just the chance to keep each other safe. It seems that’s all one can do in this world right now. 

“I love you,” Gale whispers before kissing you, soft and careful not to move you too much while you’re still healing. 

“I love you too,” you answer, covering one of his hands on your cheek with your own. 

“I’ll go and get you some food. You’ve been asleep for a while, I kept near the fire to keep it warm for you.” He presses one more kiss to your forehead before leaving the tent again. 

For now, the rings are forgotten. Your earlier guilt dissipates slowly as you wait for Gale to return. He helps you sit up when he gets back, pain still very much present, but fading the longer you lean against him. He’s quick to wrap an arm around you, letting you put most of your weight against him, which you’re grateful for. 

The entire rest of the night, there isn’t a moment when he’s near you and touching you in some way. While you eat, he’s talking to you about another one of his books, but his arm is around you, hand resting on your hip. After, when you’re laying down again, he’s running his fingers through your hair, or resting his hand on your arm. Guilt returns momentarily when you realise just how much your injuries must have worried him. 

When you finally feel sleep tugging at you again, though less demanding this time, he lays beside you. The pain has subsided for the most part, and you’re able to move yourself to cuddle closer to him. He holds you close to his side, chin resting on the top of your head. 

You can’t promise something like this won’t happen again. Gale can’t promise that he won’t do the same thing. But both of you can promise to try to keep your self-sacrifice to a minimum, at the very least. And you can promise that you’ll always come back to each other at the end of the day. 

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #gale x reader #x reader fic #gale dekarios #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3

[amazinglyegg]

a bit of an angsty ask-- could you do companions react to sole having a panic attack?

Of course! Angsty prompts are my favorite <3

Companions react: Sole having a panic attack

Includes: Cait, Curie, Codsworth, Danse, Deacon, Gage, Hancock, Maccready, Maxson, Nick, Piper, Preston, and X6

Cait: 

As long as she’s known Sole for more than a few days she’ll be pretty decent at comfort

She gets it. Panic attacks suck. All she can do is try to make it less-sucky.

Won’t get all sappy or dramatic but will just sit with Sole somewhere and remind them that they’re alright

She also won’t let it overstay it’s welcome either, if that makes sense.

Once the panic attack is over and Sole’s willing to continue Cait will just get up and go along with her day, not bringing extra attention to what happened or trying to talk about it or anything

Curie:

Catch her re-reading (or even writing) notes while Sole’s panicking

Obviously Sole’s comfort is top priority but Curie doesn’t remember everything she’s supposed to do! She’s gotta read up on it!

“Think about something nice… like a field of flowers, or a puppy!”

She's very empathetic so she might end up crying a bit alongside Sole, and will probably tell Sole to just ignore her and focus on themself

Great at talking through emotions with! She'll never judge Sole for what they're feeling, even if it's "irrational" or "dramatic". Emotions are confusing, she gets it!

Codsworth:

Codsworth will do whatever he can to make up for his lack of ability to give physical comfort

Blankets, drinks, distractions via books or games, more blankets…

A lot of verbal comfort as well, but he might gear towards gentle jokes or stories rather than traditional comfort

He will mother-hen Sole for a while, even after the panic attack is over. Acts of service is his love language and he really wants Sole to know how much he loves them!

Might stress-clean afterwards, he’s just really worried about Sole and has a bit of abandonment issues he's gotta work through

Danse:

Surprisingly he’s not terrible at helping!

Gets Sole away from the situation, gives them some water, asks simple yes/no questions, etc. etc.

You can kind of tell he has a mental checklist going on and once he exhausts it he just kinda sits there and waits for the panic attack to end

Other than that he has no real clue what to say, so don't expect much more than a "there, there" and an awkward shoulder pat

He's definitely open for Sole if they need to vent or whatever but he's terrible at letting them know that, so Sole will probably have to be the one to initiate any further conversations about it

Catch him reading some medical book written in the 1900's for advice and going up to Sole like "Have you tried cocaine?"

Deacon:

Uhh. Panic.

Deacon is NOT good with these things! Lots of awkward laughter and (gentle) jokes and tense body language that kinda makes Sole a little more stressed

He’ll get better with time (and practice) though, although he may still need Sole to tell him what they need from him from time to time

He IS good at reading body language and such, so it won't take long for him to pick up details like whether they want to be touched or not

Definitely mentally noting down what triggers Sole’s anxiety so he can help them avoid it in the future

Gage:

Will straight up admit he has no clue what to do.

Doesn’t want to make things worse and doesn’t want to accidentally piss off Sole so he’ll probably just give them space and leave a beer next to them

The best Sole will get out of him is a pat on the back

Does defend Sole from any onlookers and will gently guide them somewhere more private if there are people around when they have the panic attack

To him, he'd be mortified if anyone saw him panicking like that! Catch him telling Sole embarrassing stories about himself so they feel better about being that vulnerable around him (even if they don't mind at all)

Hancock:

I think he’ll be good at recognizing the signs of a panic attack and comforting Sole even if they aren’t super close yet

He’s just the type of guy to get along with strangers, and that goes with comforting them too

He’ll rub Sole’s back and talk them through it quietly without drawing too much attention to it

He’s willing to just continue the conversation or act like nothing’s happening if it’ll help Sole - sometimes ignoring it will make it go away faster!

Generally just lets Sole take the lead and picks up on what they want/need from him

Nick Valentine

Okay we all know he'd be AMAZING at this

He'd notice Sole's anxiety, potentially before they even have the panic attack, and will lead them away somewhere calmer to de-stress

He's great at reassuring them of whatever they need to hear ("It's going to be okay, you're safe, I'm here...) and he'll stay calm and composed in the process

Honestly wouldn't be surprised if he kept like, a stuffed animal or something in his giant coat of his for this reason

Might be hesitant on physical touch, or even eye contact - he's self conscious and afraid he'll freak them out with his eyes or metal hand

WILL let them wear his coat like a blanket though... if they can excuse the smell of cigarettes

Maccready:

He doesn’t know what to do but he can’t just leave them, so he’ll try anything really

Talking them through breathing exercises, keeping them away from crowds/busy areas, patting their shoulder awkwardly, hell he’ll even give them a hug if they ask

Tries to just be there for them, even if he doesn’t really know what to say or do

Might just resort to “keeping watch” by sitting a few feet away from them with a gun, both so they can have their space and so they know they’re safe and he’s still within earshot.

Maxson:

Definitely a “just calm down” / “just breathe” type of guy

Either that or he’ll straight up panic and send Sole to the med bay thinking they're having a heart attack

He’s never really had anyone to role model good responses to these kinds of situations before! He’s trying his hardest but he has no clue what to do

He WANTS to know what to say though, so if Sole explains it to him after the fact he’ll pay attention and use their advice for any future panic attacks

Canonically he views mental health as just as important as physical health, so he will definitely take Sole seriously and do whatever it takes to keep them happy and healthy

Piper:

“Haha what’s wrong Sole?? 😀 … oh shit what’s wrong 😥” type of reaction

Basically it might take her a bit to realize Sole’s having a panic attack, but she’ll do what she can to help once she notices it

Takes “rest and digest” literally - will give Sole food and tuck them into bed if she can

Might try to throw every coping strategy she knows at Sole all at once in hopes one of them will work well

Uhh BREATHING and FOOD and and PET DOGMEAT do you want to go on a walk?? How about some hot chocolate???

Might be a good idea for Sole to make a checklist for her to go down one by one...

Preston:

Great at speaking gently and keeping Sole from panicking more

Slow movements, low voice, maybe holding their hand or rubbing their back comfortingly

He doesn’t always know exactly what to say so he’ll focus on self-soothing for himself to help Sole calm down as well

Things like taking deep breaths so Sole can follow along or going on a walk with them

He's also very respectful of their space and privacy, and will immediately give them space if they ask for it (even though he's almost worried sick about them)

Will reassure them that he doesn't think any differently of them or their ability to lead the Minutemen!

X6:

I think X6 would actually be pretty good at comforting Sole, all things considered

The last thing you need while having a panic attack is other people panicking as well, right?

And X6 will definitely stay calm, that’s for certain.

He might also end up overloading Sole with facts about panic attacks though

Sole will be like “I think I’m having a heart attack” and X6 will respond by giving a list of every single symptom of both to compare and contrast as proof it's a panic attack

You can definitely catch him silently panicking the first time Sole has a panic attack though

He’s not good with emotions man he’s trying his hardest

#fallout 4 #companions react #cw panic attack #cait #curie #codsworth #paladin danse #deacon #porter gage #john hancock #nick valentine #maccready #elder maxson #piper wright #preston garvey #x6 88

[blayresmuses]

hii 💕💞💕💞 I really love your work, and the scenario format is turning out amazing!! I'd love to request how the hotd characters act when they're jealous, perhaps?

HOW THEY ACT WHEN JEALOUS

summary: how the hotd characters act when they’re jealous / do they get jealous etc

includes: aemond, aegon, alicent, rhaenyra, daemon, jace & harwin

authors note: hi sweet anon! thank you for being so kind i hope you enjoy these <3

aemond likes to think he’s above such silly feelings but in reality he isn’t. he adores the time he gets with you and as immature as it is he gets easily aggravated if you pass him over for something or even worse, someone else. he hates to see you smile or laugh at someone else, they’re things that are his, you should be doing that for him. usually he’ll find some random excuse to take your attention away and he’ll whisk you away somewhere private where he’ll kiss you until you can’t breathe, until all you can remember is his name. he’s got no problem with threats though or even physical violence if it goes that far but he’d keep it civil enough for your sake and by that he means he won’t have their tongues.

aegon doesn’t bother with jealousy much but when he does it can be horrible for everyone involved, even you. he’s definitely one for retaliation so if someone is flirting with you or dancing with you he’ll find some random woman and position himself right in front of your eye line so you have to watch. he doesn’t know how to deal with the emotion and it only ends badly with you refusing you talk to him as a result of his rash actions.

as she gets older, alicent has a lot of people at her disposal so if you were upto something she knows she would have heard about it the second it started, so no she doesn’t get particularly jealous especially if you reassure her after. of course if someone oversteps she’ll step in, usually excusing the two of you with a hand on your back and a steely glare at whoever is trying to get close to you.

when rhaenyra is younger she’d probably act out and all you can do is sit back and wonder what you’ve done. she’d avoid you and make subtle, snarky comments when you do finally run into her. once you catch on and talk her down she realises her mistake and apologises. it’s something she gets better at with age, if she feels paranoid about something she’ll come to you straight away, it often coming out in blunt questions and short answers. nothing usually happens in front of her, she is a princess and the heir to the throne and no one who’s smart wants to disrespect her openly.

daemon is probably the most arrogant man you’ve ever met and the idea of him being jealous makes you chuckle. it’s definitely a rare thing for him, most men with common sense know to steer clear of you or at least keep a respectful distance but of course you get the stupid ones. he can definitely be possessive because he sees you as completely his, an extension of himself and if a man steps a toe out of line he has no problem drawing blood. often his way of dealing with it is being overly affectionate in front of the person who’s made him jealous, feeling you up, kissing you, whispering dirty things to you - that’s how he deals with it, by showing that you’re his and his only.

as much as jacerys hates it he can be a little insecure. he is aware how young he is and when older lords come sniffing around you it makes him uncomfortable because he would never hold you to vows if you were unhappy with him and what if you want someone with more experience and maturity? he’s definitely stew on it for a while and it would come out in a jumble of words when he’s finally ready to ask you about it. apart from that he’s protective and quick to defend you if anything happens that he deems disrespectful or too far, especially if it’s his uncles.

harwin is more overprotective than jealous, at least according to him. he’s very secure in himself, he hasn’t earned his name for nothing. before you’re even betrothed when he’s just admired you from afar, any man that even considers asking you harwin invites to watch him at his morning practice, the ones closest to asking for your hand he asks to be his sparring partner. he’s not making it overtly obvious that the idea of you with another man makes him furious but he definitely shows who the better man is.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #jacerys velaryon x reader #harwin strong x reader #house of the dragon

[girlfailure-smut-hour]

hiii , if i can ask for like mammon and mc sitting in his room and he tried to "do it" with her a lot of times but she just stop him , one day he get a little mad so asked for asmo help , so asmo asked mc what was the reason and she told him that she feel insecure abt her body , he conferm her، and when asmo tell mammon abt it he go to her and make her love her body on his way

thanks if u accept it and if not have a good day<3333333

"You’re beautiful to me"

Nsfw content MDNI

Characters: Mammon X Fem!Reader

CW: Nipple play, Oral (Receiving,) Penetration (Receiving.) Some gendered language and MC has breasts, but ambiguous genitals as always. MC has unspecified body insecurities.

A/N: Thanks for the request! <3 This is such a cute idea! Body positivity is so important! I've never written Mammon, but it was fun! He's just a sweetie. ~1600 words.

It wasn't the first time this had happened. You were sitting with Mammon on his couch and he leaned over to kiss you. It’s not like you weren’t attracted to him obviously. He was so handsome, but you didn’t feel like you deserved him at all. You had apprehensions and insecurities about your body, not that he would have known. How could you let him see you fully, or touch you? You were afraid he would be disgusted.

As he leans in for a kiss you put a hand on his chest and push him away. “I’m sorry,” You say suddenly, “I need to go.”

Again, he’s taken aback, looking frustrated, almost angry; Probably wondering if it was something he was doing wrong, or maybe if you just weren’t attracted to him. He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it.

You get up and walk out of the room. Saying “I’m sorry,” again as you leave. If only you could just get over your insecurities around your body, but it’s not so simple.

The next day, Asmodeus catches you in the hall. “Hey,” He says. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” you reply. “How about you?”

“Just okay?” He asks. “That won’t do at all! What’s the matter?”

“It’s Mammon,” You say. "I don't know where to begin…"

“He talked to me,” Asmo nods. “I don’t want to let too much on, but do you maybe want to talk about it?”

“It’s just he’s so handsome,” You say.

“Well that doesn’t sound like a problem,” Asmo laughs. “Just the opposite actually.”

“Well,” You say, rubbing your arm and looking down, “I just… have some insecurities… about my body. I like him. A lot. I just don’t know if I can do it.”

“Darling!” Asmo exclaims. “You’re gorgeous! What do you have to worry about? Mammon would be lucky to have you, that slouch!”

“Thanks Asmo,” You laugh. You explain in detail to him what you don’t like about your body and he listens carefully, nodding as he does.

As you finish, Asmo says “He really likes you. You should take him seriously when he tells you how he feels. Give him a chance. Besides, I think he would understand and know exactly how to treat you.” He winks and walks away.

You feel a little better after getting to just talk about it, and of course a few compliments from Asmodeus could boost anyone’s ego. Maybe he was right and Mammon could actually help instead of making things worse.

Later that day, you visit Mammon in his room. Your heart is pounding as you knock on the door. Would Mammon try with you again? Would you be able to let him? You shake your head to clear your thoughts.

“Heya beautiful,” He says as he answers the door. He winks at you and flashes his beautiful smile at you. You roll your eyes and scoff, but inside, his compliment makes you happy.

You walk in and sit on the couch as usual. Mammon sits next to you.

“Asmodeus talked to me,” Mammon says. He looks like he's going to explode with nervous energy. It's not like him, usually so confident and cool.

“I know,” you laugh.

“I love ya,” He blurts out. “All of ya! You don’t have to worry about what I’m gonna think, cause I’m gonna love ya no matter what! You’re beautiful to me and nothin’s gonna change that.”

“Mammon… That’s so sweet,” You say. “I… I want you. I think I’m ready.”

He smiles. “It’s okay if you’re not. I’m just happy to know that ya don’t hate me!”

“No” You laugh. “I really like you.” You blush.

He smiles and looks at you, this time really seeing you. His piercing blue eyes have such a gentle look today. The way he looks at you makes you feel more comfortable already. It makes you feel… beautiful.

 You’re blushing immensely as he leans closer. Your heart is thudding as he cups your face, bringing your eyes to his. His skin is so warm and soft against yours “Is this okay?” He asks. You nod and he brings his lips to yours for the first time. His lips feel soft and sweet against yours. He wraps you into a soft kiss that grows more passionate with each passing second until he wraps you up in his arms and takes you to the bed.

He lays you down, and says “Are ya sure this is okay?”

You look away and blush. “I’m ready," you reply.

He crawls onto the bed over you, kissing you again. You can feel his warm, strong hands making his way down your body, soaking you in. He feels the hem of your shirt and begins to pull it up, and reluctantly you let him. As he pulls your shirt over your head he looks over your body and smiles. “You’re more beautiful than I coulda imagined,” he says, as he begins to kiss you in all the spots you confided insecurity about. Gentle little kisses to tell you that no matter what you thought about yourself, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

He wraps your arms around his neck and he pulls you up. You giggle as he does and bashfully look away when his eyes meet yours.

“Ya still doing okay?” He asks.

“Yeah,” You smile.

“Good,” He says, turning you around, “Cause I’d never want ya to be sad!”

He kisses the back of your neck and your shoulders. His surprisingly soft fingers dance around the skin that your bra straps sit against. He brushes them gently off your shoulders and fiddles with the clasp for a second. Suddenly you feel the pressure release around your shoulders as the cups fall away from your breasts. He pulls you in close, and it’s impossible to ignore his hard cock pressing against you, even as he grabs your breasts with his strong hands. You lean back into him and moan a little as he rubs your nipples. He kisses your neck some more.

Running his hands up and down your body, he makes his way down to your pants. He pulls them down along with your panties. Your heart is pounding now as you’re fully nude in front of him.

“Why don’t ya lay down?” He asks, turning you and laying you on your back.

He returns to kissing you all over your body, focusing on the parts of your body that you didn’t love about yourself, but he did. The funny thing is, he was able to make you forget about it entirely before he’d even gotten your pants off.

He makes his way gradually to your hips, spending lots of time planting little kisses on your legs; each kiss sending a little shiver up your spine. His lips brush the soft skin of your inner thigh as he gets closer and closer. He casually brushes your genitals with his nose and you shake under him, the pleasure already building up in sensitivity that explodes when his lips actually touch down. You gasp and moan as he licks you up and down.

“Oh my god that feels so good, Mammon,” You moan. You can feel him smile against your skin, proud of himself, and no doubt enjoying himself too.

He’s incredibly skilled with his tongue, teasing more moans out of you as he swirls it around. Your back arches and you shiver as he runs his tongue over you relentlessly. Your moans are getting louder with each second and your hips start to move on their own. Mammon starts to moan himself as you grind into him, the vibrations of his voice adding more to the sensation. It’s enough to send you over the edge and with one loud long moan, you cum.

Panting and moaning, you lay there as Mammon crawls over you. He pulls his pants down and puts his cock against your entrance. “Are you ready?” He asks.

You try to respond, but all you can do is nod your head. He smiles and presses slowly into you. You moan as you can feel his length push into you. He takes his time pressing all the way in. You look up at him and he meets your eyes with those beautiful blue eyes. He cups your cheek as he presses all the way into you and kisses you as he begins to pull out. You moan into his mouth as your tongues wrap around each other.

His thrusts are slow, but intense. Each time he pushes his hips into yours you can feel all of his length against your walls. He does deep passionate thrusts as he kisses you. It’s the gentle kind of sex that shows how much he cares about you.

You wrap your arms around his neck as he starts to thrust faster, but still just as deep. You cling to him as he kisses you, your sweaty bodies wrapped up in your passion. You moan into his mouth as he pumps into you, each moan getting higher pitched and faster.

Mammon pulls away, sticky trails of saliva running between your lips. “I’m gonna cum,” He groans.

“Me too,” You reply.

He thrusts into you a few more times and you feel his cock throbbing inside as he pumps his hot cum into you. It pushes you over the edge and you cling to him tightly, shrieking in pleasure.

The two of you sit the for a moment, almost afraid to move. Finally, Mammon starts to pull out and the sensation is almost too much to bear. He does it slowly and waves of overstimulating pleasure wash over you. When he’s out, he lays next to you and smiles as he plays with your hair.

“I hope that was okay,” He says.

“It was amazing,” You say, panting still.

He just smiles and looks at you as you doze off, happy to have finally gotten to be with you.

#obey me smut #obey me mammon X Reader #obey me mammon smut #mammon smut #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me x reader #om! mammon #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb

[spacebarbarianweird]

Monster

I left you all wondering what happened to Astarion's daughter in the end of The Tainted Past - so, here is the next part!

Synopsis: There is a monster within Alethaine Ancunín - a bloodthirsty beast she inherited from her vampire father.

And it's difficult to control.

Tags: dadstarion, trauma talk, dhampirs, hurt/comfort

Alethaine's age: 14 years old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons I wanted to show this dark side of being a dhampir - that it's not this "oh so sweet, Astarion has a daughter". Astarion's daughter belongs to very a rare race and no one in the whole world can tell her what to expect from her own body and mind - and it comes with complications

The dead body has been completely drained. There are no wounds except for a ripped throat, as if an animal tore the flesh out.

Astarion kneels in front of the corpse. A human man in rags—probably just a bandit or a misfortunate adventurer. 

“They think it was you,” Tiriel says, digging a grave.

“Darling, they should know that I wouldn’t hide a body. And I am not that messy,” Astarion easily picks up the corpse and puts it into the dug hole. “Well, I would also know if there was another vampire around. We are apex predators, after all.”

That’s why they were allowed to stay in Daggerlake. It’s always better to have a vampire of your own.

Astarion would know if a rival appeared in the area. He would catch their scent from miles away.

And Atsarion knows there are no vampires except for him near the Unicorn’s Rim.

“Do you think she could do it?” Tiriel finally asks.

Astarion doesn’t answer and takes his wife's hand. But he doesn’t know if he wants to assure her of something or if he needs to feel the stable ground himself.

Alethane, their dhampir daughter.

Three days ago she left to gather mushrooms in the hills. Astarion would never call himself a strict parent nor would Tiriel. Alethaine is allowed many more things than girls of her age are. But one of the rules she has to follow without excuses—never be outside the town walls after dark.

If she isn’t back home by sunset, Astarion immediately leaves to pick her up—and usually, they just meet each other halfway home. 

Three days ago she wasn’t back by sunset. She wasn’t back an hour after it. By midnight, Astarion finally left to go looking for her, hoping she had either found something interesting in the graveyard or hung with someone from the town—they live under the surface and it is sometimes difficult to keep track of time. 

Alethaine was nowhere to be seen.

What was worse, he couldn’t catch her scent anywhere. One of the things that make dhampirs so deadly for vampires is their invisibility. Astarion barely feels her presence when she is close. 

Very unfair, considering Alethaine is one of two people he desires to protect. 

“Do you think she could do it?’ Tiriel repeats. “Kill this man?”

“I don’t know.”

“But?”

“Well, there are no vampires around. His throat is mutilated and I don’t see any bite marks. But he has been drained by a bloodsucker, that’s for sure. But honestly, vampires and dhampirs aren’t the only creatures who—”

Tiriel touches his left ear to return him to reality. She looks composed and ready for battle. No one would think she is a mother whose child has been lost. But Astarion knows Tiriel wants to cry and scream deep inside—so does he.

But it won’t help. They need to find Alethaine. There are thousands of awful things that can happen to a fourteen-year-old girl.

“We need to go looking.”

Astarion nods.

They have been searching restlessly. Alone and with other townspeople. 

And then they found a corpse.

It was a man in rags, with a rusty dagger at his belt. Devastated, with his throat torn open. No one recognized him, but Astarion could feel the strange looks his neighbors were casting at him.

The body reminded them of who Astarion truly was.

“Alethaine doesn’t drink blood,'' he says to Tiriel. “I don’t think she even knows how to do it!”

“Does it need a lot of practice? I mean, what happens if a dhampir drinks blood?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

Astarion sits on the ground as if suddenly it were difficult to walk. Three days. A lot of bad things can happen in three days. Yes, Alethaine is as strong as him. Yes, she has deadly fangs. But it just gives her some advantage. Chain her in silver (that leaves burns on her skin), beat her—break her bones, rip her clothes. And she is no different than any other little girl helpless in the hands of strangers.

Tiriel sits beside him. “Love, it will dawn soon, you need to go back home. I will keep looking.”

He puts his head on her shoulder. “Let’s move a bit further and I will return.” He feels tears burning his eyes. 

It’s his fault. He should have gone looking for her immediately. And curse be the healer, why did she need those mushrooms that day?! 

“If something happened to Alethaine—'' Astarion bares his fangs. “I will find everyone responsible and massacre them.”

“I will gladly join. But we need to go. Damn, what if the innkeeper is right in saying she just ran away? She is an elf after all! Don't we all suffer from wanderlust? I mean, how often do elven children run away? Even you… It is obvious you didn’t have relatives in Baldur's Gate and no one was looking for you. Maybe you ran away too? You just don’t remember!”

Tiriel tries to hide her fears and anxiety. Astarion knows her so well that he understands she is about to break down. 

How many parents believe their dead children just ran away?

“Maybe she heard those shadows calling for her,'' Tiriel continues. “They just told her to go to some motherfucking Thay to fulfill some dark prophecy? If you are born a sorcerer, the source of your magic calls upon you.”

Astarion stands up from the ground and takes Tiriel's hand. Then he presses his forehead to hers.

“Then we are going to whatever place she went to, whoop her ass and then interrogate her on whether  she did this on her own free will.”

“You really need to go home.”

“I will use the tunnels the moment morning comes. I won’t leave you alone.”

Tiriel kisses him and then walks forward into the forest.

When it gets so dark, even dark vision is of little help. Astarion feels a sense of unease.

He brushes the feeling away—just anxiety. Just fear. But the feeling intensifies—and Astarion draws his dagger.

Something evil is staring at him from the dark, something that can murder him on the spot. Something any vampire should be afraid of. 

Tiriel sees it too. 

She grabs Astarion’s hand and points among the trees.

“Astarion… Don’t fucking tell me it’s our daughter.”

Astarion looks to where she is pointing and freezes.

He should have found the cure before making a child.

**

The monster is on the loose.

Chained in the cage since the moment it was born, it is finally free.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

Such a divine substance is full of life and warmth. It makes the heart beat so fast. So many scents, so many colors, so many sounds.

The monster enjoys this world.

And wants to destroy it.

The first one was easy. Fangs pierced the artery and the monster ravished every drop of spilled blood. And the fear! It was so sweet!

Then there was a hunt. The monster feared going to the town—too many people were too dangerous. It was better to chase prey in the wild.

Hunt makes blood thicker. 

The next one was found easily. He was sleeping and didn't even understand who killed him. Pity. He wasn’t afraid.

And then the sun appeared in the sky, and the monster felt out of place. The sun didn't hurt, but it was disgusting. The monster didn't like the sun and hid underground in dark tunnels full of small creatures, not as tasty as humans, but still nice. 

Then it was the woods. And a few more victims. Scared, screaming. The monster was hungry. Unsatiated. No amount of blood could ease its starving.

The monster has been walking here for another day or two—hiding from the sun and enjoying the darkness. More blood. Sentient blood. To satiate it, to make it full. To destroy those mortal chains that dared to lock the monster in.

The monster catches a scent.

A vampire. 

The monster squints. Undead blood is useless but how does it feel to kill another monster? Maybe it is going to be fun!

There is a mortal beside the vampire. Hot blood. Warm. Desirable. 

This one is going to fight. 

The monster bares its fangs and moves closer. 

“Alethaine,” the mortal whispers. The vampire pushes her aside and stands between them.

The name is familiar. Something deep inside the monster stirs. 

Alethaine. Alethaine Ancunin. 

The monster hisses to shut this voice and jumps on the vampire. He easily throws the monster away from him and before it manages to stand up and attack again the mortal hits it with the hand of her ax.

As the monster lies in the dirt shrieking and screaming the woman presses her knee into the monster's back restricting its movements.

“Astarion, give me the rope!”

The vampire tries to tie the monster’s hands but his movements are clumsy, and his hands shake. The monster releases itself and bites the vampire’s hand.

The undead blood gushes into the monster’s throat. 

It’s so bitter it makes the monster scream. It whines and whimpers like a beaten dog.

The vampire pushes the monster to the ground, grasping its throat.

“Alethaine,” his voice is soft and caring. “Alethaine, it’s us, mum and dad. We’ve found you. Please, Alethaine, return to us.”

The mortal crawls to them and restricts the monster's wrists. “Kitten, it’s us, we are taking you home. Astarion, take your hand away!”

“She will attack you!”

“Please, I know what I’m doing!”

The monster tries to bite the woman but she appears to be much stronger than a regular mortal should be and hugs the monster forcing its ear against her chest.

The heartbeat is so loud, so familiar…

Mother.

The realization hits the monster hard. It wants more of this warmth, more of this heartbeat…

But it’s not its to claim.

**

Tiriel feels how Alethaine’s muscles relax. Her own heartbeat restarts as the vampiric possession fades away.

Astarion caresses Aletaine’s back, ready to fight once again. 

Suddenly Alethaine breaks the embrace and falls to the ground. She looks horrible—her silver hair is dark gray, face is covered in bruises, dirt, and scratches. Her dress is in rags, pale legs are bloodstained. Her feet are bare and her nails are all broken, as if she had to dig her way out from a grave.

The dhampir presses her legs against her chest and looks around like a scared kitten.

“Alethaine it’s us,” Tiriel touches her cheek. “It’s us.”

“Mum… dad…” Her voice is hoarse. “I am… sorry.”

Astarion hugs her and bursts into tears. Tiriel takes Alethaine’s hands in hers. “Thank gods you are alive.”

“I want to go home,” she whines. “Please.”

“Of course,” Astarion takes the cape off Tiriel’s shoulders. The cold air burns her bare skin.

Astarion wraps the girl in the fabric making sure her legs are covered and then takes her in his hands. 

Their way home passes in silence. Alethaine is half-conscious in her father’s arms and both Astarion and Tiriel are too exhausted to talk. They have to take underground tunnels as the dawn approaches and Tiriel thinks she will never be able to walk in there without having flashbacks. 

Astarion is too immersed in his own thoughts and Tiriel knows they will have a lot to talk about once Alethaine is taken care of.

“I will go fetch the healer,” Tiriel says once they see the town light in the distance.

“No!” Alethaine almost screams. “No. I don't want to! Please, I just want to go home!”

She cries, begging not to involve anyone else and Tirel gives up. Astarion doesn’t say anything. 

An hour later, when they close the door into their house and Astarion prepares the bath for Alethaine, Tiriel has to suppress her exhaustion to do one more thing before collapsing on her bed.

...Alethaine sits motionless on a bench as Tiriel carefully takes the dirty rags of her. The dress is completely destroyed and Tiriel just throws it all on the floor.

Then she takes her daughter in her arms and carefully puts her into the water. 

Alethaine is silent and just stares in the distance as Tiriel washes her hair and skin

Astarion approaches the closed door a few times asking if everything is alright. Alethaine flinches every time he does that and Tiriel asks him to go and prepare some food.

“Alethaine, Kitten, do you want to tell me anything?”

She shakes her head and hides her face. She resembles her father way too much. The same pale skin, the same facial features. 

The same posture as Tiriel rubs her back.

Tiriel suppresses her desire to look at Alethaine’s inner thighs to see if she has bruises down there, a clear indication of an assault.

“Mum,” Alethaine finally says.

“What is it, Kitten?”

“How many people did I kill?”

Tiriel doesn't expect this question.

“I remember four,” she continues, “Including the one who attacked me”

Tiriel spills water on her hair. The dirt won't wash away.

“What happened to you?” Tiriel squeezes her thin shoulder. “What did he do to you?”

Please, Tiriel thinks, don't say you don't remember. 

“Someone pushed me to the ground and tried to rip the corsage of my dress. I bit him. There was so much blood it gushed down my throat and then…I started drinking.”

Alethaine shivers and Tiriel sighs in relief. Well, the fucker got what he deserved. She hopes his death was truly painful.

“And that's all?’

“That's all. Then… I lost myself. And I killed. I wanted blood.”

Alethaine sobs.

“Kitten, it's all right. You are home, you are safe!"

“No! You don't understand! Mother, look at me! LOOK AT ME!” The dhampir jumps on her feet and almost falls back into the water. “I am a monster, an abnormality!”

Alethaine cries and pierces the broken nails on her scalp. “You shouldn't have given birth to me!”

She returns back to the water and keeps crying. 

“But I did give birth to you,” Tiriel says and takes her hand in hers. “And I knew who you might be.”

Alethaine sniffs and flinches as Tiriel kisses her forehead.

**

Astarion bandages his wrist. The dhampir’s bite itches and the vampire is fascinated with the way his own wounded flesh looks. Instead of being healed in a blink of an eye, it still bleeds.

Alethaine makes him, Astarion, normal.

He can’t catch her scent, he can’t hear her if she whispers and it seems like her fangs don’t care about vampiric regeneration.

You shouldn’t have given birth to me…

The words he heard from upstairs stuck in his mind. Poor girl. Wasn’t it selfish of him to have a child when he was and is a vampire? It’s not like he deliberately impregnated Tiriel—who knew that the amount of blood he’d consumed aligned with the few days in a year when she, a half-elf, could conceive?

Astarion thinks he can hear Cazador’s laughter.

And how many of those kids are there? 7000 spawns released in the Underdark have probably fathered a few hundred kids within those thirty-four years. How many pale, bloodthirsty kids wander around Faerun, lost and disoriented, first of their kind with no one to tell them who they are and what they are supposed to do?

Lonely, scared children.

He hears footsteps and Alethaine enters the kitchen. She wears her house dress, as black as the rest of her clothes, and a shawl on her shoulders. Her silver hair is still wet but it has returned to its normal color. 

Astarion puts the plate in front of his daughter and the girl immediately starts eating. She eats in silence like a person who has been starved for weeks.

“I am going to sleep,” Tiriel says.

“Don’t worry,” Astarion kisses her cheek. Thirty-four years and he still can’t have enough of this woman. “I will keep an eye on her.”

“The first man we found tried to assault her and she ripped his throat. She says she killed two more in the woods.”

Astarion feels a wave of rage. The bastard should be happy he died three days ago because he would have found a way to torture him.

When Astarion returns to the kitchen, Alethaine has already pushed the plate away and now stares at the herbal tea in front of her as if trying to see something in there.

“I am a monster who killed a few innocent people,” she says.

Astarion sits beside her.

“You must be ashamed of me,” she adds.

Astaron would sigh if he breathed. When Alethane was born he swore she would never learn anything about his past. This darkness must not affect her. But it seems like it was dumb to think he could father a dhampir and avoid talking about his own past.

“Alethaine, when I was enslaved, I wasn't just being locked in the dungeons of my master’s mansion,” he starts. “I had a mission. Vampire spawns don’t have free will. We were puppets. A word, a gesture—and we do anything.”

Alethaine looks at him with her raven-dark eyes. Astarion continues.

“My job was to bring him food.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would find a misfortune person—someone no one would look for. A stranger, a traveler, a drunkard. Anyone. And bring them to the mansion.” Astarion avoids the exact way he performed his duty. “When my master fed on them, they became spawns and he locked them in cells. I thought I was in hell all these centuries but I was at least lucky not to be confined. I murdered those people. I ruined them. At the beginning I cared, I—I felt bad. Tried to off myself by stepping into the sun and for that, I was flayed. Then I just stopped caring. I don’t remember most of them. When I met your mother, I cared only about my own safety—I needed her to help me to stay free,” he chuckles. “But instead I fell for her. And I had the worst nightmares—you see, your mother fits very well into the description of my regular victims. A stranger without a soul knowing her in Baldur’s Gate. A lonely traveler no one will look for. In another life, where the mind flayers hadn't wreaked havoc in the city, I would have found your mother in the inn in the Lower City and brought her to an eternity of pain and misery.”

Aletahine turns away. The information has shocked her, that's for sure

Astarion switches to Elven and tugs his daughter closer.

“Princess, I would lie if I said you were normal or nothing was odd with you. You are a dhampir, a very peculiar creature, half-undead. Your blood smells like mugwort, you crawl on the ceiling and your bites still bleed. But you are not a monster, if anything I am. You didn’t act on your free will. Like I didn’t. There is no point in torturing yourself. We don’t blame warriors for killing their brothers-in-arms when they were under the “dominate a person” spell. Again, I would lie if I told you I know what you are supposed to do with your nature, it’s up to you to decide. But whatever happened wasn’t your fault.”

“But I am dangerous!”

“So am I. But Tiriel has been sharing a bed with me for many decades; she gives me her blood when I need to, trusting that I won't take more than I need. Our neighbors accepted me in this town under the promise that I would only bite strangers. Every day I go outside and hunt. That’s my nature. Your mother goes into the wild ready to fight any enemy she meets—and that’s her nature. Yours is different. We didn’t choose what we are, you and me. I was turned against my will, you were born like that. Freedom is about the choices we make.”

They sit in silence and in complete darkness.

“Princess, do you want anything to make you feel better?”

Alethaine shakes her head. She needs to be alone with her thoughts.

Astarion goes upstairs and collapses on the bed beside Tiriel. She, deep in her sleep, clings to him.

“I love you,” he mutters into her half-elven ear and he thinks she smiles.

**

The sun is shining brightly over the Unicorn’s Rim. Its rays wash the land in its warmth and the young dhampir basks in the sunlight like a cat.

Alethaine felt restless in the quiet house after both of her parents went to sleep. Astarion was probably just laying beside his wife and was aware their daughter left home. 

The dhampir opens her arms up. The nightmarish hunt and bloodlust feel like a distant fever, but she knows the monster is still down there, deep inside her mind, ready to go off the chain.

She needs answers.

Her father’s books have very few details about dhampirs and they're even incorrect. 

Alethaine Ancunin needs to figure things out on her own.

Tomorrow, she will ask her parents to train her. To teach how to survive in the wilderness, to pick up locks, to fight, and to shoot arrows. And when she is ready, she will go away to find out what it truly means to be a dhampir.

She tilts her head up and sees the tiny silhouette of a dragon soaring high in the skies.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids @ednaaa-04 @dajeong

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #alethaine ancunin #astarion being a dad #dadstarion #astarion fluff #spacebarbarian fics #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #astarion fanfic #tiriel of the sunset mountains #tiriel the barbarian #astarion x tiriel #oc tav: tiriel #dhampirs of the sword's coast #astarion hurt #meet the dhampirs #astarion's daughter #astarion's daughter alethaine #baldur's gate

[hongcherry]

pretty please (forgive me) || c.sc

Seungcheol's POV of the argument in Chapter 4, after taking you to his home while Joshua cares for Dae.

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: PG-15; Angst; Pretty Please couple, college au

🍒 Warnings: None but plz lmk!!!

🍒 Word Count: 1.8k

🍒 Author's Note: This is NOT a standalone story; it probably won't make sense if you haven't read Pretty Please, or at least chapter four lol.

pretty please masterpost | seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

“When I leave in the morning, I don’t want you contacting me anymore.”

Seungcheol’s head snaps up at your demand, but you’re already turning around and walking away. His mouth falls open, your name getting caught in his throat.

He wants to argue that he does stick up for you. He does wish his friends would stop being rude to you. But he knows it won’t do any good. His actions don’t add up to his words—at least in your eyes.

He’s told them several times behind closed doors to stop. Maybe he hasn’t been stern enough.

Seungcheol groans and slumps against the couch, an arm covering his eyes to block out the bright lights.

A lot is running through his head, and he feels like he’ll never catch up. One problem tends to cause another—leaving more unresolved issues. He’s just running endless laps at this point. 

The moral side of him says he should be upset with you slapping Hajun. He’s never been one for violence unless deemed necessary. He’s only gotten into two fights in his life, but he’s never been the one to start them. But you? You started it.

And that’s not okay.

At least, that’s what the rational part of his mind is telling him.

But something about you makes it hard to be upset. Perhaps it’s because Hajun hasn’t been kind to you. He’s aware of the rude things she has said. Hell, he’s sure she says worse when he’s not there. It’s reasonable that she pushed you to violence… Right? So, you’re not completely at fault.

But you still had other options.

But Hajun was overstepping.

But…

Fuck.

Seungcheol rushes to his feet. He’s buzzing with confusion and itching to move. He starts pacing the living room as he’s feeling overwhelmed with cognitive dissonance.

He doesn’t even realize his pacing has led him to the guest bedroom.

His heart hammers in his chest knowing you’re in there. You should be out here with him. You should be… with him.

Seungcheol shakes his head at his thoughts. He’s lost count of how many times he’s thought of you as more than a friend.

Sighing, he leans sideways against the wall near the door. He’s sure he’ll give you a spook if you come out, but he doubts you’ll do that. You’re stubborn and will probably stay in there until you leave the next morning without a word.

His heart twists at the thought.

There’s a big part of him that hates himself for upsetting you. He never wants to be the reason why you’re sad.

Though now he wonders how much unknown pain he’s caused you.

Do you really think he believes what Hajun and Hana say simply because he’s friends with them?

His initial thought is that’s ridiculous, but after forcing his feet in your shoes, he realizes maybe you have a point.

And it doesn’t make him feel good.

Seungcheol presses his back against the wall as he runs a hand through his hair, then over his face.

If you hadn’t recruited all his friends for your senior project, then maybe he could’ve avoided all this.

He could have spent his final college year just hearing rumors about you.

He could have done without the bickering, the drama, the heart fluttering…

He could have never gotten to know you. You with your addicting personality; you with your desire to be and do better; you with your beautiful smile.

Even though you did recruit his friends, he could’ve put distance between you two. But how could he when you were always capturing his attention? Do you know how much he struggles to keep you out of his mind? Do you know how much he likes being around you?

Sure, you’ve got a mouth on you, and you’re not always the most considerate or friendly, but he can tell your heart is good. Even when it doesn’t always seem like it. You’re not the heartless bitch people claim you to be. It’s nice to see the Yn behind her walls—even if it’s just a glimpse.

Seungcheol inhales a deep breath and pushes himself off the wall. He makes his way to his bedroom.

It’s getting late, and at this rate, you’ll find him passed out outside the door like a kicked-out puppy.

He enters his bathroom to brush his teeth but stops when he sees your discarded dress drying in the shower. He nearly forgot what had happened with Dae before he found you earlier.

He makes a detour from the sink and grabs the dress. He plans to have it washed and dried for you in the morning. He spends a little longer than necessary prepping the settings and products because he wants to make sure he isn’t going to ruin it somehow.

Seungcheol heads back to his room once he’s done, brushes his teeth, and then climbs into bed.

He spends ten minutes on his phone, not really doing much but just passing the time. It’s not until he comes across the picture he took of both of you that he pauses.

Your face is scrunched slightly in confusion as you hold your ice cream. He, on the other hand, is smiling widely at the camera. Although he had hoped to capture the smile of yours that he likes so much, this has its own special charm to it.

A small grin forms on his lips unknowingly. He wonders if anyone has seen this side of you, or if he’s the only one who’s seen it. He wishes it was just for him, but Dae has known you longer and it’s only logical that she’s seen more sides of you. Despite this, Seungcheol hopes he’ll see a part of you that’s only reserved for him one day.

Seungcheol stares at the photo a little longer before setting it down on the table.

It doesn’t feel right that you’re upset in his home. More so, it doesn’t feel right that you’re upset because of him.

He wants to change that.

Before he can talk himself out of his plan, he leaves his bedroom and makes a beeline to yours.

He raps lightly on the door instantly, not allowing his brain to overthink.

“Cherry?” he calls out softly.

There’s no answer.

Maybe you’re still mad at him.

“I just want to apologize, can you let me in?” he explains.

Still no answer.

He wants to turn away, but knowing you don’t plan to stay in the morning means this may be his only chance to talk.

Ever so carefully, he opens the door.

The room is dark except for the small moonlight shining through the blinds.

You’re asleep on the bed, hair neatly around your face. He wonders if you do that purposefully or if you naturally look put together.

He should leave seeing you’re not awake, but his feet refuse to move. At least, not in the direction he should be.

He stands next to the bed for an awkward second.

You look cute, and he has the urge to swoop you in his arms and cuddle you like a stuffed animal.

He soon realizes how much of a creep he must look like and tells himself he either needs to leave or do something—anything other than staring down at you sleeping.

Fuck it.

He lifts the covers and slides in.

His hand lands on your waist as he uses your body to slide closer. Your body is warm, and it makes him want to snuggle against you, but he forces himself to stay a bit away.

Well, he tries.

He can’t help but pull you nearer until your head is tucked into his chest. You feel so comforting in his arms.

Seungcheol closes his eyes as he starts rubbing your back softly. Thoughts of him being the cause of your frowns make him want to soothe you without words.

He continues his gentle movements until he feels something wet on his chest. His eyes peel open and glances down.

A few tears run down your cheeks, and before he can think things through, his hand wipes the fresh tear away.

Seungcheol coos softly and rubs your back again. Your head moves to rest against his chest once more.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers, heart heavy with guilt.

You wiggle closer, causing a sad smile to adorn his mouth. However, it falls a second later.

"You want me to leave you,” Seungcheol begins. He’s not sure if you’re awake now, but he just needs to get these feelings off his chest.

Your hands come up to clutch his shirt, however, that doesn’t stop him from continuing.

"But haven’t you realized I can’t do that? You were confused when I told you I wouldn’t leave you even if I could," Seungcheol starts to explain, but the truth gets stuck in his throat. He’s not sure if it’s right to tell you this if you’re not conscious, but he’s here already. He might as well tell you how he feels. Maybe telling you when you’re asleep will prepare him for when he does it face-to-face.

"I can't leave you, because I... I like you. More than just an acquaintance, or a friend,” he finishes.

Your hands tighten in his shirt harder, pulling him slightly closer. He can still feel the wetness grow against his chest.

He just wants to take away whatever pain you’re feeling.

"Shh, don't cry,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head gently.

Seungcheol stares off into the dark room as he soothes you. It’s quiet, but he doesn’t mind. He just wants to hold you however long he can.

Seungcheol glances down when he feels your hands slowly release his shirt.

You eye his chest in confusion, then peer up to his face. He can tell you’re disoriented. Perhaps you thought this was all a dream. How much did you hear?

“C-Cheol? You’re real?” you groggily ask.

He feels your body tense for a moment, and he fears you’ll leave right now. That you’ll continue the argument you both had earlier.

But you do neither.

“I’m real, Cherry,” he reassures. “I’m right here.”

You stare at him for some time. Seungcheol’s heart is beating quicker than he’d like. You may not have left then, but you’re waking up more as the seconds tick by. You could change your mind.

Seungcheol doesn’t even remember your hands are still against his chest until you glance at them. Suddenly, he’s glad it’s dark in the room because he can feel his cheeks heat in embarrassment. He’s sure you’re aware of his fast heart rate now.

He’s about to apologize again, but without warning, your mouth finds his.

You muffle his gasp with your kiss. It only takes two seconds for Seungcheol to stay dumbstruck before he matches your feverish energy. Fuck, he’s wanted his lips on yours for the longest time.

Seungcheol holds your waist a little tighter and kisses you a little rougher. Now that he’s finally tasted you, he never wants to stop.

A/N: I hope y'all liked seeing Seungcheol's POV for the first time! I have a few more ideas for the couple, but if you would like to see something, just lmk! I can't promise I'll write it, but I'll highly consider it! ♥️

Also, Seungcheol went live while I was writing this, so talk about perfect timing for inspo! lol

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#seungcheol fanfic #scoups fanfic #svt fanfic #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #svt angst #scoups angst #seungcheol angst #s coups fanfic #scoups x y/n #scoups x you #kvanity #kdiarynet #q

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 next: Part 8

spoilers but a phone call gets through!

“You’re a thousand percent sure?”

Mike groans as he checks down the school halls, “Yes, Lucas. How many times do I gotta tell you that?”

“Well, maybe until I’m positive that we’re not having a collective auditory hallucination or the weirdo isn’t tricking us.” Lucas crosses his arms. Beside Dustin, El mutters “auditory hallucination” to herself with furrowed eyebrows.

“You guys hear that?!” Dustin exclaims too loudly, earning equally loud shushes. “Sorry, but El just said a scientific word without mispronouncing it! She really does have superpowers…”

“Not now, Dustin.” Mike hushes as they finally get to the AV club. He unlocks the door and lets everyone inside after peeking in. He guides El to sit in front of the radio while Lucas and Dustin turn it on.

Dustin won’t lie - he’s super excited to see El use her powers for the radio. He couldn’t believe it when she made Will’s voice come out. Will! Alive and singing!

But he’s still confused over Mike’s news of Will being with someone named Eddie. Eddie who? is their biggest question but El can’t say because she doesn’t know his last name or how to describe him.

“He’s a friend.” She keeps telling them.

Dustin prays it’s not Eddie Tremblay from fifth grade. The little sucker doesn’t deserve to be Will’s new friend after his football landed on their rocket project last month.

“Aaaand we’re in!” He announces, hopping behind El. Mike and Lucas squish against him even though they clearly have much more space.

El closes her eyes and listens to the whining static. Then the static changes through channels, voices quickly overlapping until they get more comprehensive. Then the voices get compressed into six, four, two-

“-Control to Major Tom..”

Dustin shoots his hand forward and grabs one of the speakers. But so does Lucas and Mike and now they’re slapping each other’s hands until Lucas finally takes it and yells, “Will, can you read us? Over!”

“‘Your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong..’”

At the sound of the second person, Dustin’s first thought is oh thank God, it’s not Tremblay. Then his second thought is hm, this Eddie guy sounds kinda cool. Then his third thought is oh my god, we gotta talk to Will!

“Will! Do you copy? Over!”

“Will, where are you?”

“You feeling a bit better so far?”

“Tell Eddie we’re saying hi! Who is he? Over!”

“I’m getting cold again..”

“Me too. C’mon here.”

“Will! We’re right here!”

“How the hell are they not hearing us?”

“I wish I could go home…”

“So do I…”

El gives out a painful gasp and the radio explodes into flames. Dustin manages to extinguish it before the rest of the room catches, but the fire alarm goes off.

They all stare at the now-ruined transmitter, their only chance of connecting with Will and his mysterious new friend.

—

Eddie’s definitely missing.

It’s a fact that Jeff grows more sure of every day since Wayne Munson had asked him for Eddie’s secretive hideouts.

He keeps trying to ignore the seed of dread in his stomach, but it’s impossible now with the slightly somber atmosphere in the school after the morning announcement of Will Byers’ death. The fact that Eddie hasn’t shown up for classes or in the cafeteria again today isn’t helping either.

“If Munson’s still gonna be on his bender, he should’ve at least cancelled this week’s session.”

Jeff takes a half-open Skittles bag from Maya’s tray and throws it at Evan, making the two members jump. Maya because those are her Skittles and Evan because the bag hits his chest making more pieces fly out on the table.

“Eddie’s not on a bender.” Jeff hisses at Evan. Across him, Frankie is giving him one of his Don’t-Make-This-Any-Worse looks.

Evan huffs and crosses his arms, “Oh, yeah? Then where the hell is he?”

“Definitely not on a bender of any kind!”

“Gee thanks, that clears things up.”

Jeff’s about to snap back, but Frankie discreetly kicks his leg with a warning glare. It might be a good call because Jeff doesn’t know what to say next. Another defence of Eddie, for sure, but nothing to quench the rest of the club’s antsy-ness.

“Maybe he’s gone to a concert. Like hitchhiked to Indy or Chicago?” Maya asks after picking up her spilled candy.

“But he has a van?” Daniel, the senior member of Hellfire and their current drummer, frowns pointedly.

“What concert could’ve he gone to? Is there even any band playing in this bum state?” Evan raises his eyebrows.

“I dunno, Dio?”

“They’re touring in the UK right now.” Frankie says. Jeff shoots him a bewildered look that’s the equivalent to screaming are you kidding me? Frankie gives him a Play-Along-With-It look.

“Well, that settles it.” Evan raps his knuckles on the table. “Munson’s saved a fucking ticket to the goddamned Iron Lady’s territory and is breeding chicks in Dio’s mosh pit as we speak.”

Jeff stands up, no longer feeling hungry. He throws his half-eaten sandwich at Evan. The other boy gives out a disgusted shriek as the mayonnaise hits and stains his shirt. “Dude! What-”

“Shame on you.” Jeff keeps his voice even, just quiet enough for only Hellfire to hear him. Maybe it would somehow reach Eddie wherever the hell he is right now. “The only good thing about Eddie being absent is that he isn’t ripping the skins off of you and your characters right now. Especially you, Evan.”

He stares Evan down, who visibly gulps. “Eddie took you in the club’s open arms because he saw you were a loner who needed the right people to hang out with or you would’ve been one of the bullies. And this is how you thank him?”

He looks at the rest of the members and points at them accusingly. “When Eddie comes back from whatever he’s doing, I hope that rest of y’all feel guilty for thinking he doesn’t care. Because he absolutely does.” Then he grabs his bag and leaves the cafeteria without a second thought.

Outside is chilly as usual and the breeze helps relax Jeff’s nerves. For a while at least.

He stands at the parking lot, trying to think what he should do when he hears someone running over. He looks up and groans.

“Frankie, leave me alone, man.”

“So you haven’t heard anything from Eddie?” Frankie’s voice isn’t accusing but his look might’ve been.

“No. Not since the band practice days ago.” Jeff walks away but Frankie still follows him. “Then his uncle came and asked if I knew any places Eddie frequents. I told you guys that already.”

“Doesn’t stop Evan’s stupid theories.” Frankie mutters.

“You should’ve shut him up!”

“Are you kidding? You did better than what I could’ve done.”

“Words are stronger than death looks.”

Frankie snorts. He goes quiet as they reach the end of the school parking lot. Then he says, “Are you going to search for Eddie?”

Jeff stops. Turns and stares at him. “Uh, yeah? I mean, from what he said, Wayne’s probably already doing that. So, I dunno, I’m probably gonna do the bare minimum. Like where am I going to look, dude?”

Frankie doesn’t answer. His face is strangely pale and looking at something behind Jeff. He follows his friend’s phase and feels the dread well up in his mouth when he sees a poster on a nearby telephone pole.

He doesn’t need a closer look to recognize the black and white photo of Eddie from two months ago grinning at him or the large word MISSING written in Sharpie above it.

He tries very hard not to notice that it’s stapled right below Will Byers’ already wrinkled poster.

It’s a very strong feeling to see your best friend’s missing poster a few days after you last saw him alive.

Jeff forces to tear his eyes away from Eddie’s captured monochrome cheeriness. “Know what? Fuck it. Let’s find him. Wanna start at the woods?”

—

There’s something about singing quietly in the nightscape hell mirror version of your bedroom that makes Eddie’s fingers twitch to jolt it down somewhere.

After the meltdown at the house, Will had grew more quiet. Eddie had rocked him until Will complained of motion sickness and then Eddie had held him even when they slept.

After piggybacking the kid and singing “Should I Stay Or Should I Go?” (at least until Eddie admitted death by earworms and convinced a change to “Space Oddity”) on the way back to Forest Hills, Will seemed to be back in his original spirits. Still quiet but no longer on the verge of tears next to Eddie. Although his coughs started to sound more wet and shook his small frame like a leaf.

Eddie prays to god that he can speak to Wayne this time. He hopes his uncle to come up with a cooler code system than Mrs. Byers and maybe get them out somehow.

But the trailer is quiet, save for Will’s whistled breathing as he sleeps in Eddie’s arms, the old itchy quilt cocooning them both. He has to stay up. Keep a lookout for the demogorgon in this hell land and for Wayne in the real world. But he feels so tired. If he can rest his eyes for just a moment…

The sound of muffled crying wakes him up.

—

The longer Wayne stares at the posters, the bigger the impulse to rip them up grows.

After Hopper left, he had went back inside and started on making the Missing posters for Eddie. The hardest part of it had been trying to find the right photo of his nephew and he had held back tears at how much Eddie had grown. How happier he looks.

He had printed copies at the library, keeping his head down from curious and pitying eyes. Christi Waldon was nice enough not to charge him for the fees.

Then he started putting the posters up and Wayne had felt like he was making a mistake.

Nobody never said anything how difficult it is to go around town again, putting a poster with your child’s face silently begging strangers who may disliked them to find them, and to do all of this without the police helping.

Wayne had printed 100 copies. He only managed to put up 18 of them before it became too much and hurried home.

Now there’s a pile of 82 posters with Eddie’s face staring up at him on the table. Wayne can’t bring himself to rip them up no matter what his mind demands it. He has a new superstition that if he does, Eddie will never be found alive.

He checks the time. Seeing it’s only after six, he sighs heavily and takes out his cigarette. He’s briefly overcome with the memory of catching a fourteen year old Eddie trying to smoke and how his smart cookie of a nephew swallowed the lit cigarette, immediately threw up, and sobbed while Wayne had to sit down so he wouldn’t break his own ass from laughing so far. After they’d both calmed down, Wayne showed him how to smoke properly and said-

He said…

What did he say?

Something erupts from his mouth. He clamps a hand over, suddenly worrying that he just got sick. But there’s no taste of bile. Only wet salt. He takes his hand off and, ah. He’s crying.

Wayne gives a wet laugh. Then it gasps into another sob. He covers his mouth again, unable to hold the tears back.

Above him, the lights flicker.

It feels almost comforting.

Wayne sniffs, watching as the bulbs hang on to its dear life of electricity. Then one of the lamps next to the couch start flickering as well. Slow and rhythmic.

The sadness does go away, but it makes Wayne feel the back of his neck hairs stand up.

—

Eddie drops his hand from the lights, stomping over to the phone. “Fuck this, now’s the chance.”

Will glances at him from where he’s crouching by the lights, still tired from being jostled awake so soon, “Eddie?”

He turns to him and says, “Little Byers the Vanished, how does one make a landline in the Vale of Shadows?”

“You, uh, just pick it up-”

Eddie does exactly that.

“Wait! It won’t even last-!”

—

The phone rings with a shrill.

Wayne snaps his head over to it. He’s breathing slowly, watching the landline like it’s his childhood spider.

The atmosphere in his trailer feels suddenly colder. As if there are ghosts present. Waiting.

The phone rings and rings until it gets to voicemail, his gruff message for the last decade. “You’ve reached the Munsons. Leave a message after the beep.”

There’s nothing after the beep.

Wayne looks at the lights again. The ceiling light has stopped but ones over the kitchen and door are flickering this time.

The phone rings again.

He stands up slowly, walking over to the phone. It rings louder to his ears now. He tries to ignore the sudden sense of a presence behind and beside him as he picks the phone up and holds it to his ear.

He hears static as if the caller has a bad connection.

He clears his throat and speaks, “Wayne Munson speakin’.”

The static crackles with some kind of harsh breathing. It’s loud to make Wayne cringe away and hang up-

“..Wayne..”

He freezes. The anxiety vanishes in an instant. “..Eddie?” He chokes out.

“..Wayne!”

“Oh my lord…” Wayne clutches the phone closer. “You’re alive, right? Eddie! Tell me where are you!”

“..I’m-”

The phone bursts into literal shock. He drops it with a yell and it clatters to the ground, dead.

That was him. That was Eddie’s voice.

Breathing raggedly, Wayne’s gaze snaps up to the lamps flashing maniacally. The air around him feels desperate and sinks down upon him. Anxiety comes back as quick as it comes, squashing on the brief spot of hope he felt.

“Nah, fuck this.” He mutters as he swipes his keys and runs out of the door. He can’t deal with more ghosts at this hour.

—

“Nonono—NO!”

Eddie slams his hands against the lights too hard. The pulsing glass bulbs nearly crack under the pressure.

None of it stops the sound of the truck engine starting.

“Wayne, it’s me! Can’t you hear me?!” Eddie’s throat is already dry from screaming, but he doesn’t care about it. “UNCLE WAYNE! JUST STOP AND LISTEN TO ME!”

He runs outside to the ever barren yard. He tries not to think about Wayne leaving just like how his dad did in his very last visit. How he had tried to chase after his dad’s car until Wayne stopped him. How he had been a crying mess while Wayne told him that both of them will stay together from now on.

“WAYNE, PLEASE! YOU PROMISED TO STAY!”

The truck drives away, farther and farther. If Eddie can catch him-

His lungs constrict themselves again. He stumbles, scraping his knees and palms on the ground. He coughs, gulping in too many shaky breaths that almost tastes like glass shards. He calls out-

“Come back! Come back!”

It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

His throat hurts.

The truck disappears. The sounds of the trailers’ muted everyday life and his own painful wheezing replace it.

Eddie is vaguely aware of Will shuffling up next to him and wrapping his arms around his shaking shoulders.

-

Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @demolitionjetstar @hbyrde36 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @soaringornithopter @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium @newtstabber @little-trash-ghost

#hellfire club: oh man Eddie’s an asshole for ditching us #Jeff: YOU are all assholes for talking shit about him #eddie: (getting old traumas resurfacing at an usually bad moment in an alternate dimension with a child stuck to his side) this is fine :) #narration: he is not fine and it Gets Worse #yeah space oddity is on the nose for that bit but shhh #eddie and will in the upside down au #the party #jeff stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things #wayne munson #eddie munson #will byers #stranger things #klaus writes

[mllky-way-galaxy]

Hellooo :3 it's ivy agiannnn! I changed my account, and I have an idea ! Redson, monkey king, and tang with a s/o that's like noelle holiday, including the powers, (and maybe a small angst about the snowgrave route, if you know what that is)

(If you don't know how she acts here's this from Google Noelle is friendly and cheerful, but also very timid, and sometimes has trouble saying what she's thinking. She apologizes often, and stays quiet about her feelings, such as her possible crushes, or her distaste for Berdly, out of fear)

Her powers are ice based, she can use sleep mist, and pacify, and ice shock

Your writings still so good!!! Sorry I was gone for a little bitt, I've missed your writing thoughh!!:3

✦ 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰✦ Redson, Tang, & Wukong x Gender-Neutral reader

✦ 𝓡𝓾𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱✦ with a reader thats like

✦ 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓼-𝓾𝓹✦ Fluff, spelling errors

✦ 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼✦ you & me same sister. literally said i was sick then i got food posioning

𝓡𝓮𝓭𝓼𝓸𝓷 "𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓸𝓷 𝓞𝓯 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓑𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓕𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂"

Ugh, you opposites he’s fire and you’re ice, those never mix well together. Well, that's what everyone else says but does he look like he takes anyone's criticism, especially from a mortal?

He doesn’t like how you keep on saying sorry for literally nothing! Even saying sorry to the desk you accidentally bumped against a table in his workshop or even worse a mortal. A normal insignificant, useless, good-for-nothing mortal that you just apologize to.

Before you got together you both had the biggest crushes on each but neither wanted to say anything about it even if it was so obvious that it was just killing everyone. Spoiler: he caved first, he couldn’t handle it, he wanted to be with you so bad. He wanted you.

Honestly, you both have a water bed. Why? Duh, so both of you would be able to sleep better since you just need the cold and the heat so you stay on separate sides of the bed. Buttt there’s an exception when it comes to cuddles <3

𝓢𝓾𝓷 𝓦𝓾𝓴𝓸𝓷𝓰 "𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓮𝔂 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰"

He ain’t nervous when it comes to you and you don’t need to either! Don’t feel bad cuz you’re shy if you ask him that’s what makes you cute—just watching the blood rush to your face when he does something out of nowhere—ugh he could go on all day about how he loves you <3

If wondering he confessed first since he’s the man 🧍‍♂️since it’s obvious you like him back with the way catches you staring and looking away when you notice he’s looking back or how you gave those anonymous gifts sometimes (duh he knows it’s you) 

You’re a bit hesitant to ask him about anything like if you wanted a kiss he can tell but you won’t say it —just in the corner just to figure out how to ask him—so cute! <3 he loves it but just LOVES it adding to the fact when finally does it without you being able to ask your face is just a bright red colour the cold air around you immediately going hot.

But then you just apologize for ruining the mood again by acting weird—ugh again like why? He wants to kiss you so much that you lose your mind and short-circuit immediately. (Say sorry again he dares you)

𝓣𝓪𝓷𝓰 "𝓜𝓻. 𝓣𝓪𝓷𝓰"

He always asks you what’s wrong whenever you try to hide your feelings from him—he can tell. You have that sour and sad look on you’re face before turning back to a smile, he rather have you smiling instead of forcing it. AND it’s over something silly like being too shy to ask for a kiss since you’ve already asked for so many from him.

Got sick by you…just your ice powers were a little bit too powerful one night which gave him a cold the very next morning. It’s fine yet you were absolutely horrified and apologized so many times while taking care of him. (not like he’s complaining since you're taking care of him.

if you liked this, consider tiping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✦ Mllky-way writings ✦ #sun wukong lmk #sun wukong x reader #lmk wukong #monkie kid wukong #lmk tang #tang x reader #redson #redson x reader #lmk redson x reader #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid x y/n #lmk #lmk x reader

[bloody-bee-tea]

IntiMarch 2024 Day 27 - In my shoes

The prompt for this was "I want to apologise"

Satoru won’t shut up. Yaga is talking and Satoru won’t shut up and Suguru can feel his blood starting to boil. It’s not always this bad—Satoru is not always talking this much and Suguru is usually much better at ignoring it, but today has been a bad day from the start and Suguru can barely make out Yaga’s words.

The headache that’s been bothering Suguru all morning is getting worse by the second, exacerbated by his anger and the constant noise in his ears and Suguru balls his hands into fists.

He just has to get through his lesson and then he can go hide in his room and ask Shoko to go ask Yaga for a run-down of today’s lesson and maybe something of it will even stick.

If only just Satoru would shut up.

In that moment Satoru’s arm snaps up and Yaga seems ready to strangle him. Suguru would help him, he thinks, and hangs his head in shame after that thought passes his mind.

It’s not right to think like that, Suguru knows, but he’s just so angry.

“Satoru, what is it?”

“Yaga-sensei,” Satoru seriously says and just that lets Suguru know that whatever comes out of his mouth next is going to be absolute bullshit. “Why do we have to learn this stupid, boring shit?” Satoru asks, putting his chin in his hand and blinking innocently at Yaga. “How is this history lesson going to help us exorcise curses?”

His eyes slide over to Suguru as if he’s waiting for him to agree with him, to egg him on like Suguru sometimes does, but today it’s enough to make Suguru snap.

“Will you shut up for once?” he hisses out and Satoru seems just as taken aback by his outburst than Yaga does.

Good thing Shoko isn’t here right now, she would probably be laughing at all three of them.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Satoru asks after he gets over his initial surprise and leans forward to poke Suguru’s forehead. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of bed today?”

“Fuck off,” Suguru snaps and slaps Satoru’s hand away. “Either get lost or be quiet, some of us are trying to listen here.”

“Didn’t know you’re such a model student,” Satoru huffs out and Suguru can see that he’s trying to hide how hurt he is by Suguru’s harsh words, but not everything is about Satoru and right now Suguru couldn’t care less. “This is all boring shit anyway.”

He’s just so angry and his head is hurting so much.

“You’re such a selfish bastard, you have no idea what it’s like for—” Suguru cuts himself off because he never wants Satoru to know any of this, never wants to let him know just how out of his depth he is here and so instead of continuing this pointless fight with Satoru he simply gets up and storms out of the classroom.

“Geto!” Yaga calls after him, and Suguru knows that he’ll probably be in big trouble for this later, but right now he doesn’t care.

His head hurts, his hands are shaking and he just needs to not be there for now.

He makes it halfway to his room before Satoru catches up to him, because of course he does.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Satoru loudly asks yet again, snatching Suguru’s elbow in his hand and forcing him to stop his retreat. “You’re not usually this quick to anger. And you don’t usually lash out at me like that.”

“Yeah and you’re not usually this much of an asshole,” Suguru shoots right back but the fight is already leaving him, and fast at that, exhaustion winning out over everything else.

He stuffs his still shaking hands into his pockets, wrangling his arm out of Satoru’s grip in the process.

“What do you want?” Suguru asks, much more subdued and he wishes he could teleport, too, if only to make it to his bed faster. Or maybe he should go see Shoko first, get something for his headache after all and then sleep the rest of the day away.

“What did you mean, I have no idea what it’s like?” Satoru wants to know. “What it’s like for who?”

“You really have no goddamn idea, do you? You’re such a privileged stupid asshole,” Suguru mutters, and he sees that same hurt pass over Satoru’s face and this time, Suguru feels bad about it.

It makes him mad that he feels bad about it, but he also knows that it’s unfair to simply expect Satoru to understand if he can’t even explain. After all, it’s more than obvious that Satoru can’t simply read his mind and understand him just like that.

“What it’s like for me,” Suguru finally says and even though they are in the middle of campus he simply sits down on the ground.

He’s exhausted down to the bones all of a sudden and he fears that his legs are not going to carry him for a moment longer, especially not if he has to have this conversation with Satoru now.

“I’m not from one of the big Clans, Satoru, I know you keep forgetting that, but I’m just a nobody. You have no idea how shitty my childhood was.”

“What do you mean?” Satoru asks, clearly trying for calm himself as he squats down next to Suguru. “Explain it to me.” He gently bumps their shoulders together, cautious, as if he’s afraid that Suguru is going to explode into his face again and the fear is not completely unwarranted with how today has been going.

“I can see curses, Satoru,” Suguru reminds him. “For you that was fine, that was to be expected because your Clan knows, your Clan can too. But my family can’t. No one in my village can. Now I know to hide it, I know how to look past them, how to pretend that I’m normal. I didn’t when I was three or four or five.”

Satoru sucks in a breath and even though Suguru guesses that Satoru understands now, he keeps going. It’s hard to stop, once he started.

“It really doesn’t go over too well when a three year old tells his parents all about the crazy things he sees, of all the little curses, the one that are harmless or the ones that scare the hell out of him. It doesn’t go over well at all.” Suguru lets out a bitter chuckle. “Every kid fears the monster in the closet but usually that’s just a figment of their imagination. Not so for me. I knew that there was something in the closet and under my bed and down the street and on the back of my mother. And there is no way to explain it, no way to make them understand and so they did what the thought they had to do.”

“What’s that?” Satoru asks even though he sounds very much as if he doesn’t want to know.

Suguru can’t even blame him. It must be so nice to come from a family who understands, who can explain.

“I’ve been scared out of my mind since I can think, Satoru. I was scared and I was told I was seeing things and then my parents put me on medication. And they did it early. By the time I was eight I was addicted. I was starting to believe people when they said that what I’m seeing is not real. It wasn’t until Yaga found me that I finally learned what’s really going on. I was fifteen then, Satoru.”

“Shit,” Satoru mutters and Suguru laughs slightly, because yeah. Shit.

“I’m off my meds now, obviously, but—Shoko is still monitoring me for withdrawal symptoms. She has to, because it’s still really bad most days,” Suguru admits and hangs his head, clenching his hands.

“The shaking—” Satoru starts and Suguru nods.

“It’s one of them. The frequent headaches, the mood swings—it’s all because of that.”

“Excuse me, I’d like to think that I’m able to irritate you all on my own, thank you very much,” Satoru huffs out and it’s so ridiculous, it’s so Satoru that Suguru laughs for real.

“You’d be right about that,” he agrees, because he thinks that even without that Satoru would drive him crazy on most days.

“You never—learned any of this stuff,” Satoru mutters when Suguru calmed down again and Suguru nods.

“I have no idea about most of the things Yaga talks about. I don’t know what’s going on most of the time, but especially when it comes to the history of curses and sorcerers. It’s all new to me.”

“And I’ve been acting like the spoiled brat I am because it’s all old news to me and I completely failed to think about how it must be for you,” Satoru whispers and smacks his forehead. “I simply assumed you grew up knowing as well because it’s unfathomable to me how you could not.”

“I get why you’d think that,” Suguru shrugs. “You’ve been kind of sheltered and that’s not your fault, but—yes. I didn’t even know you were a big deal in this world until Yaga took me aside on that very first day and explained it to me. I didn’t know there were established families or anything else. Hell, learning that there’s an entire school for people like me had me so floored and spent two days in bed, questioning my entire life.”

Those hadn’t been good days. There were a lot of what-if’s floating around Suguru’s mind those days and he came dangerously close to hating his parents, even though they did the only thing they thought was right, and everyone in this school, for not finding him sooner, for not having a more reliable system in place to find young sorcerers.

It had been a very bumpy start to his time here.

“Suguru, I’m—” Satoru starts and Suguru knows what he’s going to say, but he’s not ready to hear it.

“Shut it,” he mutters. “I’m just—I’m tired, Satoru. I’m going to go to bed.”

Satoru shuffles next to him and even though Suguru expects him to argue, Satoru only nods in the end.

“Alright. Do you need anything?”

“You can bring me dinner,” Suguru says and even though it’s meant to let Satoru know that he isn’t mad, he still can’t take Satoru’s huge, grateful smile as if he’s doing him a favour.

He has done nothing but be mean to Satoru today.

“I will,” Satoru promises and gets back up, holding his hand out for Suguru.

Suguru doesn’t hesitate to take it, shaking be damned, and he’s back on his feet a second later, Satoru pulling him up with ease.

“Go rest. I’ll bring your favourite later,” Satoru promises him and Suguru can’t help himself, he briefly leans in, rests his forehead on Satoru’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” he gets out, kind of choked up because Satoru is treating him carefully right now, but he doesn’t seem to be judging him and that’s really all Suguru can ask for.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” Suguru says, his voice muffled by Satoru’s uniform but he must hear him because he’s slapping the back of his head a moment later.

“Shut the hell up, I don’t want to hear it,” Satoru says, briefly scratching at Suguru’s scalp to ease the sting. “There’s nothing you have to apologise for.”

Suguru wants to argue, because he’s been a real ass, but he’s also tired so he only nods and forces himself to move away from Satoru.

“Later,” he says and stumbles a little bit when Satoru gives him a shove.

“Go sleep, idiot,” Satoru fondly says and Suguru is off to do exactly that.

~*~*~

He wakes up when Satoru barges into his room without so much as a cursory knock, carrying a tray of food and something else under his arms.

“What the hell,” Suguru grumbles, though he feels better and the headache is mostly gone, so he sits up, expectantly holding his hands out for the tray.

Satoru did promise him dinner after all.

“Like I promised,” Satoru says with a grin and plops it down in Suguru’s lap. “Your favourite.”

And it is; the smell instantly makes Suguru’s stomach grumble.

“I checked in with Shoko, too, she says sleeping and eating and drinking enough should suffice to get you back on your feet for today, if the symptoms don’t get worse. Did they get worse?” he asks and sits down in front of the bed, staring up at Suguru.

“No, they didn’t,” Suguru truthfully says and feels himself go a little bit hot when Satoru smiles brightly at him.

“Good. And then—” he says and gets the book he was also carrying with him “—there’s also this.”

He presents the book to Suguru as if it should tell him something but he can’t spot a title and on closer inspection it looks more like a notebook than an actual printed one.

“I wanted to apologise, so I made this,” Satoru says and hands the book over. “I wrote down everything I remember about the major Clans. Yaga still knows more than I do, probably, but this will serve as a great overview and for more in-depths questions you can always ask him, I already checked with him.”

“You—what?” Suguru chokes out and briefly flips through the pages.

Sure enough every page is filled with Satoru’s handwriting, detailing everything about the Clans he knows and which Suguru doesn’t and he’s embarrassed to admit that his eyes sting. It must have been a lot of work to write this all down today.

“You didn’t have to,” he whispers out and jolts when Satoru puts his arms on his lap and leans his head there, too, staring up at Suguru.

“I kind of had to. I was so thoughtless and I’m really sorry. I promise to behave in class from now on. And—you can always ask me, too, I know I don’t act like it but I do know my stuff. It’s why Yaga’s lessons are so boring to me but I will behave, for you.”

“Satoru,” Suguru gets out and puts the book aside to card his fingers through Satoru’s hair. “I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long, I shouldn’t have.”

“I shouldn’t have behaved like an ass, so I’d say we’re quits, how about that?” Satoru asks, his eyes curving up with his smile.

“Fair,” Suguru gets out and leans down until he can rest their foreheads together. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Satoru whispers. “For telling me. I know it can’t have been easy.”

He’s right about that; it had been easy telling Shoko and even Yaga, because for all that he likes them it doesn’t quite matter to him what they think. But Satoru matters and Suguru had been scared shitless that he’d think less of Suguru if he ever knew any of this.

Suguru really should have known that Satoru wouldn’t care.

“Satoru, I—”

“I know,” Satoru interrupts him and leans up, nudging their noses together. “Me, too,” he adds in a quiet voice and Suguru huffs out an amused laugh.

He should have known that even this would be easy, with Satoru.

“Now, I’ll kiss you for real if you eat,” Satoru then says and Suguru lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“You’re insufferable,” he says, though he does reach for his food.

By now he’s starving, so it’s not even as if he needs Satoru’s incentive, though he’s not going to say no to it, that’s for sure.

“And you love me like that,” Satoru says with a bright grin and Suguru can’t believe that he’s right, but by god, is he right.

“I do. Thank you.”

“Suguru!” Satoru exclaims, going bright red in the face. “Stop thanking me! I’m still grovelling, so just stop. Eat, goddamit,” he grumbles and Suguru hides his smile with his food.

Satoru doesn’t move from his place at Suguru’s feet until he’s devoured everything Satoru brought him and even then he only climbs on the bed to put the book in Suguru’s lap and starts going through the first chapter.

Suguru gladly follows along, but he also steals a kiss for every page they get through and soon enough the book is forgotten.

And it turns out Suguru doesn’t have to steal any kisses at all, because Satoru is more than happy to give him as many as he wants.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #hurt/comfort #getting together #fluff #complicated childhood

[celaenaeiln]

Batgirl/Nightwing Barbara Gordon and Dick Grayson is literally the worst. Even worse that there are people who ship both Oracle/Nightwing and Batgirl/Nightwing when like their personalities are completely different, it feels like people are willing to ship them together just because they are Dick and Babs.

Honestly I feel like it’s unfair to talk about Batgirl/Nightwing because I feel like the majority of people agree that Oracle/Nightwing is better but I wouldn’t say I like it much either. There are some good panels between them but honestly it always felt more friendly like the thing that always irked me about them is that there will we or won’t we is so tiring, especially when you have so many other couples who have valid reasons for being star crossed, their arguments and fears always felt juvenile and annoying and then when they are together there is something that just feels off in their dialogue or tone of the ways things are written for both characters. There’s also this thing that shippers do where they make both characters finding a home in each other or being each others safety net which doesn’t really feel true to their characters because their are so many other characters that played a bigger role in Dick’s and Barbara’s life compared to what role Dick and Barbara had in each others lives (this is why I also hate the retcon that they were childhood friends because they weren’t! They didn’t grow up together!) And I don’t care about the age gap, like people can meet as adults and develop feelings for each other but like it makes no sense to me what they would see in each other that makes those feelings go from friendship to romance other then it just does. Like all the skills they can do other characters can also do and a lot of their character traits that they have other characters have as well, like what makes these two characters look at each other and desire the other. That chemistry and desire has always been lacking for me when they are together. Like it feels like just two Barbie dolls being smashed together with writing telling me I have to like them together meanwhile I’m just scratching my head.

You talked a lot about Dick but honestly there are many things that he has done that makes me wonder why Babs would want him.

It’s sad because Dick and Babs are such cool characters but when they are together I’m so bored!!!! Barbara deserves an interesting love interest and a love interest that can be just as complicated and messy as she!

"it feels like just two Barbie dolls being smashed together with writing telling me I have to like them together meanwhile I’m just scratching my head."

OMG LITERALLY I'VE SAID THE EXACT THING ALMOST WORD FOR WORD IN ANOTHER POST.

Honestly everything you said is so true.

There's physically no possible way to like both Oracle and Batgirl and still respect the Dick and Barbara. I'm not a big fan of Oracle/Nightwing either but I like them much, much more than Batgirl/Nighwing.

The safety net thing is the biggest crutch for Dickbabs. DC is trying to push them as if they'll always catch each other but that's only true in the physical sense like literally grab the other out of mid-air. Emotionally the wishy-washy behavior is tiring and emotionally draining and neither of them come out of it happy.

It makes me mad when DC has Dick claim that Barbara is Dick's best friend

Wally's stewing moodily on Dick's couch when he heard. He'll probably be like "I made you best man at my wedding and you calling her your best friend?"

The Flash (1987) Issue #142

Dick'll be like "W

Wally...I swear-"

Wally: "I made you best man! TWICE!!"

Not to mention, Dick and Barbara before the retcon didn't even know each other's superhero identities! I think it might've been the Legends of the Dark Knight comic but Dick's hanging out with his friends when he runs away to the bathroom with Congresswoman Gordon enters the place because "Robin and Dick Grayson can't be seen in the same place!" Barbara also says something in her point of view when they're fighting crime.

EXACTLY!! They do their best work separately. But together their personalities are an awful combo and it really makes me mad.

Yeah, I know I'm biased towards Dick but the reason I took Dick's side is because while Dick may have done things to Barbara, the majority of the transgressions are against him in their relationship. I don't know DC writers constantly nerf him when they're together or why they write Barbara so awful in a relationship when she's fine otherwise. The only thing I know that was wrong from her perspective is during that Devin Grayson scene. But that's just one of the worst writings of his character that I've seen (post).

Barbara deserves someone like Jason Bard

Batgirl (2016) Issue #42

Someone she can save and whose skillset won't be overlapping. Someone she can be strong with and will let themselves be commanded without it weakening them. Someone she doesn't have to feel like she's fighting the world over to call hers.

Jason Bard was perfect, sweet, good-looking, and smart for her. He even described him as complicated as a trait she loves about him.

Barbara definitely needs someone who isn't Dick and Dick needs someone who isn't Barbara so that way both their skills and personalities can shine.

#dick grayson #nightwing #barbara gordon #batgirl