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#amy writes
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Roommate!Simon who finds you fast asleep on the couch when he comes home after a mission. He gently enters your shared apartment, momentarily freezing when he hears the faint buzz of the TV and occasional small sighs.
Roommate!Simon who can't stop a smile from spreading on his face when he sees the inhumane position you fell asleep in, one leg thrown over the couch, the other partially covered by a blanket and your head hanging down in a position that's guaranteed to give you neck pains for the days to come.
Roommate!Simon who takes off his mask, gloves and tactical gear before gently lifting you in his arms and cradling your sleeping form to his chest, relishing in the rhythmic sound of your heartbeats.
Roommate!Simon whose heart skips a beat when you cuddle up into his chest, murmuring a sleepy welcome with your eyes still closed.
Roommate!Simon who eventually has to place you in your bed and tuck you in, a tender expression on his face as he watches you drift off to sleep in an instant.
part two part three part four masterlist
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harcove · 6 months
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I've had fic idea for Astarion x Tav/reader where it's just- non Ascended Astarion but he wonders what would it have been like if he had Ascended- and somehow he's thrown into that version of events; he's Ascended, he gets to see it and feel what it's like. He likes it at first- seeing that strength, but then he sees it: sees Tav, unrecognizeable- dead red eyes, empty. Not his Tav. He sees himself and sees Cazador; it twists in his gut and scares him. He wants to go back. Take him back to his reality, anything but this.
And it'd be chaptered lmao- if anyone is interested I might try to actually write it out and post it on AO3
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thatone-brightstar · 5 months
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Kinktober winner: "Jealousy and other fire hazards" (Carmy Berzatto x fem!reader)
a/n: so this was supposed to be out yesterday but i went out on saturday and i think i caught a cold or something bc i feel like absolute shit. non the less, here is our kinktober winner!!! also can you tell i mashed up two of my favorite blurbs!? enjoy and remember reblogs and comments are the way to show appreciation for your favorite creators 🖤
ps. Happy Halloween!!
Warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, unprotected piv sex, hair pulling, rough, choking, creampie, probably other stuff too but i forgot lol
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Your heels clicked lightly as you stumbled into the apartment, angrily flinging your keys at the hallway table and not bothering to see if they even made it, before blindly moving into the kitchen. 
“I don’t get- shit-” You groan, stumbling right into the kitchen counter. “-what the fuckin’ deal is, Carmen.”
He follows behind you in the same pissy mood, the tension prevalent in the strained tendon that runs down the side of his neck. Carmen rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, leaning against the counter and watching you pull ingredient after ingredient from the dimly lit fridge. His anger subsides for a few subtle seconds when his eyes roam the silhouette of the tiny black dress you considered your ‘witch’s costume’ and the one that had him by the balls all fucking night.
You slam the fridge door hard enough to pull him from his thoughts and he clears his throat. “The fuckin’ deal is that you were letting some jagoff sweet talk you-” Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “- what, I leave you alone for five minutes and you already got a bunch of idiots behind you?!”
“First off, it was one idiot.” You argue back, struggling to light the stove between your blurry vision. “And second, why are you acting like it’s my fault!? I didn’t start the conversation!”
“Yeah, but you seemed pretty comfortable with the attention… fuckin’ gigglin’ n’ shit.” His accent grows stronger when he’s pissed and you try to avoid the feeling seeing him angry rises on your skin. 
Instead you scoff in a mocking tone, one that turns excited once the flame finally burns bright in front of you. “Aw what, you jealous?” you throw over your shoulder, ignoring the tightness of his jaw, illuminated by the tiny lightbulb from the stove.  
He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you assume that maybe he’s let it go and has moved into the bedroom. ‘What a shame,’ the voice in your head taunts as you pop a spoonful of peanut butter into your mouth while you wait for the cheese to melt on your quesadilla. ‘it would’ve been fun.’
You feel it before turning around, the heavy warmth exuding from another body close to your back. The pointed hat over your head blocks your vision past your shoulders but you can still feel him linger behind you. With light fingers, Carmy runs his hand softly up the sheer glove on your forearm until it reaches the curve of your shoulder. oh.
“Jealous?” He whispers, making the exposed skin shiver. “I don’t need to be jealous…”
You’re about to turn around- hooded eyes glossy with the alcohol in your system and the sweet anticipation of what could happen next- but before you can move, his hands take a hold of your hips and press your back against his hard chest.
“Should I be jealous?”His tone is taunting, breathy enough that he sees the bumps on your skin start to rise even in the low light. He pushes your hair over to your other shoulder, being careful with the hat that blocks half the view of your face. All he can see is your parted lips and the sweet little heaves that show just how much his touch affects you. “Hmm?”
“No…” You answer immediately, bewitched by the rhythmic touch of his hand on your torso. Each time it almost reaches your breasts, he pulls it back down again, then up when he hits the edge of your hip bone. 
You don’t notice how your head’s fallen back over his shoulder or how your hands rest over his wandering ones, urging them to touch your body further, the simple touch of his hands makes you lightheaded but it’s not enough to drown out the ache between your thighs.
“Carmy…”
Your sweet moan vibrates over his chest, his hands twitch slightly and the sound seems to push them down to where you want him most. His chest separates just enough to let you turn between his hold and not a second goes by before you fling your arms around his shoulders and seal your lips to his.
A hungry groan escapes his mouth. With one hand gripping the nape of your neck, he turns you in your spot, making your heels squeak over the floor and the witch hat fly to a different part in the room.
“Fuck-” You let out in surprise when his hands grip tightly on your waist and hoist you up in a rush, it’s as if he can’t get close to you quick enough.
While his lips latch on to your neck again, your hands work on the many buttons of his shirt. He’s too impatient for that, though, and rather than waiting a few seconds, he lifts it over his head, undershirt and all. You have no time to admire his swelling chest before his lips are back on yours and his hands prying your thighs apart to make space for him. Your dress rolls around your hips, but you’re too turned on to care.
“Fuckin’ idiot…” He breathes out between kisses. “...bet he wanted to have you like this.”
His lips drag onto your neck while his hand starts to play insistent circles over your panties and fishnets. Your nails dig into his exposed shoulders, helping your hips grind against his touch.
“D’you think he’d have you like this? Fuckin’ squirming on his hand?” You shake your head more out of habit than attention, thoughts too clouded with the feeling of his hard cock pressing to the inside of your thigh.
“Baby, please…” You moan again, closer to his ear and you can almost swear his groan unearthed something deep in you.
“Whose is it?” Carmy sneers, eyes so dark that any trace of blue is long gone. His thumb presses deeper into you and a shockwave travels up your spine and into your scalp. “C’mon baby… tell me it’s mine and I'll give you what you want.”
Your mouth feels dry from all the heavy breaths you’re taking but you gasp out a short answer. “All yours.”
“Yeah?” He asks, thumb speeding up circles over your soaked underwear while the other hand undoes his belt frantically.
“All yours, Bear, please jus’... fuck.” 
You’re about to protest when he pulls back his thumb and there’s nothing to dull out the throbbing ache anymore, but a dry sound, almost like a whip, echoes in the silent room. You only have time to look down at the torn up mess your tights have become before your eyes roll back into your skull at the tight sensation of his head resting at your entrance. 
Carmy slips in just perfect and lets his head fall over your shoulder, watching your cunt swallow him slowly, inch by inch. He’s mesmerized by the sensation of your joined bodies that he almost doesn't notice your protesting groans and the way you wiggle your hips to make him move quicker.
He lets out a soft chuckle and kisses your naked shoulder, where one of the straps of your dress has cascaded to the side; then with a firm hand over your clavicle, he pushes your back flat against the cold surface. Your eyes are hooded and bright, filled with mischief and anticipation that soon turns to excitement once you feel him pull out slowly.
A sudden gasp leaves your throat with the first snap of his hips, then another and another and it only seems to motivate him more. His thrusts are quick and exact over the spot he knows makes you squirm.
"Fuckin' idiot thinks he can take what's mine..." His hands take a hold of your ankles, spreading one heeled foot by each side of his head as he continues to mumble for himself. "Baby, all your moans're mine."
A chorus of 'yours' is all that your mouth can muster between the heavy breaths and constant gasp.
Your nails cling to the edge of the slippery counter, breathing in short bursts, interrupted by the weight of your thighs that pressed to your chest. Carmy’s panting fuels the growing fire in your cunt and you can't pull away from the fierce look behind his eyes.
The memory of your sweet laugh at that son of a bitch’s joke pushes his thrusts harder into you, making your breast bounce against your shaking legs. 
‘Not so funny now, huh?’ He sneers between breaths, eyes glistening as he leans down to run his tongue along your salty skin.
The extra weight of his torso pressing to your navel blurs your vision even more and you know it's only a matter of seconds before you're coming all around him. Your nails rake his scalp, catching on his hair and holding on tightly as your eyes water with need.
Carmy answers back by hoisting your leg up even higher, cock pounding inside at a new angle that makes you lose your breath, spine curling off the counter and against his sweaty chest. ‘Atta girl-’ He groans near your ear. ‘-you can take it.’ 
His words push you over the edge. Your orgasm rings through your ears and you're sure the high pitched moan leaving your throat will get you a few dirty looks from your neighbors in the morning, but you can't care less. From your haze, you feel Carmy give his all into a few more thrusts, before he goes rigid over you and a low groan shakes his body, making your cunt flutter around him.
He pulls out of you with a hiss, but his attention is captured by the milky white liquid slipping through your sensitive slit. You hiss too when his thumb graces over the area, pushing back in his release. There's a taunting grin over his face as he does it too and you can't help but mirror it over your own tired features.
That's when you notice it, the bright ember glow casting and dancing behind him, almost like flames...
"Shit!" You shout and quickly jump off the counter, turning him by the shoulder so he can see the stove and the pan over the open flame that's caught on fire.
"Fuck!" Carmy reacts quickly, pulling a fire extinguisher from under the sink and rapidly dousing the stove in the white foam.
You're both silent for a few seconds- contemplating the soot that's taken over the stove hood and part of the back wall- then your snicker breaks the silence and you're both falling into an euphoric fit of laughter that doesn't feel foreign to situation either.
**********
Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78
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lovehugsandcandy · 4 months
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so this post has apparently driven me mad
Aerin drabble number 5 (I think?); maybe a swear?
Aerin is six when Baldur first breaks his fingers.
The memory is mere haze, being so young; he had reached out to touch something, just some scepter lying forgotten behind a chair. Even in the dim light, it sparkled, but just as his fingertips grazed a twinkling blue jewel, there was the scraping of chair against stone, a growl, and then a snap as Baldur's boot stomped three fingers against the floor.
"Ow!" Aerin immediately pulled his hand away as fire throbbed up his arm. "What did you-”
Baldur knelt to snatch the scepter away, scowling into Aerin’s face. "This is mine."
"But I just wanted to-
"I don't care. Don't touch."
He cowered, watching Baldur's back as he stormed away, cradling his hand. After three days, the swelling could no longer be ignored, so he was finally sent to the healer.
He doesn't remember much of the recovery, only bones grinding back into place, but the one memory fixed in his mind is the glare, the utter hatred written on his brother's face.
It's the first lesson. But not the last. 
There's the amulet from a visiting dignitary.
A wooden practice sword that somehow caught his brother's eye.
His own crown, when he had the audacity to reach for it before Baldur could grab his own. 
The armrest of his father's throne.
An intricate robe.
The doorknob to his own godforsaken chambers on an unfortunate night when Baldur's temper boiled over and gifted him with two black eyes. He hid in the Archive for days, sleeping amid the suits of armor, and only emerged when Baldur and the King were called away on a royal engagement.
And so he learns. 
Do not touch. 
Do not want. 
Nothing is for him.
He remembers it, for years, after the darkness seeps into his mind, as he travels the realm on underhanded missions.
Even then, do not touch Baldur's arrows.
But one day, on one trip to the Deadwood, he finds something that he cannot help but reach for.
Raine is everything he dreamed he could be, once upon a time. Her unbridled faith in her mission, the trust she has earned from her companions. 
She’s resplendent but by the lakeside, her glow is ethereal and he can't stop from moving, reaching out for her hand with an impetuousness that would have his younger self beaten.
But he can’t help himself.
When he has been given nothing, he will take this for as long as it lasts; every single brush of skin inflames, and he only wants more - one more brush of her hand on his arm, one more clasp of his fingers around hers.
That he wants to touch her is unsurprising.
That she wants to touch him is shattering.
And when he departs, leaving forlornly to return home, he realizes that this is something that even Baldur cannot take from him.
No.
Any future of her hands, clasped in his? His fingertips gracing her skin? Their fingers rapturously intertwined?
He’s ruined that on his own.
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amethyst-noir · 3 months
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Over the last few months, and with gigatons of help from @inthegreyspaces, I managed to write my longest story so far for the @subjiminibang!
I'm happy (and a bit proud) to post it today, along with some absolutely gorgeous art (embedded in chapter 1, with permission of my amazing artist, Niq).
There is a lot going on in there! Blindfolds! Sex Toys! Endless amounts of trust and intimacy! All the love and tenderness I could cram in there! But in the end it all boils down to the one line I choose for the summary:
Pleasing Wei Ying was his purpose for tonight and the one thing he desired most.
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Sacrifice
T | Oneshot | 1.6k | RickyEsther Missing Scene
Esther doesn’t realize the devastated wail that ricochets through the stormbound extradimensional space is coming from her until Kingston’s warm arms link beneath hers as her knees buckle. “No,” she sobs. “No, Ricky!” (Or: During the fight with the American Dream, Ricky dies. Esther watches.)
Read on AO3
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dark-magical-ships · 2 months
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Work having the wifi down is friggin killing me man. I wanna redo my pinned/make a promo post but I CAN’T because the net is completely nonfunctional and has been for WEEKS and I’m just rrrrrr
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I want to stay home...
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amy-sanscale · 11 months
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The sad thing is, only love remains. The love of frienship gets a snail. How beautiful, a snail... That is a cherished being, in its time of life. But what is a snail next to a dinosaur: full of powerful bones, the tiny arms that craved embrace and the pointy teeth that chased after it. What is the memory of friendship next to a fossil of love.
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Roommate!Simon who only finds out you're sleeping with a stuffed toy, months after living together. It all begins when the plushie ends up mixed with his laundry and he finds the toy discarded on the bed
Roommate!Simon who has to do a double take because he hasn't owned a stuffed toy since he was 7 and what was one doing in his bed?
Roommate!Simon who then finds you out in the living room, a distressed look on your face as you seem to be searching for something
"I take it this is yours?", he asks as he holds the plushie between the very tip of his fingers because God forbid he is seen in the proximity of something such as childish as a toy
"Oh my God, Mr. Huggles!"
Roommate!Simon who can't help but blush when you snatch the toy from his hands and proceed to cuddle it in plain sight, squishing your cheek against the soft plush
It's been years since somebody held him that way
Roommate!Simon who comes home after a mission and finds you fast asleep on the couch, a blanket draped over your body as Mr. Huggles is squished between your arms and chest.
Roommate!Simon who becomes touch-starved and needy for the kind of affection you show to Mr. Huggles
Roommate!Simon who offers to do the laundry so that he could get his hands on Mr. Huggles. The feeling of the soft plush is foreign against his calloused hands and he takes a breath in, your scent still lingering
Roommate!Simon who buys you a Casper stuffed plush instead, having no regrets about lying about the plushie that now rests in his travel bag.
part one part three part four masterlist
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harcove · 2 years
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(Ear)ring - B.H.
a/n: not a request this time, whew, but I hope everyone likes this all the same! I actually really liked writing this one and do not immediately hate it lmao, this idea just came to me a few nights ago lmao
length: 2.5k
warnings: none? fluff? ig ooc billy but like is it really ooc if this how i write him lmao
pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader
summary: you want something to wear that's billy's, but all of his rings are too big for you, so there's always something else.
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If it were anyone else in his room, looking through his things and touching them, Billy might've snapped. He might've been a bit more cagey, paid a bit more attention. But it was you, and as far as he was concerned there wasn't a thing in his room he needed to hide from you. The worst thing you'd find was a stupid magazine, but he already had a porn star poster on his wall. Had since long before the two of you started dating. At this point, it filled empty space on his walls.
Besides, you were part of him at this point. Billy had no qualms with you being in his space, touching his things. You knew what he didn't like you doing and vice versa at this point.
So, while you look through his tapes, he lays on his bed leaning against the backboard, a book opened in one hand while the other rests behind his head. His stereo playing one of the tapes he had made in collaboration with you. The music taste between the two of you had been on two sides of a spectrum but sharing them with one another was the only time Billy enjoyed your music taste. If anyone else tried to make him listen to it, he'd hate it.
When the final song finished, you pulled the tape out and put another one inside, this time the music was definitely a mix he had made only for himself, yet you still smiled while it played.
Seemingly bored of your rummaging through his various tapes of music, you pulled yourself off the floor, making an exaggerated sound like you were an older person getting out of bed. You had a little hop to your step when you stood straight and made a beeline for his dresser, covered in various trinkets.
"The fuck was that?" Billy questions the noise you made, looking away from the book Hard Times and looking to you, "sounded like an old ass man."
You shrug, "just practicing for when I'm an old lady."
"Keep practicing," he rolls his eyes and turns back to his book.
He doesn't see it, but he knows you're sticking your tongue out at him like a child.
On his dresser are a variety of things. A shirt he haphazardly threw on top rather than putting it away or in the laundry bin, a few different hair products that he liked to use, chapstick that you left at his house so if you forgot your other one you could use this one when you were there (he also used it too now), a few tapes he hadn't put away, a random book, and a little dish with different rings inside.
The dish was what beckoned your attention as you began to look through it.
Billy had a lot of rings. All of them were rather thick, made of silver or something else of the same colour. Some had designs on them, but most were rather plain to look at. He didn't wear them all at once, but somedays he'd wear a few on his hands. Sometimes he'd switch one out for another. But the one ring he never took off was one that had belonged to his mother. It was on his hand always.
Plucking a simpler ring from the dish, one that also looked a bit smaller than the others, you put it on your index finger. Too big. You tried your ring finger. Nope, way too big. Your thumb. Still no. It felt weird, definitely not meant for that finger.
Going through a few more, it gave you the same results. Rings too big for your smaller hands; it truly put into perspective just how much bigger Billy was than you in almost every aspect there was. Taller than you, buffer than you, bigger hands, feet.
You sighed dramatically, "you have huge hands you know?"
Billy looks up from his book again, this time looking at you almost as if you'd grown another head. To others, he likely would have come across as annoyed, but you knew how to read his face better than others.
And suddenly it's turning from mild confusion to a smirk on his lips, a glint in his eyes. You'd given him a perfect opening you realize, preparing yourself for whatever his brain had prepared for you.
"There are a lot of things about me that are big sweetheart," he almost purrs when he speaks. He sounds confident, snarky, and amused. If you weren't across the room you'd have playfully hit his shoulder gently.
But as it was, the best you could give him was a pointed look and a few words.
"Sure," you respond with an eye roll, "sometimes you are so..."
You look for a word that expresses itself properly but find yourself coming up empty; Billy however is quick on the draw- he always is.
"Sexy, the best fuck-" He offers words without much thought, only looking into your eyes- blue ones piercing through you as he smirks. He knows what he's doing. He always does.
"Annoying," you quickly cut off his words, huffing as your ears heat up, "I was thinking of the word annoying."
"That's not what you said the other night in your room."
"Oh my God, Billy."
"Yeah, that's more like what you were saying."
This time you don't even bother to offer him a response, too flustered to even try. You know it will be thrown back at you as you inevitably give him more ammunition to tease.
Instead, you puff your cheeks out akin to a child and turn your back to him once more busying yourself with the dish of rings in front of you on the dresser. Picking some of them up and looking at them in your hands but not really noticing them anymore.
Billy watches you fully now, dog-earing the page of his book he's stopped on instead of using a bookmark (he'd lose that shit so fast, and really, this is much faster and easier to do) and throws his book to the side on his bed. Stretching his muscles out a bit, he moves to stand to his full height, putting his arms up to stretch and then letting them fall.
Either you're ignoring him and what he's doing, or you're really enraptured with the rings in the dish. Billy is fairly sure it's the former.
It doesn't stop him from slithering his way up behind you and resting his heavy hands on your waist, digging his fingers into your sides roughly, but not enough to actually hurt you.
It elicits a small noise from your lips, one that emboldens the dirty blonde behind you as he pulls his body fully against your back, capturing you in his firm grasp.
His head dips to rest his chin on your shoulder and so he can peer into your face and gauge your emotions. Get your attention. But you're stubborn, and even though he can physically feel the way your body melts a smidge into his own, enjoying his presence and touch.
Your body always gave you away.
Your eyes stayed trained on the ring in your hand however and Billy watched the way you played with it.
"You want one?" He asks you, waiting. If he could pull you closer into his body he would.
You don't answer, trying your hardest to keep up the act of silence against him for teasing you. You aren't that mad in reality, it's just the principle of the thing you started.
And part of you enjoys the moves he makes to coax you to speak.
"You can take one," he continues, taking the ring out of your hand behind you and taking one of your smaller hands into his, slipping the ring onto one of your fingers where it sits loosely, not fitting whatsoever, "small ass fuckin' hands."
There's something about how he puts the silly little (it is not little and it's probably silver plated or platinum) ring onto your finger that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
It's the imagery of him doing so that makes you feel a spark. Makes you feel something deep in the pit of your stomach, something telling you that one day you hope he does this again, but for a different reason and with a ring that fits.
But that wasn't important right now. You were still young.
"Yeah, like I said... You have big hands," you finally speak, clearing your throat nervously, "It's too bad. Wearing something that's yours would be nice."
"You wear my shit all the time. Isn't that my shirt?"
It was, in fact, his shirt.
"That's not what I mean, I mean something like this. That I don't have to take off... It's like... Having a piece of you with me, all the time. No matter how far we are from one another or whatever happens to either of us, it's like a piece of you is with me always."
It was so cliché. And Billy's continued silence after you spoke only made you cringe at yourself. Albeit the words were true, and you meant them from the bottom of your heart, you also recognized how silly and corny it sounded. Billy wasn't corny, he wasn't mushy and soft like that. He had to be rolling his eyes you just couldn't see.
"Okay, go ahead and laugh."
But rather, Billy was just staring. Not rolling his eyes, making any jokes. You couldn't see this because he was still behind you, your back pressed against his front. But he wasn't preparing himself to laugh or make fun.
If you were anyone else, maybe he would have. If he heard someone else say something like that to someone he would've rolled his eyes and thought it was the corniest shit ever. But this wasn't the case.
It was you. And it made his chest tighten. The implication that one day maybe there was a possibility that life could tear you away from him or vice versa wasn't something that Billy liked to think about or entertain.
As far as he was concerned, nothing could happen. Not if he didn't think about it in the moment.
Pulling himself away from you suddenly, you missed the sudden loss of his warmth and his body against yours, the way his hands molded around your body.
You worried for a moment that you'd said something wrong. But you couldn't get a word in as you watched him move around his room.
Billy was on a mission, he went to a dresser beside his bed and knelt down. Inside the drawer was where he kept the few earrings he had and liked to wear in his single pierced ear.
He didn't like leaving them out in the open. His father used the fact he had his ear pierced against him. Neil would probably throw them out or use them as more ammunition against his son if he saw them sitting out.
Picking out one of the earrings- one that dangled- Billy stood up straight again and made his way back to you.
He took your chin into one of his hands and tilted your head to the side, then tilted it to the other side before settling it back to look directly at him.
"Left or right?"
"What?"
"Left or right, Jesus, which ear do you want this in?"
He dangled the earring in his hand in front of your face, as if it was obvious what he wanted and you were just annoying him.
In reality, he was very much unused to this- this feeling and the actions he was taking.
"Oh, right-" you quickly catch on as your heart swells, taking your small stud silver earring out from your left ear, holding it in your hand, waiting.
Billy's hands are gentle. Actually very gentle in this moment. You know him to be heavy-handed- not on purpose. The way he holds your hand is tighter than other people might, or the way he holds you is tight and you're always pulled against him. In bed, he's leaving his fingers indented on your body. He's never hurt you, but by default, he's rougher than other people.
But right now, as he takes the dangly earring and holds it so close to your ear, he is the most gentle you've ever seen him. He's so carefully placing the earring into the small hole in your earlobe, making sure it's in and not going to come out.
His fingers are warm against your ear and skin, and it feels peaceful. The way his knuckles brush against the side of your face as he puts the earring in. You just want him near you.
Billy's hands pull away once the piece of jewelry is secure, taking your face in his hands again, slightly squeezing your cheeks together as he does so. Seemingly admiring his handiwork and his earring in your ear, his face that he'd been keeping neutral seems to brighten a smidge and you note the upturn at the corner of his mouth.
"Looks good," he says suddenly, turning your face to look into the mirror on his wall.
The earring moves at the movement, dangling and touching the skin below your ear softly and it sort of tickles. But he's right, it does look good. Maybe it's a bit odd in contrast to your other ear, stud alone while the other is more dramatic, but you love it all the same. It's his, it's him, and he's letting you wear it.
"Give me your earring."
His hand is out expectantly, waiting for you to drop the object he's referring to into his open palm. Focused on admiring the earring in your ear and the warm feeling in your stomach, it confuses you for a few seconds as he moves his hand in a motion that repeats his previous words but this time only in his actions.
You place the object into his hand and he's easily moving, removing the small hoop he decided to wear in his ear that day and putting it on the dresser beside the dish of rings as he pulls the back off your simple silver stud.
He slips it into his own piercing hole and closes the back as if it's second nature, not messing up or having trouble finding where the hole is. 
It looks so simple for someone like Billy Hargrove. It's a little circle stud, not a hoop or a dangly piece. But it makes your eyes widen and fill with the beginning of tears.
It's the act of him doing this that makes you want to cry. The fact that he didn't just leave it at giving you his earring to wear, but also wearing yours in return. It is so goddamn cheesy, corny, cliché maybe. But your heart doubles in size when you look at him.
"Not as cool as my earring but..." he looks at himself in the mirror, making you turn to look as well, facing a reflection of the two of you with his earring in your ear and one of yours in his, "It's you."
It's you. That's how you feel. It's him. And it will always be him.
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thatone-brightstar · 5 months
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Amy's kinktober alphabet blurbs w/ special guest Carmy Berzatto! (6/6)
a/n: first of all, happy international chef's day! second, i got my internet conection back and that's worth celebrating with the last part of this hot as hell seriessss. you can totally tell i love carmy in uniform lmao
Don't forget to like and repost or comment with the one you like the most bc we will be getting a full length one shot of the winner! PS. lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!
Warnings: Minors DNI, p in v unprotected sex, creampie, choking, semi public, oral sex (both f and m receiving), knifeplay, spit kink, knife play, fingering,
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V is for: Visuals.
‘-the time difference is kicking my ass.’ He heard your tired whisper through the speaker and sighed along with you while taking a drag from his cig. ‘I really miss you…’ You confessed even more softly, pulling a smile over his own tired face.
‘I really miss you too.’ He mumbled back and despite being completely alone, his face still flared up at the confession.
You hummed along with his response, then after a few silent seconds you asked: ‘what do you miss about me?’
Carmy chuckled nervously and ran his hand down his face, falling back against the kitchen counter..
‘I miss… your pretty face’ He began and closed his eyes to picture you on the other side of the phone; probably in your pajamas, biting on your bottom lip and trying to avoid the goofy smile his response caused. ‘I miss kissing you…’
‘Hmm… what else?’ You breathed out that made him swallow hard and stir his hips.
He couldn’t think of what else to say, he was shit at normal conversation and now the idea of phone sex had erased the words from his brain.
You were quiet on the other line for a while and he was almost sure you had fallen asleep, until he heard movement and a heavy sigh. 
Then his phone vibrated near his cheek and your voice whispered sweetly. ‘Does that help?’
His heart stopped at the sight of your full breasts on display and the rest of your body barely covered by the hotel robe, then his blood traveled south to the forming tent in his pants. 
‘What else do you miss, Carmy?’ 
W is for: Whites.
‘Ready to go?’ You called, walking in from the back door and immediately stopping in your tracks.
Carmen stood leaning tiredly against the marble bar, hair disheveled and chef white sleeves rolled up to his forearms, letting the designs on his skin peek from under. Despite the fatigue evident on his face, he still offered a loving smile towards you.
‘’M just checkin’ produce for tomorrow. Ten more minutes?’ He asked and reached a strong hand in your direction.
All you could do was nod and swallow the sudden dryness that invaded your mouth at the sight of him. He gave you a quick kiss and moved back to the scribbled pages.
You hopped on the empty space beside him and took a quick look around the empty room, then bit your lip and stared back at him through doe eyes. You’d seen him many times before in his chef whites, but something about the concentration in his eyes and the flexing of muscle under the material had you completely soaked, and the thin material of your skirt wasn’t helping.
He felt your intense gaze and flickered his eyes around your face, landing on your lips. ‘What?’ He asked.
You bit your lip and watched him swallow hard, taking the bait. ‘You look really fuckin’ hot right now…’
Carmy chuckled softly and shook his head. ‘What’s doin’ it for ya? The smell of onions or the Hollandaise stains?’
Your fingers wrapped around the edge of the still pristine uniform and pulled timidly, eyes heavy on his.
‘...really?’ He asked again in disbelief and planted a hand near your naked thigh, leaning towards you.
You shrugged and parted your thighs where his hips fit perfectly, then threaded your fingers through his hair and watched him close his eyes, slightly groaning. ‘I like a man in uniform…’
X is for: ‘X marks the spot’
With your hands resting under your cheek and your chest flat on the bed, you could feel the line of goosebumps follow the soft graze of Carmen’s lips. They had started at your shoulder blades- pulling soft breathy giggles from your flushing chest- then down your spine, where they met his strong hands holding your waist.
‘Is it there?’ He asked for the fifth time, though you wondered if he was enjoying the search more than actually trying to find your sweet spot.
A soft whine came out when one hand curved past your hip, in between the valley of your ass and to the spot he knew would certainly bring you bliss.
‘No cheating…’ You mumbled back between a moan and the disheveled sheets, making him chuckle again.
You felt his hand move back to your hip bone and his body hover over yours before the warmth of his chest pressed against your back. Dexterous fingers ran through your scalp and the sultry kiss he placed at the base of your neck was enough for your nerves to spark alight and your hips to push back against him.
‘Found it…’ He joked, warm breath caressed your ear and another kiss had your eyes rolling back.
Y is for: ‘Yes, Chef’
‘Say it again-’ He instructed through a heavy breath and a jerk of his hips that had the words turning into a scrambled groan. 
You clawed against the cold counter hoping to find something to hold on to because fuck, he was making you feel so good you thought you might float away. Carmy raked his nails through your messy hair and pulled you up with a firm but gentle grip. 
‘C’mon pretty girl- you were so fuckin’ bold hours ago, what happened?’ You could hear the satisfaction in his words.
He stopped his thrusts long enough to give your lungs a needed breath, only to pull your knee up on the counter and bury into you at a deeper angle. The new sensation pulled a squeal from your throat and your head fell back against his strong shoulders.
‘You still gonna talk back in front of everybody?’ He sneered again and wrapped another hand over your swollen cunt. 
All you could do was shake your head.
‘You gonna be good from now on?’ Carmen asked while his fingers began circular motions.
‘Yes…’ You moaned a little too loud and his fingers sped up.
‘Yes what?’ He asked again and softly pressed the sides of your neck until your eyes rolled back and your breasts raised with your struggling pants. 
Z is for: Zesty.
With Carmy, it was always like the first time. There was never a moment where he was too tired, or too busy, or too in his head that having you bouncing on his cock couldn’t fix. The simple idea that you were his filled him with a new fervor, a fresh wave of energy that had his hands groping at your ass and pulling you up as he stood from the old chair. 
You squealed in surprise and circled your thighs tightly around his hips, then heard the sound of everything on the desk falling heavily on the ground before the cold wood touched your skin. His lips latched onto yours as he continued his frantic movements, on hand on your head to avoid you bumping against the top shelf while the other rested on your cheek.
When he pulled away, his eyes were wild and glossy, even in the dim light you could spot the silhouette of your flushed face.
‘Tell me you’re mine.’ He muttered between peppered kisses that made you heave and smile.  
‘I’m a-all yours baby-’ Carmy’s smile grew at your immediate answer, thrusting even deeper into the spot that caused lightning bolts to course through your spine.
‘All mine…’ He muttered as he settled your back over the desk and pushed your legs up to your chest. ‘All mine.’
____________
Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78
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lovehugsandcandy · 5 months
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Aerin drabble 4, pre chapter 7, Deadwood (cw blood, self harm)
Sometimes, Aerin imagines he can still see the shadow tracing over his skin. 
The lines are stark against his pale flesh, mapping the veins and arteries up his forearms. He can almost feel the foreboding tingle, the presence of magic and danger starting at his palms and emanating upwards to center in his chest, a flash hot burn that makes him shake and shiver.
It awakens him from dreams, nightly, soaked in a cold sweat, as his gasps break the silence of the pitch black night.
It distracts him in front of the fire, where his gaze fixes on the shadows that edge toward his tunic sleeve, voices of the heroes bantering around him falling into a meaningless buzz in his ears.
It makes him terrified that the shadow, the darkness, had been there all along, as much a part of him as the blood running through his veins and the Valleros name.
He's scrubbing his arms when she catches him, nails feverishly digging into his skin as he prays to any god who will listen to one as sullied as him - please, I got rid of the corruption, please, I'm sor-.
"What are you doing?" Raine blinks down at him, where he has crouched at the shore of the lake of light, a feeble penance amid hallowed ground.
"Nothing," he lies, pulling down his sleeves to cover the thin trails of blood smeared over flesh. 
She sits next to him, trailing her fingers into the water; it's a companionable silence. He's just about to flee, to try to put some distance between her and himself (whether to save her from the shadow or to save himself from the pull of the unattainable, he can't say which) when she speaks again. "Have you thought of what you will do? Once the rifts are all closed?"
He gapes at her. "Go back to my prison cell?"
"Hmm." Her gaze reaches out to the far shore, past the horizon, further than he could ever hope to see. "Is that what you want to happen?"
He can't risk glancing down, but he can feel the telltale singing beneath his skin again. "What I want is of no importance." It's what I deserve. 
She hums again, in the back of her throat, finally turning her gaze to him. The glow of the water illuminates her sparkling eyes and, crossing her arms atop her knees, she looks almost regal. "I think-" She bites her lip, considering him. "I think you will find that the good you can do now, in the present, and the future… it means something."
"I cannot make up for my past."
"But you can shape your future."
He shakes his head. His future is already set, a solitary cage, an eternity of regret. He had already tried to change his future once and has no hope of it, not anymore.
"Aerin…" He looks down in shock to where she has grabbed his hand, warm fingers clasped around his. There are still traces of blood drying around his fingernails, but the surrounding skin is clear, unblemished. No shadow. It's as if all bends to her will, ominous powers vanishing into the mist under the force of her light; he can feel even himself soften against the sandy shore. She squeezes his hand. "I believe in you."
He squeezes back, tentative at first, but she doesn't pull away and the tension leeches from his body. It's just her, and him, and the lake, and the only shadows are the ones that curl over the ground as the moon arches through the sky.
And that night, tucked away in his tent, the only tingling in his palm is the ghost of her touch, and he sleeps.
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amethyst-noir · 11 months
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My entry for @hgjspringbooks.
Day 1: Ribbons & Thighs
"I'm yours to use as you wish. Feed me wine, dress me in your colors, take and mark me for all the world to see. I wish to be known as yours."
10k of pwp with tons of feelings inspired by this scene:
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Katara hates the quiet.
That’s why she talks to him.
Read and my voice becomes the driving force on AO3. Rated T, word count 1.6k, written for Day 6 of Kataang Week 2022: Quiet Moments/Healing Techniques, hosted by @kataang-week​.
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lith-myathar · 2 years
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I cannot show you my softness, so instead I will show you my rough edges. I will show you the calluses on my hands, short nails and hangnails, the muscles under my skin, the scars on my knuckles. I will show you my all day projects where I couldn't let myself stop, the steps on my pedometer, the exhaustion under my eyes. I will show you my anger and my defiance in the face of a challenge, I will show you my relentlessness, I will show you my hunger, I will show you my power. I am not a violent creature but I came into this world to do battle and my theater of war is my own flesh. She cannot fight, she cannot dominate and do harm, but oh, she can endure. Strength is in stillness, in bearing the weight of it, and victory measured in inches crawled, one by one. So she is beaten and weathered, so her roughness attests what can be borne. And this she offers, the suffering she has made. "For you, my love, I will hurt."
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