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the-californicationist · 3 months

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Please! I need the part 2 of “Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen.“ I'm on my kneesss pleaseee it was so good! 😭♥️

Anyways, I'm your new follower 😍, and some of the stories you write is just so damn good😍 (Sorry for bad grammar's, English isn't really my first language, uwu)

im sorry but idk what a part two even looks like. i know a lot of people have asked for it but its... just some couch sex?? idk i'll try.

Laswell clicked the door shut behind her, and part of you wished she had locked it. Gaz was sure to tell the rest of the team, but you could do without an audience. What would they even see if they barged in here?

The captain had let his cock loose from the confines of his pants, and they were sliding down his thick, muscular ass with every selfish thrust. He was rubbing himself like a naughty dog against your clothed pussy, begging for entrance with every forward movement. Your shirt was pulled down, revealing your breasts, and now they were covered in pink marks from the roughness of his beard as he moved his mouth across you.

Feeling him take each nipple and suck it so gently into his mouth, pulling it in like delicious nectar through a straw, drinking you although you were dry, tasting you even though you had no flavor. It was too much, but he couldn't stop.

You felt a little wrong to be enjoying your commanding officer so much. His humping was making your body respond even as it waited for your guilty conscience to catch up.

"Cap... oh, my fucking God... No, Captain. We shouldn't..." you tried to protest on his behalf, knowing he was being controlled by the powder.

"Corporal," he spoke with his mouth full of your flesh, "I can stop... now. It'll give you... enough time... to run..."

His bright pink eyes flashed up at you in warning and he used both his arms to pin you on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, the intensity of which went right to your rapidly-melting core.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, he looked you right in your eyes and finished his sentence,

"But that will not be bloody true for long."

As if warning you, he rubbed his hardness up and over your belly, letting it ruck up your shirt, and you felt its incredible heat. It was like a long, steel brand. His skin was smooth, but it was scalding and swollen with his blood. The huge tip left a wet trail of desire wherever it went.

"It's okay, Captain. You can have me if you --"

There mere suggestion of your consent was all he needed to let the dam burst and the river run free. His need crashed from him with an explosive force. He all but ripped your clothes from you, nearly hurting you in the process, making your ankles ache from the sudden pressure as he shucked your pants and boots away in one go.

Your panties were torn from you, sturdy though they were. The fabric made a whining, popping noise as the elastic split. Air rushed across uncovered skin, and your body doubled down on its plans to produce as much natural lubrication as possible. It seemed to know you'd need it.

He didn't touch you. Not with his hands. There was no preparation of any kind. Price fed himself into you like a hand into a glove, a body part in need of sudden and immediate warmth. He took control of your head again, pinning you in that same furious way, and you had a singular view of his face, twisted in a sort of sublime agony as he sank himself into you for the first time.

The pressure was almost unimaginable. Your body was making a lurid, wet, slicking noise as his cock forced you in half. You tried to allow him in, tried to relax, but there was little you could do. He was immense and heavy. It felt like a fist on a strong arm, like a forge hammer, hot and searing. The only thing more tormenting was his voice purring darkly in your ear.

"Fuck, you're warm..."

He pulled himself out of you inch by inch, leaving a terrible hollow where you were once whole.

"Wet for me. So wet. How?"

Back in. And in. And in. It seemed to go forever in and it made you wonder how deep you were.

"It feels so good to have you 'round me, love..."

When the rosy head of him found the end of your wet hole, it sort of... settled there. Locked in, like a key into a tumbler, and each fold of you a lifted pin, fitting him as if you were crafted for it.

"Thought 'bout how you'd feel. Sometimes... dreamt it."

You felt your body give away your surprise. He was too gone to notice it, but not you. You would have been able to feel the planets shift an inch to the left if they dared. You could feel everything. Each and every pore and hair and breath was awake and alive and living in the rawest possible way. Could he have really been thinking of you like you were thinking of him?

"Bloody fuckin' hell. So tight. Too tight."

He was right. It was too tight. He was squeezing himself in with each of these aching, crazed thrusts, shoving himself inside of you hungrily, all the way up to your pounding heart, it seemed. You felt yourself slipping around him like hot oil, running down his shaft and matting the coarse, dark hair that cradled his root.

"John..."

You used his name in place of his title, and he noticed. Noticed it like a hawk notices a hare. Right in your ear, up against your cheek, he responded, too quickly, too much teeth,

"Yes, love. Yes. Yes? Tell me."

He was grunting now, clearly on the edge of his pleasure. You aimed to take him over it, to plunge him into blinding darkness. You whispered, and each word hit its mark like the straight shaft of an arrow, striking into the target one after the other, tearing through the bullseyes like they were nothing but air.

"You're gonna make me come, John."

Again, that unearthly snarl came from his chest, the one you'd never heard before come from the mouth of a man. It was a cry and a scream and a prayer and a plea and had he not been pinning you down prone with his own prostrated body, he would have been growling it from his knees. He commanded you as he worshiped you,

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me."

Your body listened before you could even register his words.

From the bones in your hips, you felt your muscles tighten along his iron rod like a fist, closing in on him knuckle by knuckle, and each closure brought you closer to that brink where the darkness turned to blinding white light. You could feel the sparkle of it, that peppery gunpowder flash and then...

"Holy fuck, love..." He stared at you as if you were the sun lighting up his whole life. Like he'd seen you before, all sherbet pink and blazing orange, in the dawn, in the mornings, cutting over the horizon.

Price had come in you. You felt it. It slid along the cleft of your ass and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He didn't mind it. You couldn't. His body was still thrusting as hard and as heavy as before, fucking up into you as if he hadn't just filled you with his thick, hot cream.

"I can't... " he gasped, wrenching his eyes shut, "I can't stop..."

"It's okay, John..."

"I can't bloody stop, love. I'm... fuck, I'm sorry..."

"I'm okay. It's okay," you whispered to him, trying to soothe him.

You pet the hair back over his brow and he leaned into your touch like a cat, purring for more of it. You laced your fingers through his hair and held him tight at his scalp, turning his head so that you could talk to him right into his ear,

"Fuck me how you need to, Captain."

Did you enjoy this tale or maybe some other work by me? Consider buying me a coffee, if you have the means. Kudos, likes, reblogs, and feral comments also work as well ^_^ Thanks!

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sepherinaspoppies · 25 days

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Riding the Dragon- Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: after a great dinner with Aemond, he decides to give you a ride on his motorcycle, a Dragon T6.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, public smut, pussy on bike, cum play?, reader getting off on Aemond's bike, some tiddy succin, mentions of p in v sex, I think that it?

wc: 3,064

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click here for a tiktok that gives off aemond in this story lo

notes: this is my first time writing in reader's pov? the whole 'you' kind of perspective. I apologize if it sucks ass, I wanted to try something different. And can y'all believe I wrote majority of this when I was ovulating? HAHA

“I had a really nice time tonight.” The man in front of you says with a content and flirtatious smile on his pretty chiseled face.

Heat coats through your cheeks to the tip of your ears. Definitely not the effect of the two glasses of wine you’d drunk not too long ago. Wine hardly ever did a number on you to slightly fuddle your conscience.

You give him a sheepish grin, scraping the tips of your heels against the pavement, shying away from the intensity that his eye holds. “Same here. I hope we can do this again sometime.”

His face contorts in a way that clearly indicates that the feeling is in fact very, mutual. “Mind if I take down your number?” He asks, pulling out the latest new Iphone from his pocket. You only engaged in conversation through the dating app both of you met in and you thought it seemed only fair to give him your number after weeks of meeting him.

He taps a few things on his screen before you’re met with a white screen with only your first name and birthday typed. It is then when you wonder how he came about on knowing your birthday, if you had ever mentioned it in your electrifying conversations either on the app or this date. Most likely the second option.

You knew his name, well if you’d call it that, supplying you only his first initial. By his angelic looks, he was definitely of Valyrian descent. And you hate how much of a sucker you were for those blonde bitches. You knew he was in the last year of university, double majoring in political science and business here in the capital. You also knew he had a geriatric maine coon cat, Vhagar, who’d stuck with him since he was a child.

But that was pretty much it.

You nod, typing out the most critical information both of you needed in order to secure the second date. “Here you go,” you hand back his phone with such caution that causes his lips to quiver in a smirk.

He leans forward, too forward in a way you feel his breath steadily fanning your face and the warmth that radiates through his chest. You don’t pull away as his head lowers, keeping your gaze steady with his, admiring the amethyst hue of his lone eye that twinkles against the low street lights.

A snakes his hand around your hips, which normally you’d slap away if it was any other man. But he was different. A rare gentleman who bought you a single winter rose even when you were five minutes late, let you devour the fries off his plate, and hashed your steak without asking.

You wanted him to kiss you and perhaps even more.

You wouldn’t say no. If anything you’d whimper out a simple “please” if it came to that.

However, just as you expect his lips, it doesn’t come. He pulls away with a lupine smirk on his face, waiting for a response to a question you did not hear.

You cough away the slight embarrassment, “What?”

“I asked what your password was,”

Before you process how he did it, you see him wave the gray screen of your phone around your face, waiting for the six digit code.

Oh.

“I got your number but you did not get mine and you’re gonna need it when I take you out to dinner again.” The blonde in front of you points out.

True.

It almost feels too goofy revealing the code that multiple of your friends tease you for. Nevertheless, you stutter out the numbers: one, two, three, four, five, and six.

You hear him dryly laugh, shaking his head side to side as he types out the three sets of numbers. “Mmm, you need a better password, darling. One might think you want your personal information stolen,” He teases. You shift your thighs to a close at the term of endearment, already feeling the slightest tingles in a place where you desired him the most.

You make a sound of agreement making a mental note to change it later tonight. After he hands back your phone, he combs back the loose silvery hair out of his face into a neat bun that well flatters his face. “Take mine for example; it’s five, twenty-two, one-thirty. Easy to remember.”

“Is that your cat’s birthday?” You questioned.

“No. It’s the day we matched on Tinder.”

You are lost for words. Not even you knew the exact date you matched with him, only knowing it was around a few weeks ago. Judging by your reaction, he knew what you were thinking.

After a few more rounds of flirtatious conversations, you both decided to call it a night, waving each other goodnight as you watched as he sped up in a black, shiny Dragon T6, a vintage motorcycle that was the second most precious thing he owned. (The first being Vhagar). You’d be lying if that wasn’t one of the list of reasons why you swiped right. A tall Valyrian man, with long locks, that rode a motorcycle definitely modeled the countless dark romance books you’d spent hours reading.

To your frustration, the price of Uber had doubled the amount you’d paid for hours ago. Not even Uber Share happened to be near your price range. For ten gold dragons, you could buy a week’s worth of groceries!

So you sighed, turning off your phone. Your usual bus was still in service and way cheaper than the ridiculous prices of Uber. And while it was too late to be out by yourself, it was a risk you were willing to take.

As you rummage through your wallet for some copper coins, you hear a deep, rumbling sound of an engine revving up close to where you stand.

It’s him. Braking his bike on the side of the road where you are. His expensive Lysene suit coat no longer hugged his body, wearing only a white dress shirt that was half unbuttoned, giving you an impeccable view of his perfectly rounded cleavage and the multiple hidden tattoos you didn’t know he had.

“Hop in,” He says, pointing his head to the side. It was not a request but a demand.

You tilt your head, unsure whether to say yes or no. “Is it safe?” You ask. His chest moves, seemingly laughing as he opens the visor of his helmet. “Of course it is. I’m a cautious driver, never had an accident and I don’t think I ever will. I made sure to drink water after a glass of wine, so I’m not under the influence.”

He narrows his eye, observing the hesitation written throughout your face. He offers the spare helmet from his bag and hopes that it will coax the uneasiness.

“If you’re so dubious about it then by all means the bike is yours to drive.”

It’s your turn to laugh because the thought of you riding something of high value and rarity seemed absurd and silly. You were someone who did not have experience in driving in general whilst also being terrified of the narrow and steep roads of King’s Landing.

But there was no humor in A’s eye.

“You’re not serious are you?”

He powers off the bike before he scoots back from his seat. “I am.” He eagerly pats the spot he has saved for you.

“You do realize that this is a Dragon T6, right? They practically don’t make these anymore!” You gesture your hands around the expensive looking machine that was probably worth more than your left kidney.

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms on his chest. “What’s your point?”

You scoff playfully, “My point is that manufacturers don’t make these anymore and if I crash it–”

“–You should have a little more faith in yourself. Maybe this will come naturally to you but you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

You can’t help but exhale in slight failure. This was a conversation you knew you couldn’t win with him. “Look, I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t feel comfortable doing but I happen to be a great teacher. And if you do crash I’ll buy another, they aren’t that expensive anyways.” The Valyrian man shrugs as if thousands, or hundred thousands of gold dragons were nothing.

You mutter a “fine” under your breath which makes him all giddy with excitement and slides the helmet down your head. He double checks if it's secured before he lifts you to sit properly on his bike.

“Or I have one or two things in mind of how you could repay me.”

Every single piece of information he hurled your way was taken deep into your head. And you did your best to pay attention to it all under the sharp needles of nerves going through your spine. At some point he had given you little rubs up and down your back to soothe your nerves. The effect was anything but that, instead all you could think about was how his hands would feel against the bareness of your body.

Fuck.

You tried to push those lewd thoughts away as he demonstrated the anatomy of the Dragon T6. The ignition was a little red switch right below the speedometer, whilst the clutch was on the left hand side and the accelerator in your right. The gear shift was something you had to get used to as it was not on your eye level but rather a small little lever near your foot.

Once he feels you’ve gotten the grasp of how everything works it was time for the ultimate test. “Alright now we start. Are you ready?” He asked with an eager smile tugging his lips.

No.

You nod your head, adjusting the mirrors to match your height. You feel the tips of his fingers lift and turn your chin towards him, “Use your words, darling.” There it was that name again that made you clutch your thighs together. You audibly gulp, “Y-yes I’m ready.”

“Good,” His hands squeeze at your hip bones to bring you closer to him. Your eyes widen almost comically to what you assume is his cock pressing insistently onto your ass. It was hard, and through the thin material of your dress you could feel it throbbing full of want and need. Gods, how will you ever focus now?

A brief image flashed through your mind of how much and what was packing underneath his undergarments. The length and thickness and how it would feel wrapped around your palm as you’d stroke him from base to tip, or the taste of him as you’d take him inside your mouth, or having his full length stuffed deep inside you as he fucked you dumb.

Something tells you that he knows what you are thinking but neither of you speak about it.

Finally, he takes your hands onto the handles of the clutch and the accelerator and you, being a step ahead, check if the gear is on neutral before you release the clutch and to your satisfaction it is. The blonde behind you smiles at you proudly like a teacher would to their student.

“Now, you’re gonna slowly release the clutch and twist the accelerator slightly…there you go, good girl. You’re doing such a good job.” He coos at your ear.

The beat of your heart raced almost out of your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the excitement of a small accomplishment or the low timbre of his voice praising you but you welcomed it.

With confidence you didn’t know you had, you decided to drive the rest of the way to your apartment without complications and took up every tip the man behind you advised. The cool air kissing your skin and the adrenaline wildly pumping through your veins, awoke something in you and slowly you began to comprehend why A loved riding.

You had felt like a small bird taking its first flight through the skies.

When you both reached the parking lot to your apartment, you returned his helmet and a small part lingering inside you did not want to let it go. You enjoyed it and the freedom it brought you.

“That was so fun! I can’t believe it was that easy. Think I need to save me up for one of these,” You quipped patting the bike.

He throws his head back to let out an amused laugh, “Or I can just give you this one,” A tone of nonchalant laced through his voice.

You look at him baffled, “I was–”

“–But first we need to get you your license before I–”

“–Absolutely not, I was jesting.” You snipped, making him roll his eyes with a slight pout drawing out his lips.

“You’re stubborn and difficult, has anyone told you that?” You chortle thinking of the numerous times you’ve been called that.

“Plenty of times but I reckon this won’t be the last.”

He hums tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear, “I guess I have to fuck it out of you.”

You blink.

The hue of your cheeks increased tenfold, your feet and body became paralyzed to what he had just confessed.

Had he just said that to shut you up? If so it worked.

You didn’t know how to respond to something as bold as that and to your inclination you lowered your head but the blonde behind you couldn’t have that. You felt the tips of his fingers roughly grip your jaw to meet his gaze. The amethyst hue of his eye turned into a darker shade of violet as he eyed between your eyes then your lips.

Every part of you screamed for him to kiss you or to do something to appease the longing.

You instinctively parted your lips when his head began to dip towards your lips. The tip of his nose brushed delicately against your own then it slowly trailed to sniff at your neck, the sweet smell of spiced peaches.

“Nyke jaelagon ao,” He whispered in his mother language.

“Pār emagon issa,” You said before you mentally said ‘fuck it’ and knocked the wind out of him with a kiss.

He lets out a mix between a growl and a groan as he feels your wandering hands tugging the roots of his hair. Something you yearned to do ever since you saw how long and silky his hair was.

And Gods did it meet your expectations.

His lips moved against yours most ardently and with equal fervor. It was hungry and needy the way your teeth clashed with his, tongues dancing for dominance until you hissed when he bit your lower lip.

You melted into his warm embrace, deciding to tease him by rubbing your palm on his clothed length, detecting a damp patch. You shot your eyes open, separating away your lips.

“Did you just cum?” You panted heavily.

A smirked, “I came when you first got on the bike and I was about to cum right now.”

You quirked a brow, “That’s what did it for you?” Redness coated his cheeks and before you knew it his lips were on you again and his hands lifted the hem of your dress, exposing the black lacy panties you wore just for him.

“Incase you get lucky,” Your best friend Sara teased just the day before when you and her took a shopping trip to a Lysene lingerie store.

Through some imaginary telepathic communication, you thanked Sara.

He groaned feeling the wetness that gathered through your folds. You weren’t just wet, you were dripping like honey on a hot summer’s day. A mischievous idea popped into his mind, something so lewd that made the head of his cock twitch with excitement.

You squealed as he swiftly turned you around and twisted the ignition switch on. Was he going to make you drive in this state?

“Move your panties to the side.” He commanded behind you.

You pushed away the curiosity and did what he bid you to do. “Good girl. Now lean forward a bit.” You shifted yourself forward until you could feel the warm metal of his seat pressing tenaciously at your bare cunt.

A gasp turned into drawn out moans as the blonde behind you revved the accelerator at a speed that made stars appear in your eyes. It felt good, so obscenely good that all thoughts about being in a public setting flew right over your head.

You began to grind yourself with the vibrations, creating as much friction to your bud as you could.

“That’s it, darling,” He encouraged behind you, increasing power to the accelerator just enough for your arousal to coat his bike. “Fuck yourself on my Dragon.”

You clenched around nothing, whining as you felt the pure waves of ecstasy slithering down your spine. It was unlike anything you ever felt, not even the vibrator you owned made you topple over the edge.

In ten seconds or less, you loudly moaned, not caring who heard or saw you, as your legs shaked and the coil around your stomach loosened, cumming absolutely hard.

Your limbs felt entirely spent as if you ran three laps around Rhaenys’ hill.

“Mmm, do not get too comfortable, now, darling.” He boasted smugly as his fingers scoop your honey to his lips, humming at the delicious taste. “I haven’t even fucked you senseless yet and after witnessing this I want nothing more but to ruin your ability to walk straight for week.”

A low whine escaped your lips at the thought of him roughly taking you. “Is that what you want?” He questioned, lowering the straps of your dress to expose your breasts to his gaze.

You sighed contently, feeling his tongue enclosing around your perk nipple. “Yes please,” You tenderly loop your fingers through his hair.

“I promise I will never make you beg,” He murmurs against your breast, “But you sound so pretty when you do.”

He had kept true to his word as he not only bent you over his bike as he fucked you raw, but took you three more rounds on your couch, bed and shower until you absolutely passed out in his arms. And for the rest of the week you couldn’t walk straight without limping. Thanks to Aemond Targaryen.

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#aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond #one shot #kinda smutty #aemond one eye #prince aemond #house of the dragon

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shitouttabuck · 3 months

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i'm a thigh girlie but i'm also a squishy kind of guy so if either 18 or 52 take your fancy for the prompts 👉👈

some sleepy stuff <3

touch prompts: 18 squishing the others cheek + 52 gripping thigh

might as well be drunk in love

Buck might be the most responsible Maid of Honour to have ever existed in the history of Maids of Honour. He told himself that half an hour ago when Ravi crowed FOMO, motherfucker at him post-Chim and Maddie’s rehearsal dinner, after Buck had sensibly and maturely taken his leave from the wedding party’s continued celebrations to get in a solid seven hours of shuteye—he’s the only one who has to be up at basically the crack of dawn to start getting things in order for the actual wedding at noon.

He tells himself that now as he pulls the thick comforter up to his neck, stretching his toes against the footboard and sighing. The empty double bed across from his own just seems to mock him, though, a reminder that Eddie’s probably knocking back the white wine Karen’s got him enjoying lately, almost certainly pink-cheeked and loose-hipped and laughing prettier than any music, only three floors below Buck right this very minute. FOMO, motherfucker indeed.

It's fine, Buck reasons, only somewhat grumpily. He’d be much more upset with himself for being too tired to be on top of things for Maddie’s big day tomorrow than he is for missing out on drinking with his friends and staring moonily at his best friend as covertly as alcohol will allow. Besides, he’s going to do just that tomorrow night anyway, with the added bonus of no pre-wedding stress. This was a good decision, the right decision, Buck is rational and correct and will have no sympathy for anyone nursing hangovers and sleep deprivation when they’re supposed to be setting out chairs and place cards at the reception tomorrow.

Somewhere between one grumbled thought and the next, he must fall asleep. It’s only a while later that the creak of the hotel room door cuts through his fuzzy dreamscape. He stays half-submerged, but Eddie trips over something and swears under his breath, and Buck swims groggily to the surface of consciousness.

He doesn’t bother cracking open an eye, listening instead to the gentle thumps and bumps of Eddie getting undressed and ready for bed. He’s almost lulled back to sleep by the sounds of it: the quiet snick of the toothpaste cap opened and shut, the whoosh of the tap running, the click as Eddie switches off the bathroom light, the rustle of sheets as he climbs into—Buck’s bed?

Buck forces one eye open then, but it’s moot since yes, Eddie does seem to be getting into Buck’s bed, except from behind Buck, so all that Buck is aware of is the sudden gust of cool air against the backs of his calves as Eddie lifts the duvet, and then the mattress is dipping and Buck’s warm again, because—because Eddie’s plastered along his back.

It’s not an accidental mix-up of beds either, because Eddie wastes no time slinging an arm around Buck’s waist, his hold loose but—there. Very much there.

“Uh. Eddie?” Buck whispers, voice rough from sleep. He clears his throat gently, pausing and straining to listen when Eddie mumbles something unintelligible. How drunk is he? Does he think Buck’s someone else? That’s—if that’s true… He broke up with Ana nearly two years ago, and there hasn’t been anyone serious since, not the scattered dates here and there, so—if it’s any of them Eddie thinks he’s getting into bed with? That would… suck.

But then Eddie says, “What, Buck,” muffled and sleepy into Buck’s shoulder.

The warmth that instantly blooms in his chest takes Buck by surprise, a little, and he feels his body automatically relax against Eddie, unaware he’d been holding it tight in the first place. Still, the confusion lingers.

“Oh. You’re—uh.” Should he—say something? Why would he say something, though. Just because this isn’t something they do… Eddie’s clearly fine with this, initiating this, and Buck—there’s never a time Buck doesn’t want this, want this bad. So why would he say you have a bed right there and come off as a dick when they’re both perfectly fine with this.

Or, worse in ways that are both hysterical and heartbreaking, come off as vaguely homophobic or make Eddie uncomfortable about the way he’s currently spooning Buck like he’s been doing it all his life.

He settles for a lighthearted, “Are you drunk?”

Eddie sighs sleepily, breath tickling Buck’s neck. “Yeah. Kinda.”

Okay. That’s fine. Their friendship is no stranger to physical touch, casual shoulder bumps and easy hip checks and full-body hugs. Eddie doesn’t need a reason to be looser with his affection, obviously, especially not where Buck is concerned, but if he did? What better combination than too many drinks and being at a wedding for their friends and family? Buck’s all too familiar with the love having to go somewhere, and if this is where Eddie wants to put it tonight? Buck’ll take it gladly and be a little moonier about it than planned tomorrow.

Eddie worms a hand under Buck’s sleep shirt, tracing his abdomen with his fingertips. Buck shivers. Okay, so not entirely platonic, but Eddie’s drunk. That blurs the lines of a good cuddle. Buck will resign his sorry ass to a night of his best friend being lovingly handsy in the spirit of friendship and lovesickness.

Eddie’s palm moves higher, ghosting across Buck’s sternum. His thumb catches against Buck’s nipple, and they both still for a second, Buck holding his breath. Then Eddie does it again, a lazy rub against it that has Buck swallowing and shifting his hips. Entirely not platonic, actually, any way you look at it.

Then, as sudden as his treacle-slow movements can be, Eddie’s hand ceases its exploratory tracing and taps once, twice, over Buck’s heart as he presses himself more firmly against Buck’s back, a lazy, languid stretch.

“Eddie,” Buck says. “What’s—are you—I’m—”

There’s a pause, and then Eddie relaxes his body away from Buck. “Hey,” he mumbles. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck replies without thinking, immediately reaching back for Eddie, hand stretched to pull him back close. “But—what’s—why right now?”

“Why not right now,” Eddie grumbles, sinking back into his place along Buck’s body with an ease that makes Buck screw his eyes shut tight again for a second. “Should’ve been right now many nows ago.”

“What?” Buck asks, genuinely a little lost as he throttles the rising bubble of hope inside him, squeezing just enough to still it without popping.

Eddie exhales heavily and with feeling, making sure Buck hears the exact amount of put out he is to be having this conversation when they could be sleeping, and Buck loves every disgruntled cell in his body.

“Your maid-of-honour speech,” Eddie yawns. “You said—you said you once had a conversation wi’ Maddie about—about love. About how it should be—you’re at your worst and they are too and still—you don’t give up. On each other. On… what you have. You try again.”

Buck hums. “Think they’ve had more worsts than a lot of people. Love that you fight for in the face of all that—or helps you through the face of all that? That’s. Yeah.”

“Chim showed me his vows. About—how he wishes there wasn’t hurt behind th’ reason f’r it, but he loved getting t’ be Maddie’s friend first, you know?” Eddie’s voice is a sleepy slur, murmured almost directly into Buck’s ear with the way he’s holding him. “Even when he wasn’t sure they were ever gonna be anything but. Someth’n—something about trust like that—I dunno. It’s easier when you’re friends.”

“Eddie—”

“My worst, Buck. And you walk right through the door and stay. And, and friends do that, but—I’m not imaginin’ this. Karen told me I’m not and she’s wise. She’s a lesbian. And a rocket scientist. In that order.”

The hope-bubble slips out of the grasp he has on it with a cheerful blown-raspberry sound, rising and rising inside him. Eddie’s hand is hot against his bare chest, and Eddie is comparing Chimney’s wedding vows to how he sees Buck in his own life, and Eddie’s drunk but Buck doesn’t think there’s much room for misinterpretation.

Buck’s not said anything, and before he can speak to assuage any presumably already-minimal doubts Eddie has, Eddie sighs loudly.

“Okay, this is not working. Turn over.” He tugs on Buck’s arm as he rolls over himself.

Buck shifts onto his other side slowly, carefully, a crescent around Eddie’s curled body. Close, but not touching.

“Buck,” Eddie huffs, flailing a hand back to grab his thigh, fingers digging into the meat of it. He yanks it forward, hitching it over his own hip so Buck’s flush against him from the ass-upwards.

When Buck doesn’t automatically hold him, Eddie twists his head to glare blearily over his shoulder. It’s the first time they’ve made eye contact since he entered the room, and his eyes are glassy when they meet Buck’s.

“Hello,” he says. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some cuddling around here.”

Buck laughs, surprised, and Eddie smiles, smug as he turns away and settles in again, like that was his only intention. And Buck gets it, he desperately wants this to just be—to just be it, you know, to have this be the way it happens, to wrap his arms around Eddie and wake up tangled together, to not second guess anymore, but it’s late and Eddie’s been drinking and they’re at a wedding with all the wedding emotions in the air—

His leg hiked over Eddie’s means his crotch is mashed into Eddie’s ass, and Eddie’s wriggling back in an attempt to snuggle into him and—

“Eddie,” he says. “Maybe this isn’t—”

“Ugh,” Eddie says. He turns around to grab Buck’s cheek, squeezing gently. Buck winces, all for show, before his face goes completely slack because Eddie’s planting a sloppy kiss that really only lands on forty percent of Buck’s mouth, hot and minty and lifechanging.

“Right,” Buck says, strained. He takes a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut, before opening them and placing a soft kiss on Eddie’s forehead, brushing his hairline. “It’s just—you’re drunk—I don’t want you to—”

He’s cut off by Eddie rolling his eyes and flipping back around into little spoon position.

“Yeah, well, that’s kind of the thing, Buck,” he sighs, grunting as he shifts to get comfortable. He manoeuvres Buck’s arm around his waist, pulls it up against his own chest, grip firm but still with a relaxed certainty to it. “I loved you this morning when I was undercaffeinated and being bullied into redoing flower arrangements, and I loved you this evening when I thought I had indigestion from those cheese puffs, and I love you right now when I’m drunk, and I’ll love you tomorrow when I’m hungover and miserable about it. I’m in the prime of my life, I shouldn’t be facing these kinda drinkin’ consequences at thirty-three, Jesus.”

Buck shelves the kneejerk comment about Jesus probably being the biggest advocate for getting wine-drunk in your early thirties even though focusing on any of the other words Eddie’s just said might result in his own spontaneous combustion and instead says, “Oh.”

“’Oh’,” Eddie mimics, half-asleep but no less bitchy for it. “Yeah, oh. I’ll do the—the sobriety test for you in the morning if you still want, but can we go to sleep now?”

They can, and they do, and when Buck’s alarm goes off at six am, they blink awake with Eddie curled against Buck’s chest, hand once again stuck up his shirt.

“Mmmh,” he insists, bearing down when he feels Buck try to get up.

“Eddie, I gotta go set up.”

“Gotta—no, thanks,” Eddie replies, clinging harder.

Buck huffs a laugh, any trepidation he had about Eddie’s wants upon waking easing away. “Maid-of-honour duties wait for no one.”

“Maid-of-honour, schmaid-of-honour,” Eddie tells him, muffled into his chest. “What about your loving me duties. It’s a full-time job, you know.”

“Can do that with my eyes closed,” Buck says, “and I’m great at multi-tasking this maid-of-honour stuff, but I need my eyes open for the rest of it.”

Eddie ducks his head, as if to hide his smile, but Buck feels it where it’s pressed into his chest anyway. “Fine.”

There’s a beat, and then he’s propping his chin up to peer at Buck. “Also—for sobriety test’s sake. Hi. Also, I didn’t really let you get a word in last night…”

He doesn’t look nervous or unsure, just kind of sheepish. His hair is sticking up in fluffy clumps and there’s a crease along his right cheek and Buck can love him with his eyes closed but he’s so very glad they’re open, because this is a million times better.

“You really didn’t, huh. How the tables turn—ow, Eddie,” he breaks off as Eddie digs his fingers into his ribs. “For sobriety’s sake—” He hauls Eddie up, and Eddie goes with an oof that’s sighed right into Buck’s mouth. His lips are soft and chapped against Buck’s, much more coordinated but just as purposeful as they were last night when they move against him.

The kissing is lazy, early morning stuff, gentle and easy. When Eddie yawns into it, Buck pulls away, running his hands down Eddie’s sides.

“I really gotta go,” Buck tells him, trying to extricate himself. “Go back to sleep.”

“Yes boss,” Eddie finally allows, rolling over to mash his face into a pillow.

He finds Buck setting out the flower arrangements only an hour later, though, and he’s got with him a kiss and a coffee and, true to his word, a love that persists through hangovers and weddings and drunkenness that’s not his own. Through every wildly outrageous and terribly boring moment of the rest of their lives, actually; the best and the worst and everything in between. A love that stays, and stays, and stays.

(read on ao3)

#sami i hope u like this <3 #911 fic #buddie fic #911 #buddie #nina writes #mine

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milkpup · 4 months

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｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

›› chapter 3 ›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

art by @g00miato (PLS GO CHECK OUT THEIR PROFILE OMGGGGG PLS IT'S SO GOOD)

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ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, AGED UP CHARACTERS, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: ch 5 is in the works, it's just taking me awhile bc i have a naoya fic i'm fixated on rn x-x enjoy!

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 3: Innocence

Toji leaned against the balcony railing, smoking a cigarette. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “What the fuck were these idiots up to?” He questions himself, thinking back on what he just witnessed.

You and Megumi, in your bed, asleep. This is normally of no concern to him, you both grew up together, often having sleepovers in each other’s rooms. But this time… it was different. Why were there clothes strewn about the floor? Why was he wrapping his arm against you, pressed against your naked form?

All these thoughts were plaguing his already troubled mind. But the most problematic thought came to him overbearingly: Why am I hard?

His large cock was straining against his sweatpants, making it unbearably hard to think clearly and rationally. He felt guilty. Guilty for thinking of you that way, for tarnishing his relationship with you, and for letting his mind wander about what you and his son did. As much as it stung his heart, his body was heating up. His cock begged to be released from its clothed prison.

He took another long drag of his cigarette. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Y/N is undeniably attractive, kind, and intelligent. Any man that didn’t fall for her would be a fool. He felt a twinge of jealousy as he thought about Megumi getting to you first.

But jealousy was not the only emotion that consumed him. He put out the cigarette and went back inside his room, sliding the balcony door shut.

He walks towards his shower in the adjacent bathroom, stripping as he’s walking towards the bathroom entrance. His large cock is fully exposed, and he’s about to go fuck his fists at the thought of you and his son.

He knows it’s wrong to already think of you in this way, but he doesn’t care. He’s a man who is a slave to his desires, no rationality could bring him back in the heat of the moment. He didn’t feel too guilty though, it’s not like he was doing anything with you. He was just thinking about you. That’s fine, right? I’d never touch her. What’s wrong with a little fantasy though?

The water is almost scalding hot. He turns it down slightly and steps inside. Toji wishes it was you here instead of his hand, but he’s unsure if he would cross that line.

His back is facing the water, his forearm is against the wall of the shower. He’s leaning on it for support as he fucks his hand, thinking about how beautiful you look, how your body is such a fucking tease, how Megumi gets to be close to you but not him.

He grunts, picking up speed. He doesn’t mind sharing you, but he wants to be your first. He’s jerking his cock praying to God that Megumi hadn’t taken that part of you yet. He wants it to be his.

He licks his lips, he’s going down the rabbit hole and losing his morality. If my son can have you, why can’t I? I can please her better, and I honestly deserve it.

He pumps his cock more, thinking about how you owe it to him after all. He took you in, fed you, clothed you, basically raised you… he’s thinking of collecting his debt now. While Toji tries his best to be a generally amiable guy, he can’t fully suppress his innate urge to be an asshole. He loves you, but maybe not in the way he should.

He moans, nearing the edge of his pleasure. “My sweet Y/N, fuck..ahh” He can’t even finish a sentence, cumming at the thought of taking what’s rightfully his, and maybe letting Megumi watch just for the thrill of it.

He turns around and lets the water wash away his sinful thoughts and actions, and finishes cleaning up.

It’s Friday night, but a little too late to go out and do anything. Tomorrow, he wants to take you out.

Megumi wakes up earlier than you. He’s usually an early riser, but this time he was grateful he could look at the soft features on your face while you’re asleep. He would be way too embarrassed to watch you as intently if you were awake, he’s blushing even while you’re asleep. He doesn’t mean it in a creepy way at all, he just admires how beautiful and peaceful you seem while asleep.

You yawn and shift in the bed, and Megumi uses this as his cue that he should probably leave. He kisses you on your forehead, gets up and dresses himself, and silently lets himself out of your room.

He walks towards the living room, passing by his father’s room on the way. Toji isn’t in there, and Megumi finds him sifting through items in cupboards and in the fridge in the kitchen.

Toji is cursing himself silently, upset that he doesn’t have all the required ingredients to surprise Y/N with breakfast. Toji isn’t categorically an asshole, he wants to do nice things to spoil you but doesn’t know how. He figures this is a good idea since you usually take care of meals. He’s upset because now he has to waste time getting the ingredients, but he knows you like to sleep in on the weekends anyways.

Toji turns around and sees Megumi approaching the kitchen. “Oh hey, Megumi. Do you think Y/N would like omelettes or waffles more for breakfast? I’m trying to help her out a bit.” He smirks a bit.

“Probably waffles. I think she’s more of a sweet person.” Megumi replies, unsure why Toji even cares enough in the first place. I mean, Toji used to live off of takeout and instant food. Why is he suddenly interested in cooking? Megumi brushes it off. He doesn’t care that much anyways.

Megumi yawns as he walks towards the counter where the coffee pot is located. He starts brewing coffee as Toji moves towards the front door, grabbing his keys on the way out.

Toji returns, bags of food in hand as Megumi sips on his black coffee. He works his way to the kitchen, setting down the bags and begins to unpack them. He has to rush if he wants to make the food look presentable enough for you.

Megumi silently watches his father hastily beating eggs and flour together to make a batter. He notices so much effort on Toji’s part, it’s unsettling.

You wake to find the other side of your bed is empty, a little bit sad at the thought that Megumi got up before you. You yawn, slip out of bed, and pick out something to get dressed in. You still need to shower, since you passed out after... that.

Your face flushes immediately as the thoughts of last evening come flooding back to you. Heat pools between your legs, remembering the feel of his touch against your body.

You ignore your uninvited thoughts as you make your way to the bathroom to clean up a bit. You’ll shower after breakfast though. Fuck, I hope they’re not waiting for me to make something for them. I definitely slept in a little late. You rush to finish getting ready and exit the bathroom.

Your cinnamoroll slippers flop as you make your way to the kitchen, stifling a tiny yawn. You smell something cooking, but Megumi is sitting on the couch watching something. So that means, Toji is cooking?

He notices the soft patter of your footsteps and turns around as he finished putting the last of the batter in the waffle maker. He grins, “Good morning, Y/N. I figured I’d help you out this morning so you could sleep in. You must have been tired.”

He knows exactly why you’re tired, he’s teasing you at this point. You blush at his comments, “Good morning, Toji.” You sit down at the table beside you. “It smells delicious. Thank you Toji, I really appreciate it,” You add as you’re looking up at him with your half-lidded sleepy eyes, softly smiling.

Toji’s heart skips a beat seeing your precious smile when you’re still tired. He walks over and sets down the food, calling Megumi over.

You set a waffle on your plate, adding syrup and strawberries on top. It smells delicious, and you can’t wait to try it. You take a bite, and, it’s not that good. The toppings add flavor, but he could’ve added vanilla extract or more sweetness to the batter itself. Nonetheless, you eat it with a smile on your face. “It’s really good, Toji. Thank you!”

Megumi takes a bite. If you say it’s delicious, then it must be right. As soon as he tastes the overwhelming intensity of mediocrity and flavorlessness. “Tch.” He clicks his tongue. It’s not that good, and she’s definitely lying to him. Why?

Toji smirks at your compliments. He’s glad he made you happy. He gets up to start cleaning the table and kitchen, and you follow suit. Megumi is uninterested and returns to the living room, putting on some random, boring show.

“Thank you Toji, it was good. I was worried since I slept in late that I left you all hanging,” you chuckle out.

Toji is washing dishes beside you, as you’re picking them up and drying them. “You’re welcome, Y/N. Anything for you.” He looks over at your flustered face and smiles.

You get caught up looking at his adorable grin and reach over to grab the next plate to be dried. Instead, you make contact with his soapy hand instead. You linger for a little too long, hyperaware of the small touch you just made. You’re embarrassed and pull away. “S-sorry…” You manage to stumble out, blushing and looking away.

“Don’t be, doll .” He eyes you up and down, smirking. She’s so fucking hot, and innocent too. It’s almost too easy.

Megumi overhears chatter and catches you a blushing mess in front of his father. He can see the way Toji observes you, like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey. Why am I uncomfortable? Am I jealous? Of my own father? I mean, we just had an amazing night together, why should I be jealous? His heart was pounding, feeling suddenly possessive over someone that wasn’t even his. The loudest thought roaring through his mind, however, was the most disturbing. Why am I hard? He clenched his fists and grit his teeth. This should not be happening.

You finish cleaning up with Toji, when he gently grabs your wrist and looks at you. “Let’s go out together. We need more stuff for the house.”

You already knew this and were planning your usual errands for later today. You look up at Toji and nod, “Sounds good. I’m going to shower and get ready first.”

He releases the soft grip on your wrist, and you walk away towards the bathroom. He licks his lips as he watches your womanly figure recede from vision. He can’t stop looking at the way your shorts hug your hips and ass as you walk away. He grins mischievously and thinks to himself: I can’t wait to get all of that later.

‹𝟹 notes: ch 4 is on my ao3, i'll be posting it to tumblr shortly! lmk what y'all think!!!!

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‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

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(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

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grimbanes · 1 year

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I'm Getting Used to You. (Kaz Brekker x gn!reader)

Summary: “You should shut your mouth, Brekker, before you say something you regret. If you drive me out of here, you’ll only be back on my doorstep in five months time. You need me more than you want me so suck it up. You’re becoming a liability, not me,” Venom. You had enough, laying it out to him. Kaz’s form stood in front of the table, an unreadable expression on his face. OR kaz and the reader have a hard conversation and you're pretty tired of his shit. PART TWO OF I WAS USING YOU. WC: 3.1k GENRE: angst, minor action, sprinklings of fluff, ooc kaz? tw: violence, blood, the usual warning for SOC. a/n: i left it open for a possible part 3. i intended for more angst but cheri cheri lady by modern talking was on replay.

You continued on your path through the streets of Ketterdam, baked goods tucked under your arm and a light skip in your step. The sun was starting to kiss the seas goodnight, laying to rest beneath her depths and the cool breath of night air was starting to introduce itself to leaning rooftops. Your shoulder had been healing nicely, still bandaged and sore at the joint, still bruised. It would scar and be a permanent reminder for yourself. Don’t fall in love with criminals. To everyone��s surprise, you and Kaz had fallen back into your usual routines with not a mention or hint of prior feelings being discussed. Business as usual.

Your shoulder had healed and your heart had frozen over and you had to learn to like it that way. You couldn’t let yourself be the kind of person to force somebody else to face your feelings for you, to pull you through your trauma instead of you learning to swim through it. You hadn’t been on a job in just over a month, Kaz’s orders. He said he hadn’t wanted to risk any liabilities in his plans and didn’t like to work around the possibility of one either. And you were glad for it. Getting shot was turning out to be one of the best things to ever happen to you.

As you approached the Crow Club, you momentarily considered just how lucky you were to have the people in your life that you did. You pushed the door open and immediately shuddered, welcoming the slightly warmer air and clicking the door behind you shut.

“Are you cold?” That voice that used to haunt your dreams and comfort your evenings called out from behind the bar, Kaz Brekker emerging with a ledger in one hand and a pen in the other. It seemed he had been taking stock, doing his usual numbers and checks. Perhaps the new liquor had been selling nicely or maybe he wanted to double check before they opened for the night.

“It’s Ketterdam. It’s always cold,” You smoothly replied, stepping further into the building and aiming for the door off to the side. You had fresh baked goods to store away, jams and creams to preserve or else they would spoil much too soon. You had workers to feed, after all, and street urchins who sometimes stopped by for some warmth and a snack before looking for a place to sleep for the night.

“Jes has gone to the Slat,” Kaz said uselessly, closer than you anticipated. You hadn’t even heard him follow you.

You glanced over your shoulder, wincing a little with the strain and met his curious gaze, those stoney irises watching you with careful consideration. That’s how the two of you were. No more breaths wasted on confessions or anguish. You didn’t even argue, not since you were shot. Instead he watched you like a crow scouting its next meal, lingering a little too long and offering you his presence. You liked it better than arguing, truly. That was draining and the last thing you needed was to be emotionally drained and injured.

You hummed in response to him, nodding once. You knew that already, Jesper had told you where he was spending his evening.

“Coffee?” You offered gently, holding up two cups.

“I have work to do.”

You didn’t fight him, nor did you react. Not like you used to. Before, you would have told him ‘work can wait for Dirtyhands to have a cup of tea’ or ‘indulge me, Mr Brekker, I know you want to’. Your routine with him was the same but the soft little moments you had together had been the price.

You ignored Kaz’s fidgeting, his lack of cane. You ignored the way he checked his timepiece, rocked on his feet and approached. You hummed to yourself as Kaz began to assist you, placing jams on shelves and creams aside - they would spoil by tomorrow, but it was treat enough. You only acknowledged it when you offered him a thankful smile, a nod and began to pour yourself your drink. You could only stare at his gloved hands as they delicately held onto the rim of a cup and settled it next to yours, his fingers lingering on it. Your head turned from the cup to Kaz, his eyes already locked onto you.

Kaz Brekker truly was a beautiful individual. High cheekbones and fresh scars, his bottom lip split from whatever fight he had recently been in. You had no doubt his knuckles beneath his gloves were scarred. He stood dressed in all black, the warm light of burning candles reflecting warmth in his conflicted irises - the way his throat bobbed and mouth twitched when he considered saying something, the tension rigid in his shoulders with the stiffness in his arm whilst holding the cup. He was an enigma and one you were deeply fond of, even if you didn’t wish to pursue anything with him further. It hurt too much.

With only you and Kaz Brekker standing in that building, you didn’t utter a word as you poured the hot liquid into his cup. You wouldn’t dare tell a soul that the Bastard of the Barrel changed his mind on something.

“Nina is also at the Slat,” Kaz spoke up, clearing his throat and stepping an inch back from you, startled by the lack of distance between the two of you - you wanted to roll your eyes.

“I know,” You replied curtly, sliding over his cup and bidding yourself exit from the makeshift kitchen.

“Then why are you here?” Kaz asked, a few uneven steps behind you but trailing you nonetheless. Kaz Brekker didn’t follow anyone.

“I work here,” You stated the obvious, sinking into a corner table beside the bar.

That seemed to be enough. Kaz stopped trailing you.

“You should quit,” He said from across the room, coffee in hand, his nose buried into his numbers and papers even though you both knew damn well he had it all memorised three times over.

You laughed, bitter and lacking all amusement. You slammed a hand down on the table, irritation bubbling deep in your skin. You never snapped. You were accepting, patient. All the things somebody like him needed when he was acting without thinking, sabotaging himself and you. This time, you weren’t putting up with it.

“You should shut your mouth, Brekker, before you say something you regret. If you drive me out of here, you’ll only be back on my doorstep in five months time. You need me more than you want me so suck it up. You’re becoming a liability, not me,” You had enough, laying it out to him. You were echoing Nina’s words back at him. Kaz had to realise what he was doing. He couldn’t not see it, right?

Kaz’s form stood in front of the table, an unreadable expression on his face. He pulled out a chair, sat down opposite you and carded his gloved fingers through his hair, disheveling his appearance further. He didn’t speak for a moment, analysing you. This is what he did, he studied and looked for weakness, one he could use against you later and force your hand when he deemed it convenient. Unfortunately for him, your only weakness happened to be him.

“I want you out of here by the time we open. You’re done with the Dregs,” Kaz decided, a small nod of his head and bitter curl of his lips.

His eyes didn’t meet yours, staring down at his twitching fingers atop the stained table. You stared at him incredulously. You laughed at him. Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, was so afraid of his own feelings that he was really willing to fire you. You shook your head, an amused smile on your face and a snort escaping, pointing at him with a waggle of your finger as if to say ‘good one’.

“And who will be there to cover Jesper when he inevitably wanders away from the door? Who will cover Wylan on jobs when he has to focus on his other businesses? Who will watch your back when you need a scout? Certainly not Inej, she’s got her own life. Nina? Not likely. You need me, Brekker. You don’t have to want me, you can fight that all you want. You’re making rash decisions based on fear, on weakness, and it’s making you a hypocrite. It’s not easy for me either so just deal with it or go away,” You explained. You knew you were being condescending but it felt so good to be the only person who could talk down to Dirtyhands.

“I don’t want you gone because of feelings for you.” Kaz said, his gaze unwavering and irritation clear in the twitch of his eye, the lazy raise of his eyebrow and the subtle, dangerous smirk wanting to pull up one side of his face, “I want you gone because I don’t want you to be hurt again.”

You couldn’t stop your own guard from slipping, your expression falling the more you stared at him. He hadn’t been firing you, he was worried about you. You licked your lips, nodded once and then shuffled in your chair. You pulled it around the table, placed it next to Kaz’s and sat yourself beside him. Where you were always supposed to be. Without touching him, you leaned into his space, close enough that when he turned his head to face you, there were only mere inches between the two of you.

“We’re both very dark people, Kaz. Despite that, you’re still my light. I understand that you’re worried, that you don’t know how to process your feelings when you’re overwhelmed but that’s okay. We don’t always have to fight. We can just be,” You said with a small, tender smile on your mouth. All of your anger began to dissipate and the tension in Kaz’s shoulder began to cease, his hands unclenching and something akin to a smile graced his pale eyes, vulnerability staring straight back at you.

“We could have this,” Kaz mumbled, his head dipped and momentarily, his forehead knocked gently against yours. It was barely a touch, enough for him to exhale shakily, his throat bobbing and he was all yours in that single moment.

“That’s right, Kaz. We could have this,” You nodded and his head was turning from you, “You just have to want it enough. You’re a man who sees value, what value is this to you?”

Kaz steeled himself, leaning back in his chair and then he was looking at you again. Conflicted. He breathed out, rolled his tongue into his cheek and accepted his fate. His arm moved from in front of him to instead drape over the back of your chair, pulling the wood closer to himself and his eyes met yours once again, his bruised face illuminated in a stunning, golden glow. The dark cloud in front of you stepped aside, revealing the sunshine that he kept hidden deep beneath his rugged surface.

“I would burn kruge to keep you warm,” Kaz chose to say.

It was a silly response, one that had you laughing into your hand, your head cast aside. He was staring again, something soft painting his renaissance features a gentle version of his previous self. There was a tilt in his head, a subtle smile on the left corner of his lips that met his eyes, steady and confident as he always was. Your fingers hugged the surface of your cup and you clinked it against his.

“That would be a lot of kruge and besides… I don’t feel so cold anymore,” You said to him, watching relief practically emanate from every pore and every little motion that belonged to Kaz Brekker.

____________________________________________________________

You ducked and weaved, jumping back and arching yourself in a way to avoid swing after swing. You kissed your brass knuckles, pulled back your arm and lunged, cracking your fist down on an already bloody cheekbone. The man fell onto the floor and you groaned, rolling a kink out of your shoulder. Your weight shifted to your heel, realigning your centre of balance and you were kicking a leg out as you turned, the nails sticking out of the bottom of your boots sticking into a chest as you sent the second assailant into the alleyway wall. You wiped your forehead, smudging blood away. You had to run. If they pulled guns, that was it for you.

Turning on your heel, you darted towards the exit of the alleyway but instead of going through the exit, you hopped up and gripped onto the edge of a tall, damp wall. One foot at a time, you climbed and swung your body over the top. You dropped into a roll to carry the momentum and began to sprint. You weaved through carts and traders, slipping past Komedie Brute disguises. It had been foolish to wander so far, you knew it, but you just needed a nice stroll in the night and the weather had been somewhat clear for Ketterdam.

There was no other explanation. Someone from the gang must have let slip the precarious nature of your relationship with Kaz Brekker. You hadn’t put a label on it but it was obvious how you felt about one another. One of their many fools must have let it slip on a gambling table or in a rival club’s bar. You had been followed and targeted. Of course you would be, anyone would love the chance to get at the one man who had single handedly dominated the game to the point where it barely seemed like a war and more like a massacre. The possibility of turncoat or traitor was dangerous, accidental or not. It had to be dealt with.

You continued to run, scaling fences and low walls and arches, your stamina draining only slowly. You kept running even on the algae slick cobbled paths, throwing yourself down alleyways. Luckily, they weren’t able to keep you. You threw yourself up the stairs to the Crow Club, bursting through the door and staggering through patron and client. You kept pushing until you were throwing open the door to Kaz’s office, slamming it behind you. He looked at you with annoyance at first but it quickly turned to confusion, then anger.

“What happened to you?” Kaz asked, his tone dry. He gestured a hand for you to sit and you did, throwing yourself into the seat opposite him. His hair was slicked back away from his strong bone structure and he looked bored, itching to go do anything else even if he loved puzzles and numbers.

“Felt like going for a little walk and got jumped. Seems one of our donnies may have said something he shouldn’t have,” You said, accepting the handkerchief Kaz extended to you between two fingers. You wiped blood away, hissing. He then opened his drawer, pulling out a flask of what could only be his usual brandy and he tossed it to you. You opened it, poured it on the cloth and began to wipe at your cuts and bruises, sterilising them.

“There’s always a risk in being associated with me,” He said but it was evident that he was unsettled. He rose from his seat, left his paperwork open and circled the desk.

The young man sat against it, his tall height towering over you and gingerly, he took the handkerchief from your clumsy hands. He’d always been dexterous, careful and exact with his skilled hands, much more elegant than you would ever be. Kaz took your chin in between his finger and thumb, tilted your head up to look at him. Bow shaped, unfairly pink lips pressed into a firm line and gentle touches brushed your fresh cuts, wiping away fresh blood. Carefully, he turned your head to the side and tutted, dabbing your temple. If it affected him, he was doing well not to show it other than heavier breathing. He didn’t stop until he was satisfied, his hands dropping to settle in front of him and he stared at you.

“No murderous intent?” You asked quietly, leaned forward. You wouldn’t push into his space. He always had to come to you first, you didn’t want to overwhelm him.

Kaz’s lips broke into a malicious grin, his teeth on show and something dangerous stared back at you in his blue hydrangea eyes, a flood beginning to rise and a cyclone daring to push onto land. “Oh darling, I am furious. Patience is a skill I have mastered and nurtured. I’m going to gut every single Dreg until my floors are stained the perfect shade of red. I’ve been meaning to redecorate.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic,” You laughed, your heart stuttering your chest.

Blood was currency in Ketterdam, worth so much more than kruge and everybody and anybody knew if there was one thing Kaz craved more than kruge, it was blood. His gloved fingers brushed hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear and he was everything in that moment. He was violent and he was malicious. He was loving and he was affectionate. More importantly, you were truly starting to believe that he was yours. He tutted, tsked and sighed, pushing away from the desk and reached for his cane where it had been propped against his desk.

“Will you be alright?” He asked, the thunderous rage crackling through his towering figure adorned in black and gold and you had never felt more loved in your entire life. Kaz was making sure you were okay before he got his own revenge. How sweet. You smiled, your cheeks flushed pink.

“Even if I wasn’t, I know you’d make sure I would be,” You teased, standing behind him and he glanced at you from over his shoulder, his brows raised.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” He rolled his eyes, turning around to face you and leaning his weight into his cane.

“Is that an offer?”

“I’ll cut out your tongue if you keep talking, love,” Kaz stepped past you, reaching for the handle of the door and then he paused, looked at you and pointed his finger as he said, “Stay here. If I see you anywhere but this office, I’ll break your legs too.”

“If you want me on my knees, just ask,” You continued, flipping through the pages on his desk.

“You’re irritating.”

“You adore me,” You were still distracting him from completing his mission but you were thoroughly enjoying the hold you had over him. Kaz shook his head, annoyed.

“I do.”

That was the last thing he said before the door was slamming behind him.

You hadn’t expected him to agree.

tags: @noctemys @osteopsycho @stxrg4zer @vyctorya

( comment if you want to be apart of future tags! )

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker #six of crows #six of crows duology #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #grishaverse

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oh-stars · 2 months

Text

All is Well

Lost

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 1,199 words | CW: lonliness | Rating: T

College sucks.

There. She said it. It sucks.

Growing up, Robin felt like college was her promise land. She could go to any school, learn anything, and have the freedom to be the person she wanted to be. She’d always struggled with the social aspect of school, finding a few good friends here and there to get her through classes but nothing that lasted. No one wanted to hang out on the weekends or sleepover – it was only ever for her birthday or super rare occasions. And when she was extra lonely or the girls at school were a little mean, her mother would always remind her that she’d find her people in college.

Well, she’s here now and everyone sucks.

That’s not exactly fair, she knows. Her roommates are decent. They clean up after themselves and every now and then, they’ll all grab breakfast together before class. It’s just clear that Robin’s the odd one out. She’s the one who isn’t clicking with the rest of them for no other reason than they just don’t work. And there are a few people from her German class last semester that she really liked, who still say hello and reach out if they have similar classes to study together.

It’s just… tough to come back to, is all.

The first semester felt impossible. She was all alone, with new people and no one that understood her on any level. She’d met a few lesbians, gone on a few dates, and it’s been incredible to connect with people in an aspect of her life that’s been so closed off for forever. Steve and Eddie may be together, they may understand, but they’re not lesbians. And even if she’s finally finding a community that understands her sexuality, she’s still stuck up here without anyone who understands her.

Fine! There’s no Steve here. Happy?

Sometimes, when she’s struggling to breathe after a nightmare, she wonders if the Russians somehow swapped out one of her lungs for his because she can never breathe without him around. It would make sense that she would need to be around her old lung, around him, to breathe the right way again. She misses him with every fiber in her being.

The first semester was hard enough, but coming back after a month of uninterrupted Steve time? Where they spent the entire winter vacation attached at the hip?

It kind of makes her want to curl up and die, if she’s honest. Just to stop the pain.

Okay, she’s being dramatic. All that time with Steve meant she had to see Eddie and she’s pretty sure she absorbed some of his dramatics over the past few weeks.

Robin checks the watch Eddie got for her, one that matches the new one he bought Steve, and sees she’s nearly late for her pre-calculus class. Shit. She doubles down on her speed walking and books it to Chapman Hall.

The lecture hall is packed with students. It’s the first day back, so she’s not exactly surprised, but she really didn’t expect an early morning Tuesday class to be completely filled. There’s nowhere to sit other than by the windows and Robin can’t sit by the windows, she gets too distracted by the birds and squirrels (people she can zone out, but animals? They demand her attention, thank you).

She kind of wants to cry. It’s just all too much all of a sudden and she doesn’t feel like the strong, capable woman she tries to be. She’s fought Russians and monsters and government agents, yet finding a seat in class is going to be her downfall.

Maybe she should just run out of here, find the nearest bus station, and head back to Hawkins. She doesn’t need a fancy piece of paper to succeed in life. She just needs Steve.

“Are you okay?” a girl asks, hugging her books close to her chest.

Robin’s standing in the middle of the entry, blocking other students from slipping in behind her. She nods to the girl and slides to the left, away from the door, before she peers back up–

“Robin!”

She’s hearing things. She has to be.

A whistle sounds off, the one that could get her attention anywhere at any time. The one that has her heart racing and tears building in her eyes because that’s the sound of her soulmate calling out to her, bringing her back to safety.

That’s Steve’s whistle.

With the rest of the class, Robin follows the noise to see Steve waving at her, a few rows up and on the edge of the aisle, safely away from any windows.

She runs up the stairs and into his arms before she can take another breath without him. “I missed you,” she says into his shoulder as she hugs him tight, her bookbag dropped in the process.

Steve squeezes her back just as tight. “Missed you too,” he says. “I don’t know how to do shit without you, Rob,” he admits softly.

Robin only pulls away when someone shuffles by them. She swipes at her eyes and only then does she realize where they are, that she’s getting ready to learn pre-cal and Steve’s just… here? And with books?

He sits down, motioning for her to sit with him.

She does, her brow furrowed as she settles in.

Steve’s smile turns both mischievous and shy in a way she rarely sees. She knows he’s trying to hide behind the surprise, that whatever the reason is, this is big for him. “I’m, uh, auditing the class,” he says as a blush rises up his neck.

“Really?” Robin asks, scooting closer. She takes in the notebook and supplies he has set up in front of him, calculator ready to go. Ah! He’s really doing this! Robin has to bite her cheek as she gets her own things set up and ready, especially with the professor walks in to set up.

“Just this one,” he continues. “But I am an official student as of today.”

“What about–”

“We got a place off campus,” Steve says, the smirk back in full swing. “Eddie’s been moving us in for the last month–”

Robin swats at his arm with the back of her hand. “Is that where your bookshelf went?”

Steve’s grin gets bigger. “It’s a two bedroom.” He lowers his head. “If you ever wanted to ditch the mean girls.”

“They’re not mean–”

“Dude, they purposefully ignored you. They’re mean girls.”

Robin rolls her eyes as she picks up her pencil. “My last class is at–”

“Four, I know. I memorized your schedule,” Steve says. “I tried to get ours to align as much as possible.”

“That’s creepy,” Robin says even though her smile is too big to hide.

“What can I say?” Steve shrugs. “I’d be lost without you.”

She gags. “Ew. Did you steal that from Eddie? It’s got his particular stench of cheesy, emotional one-liners all over it.”

Steve’s laugh is too loud, especially when she joins in. But as they calm down, taking deep breaths and avoiding eye contact to stop their giggles, Robin feels her chest expand and take in all the air she can.

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #ohstars posting challenge #stobin month 2024 #stobin

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bathomet-writes · 1 year

Text

prom (orange edition)

summary: Your date for the school dance bails on you. Who better to come in and sweep you off your feet in their stead than the party guy?

relationship: Mikey x GN!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, kissing, sfw

word count: 3,714

author's note: and here's the final part of the prom!! thank u all for reading!! part one, part two, part three (thank you @/cherryp0p224 for the request)

“Hey, where are you?”

You sigh with relief, bringing your phone up. You had been texting Tyler for practically 45 minutes. He was supposed to meet you at the gym doors, but you couldn’t find him among the crowd of people lined up. One and a time they were being ushered in by ticket-takers, and you were almost up next.

Your voice breaks a little bit as you whisper into your phone. “They’re about to let me in, and you’re not here. I can't keep going to the back of the line forever.”

“I know, okay? I just got held up—“

Then, you hear the faint sound of voices in the background. They were laughing.

To your shock, you hear Tyler start to laugh too.

“Hello?”

He holds his hand over the speaker before going back to you.

“Yeah! I’ll be there soon. Traffic’s a mess right now.”

A chorus of giggles rings out in your ear. You hang up the phone and grumble to yourself.

“Fuck…”

Well this was just great. You watch as the last couple walks forward to hand their tickets to the chaperones at the door. Reaching into your pocket, you feel the tiny slip of paper.

“Y’know what?”

You pluck your ticket out and rip it to shreds.

“That’s what I think of this stupid, dumb, fucking—!”

The edge of the ticket slices right into the side of your index finger.

“Ow…”

Why was paper so inexplicably dangerous? You were going to be a good citizen and throw the scraps into the recycling bin, but you decide to just toss them into the trash instead. Right where they and Tyler belonged.

You suck at your wound a bit, wandering back to the exit. The school was pretty quiet at the moment, most of the people having already made it into the dance. It was interesting seeing this place so empty. Suddenly, you get an idea.

If you weren’t going to go to prom, you could at least have a little bit of fun.

“I wonder if the theater’s open…”

The huge double-doors were right there, beckoning you to open them. They couldn’t possibly be unlocked, but you try anyway.

Click. The handle moves.

You smirk deviously. “Time for mischief.”

Quietly, you sneak in through the doors and make sure they shut behind you. Nobody was in the auditorium, obviously, but you weren’t about to make any more noise than you wanted to. Tiptoeing past the sea of empty chairs, you sigh.

“What shenanigans could I get into? I could…sit in every chair. I could mess with the lights, go into the pit—“

“There’s a pit? Is it a pit of spikes? Pit of snakes?”

You stop, calmly responding to the mysterious disembodied voice.

“No, more like an orchestra pit. I wish there was a pit of snakes around here.”

The voice ‘ooh’-s with understanding.

“Are you the ghost that haunts the theater?” You spin around, walking over to sit in the front row. “I thought you were just a legend the freshman liked to gossip about.”

“Wait…”

The voice quivers, but not in a spooky, ghost kind of way. More like in a fearful way.

“There’s a g-ghost?”

Craning your neck toward the ceiling, you call out to the entity. “Well, I’m the only living being here, so?”

Then, you hear a commotion in the rafters. With a loud crash, you look up to find a very alive-looking guy barreling toward you.

You both scream in surprise, your voices shrill and piercing in the silence of the theater. The acoustics were actually really nice here.

“AAAAAAH—!” He shouts, landing in the row of seats behind you.

“What the—! Are you okay?”

You quickly scramble over your row to investigate. You didn’t recognize him, but the person who just seemingly fell from the ceiling looked pretty shaken up.

“Woah.” He shakes his head, regaining his composure. “That was close.”

He stands back up and dusts himself off before meeting your worried gaze.

“Omigosh! It’s yeeeeeooo…” He trails off.

You blink, looking at him even more confused. “It’s what?”

“It’s…” He begins shaking like a leaf, his mouth curling into a sheepish smile.

Immediately, this dude seems off to you. His nervous stance and wide eyes set off your ‘stranger danger’ alarm. But, for some reason, you relax. Maybe it was the fall that made him so freaked out, or the fact that you were standing a little too close to him.

Either way, you lean in further. Staring at his face wasn’t half bad.

“You hit your head or something?” You quirk your head to the side.

“I-I, uh…”

Cutting him off, you throw yourself over the chairs to stand beside him.

“I thought I was the only one in here.”

“No, yeah. I’m just sneaking around, looking at all the empty rooms. The dance was fun for a while, but I got bored.”

He gives you a light-hearted chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

Cute.

You try to hold back your own chuckle. “I guess we had the same idea.”

“Yeah, I guess so!”

Looking away from his adorable smile, you look back up.

“Why did you fall from the ceiling by the way? Were you traveling through the vents?”

He cranes his neck up as well. “Venting?”

“Among Us?”

You blink, surprised at yourself. Where did that come from? You look back at the mysterious stranger, a small smile forming on your face.

“I’ve actually never played that game. Vents are just inherently funny now.”

He enthusiastically nods at you, walking around the chairs back into the aisle.

“I know, right? I was being kinda a sussy baka.”

He doubles over, laughing at his own stupid joke. It’s a little strange, you think to yourself, but endearing.

This dude was kind of a weirdo, but you find yourself becoming quite attached to him. You hadn’t introduced yourself yet, so you clear your throat a bit to get his attention.

“I’m Y/N.” You walk to the other end of the aisle.

“Wait, you don’t recognize me?” He blinks up at you, his eyes almost sparkling with playfulness.

“Uh…”

You do a good once over. He was wearing pretty plain-looking clothes, but he had plenty of accessories on. Earrings, wrist bands, the works. His face was cute, but unfamiliar.

“Sorry, no.” You shrug. “I’m bad with names.”

He chirps, sitting up. “Oh! Well then I am…Angelo?”

He watches your face, waiting for you to react. Surely you could tell that he was lying. Well, only half-lying.

“Pleasure to meet you!” You give him a lazy smile and help him onto his feet.

Mikey smiles back at you, a goofy excitement bubbling in his stomach. He was never particularly great at keeping secrets, but maybe your poor perception would last long enough for him to keep up the human charade.

His excitement translates into a silly smile, his tooth gap peeking through.

You chuckle dryly and release his hand. “So, the ceiling?”

Finally, Mikey tries to look a little more calm. “Oh, right. I was up on the catwalk!” He points up at the top of the A/V booth.

You almost forgot the theater even had a catwalk. Your eyes travel up to the platform that stretches across the length of the theater. It was at least 20 feet high, and you feel yourself becoming nervous just by looking at it.

“How’d you…get up there?” You gulp.

“I climbed,” he smiles. “Here, I’ll show you!”

Mikey grabs your hand and leads you over to the hallway hidden behind the lighting room. There was a small staircase that the theater crew used to get around the room, and it led right to the start of the catwalk.

As you blindly follow him, you start to become a little trepidatious.

“W-Woah, I’ve never been up here before. The catwalk goes all the way to the stage.”

“It’s really small, barely big enough to hold one person.” Mikey places his hands on his hips, surveying the platform.

“…Someone could get really hurt if they weren’t careful.”

His voice drops a register, his serious tone sending a chill up your spine.

“Well, you’ve shown it to me. I’m just gonna—“

“C’MON, LET’S GO!”

In a flash, Mikey grabs you by the hand again and confidently starts to march out onto the catwalk. Instinctively, your limbs go stiff. You were literally frozen with fear.

“I would prefer not to die on prom night, Angelo!”

Through gritted teeth, you strain against his hold. Why was he looking at you so cheerily, while you both were a story high? This guy was a madman!

“Hey, eyes on me! Eyes on me.” He coos, trying to ease your worry.

His friendly smile doesn’t waver, and he carefully lets go of your hand. Like a parent letting their child ride a bike on their own for the first time.

You put your hands to your side and stop. “How far are we?”

Mikey looks over your shoulder. “Like half-way to the end.”

The color drains from your face. You have to physically stop yourself from fainting, your legs going from stiff to lifeless in record time.

“Don’t worry, you’ve made it this far. Just a little further!”

“I can’t do it, it’s too much! This thing is ancient.” You stomp your foot against the metal platform, and you cringe when you hear the joints creak.

“Just take it one step at a time. And if you fall, I’ll catch you.”

Mikey calmly takes a couple more steps back until he reaches the end of the catwalk. There was a ladder attached to the wall, leading down to the backstage area. It was so close, and yet so far.

“How exactly are you gonna do that? Because I would be coming up with a plan if I were you…”

You slowly creep across the platform, screwing your eyes shut. Eventually you ease yourself onto your hands and knees, inching even slower. That was the only way you were going to get all the way across.

Mikey eggs you on, clapping and cheering you across the catwalk.

“That’s it! You’re doing great!”

“Shut up!” You dig your fingernails into the metal.

It seems like an eternity, but you feel your hands touch a new surface. It was still metal, but it felt a little more solid. As soon as you clear the catwalk, you launch yourself at Mikey. Wrapping your arms tightly around his midsection, you make him wheeze from the impact.

“Hooo—!”

His breath makes a high-pitched whistle sound from his tooth gap. You squeeze him even more, pushing your head into his stomach. He almost sounds like a squeaky toy.

“That was adorable.” You shudder.

“Aww!” He pats you gently on the top of your head. “You’re the one who’s being adorable.”

Your arms continue to constrict Mikey as he drags you both over to the ladder. It surprisingly held both you and Mikey’s weights with ease, and you start to wonder: how was this guy climbing down so well with you on him anyway? You look up, watching him marvel at the gel lights on the ceiling.

“Dang, how are you so—?”

“I wish I could see a real-life play, I’d bring flowers to throw up to the actors and everything.”

He ignores you, daydreaming to himself. Was he always this spacey?

Mikey drops to the floor, skipping the last rung. You hold onto him even tighter when you land.

“Hey…” He smiles down at you.

“What?”

You open your eyes and look back at his face. He was giving you the most tooth-rotting grin, a blush coloring his pinchable cheeks.

“O-Oh!” You sputter and finally let him go. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I like being held by you!”

Your head snaps away, face flushing from embarrassment. “Sure.”

Mikey chuckles teasingly at you. He’s never seen you so scared before, and you’ve never been this clingy either. Who could blame him for wanting to take advantage of the opportunity?

You sigh, rearranging your clothes a bit. “We can put on a play right now, if you want. I know where they keep all the costumes and props.”

“Wait— you serious?”

“Yeah.” You turn around.

“On GOD?”

You nod quickly, moving closer to him. “ON GOD!”

Mikey and you break into hysterics and knock your heads together. It allows you to accidentally cuddle with him again.

Not that you didn’t like being so close to Angelo, he didn’t seem like he was shy about being physically affectionate. But you can’t help but feel embarrassed. You were just still scared from being up so high and you needed someone to ground you. Yeah, that was it.

His voice rouses you from your thoughts.

“Lead the way! I wanna put on all the costumes.”

You cough, moving away from him. “Right over here…”

For the next hour or so, you two dig through the countless plastic bins of clothes in the dressing room. There were all kinds of costumes for different time periods and themes. Mikey and you cycled through them all. All the ones that would fit you anyway.

During your impromptu fashion show, you model the next outfit for Mikey. It was some kind of medieval gown, probably from a Shakespeare production. You spin around, letting the billowy dress flare out. You felt fabulous.

“Holy shi— I mean…” Mikey balks at you, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “You look amazing!”

You pick up your many skirts and curtsy to him. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m serious, you look so pretty right now! That dress really suits you. A suit really suits you too…”

Leaning back up, you meet Mikey’s bashful smile with your own. You were all of the sudden very thankful that Tyler ditched you tonight. There was nowhere you’d rather be than right here, with Angelo.

“You’re cute.” You sigh, gazing at him. “I can’t really pick a favorite outfit, but your regular sweater looks nice. It’s so…chic.”

Mikey felt like he was about to explode. He can’t help but start to giggle and kick his legs, feeling positively overwhelmed with affection.

“You better stop!” He gives you a shit-eating grin, waving a hand at you.

You’re a little taken aback, not knowing whether to stop or go on. He looked even more cute now.

“Fine.” You huff and turn around.

“No, wait. I was kidding!”

You chuckle, feeling him hug you from behind. Even though Angelo was a little shorter than you, he made up for his height with strength and coordination. His dexterous fingers curl against the top of your stomach, tracing lightly against your dress.

“Do you…actually want me to keep going?”

He immediately nods, his face pressed against your shoulder.

“Yes.”

Smiling, you get comfortable. This could be a while. Once you angle his body a little to the left, you’re ready to shower Mikey with praise.

Not before a little preface, however.

“You better keep this between us. I will literally kill you if any of this gets out.”

“Cross my heart.” He nudges you with his head, begging you to go on.

“I don’t really know you…but you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide.”

“Quit! I mean, don’t quit! You’re making me—”

You place a hand on his mouth, shushing him. “Hush! I am speaking.”

Mikey gulps, his cheeks becoming red-hot. He follows your directions and goes silent.

“Good. Now, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re very charming. Your face isn’t bad either.”

You smirk, moving your palm to caress his cheek. “Jeez, your face is soft too. Where have you been all my life?”

Out of nowhere, you hear a low purring sound come out of Mikey. You feel his voice vibrate against your hand, and he melts into you.

Woah. What is happening right now? You can’t help but smile even more at how pliant and subordinate he was being.

“I mean it, you’re a heartbreaker! And, you’re super-talented to boot. Your art is crazy good.”

You snuck a peek at his sketchbook earlier while he was changing. The pages were filled with so many fun sketches, it made you even more endeared to your new friend.

“Stooop…” Mikey smiles, his face almost pained from how bashful he felt.

You rub your hands on his cheeks, your voice dripping with sweetness. “Noooo!”

Then, something strange happens within him. Whenever Mikey felt too overwhelmed or too emotional, he would always retreat into his shell. It was a talent that he had mastered over the years, being able to do it a lot easier than his brothers.

Mikey doesn’t know what else to go but hide. Only, he doesn’t realize he doesn’t have a shell at the moment. In his haste, he just dips into his large sweater.

You chuckle as you watch him pull his head and arms into his clothes, almost too embarrassed to be in the same room as you right now.

“You remind me a lot of my friend Mikey, you know? You guys have really similar personalities.”

Mikey’s voice is muffled by the fabric of his thick sweater. “You don’t say?”

“And he actually has this exact same sweater. Probably just a coincidence.” You poke at the fabric, picking off a piece of lint.

Mikey’s brow begins to glisten with sweat. Both from the heat of his clothes and the blood filling his cheeks.

“But you wouldn’t know him. He’s this super cool crime fighter, works in the shadows. He’s very mysterious.”

Mikey starts to awkwardly waddle away from you while still hiding within this sweater. It’s a ridiculous sight, and you start to laugh.

Then, he falls over onto the carpet with a thud.

“W-Wow! Sounds like a fun guy!”

You bite the side of your mouth, stifling yourself. “He is. Don’t tell anyone, but I kinda…”

You get down on your knees and lean in close, whispering into his ear. The dress you were wearing digs into your body at the movement, the fabric straining.

“…I kinda have a crush on him.”

Suddenly, Mikey pops back out. He rips off the cloaking broach on the breast of his sweater and he transforms back into his turtle form.

He just couldn’t take it anymore! I wasn’t like he was lying to you, per se, but it felt like it. And you were being so uncharacteristically sweet with him right now, it was making his brain go all fuzzy.

“I’M RIGHT HERE! IT WAS ME THE WHOLE TIME!”

You smirk. It seems the pressure was just too much for him.

“Pfft— What? No!”

“Wait. You…you knew it was me?”

Mikey sits up and places his hands on your face, mirroring you from before. His fingers were cool against your warm cheeks, and you leaned into them.

“Not until I heard your churring. I honestly didn’t know it was you, but with hindsight, I think it was kind of obvious.”

Mikey eyes you up and down. “You serious?”

You think for a second, drawing your mouth into a fine line.

“…Yes.”

Crying out in anguish, Mikey crashes his body into yours. The impact causes you both to topple over to the ground.

“I can’t believe it! You didn’t know it was me, and then— Then you…!”

You blush, knowing he was trying to refer to your confession of love.

It was mostly a joke. You knew it was Mikey at that point, but should you tell him that?

“I’m sorry! That wasn’t how you should say something like that…to someone who’s your friend” He frowns, feeling even more bad that he hid his true identity from you.

“I mean, I could try again.”

Mikey blinks up at you, his head lying on his arm. You were lying on your stomach with your head on your hands, and you made Mikey feel exhilarated.

Without thinking, he answers.

“Yeah, you should. Just to see what happens.”

You smirk, leaning forward to push your nose against his snout.

“Maybe we should just skip past the confession and go straight to smooching.” You exhale.

Once your breath hits his face, Mikey instantly retreats back into his shell. You laugh heartily at him, holding onto the lip of his plastron.

“Y/N…” He groans, echoing within the depths of his shell.

You playfully knock your hand on his chest. “Hello? Anybody in there?”

You hear him stir a bit, but he doesn’t come out.

“Can I come in and join you? Got enough room for one more…” You try to push your head into the hole where his was.

It was a big snug but you managed to squeeze in. You feel the top of your head knock against his.

“Get out of here! I’m having a private moment!”

You chuckle and remove your head. Mikey was always really cute, but he was downright adorable when he was flustered.

“Okay, I’m leaving.” You smile.

Then, thinking that you’re far enough from his personal space, Mikey peeks his head out. His bald green head makes your heart flip.

His eyes creep over the top of his plastron. “Were you really gonna kiss me? Or was that another lie?”

You lean forward and place a tiny kiss upon his head, humming against his brow.

“I would never lie to you, Mike.”

Then, he comes fully out of his shell. Your kiss seems to have finally relaxed him enough to not want to hide anymore.

You smile and pull his head even closer to yours before planting a sweet kiss upon his lips. You were prepared to kiss Mikey for a while, your mouths fitting together almost too perfectly.

You try to roll a bit closer, pushing into his eager lips, before you hear a loud rip.

The back of your dress had torn open. You sweat, feeling an awkward breeze hit your bare back.

Mikey backs away from your face and gives you a cheeky smirk.

“Need some help with that?”

You feel his clever hands creep up your side to caress your back.

For the first time tonight, you also feel like you want to hide. Where was an empty turtle shell when you really needed one?

“Shut up.” You blush, pressing your lips back onto his.

taglist: @saspas-corner

#rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #sfw #mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #requests

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 11 months

Text

tuesday again 5/30/2023

all you can see is my hand over the back of the couch as i give a limp wrist flick of acknowledgement and point you toward the post ↓

listening

Smooth Jazz by GUPPY, a selfdescribed comedic punk band that makes secular guitar music with bedroom-pop overtones. said to myself out loud on my walk "this sounds gay" and whaddya know they are.

I’m listening to smooth jazz In the parking lot outside of Joann’s Fabrics & Crafts And I’m feeling like a dumb spazz Because my mind is moving way too fast

i have had this exact experience at multiple joanns. the last bit of the song has been on loop in my head since uhh thursday when i was catching up with my spot/ify weekly recommended list. the tired, slightly ironic last-number-in-the-musical performance is really doing it for me

Jazz, baby! That’s just jazz, baby That’s just jazz That’s just jazz, baby In my brain, baby So give me a lobotomy

reading

raymond chandler's the long goodbye.

this book destroyed me. there is some BREATHTAKING racism even for 1953. it's one of the cruelest things ive ever read. it's a sucking chest wound of a book. i'm going to think about it for the rest of my life.

i'm not able to talk about chandler novels objectively.

i am partially grieving the incredibly fucked up shit that happens to marlowe in this book (i have no fucking clue how you even go on after that, but he does) and partially grieving that this is the last full novel and there aren't any more. i know the unfinished poodle springs was finished after chandler's death but! i do not care.

watching

One-Eyed Jacks (1961, dir. Brando). widely available for free, pluto had the nicest copy but ads that weren't blockable. this is a film where the production is as much of a story as the actual film.

i don't actually know if i enjoyed this film or had a good time watching it. i don't know that i ever need to see it more than once.

it is artistically distinct, and i genuinely mean that as a compliment. it is a rare western-that-doesn’t-have-to-be-a-western, and such a weird artifact of a particular guy's career in a particular time.

surprisingly, this is a pretty okay western to watch if you happen to be a woman. katy jurado and pina pellicier are acting their GODDAMN hearts out. despite itself, the movie paints a very good portrait of a mother-daughter relationship and some goodass parenting. women make mistakes and don't die about it. nobody gets raped!!! the absolute lowest bar a western can possibly have. as a quick sidebar, it's not that i think movies should never address rape, it's that westerns always address it in a way that makes my stomach turn.

it is a slow-burning revenge that mostly takes place on a beach, but it also takes you in great uneven hurtling lurches toward its finale. it wants to have things to say about lies, revenge, and storytelling but cannot help but give itself a certain kind of ending. it can only push so far. it is fascinatingly earnest, horny, and earnest about being horny.

playing

grim fandango remastered (2015, originally 1998) by double fine. the EPIC tale of CRIME and CORRUPTION in the LAND OF THE DEAD!!! critically acclaimed, what we would now call Mexican Gothic i think, but billed itself as a Aztec-inspired noir.

technical details: i am not totally impressed by this remaster bc it still looks pretty fucking janky in parts (things clipping through other things, heavily pixelated stuff despite being on the highest quality settings, etc)

why i bounced off: i did not play video games growing up, and have not played many point-and-click games. despite this i do like walking simulators (the modern successor to point-and-click) and visual novels. i think bc i do not have the point-and-click background and am not playing this through nostalgia-tinted glasses for 1998, four years after i was born, the way the design team of this game expect the general population to solve problems and the way i personally solve problems are severely mismatched. i have spent about ten hours playing this game (in four acts) getting to about halfway through the third act, and i would say about half that time has been looking for/at guides or making up lost progress bc i didn't save. this is a tremendously frustrating way to spend free time.

what i did love: however, it does Look. i ADORE this tile and want it in my home. in a cutscene in this little automat there are not one not two not three but FOUR reflective surfaces. they're not real-time, of course, but i did say "what the FUCK" out loud. it's also hysterically fucking funny! many short sharp barks of laughter! i am greatly amused at how a game about skeletons invented permadeath! both the writing and the voice performances are so fucking top notch. i understand why this is a beloved classic and im glad a remastered edition exists in the world, but i do not anticipate finishing this game bc i don't get a lot of joy out of having to closely follow a guide to progress.

how i found this: it was free on GOG several years ago, i wanted to play something this weekend that was compatible with lying down on the couch and used a maximum of one finger for the controls.

making

i cannot show any of the extremely doxxable embroidery samples that will zhuzh up this cardigan for a work event in mid-june, but i can show how i tacked the buttonband down. this is somewhat indifferent stitch spacing but it stays down and is invisible at a distance from the right side, and that's what matters. gotta de-pill this also but that's a bit boring for a tuesdaypost

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #Bandcamp

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sulky-valkyrie · 1 year

Note

happy dadwc sulky! for Sigrun, perhaps, and characters of your choice: “ hey, come on now… you’re okay. you’re good, right? “

Happy Friday!! This is from my world state in which the HoF followed Anders to Kirkwall. for @dadrunkwriting

An unnatural shriek made Carver sit up in a panic, heart pounding. Where the void am I?

He pressed a hand to his chest and listened carefully. Had the noise been real? Or part of the awful dreams? A quick glance around showed he was in some kind of infirmary: five small cots were arranged around the room - six, actually, counting his own.

It started to come back in bits and pieces as he took measured breaths and rubbed the back of his neck. Between tunnel collapses, losing the Bodahn kid, Bartrand fucking them over, and Carver apparently catching the Blight, Varric’s expedition had been a disaster. Then, of all the most unlikely things, just as unlikely as the Witch of the Wilds saving all their asses outside Lothering, the bloody Hero of Ferelden had swooped in, dragged him off to the Wardens, and pressed something disgusting into his hand.

“Hey.”

Carver jumped, eyes bouncing as he searched for the source of the voice. It sounded familiar, but that didn’t make any sense at all.

A dwarf was sitting on the floor, obscured by a chest nearly as large as she was. She waved at him. “Feeling less Blighty?”

“I-” a deep racking cough cut him off. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, and each breath he sucked in just seemed to make it worse. He covered his mouth and doubled over, trying to be polite, not even sure why other than habit, but when he felt wetness on his palm, he pulled it away. Too-dark blood speckled his fingers, and he looked up at the dwarf in fear as the spasms finally subsided. “Am I dying?” Maker, how many times am I going to ask that?

“We all are, honey.” She frowned and pushed herself off the floor, then grabbed a waterskin. “Let me see?”

He held his hand out as she neared. She wrinkled her nose as she took it and sniffed, then dragged a bowl out from under the cot with her foot as she opened the waterskin. A quick splash was all it took to make the blood disappear, and the water in the basin wasn’t even pink when he looked down. Had it truly been so little? Carver pulled his hand away to wipe it on his trousers, realized they were filthy from weeks in the Deep Roads, then just let it fall. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

Everything. For getting sick, for needing to be dragged through the Deep Roads, for coughing up blood, for panicking. It all sounded so stupid when he made the list in his head. Like he’d had any control over any of that. “Don’t know,” he mumbled. He folded his hands in his lap and focused on his breathing. Not on his partially commuted death sentence. Not on his family struggling in Kirkwall without him.

Her fingers brushed his cheek gently, tilting his head . “Come on, now, you’re good. It’s Carver, right?”

He swallowed and nodded. “Carver Hawke." Suddenly it clicked. "And you’re the one who carried me?”

“I’m Sigrun.” She patted his shoulder. “And you’re gonna be okay. Promise.”

#da drunk writing circle #dragon age #carver hawke #sigrun #sigrun & carver #grey wardens #the joining #dragon age awakening #prompt fills

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neomel · 2 months

Text

Ehhmmm HI EVERYONE !!!! so this is very inspired by @kafus's Pokémon liveblogging n their various playthroughs and its been so fun to follow, and it gave me the inspiration to pick up a new playthrough - or TWO PLAYTHROUGHS !!!

i realized its been forever since ive actually played FireRed LeafGreen and that ive never done it w. the help of save editing to add eg. Rare Candies for grinding. but i also realized that ive never actually played the Gen 1 Pokémon games....so i decided to do both !!!!

im doing a kinda-sorta Nuzlocke too, just to try out different Pokémon and get myself to rotate between them, but I am also moreso trying to use funny stuff more than minmaxxing for strategy. Here's my Pokémon Red team for instance!!

Yes that's Marcel the traded Mr. Mimel!! I got an Abra as my first encounter and realized that using Alakazam would just be steamrolling people with a big Special number, so I boxed it for later to use Gen 1 Mr. Mime for a while. I've rotated some of these members in and out with others in the box, mostly because the movepools are so fascinatingly terrible ^^; Like - I wanted to use Nidoking because his Gen 1 sprites are absolutely incredible, and you can get him before even the second gym from Mt. Moon's Moon Stones, but........he doesn't get Double Kick unless you get Nidorino to like Level 47?? and Nidoking misses out on Thrash unless you level him up early.

Clefable has been the absolute QUEEN of the run though, like !!! i love her silly sprite in this game so so so much, and the well-rounded stats paired with Sing make them a really good Pokémon to use in pretty much any situation. its funny how the lack of many good moves means that mediocre moves like Growl or Water Gun end up feeling useful just for being options at all...I've had some fun with the mediocre TMs given out too, like giving Bide to my Ivysaur to utilize the Leech Seed draining effect as best as possible in a sort of quirky strategy. Though on the flipside I had to give up on using Mankey entirely after realizing it just gets NOTHING in terms of moves - before Yellow it literally doesn't learn any Fighting type moves by leveling up other than Seismic Toss (which doesnt count), and the only one it gets by TM is Submission which is.....nooot good :T

Anyhow - Here's a terrible img of my FRLG team! I'm out of Rock Tunnel and in Celadon in this playthrough wheras the RBY playthrough is still not through the tunnel yet :( BUT that means that I've gotten a lot more silly goobers in this run. Even though my Mankey died here before I could use it for anything funny.....i really like Primape's design so im kinda sad I've never gotten to use it lol

ANYWAY ANYWAY look at my fucking boy. look at my Fungler. look at my little man. he has 20 diseases and he sucks ass. i love him.

i played a Gen 3 fangame a while ago that gave you access to Fury Cutter as a TM and a Paras really early on, and the gears got grinding in my head to force sleep with Spore and then chain a Fury Cutter combo, and the affection for that silly strat has stuck with me and made me kind of adore Parasect by extension. look at my fucking guy he sucks so much!!! but he puts people to sleep really well and has cool bug claws. i love his terrible movepool and having to give him Secret Power to do any damage. lol .

it is funny to play these older games where the movepools sucked ass, even as deep in as Gen 3 . so you have to really stretch for ideas on how to use mons but it feels really fun when you make something sorta click? like this Doduo Rage -> Rest -> Chesto set, it doesn't get Swords Dance nor the infinitely funnier Acupressure but this is kinda just a shittier funnier version of that? also Tri Attack being physical feels like it was made just for Dodrio. i love my bird.

im still kinda miffed at how many things just sorta suck in Kanto though. like so many routes early on are just Rattata/Pidgey/Spearow/Ekans while the Safari Zone alone has like 7 Pokémon you can only find there, the distribution feels so strange. and of course the whole Game Corner garbage, i want to use Hyper Beam in Gen 1 because of how cool its Gen 1 exclusive quirks are but its a Game Corner exclusive reward >:((( im gonna have to see if i can save edit gambling coins into the game or what.

BUT im having a lot of fun !! its so silly seeing all the Gen 1 sprites ingame for the first time. the Gen 1iness of it all. not even being able to fuckin check how strong moves are or how much accuracy they have. or even sort the order of moves outside of battles. your battle items menu just opens up your entire bag. such a silly fuckin mess of a game. i love it .

(also feel free to ask about any of the nicknames i have answers for like half of them)

#mel alphabet soup #mel goes to kanto #<- the tag for these playthrus #idk if ill post frequently i kinda just wanted to show off my sillies :3 #i hope i can use Fungler to the very end i lov Parasect i love him #justice for Parasect i want him to be big and strong buff my little guy pls #pokemon #pokemon rby #pokemon frlg #pokemon gen 1 #pokemon gen 3 #pokemon games #nuzlocke #pokemon nuzlocke #game boy #gba #game boy advance #nintendo 3ds

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zerozeroren · 1 year

Note

Since you're sick, and I'm sick, I was wondering if you minded if I asked an "Attitudes"-related question. You don't need to post art or draw anything for this since I know you're taking a break, but my curiosity has been peaked: How did The Dork Quartet form? Who was friends with who first, and who was it that was like, "Hey, we should do a double date!" and the chaos just went from there?

It sucks that you're sick too :( but hey, at least we're in this together *sickly contagious high five*

As usual, you're making my day with asks like this one because i love nothing more than ranting about my silly blorbos

Anyway

It all started (like All of it, as in Attitudes in general) from Sophie joining a dance class. There she met her girls, Nana, Ume and of course Hime. First Sophie and Hime bonded over being The Tiny Ones (standing proudly at 5'0 each), and soon they hit it off and decided to hang out outside of class. Problem was, Hime was already engaged by that point, and Kanta, her husband to be, was still intensely protective of Hime after her injury. He generally has some control freak tendencies. So... He started to tag along. Not knowing Sophie, he acted standoffish and aloof, just kind of being there with a doberman frown and actively souring the mood. That's when Sophie, who was quite uncomfortable with the arrangement, started to bring Tony to their little hangouts. Tony, just like Sophie, just like Hime, just like Kanta for that matter, didn't have any friends, so he gladly joined the group, and that's when the magic happened. Before it was overthiker+cinnamon roll+overthiker, and Hime's ease wasn't enough to balance out both Kanta's suspiciousness and Sophie's defensiveness. But with Tony, a second cinnamon roll, it all just clicked, and the group obtained balance. The four of them started to hang out more, really get to know each other, open up and build a genuine relationship. Kanta finally loosened up as he built trust with them, him and Sophie reconciled (silently, just like they've been against one another's company silently), Hime got someone with a similar temperament, Tony got an older wiser friend, etc. It just worked. Those weren't double dates exactly, because Tony and Sophie weren't together yet. But it was Hime and Kanta who first noticed their chemistry and started to root for them to get together (Hime out of love for romance, and Kanta out of a "oh just fuck already"). And then slowly it did become a Double Date Supreme where everyone is just so loving and comfortable with one another that one wouldn't be blamed for not understanding at first glance just who's with who because everyone just go with every other one so well (or are simply poly).

#attitudes #sophietony #hianta #oc lore #the dork quartet

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interlagosed · 2 years

Text

NOTE: Explicit reference to drug use.

"Ay, mierda! Por dios!"

Lando lazily glanced over at Carlos, who had just slammed his too-big book shut. His face was red even though they'd been sitting directly in front of their AC for the better part of an hour. Lando had long since taken to lying down on the cool, tiled floor; the very thought of carpet, like the kind that furnished most of his family's house in Anglosax, made him want to shrivel up and die.

And Jesus, was it bloody hot.

"Did your brain melt too?" Lando asked Carlos.

Carlos groaned and laid down beside Lando. Lando'd stripped down to his underpants, but Carlos was, for some reason, trying to be a hero. He was in shorts though otherwise shirtless (yum). For a moment, Carlos' shorts touched Lando's thigh, and Lando hissed with displeasure.

"Brain, eyes, ears, tongue," Carlos listed off, his voice uncharacteristically agitated.

"Some Navari you are."

Carlos clicked his tongue and rolled onto his stomach to glare at Lando. "Unprecedented heat wave, they said, eh? That means never before. So how do you expect me to be good at never-before heat?"

"Aw, are you grumpy?" Lando said, reaching over to pinch Carlos' cheek. Carlos yelped and swatted Lando's hand away. "Are you a grumpy-wumpy because it's so hottie-wottie?"

"Hottie-wottie?"

"Technical term."

"Of course. And yes, I am grumpy because I have to start working on my syllabus and-"

"And you can't do successfully that if you haven't read all the new books that have come out in the last year," Lando finished for Carlos. He really did look very pretty, as warm as Carlos was. Part of his hair was plastered to his forehead, the rest tufted up as a result of tousling from the AC. Lando reached forward and Carlos instinctively flinched away, but Lando persisted; he swept Carlos' hair back from his forehead, and Carlos sighed with relief. He really needed a haircut. But Lando wasn't about to tell his husband that. "I know."

"Exactly," Carlos said, closing his eyes. He was already stressed, and the heat wasn't helping. He was taking over for his father's famous Law and Political Economy of Hiberia course, the same one that Lando had taken his first year. Of course he was stressed. Not only was he taking over for angel guardian, President Carlos Sainz Cenamor, but he was taking over, more importantly, for his dad.

If the reviews weren't great, he'd never hear the end of it. But hey, at least he wasn't teaching the constitutional law class. Considering Lando's father-in-law had literally written the Hiberian constitution.

Thank God Lando's dad just did. Well. Whatever he did.

Normally, Lando would try to take the edge off of Carlos' stress with sex, but the idea of any part of his body touching Carlos' for long periods of time, let alone during any exertion-based activity, was- again, enough to make him want to shrivel up and die. But he had another idea.

"Baby," Lando said, "I'm going to make us some sundaes. Want to split a joint?"

Carlos looked over at Lando with an eyebrow raised. Lando shrugged and kissed Carlos' bare shoulder lightly, nuzzling at a particularly hairy patch on his upper arm. He was quite fond of Carlos' bear bits, even if Carlos didn't always enjoy the moniker.

"You're stressed. It's hot. Ice cream is good. Brain's not working anyway. Might as well double down, yeah?"

"I will not open a window for this," Carlos said, but he didn't sound dismissive of the idea.

"So we hot-box ourselves. Even better."

Carlos laughed and shrugged. "That does sound nice. Okay. I will roll. You get ice cream."

"Deal," Lando said, and made to get up with a loud, preemptive groan. But then Carlos gently took his arm and kept him where he was for a moment. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Lando's, soft, long, wonderful. Lando made a happy noise, deepening the kiss just slightly. He sucked on Carlos' lower lip, plush and lovely between his teeth, and Carlos ran his nails lightly down Lando's arm, making him shiver. When they pulled away from the kiss, Lando almost reconsidered his previous disdain for sticky sex.

Almost.

"I love you," Carlos said, like it was something he'd never said before. Like they hadn't been exchanging I-love-yous for nearly three years now. Like they hadn't been married for most of that. Like Lando wouldn't say it back every single time.

So Lando cupped Carlos' cheek, kissed him again, just as soft and long, and said, "I love you too. Now help me help you get fucked up."

Carlos laughed and released Lando. As Lando got up to go to the kitchen, he found he couldn't stop smiling. An unprecedented heat wave didn't seem quite so insurmountable anymore.

#¡revolución!#hibi writes #carlando #carlando ficlet #tw drugs

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prxblemcyld · 2 years

Text

"I'll follow you 'till the end."

In this dark Alternative Universe, Tomie is part of the Shadows, a criminal organization that can be identified as one of the many groups of Ability users not recognized by the Government and therefore hidden. Sicars, spies, thieves, Shadows accept any kind of work. In order to stipulate a Contract, the Shadow must be linked to a Body to which it will remain linked until the end of the contract or until the client dies. In that time the Shadow is completely at the mercy of the orders imposed by the Body, without the possibility of opposing. Although each member has his own Ability -even if the organization accepts even people without particular powers like Tomie- the moment you join the Shadows you get hold of the ability to join the Body and serve it until death separates you, this thanks to the Special Ability of the boss.

In Beast, Tomie is the Shadow of Dazai and follows his orders without ever arguing; her job is to protect him to the end, yet when it comes, she joins him by committing a double suicide like their real-life namesakes.

I didn't think I'd be able to post this so soon but here we go! If you remember the first version of Beast!Tomie no you don't :)Exept for the hat and the plot I changed — read: I had to change — her whole apparence like in the Canon universe and I must say I'm pretty satisfied — for now. At first I wanted to shorten her hair too but I gave up ✌🏻😔

As usual reshares are highly appreciated (♥︎) as the questions, if you have any!

[Click on the pic for (hopefully) better quality lol drawing on the phone sucks]

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thevioletcaptain · 2 years

Note

🌹❤️

I'd actually forgotten about this WIP until I searched the word "heart" and scrolled until I saw something I didn't immediately recognize, and now I'm slamming my hands against my computer like dammit past!me, where is the rest?!!

This is from a ficlet called Molecules, in which Dean happens upon a sensory transfer spell allows the subject to experience someone else's senses for a brief time. It doesn't quite work as planned, but nobody is complaining :D

“Alright, so...” Dean ushers him into the kitchen, flicking on the overhead lights before he gestures toward the table. “Take a seat. I won't be long.” "You're really not going to tell me what it is?" "I did tell you," Dean grins, and shoots him a deeply irritating wink before ducking back out of the room and calling back. "It's a surprise! No peeking!" Frowning, Cas sits at the table. Dusts off the grains of salt that have been spilled there and wonders what on earth Dean could possibly be planning. If it's a practical joke of some kind, like the constantly escalating prank wars he's seen the brothers get into several times over the years he's known them. Of course, it's also possible that it's a gift like the tape he still carries with him. Though that hadn't been labelled as one until many months after he'd received it. It had been shoved into his hands as he was on his way out of the bunker with a gruff, "For the road," and a complete lack of eye-contact. He’s been waiting a couple of minutes, trying and failing to guess at what Dean is up to, when he feels a wave of benevolent magic shimmer across his skin and sink into him. It tingles and hums for a moment, a heady, pleasant quiver, before fading to leave something else behind. An echo of a feeling. Nervous excitement. Anticipation. Hope. All are abruptly overshadowed by a surge of contentment and chest-aching love so overwhelmingly strong that he can’t help but suck in a startled breath and grip the edge of the table. When he looks up, he finds Dean in the doorway. Concern, then. A rush of it, shading the edges of that love but not overpowering it. “Cas? Are you okay?” “I feel... I feel strange,” he admits, and looks more closely at Dean. A barely visible thread of light is running from the center of his chest, and Cas follows it with his eyes until he sees it disappearing into his own. "Dean, what did you do?" "You kept mentioning how much you missed being able to taste food and stuff, and I... Well, I found this spell." Reaching out, Dean touches the gray brick wall to his side, and Cas feels the rough surface scrape against his own fingertips. “I had some help modifying it to exclude vision and sound, 'cause I figured that would get confusing fast. But my sense of taste, touch, and smell? All yours for the next couple of hours.” “Taste, touch, and smell?” Castiel echoes, and Dean grins at him. Castiel feels the love again, heart-thumping hard, but this time it’s his own. “Are you certain it worked?” “Why, you seeing double? Hearing echoes?” Concern washes over him again, and he shakes his head. “No,” he says carefully. Dean beams. “Awesome,” he says. Castiel smiles back, and he feels another surge of love. Love. Love. Happiness so strong he thinks he might cry if he thinks about it too hard. “So,” Dean goes on after a moment, stepping down into the kitchen and heading toward the fridge. “What do you want to try first? I can't promise five stars, but I'm a pretty decent cook these days.” “Could we... do you think we could go out somewhere for coffee?” "Really?" Dean asks, and clicks his tongue. In his chest, his heart flutters. Castiel feels it. He feels it. "That's it?" Castiel glances down at Dean's mouth before meeting his eyes again. "Yes," he says with a smile that comes more easily than any that have come before. "For now."

[for this ask meme | other responses here]

#shadefalls #cass writes things #cass writes fic #imogenbynight #askbox game 🌹 edition #reading through this one i got to the part where i previously got stuck #(namely the sensory feedback loop when they finally kiss)#and figured out what was causing the problem #so here's hoping that'll make it easier to finish #because this is!!!!#very fluffy!!!#and i wish to complete it #also please feel free to rb/reply/comment in tags etc if you like the things #i desperately need the serotonin because i'm having a personally stressful week on top of all the societally horrific shit

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