#when i tell you i WHEEZED when that little twist dropped | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dollwritesarchive · 2 years

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I apologize (semi) for rqing my boy again but I read “you want to be choked, don’t you?” and all I could think was sweet dom Trey trying out CNC and realizing he REALLY likes it… like more than what is healthy - 😴

warnings ; cnc ( consensual nonconsent ), smut, choking, all characters portrayed including reader are 18+. minors dni

Trey hadn’t been so sure of this.

you want me to what?

take me how you want. kicking, screaming, crying. i don’t care, i just want you to fuck me like you hate me. and if i say no, fuck me harder. until i’m pounded so stupid that i just lay there and take it.

he thought about protesting the idea at first, telling you that there was no way that he could even pretend to hate you, and that was true. he almost told you that he’d rather just make love to you, but something stopped him. a microscopic inkling of curiosity— the urge to know what it was like. maybe it was an unlocked fetish gnawing at its bars, or maybe he just wanted to give you anything to make you happy.

so he said okay, and now, he was bearing down on you with your knees dug into the soil. one hand pressed on your head, the other gripping your hip, he was fucking you relentlessly. grunting, pushing you deeper into the rose bush; ruby paint still fresh spattering the back of your uniform top. he hadn’t even bothered to undress you, which made it all the more humiliating and delicious. your skirt ruffled up and over the small of your back, your soaked panties around your knees, rubbing into the dirt.

when he brings your hips back to meet a powerful thrust, you mewl and reach back to press at his taut abdomen, your body telling you that you’re too full. “Trey—-“

“Reached a limit, didn’t I?” he purrs, “That’s too bad.” feigning sympathy, he even surprises himself at just how merciless he sounded. when the hand on your hip flees to grasp your wrist, he pins it to your back instead, drilling against your quivering thighs harder, faster, until each buck of his hips is punctuated by a squeal from the pathetically helpless shape of you underneath him. your feet kick under his weight, and he moans over the sound of his skin smacking against yours.

“Fuck, you feel so good, squirming and hopeless. I could pound your pretty pussy out until you can’t even walk a straight line, how does that sound?” his fingers, svelte and previously buried in the roots of your hair, careen over your nape and around. your breath catches in your throat when his soft digit tips brush over your windpipe, and you tilt your head back upon instinct, your gaze flickering upwards to watch him dominate you from behind. your vision was already a little hazy, but one look at his countenance, twisted in sordid realization, and you knew you were in trouble.

“Please, Trey—“ you groan. you should’ve been pleading for a break, or for him to slow down lest he fuck a hole through you, but you weren’t. you knew you weren’t.

and so did he.

Trey saw the way you dropped your head back the second he touched your throat, and it sparked something deep inside him. an excitement; his gaze lighting up like fireworks. “Don’t give me those doe eyes now, sweetheart.” he mutters, leaning forward to press his torso to your back, “Do you think I didn’t just see the way you opened up for my fingers? You’re just begging for me to wrap them around that pretty, little neck of yours, aren’t you?” you try to shake your head, but he does just that— the slender digits clamp around your throat and you gurgle in submission, eyes widening. “You want to be choked, don’t you?” he taunts, experimenting with pressure to see your reaction.

you wheeze and arch like a cat, only giving him more access to drive himself home inside of you, and your walls spasm around the thickness of his cock. both hands come up to grasp his wrist, eyelashes fanning your heated cheeks as you choke on an answer. “I—I—-“

“Shhh, shh, shh, sweetheart.” Trey moans, kissing the top of your head when he tightens his grip. “You don’t need to answer, your pussy is doing it for you— she’s going crazy, squeezing my hard cock so tight, you’re going to cum with my fist around your throat, aren’t you?” you try to inhale, but his vice is making it almost impossible, and he knows that. he watches you writhe and scramble as you’re pushed closer and closer to the edge, and he’s smirking, his tiers drawn tight over his teeth when you finally come undone, gasping and desperate. “That’s it, sweet girl… I’m going to force that orgasm out of you, and then I may let you breathe while I use you like a little sex toy to get myself off.”

his words and the ferocity they were doused in surprised the both of you, but you could tell by the twinkle in his eyes that he was enjoying it just as much as you were.

this was the first time you’d ever seen him so brutal, but you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

and you were counting your lucky stars.

#😴 !#MY BABY #i hope you likee 🥹#trey clover #trey clover x reader #trey clover x you #trey clover smut #trey clover imagine #twst #twst smut #twst x reader #twst x you #twst imagine #twisted wonderland smut #twised wonderland #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines

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solaneceae · 5 months

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blind devotion

a team bolas oneshot. codebreakers-centric (philza and étoiles) (read on ao3) found family, ambiguous relationships, fluff @apthotiosis tagging u because codebreakers heehee

“They’re not crow wings,” Jaiden remarks, tracing the sharp edges of the long feathers meant to catch on updrafts. “They’re too big. And you got extra bones and joints going on.” Phil hums, a hesitant eeeeeh with a twist of his hand. “There’s some crow in there. But most of it is actually—”

“Elytra!” Baghera quacks, awe lacing her voice as she croons over the white diamonds that appear beneath the grime and dust she’s cleaning out. “You’re part Elytrian, Philza?”

“Not exactly,” he laughs, pointing at the very human features on the rest of his body. “I’m not actually a hybrid. Not like Jaiden, or even like you. Those wings were a gift.”

Étoiles perks up. “From Kristin, yes?” he nails down, perceptive as ever. The rest of the flock oooohs, a little chorus of yes, of course, makes sense. “I like your wife, Phil,” the duck smiles, brushing out a crooked feather. She remembers the Goddess’s voice, soft and warm as late spring’s sunlight, pouring out of Phil’s mouth as she borrowed his body to greet them. “She’s so nice.”

“She’s awesome,” Étoiles nods, unseeing eyes reflecting invisible stars. He cannot see anymore, he’s told them, but he still fights like he can, somehow. “I see her, sometimes, when I don’t have enough sugar and I almost die. She tells me to take better care of myself, but I’m dumb and shit so it keeps happening.”

“T’es con,” Baghera chastises him, slapping the back of his head, and Philza snorts at their antics. He’s so glad Étoiles joined them, the memory of his expectant frame almost vibrating out of itself when the old crow-not-quite-a-crow approached him at Global, just the day before. The words had barely left his mouth and the warrior had dropped to his knees before him, like a worshipper before his deity made man. I am your arm, your sword, Étoiles had said to him once, long ago. Felt like long ago. Just tell me where to hit.

A wave of fond-flock-yesyes, the Angel of Death pulls Étoiles forward to shelter him within his wings. “Aaah, Philza, Phil,” Étoiles laughs as his friend pecks at his hair, crooning incessantly. “The goat, oh, he’s moving so good! So good aim!”

“No mames.”

“No maaaaames man.”

“Shut up dude,” Phil wheezes, a huge smile on his face as he runs his talons through the frenchman’s tangled, white-faded locks. Yesyes. “I’m having a moment.”

“Oh? He has a moment, okay. I fuck myself, I don’t move, I get it.”

“Oh my god, stop.”

“I want to see you fly,” Étoiles says, quieter. Almost a whisper, that has everyone tilt their head in focus. “I didn’t see you fly, that’s bullshit. It must be beautiful, to see.”

Phil flashes him a wry grin. “Maybe. They’re pretty fragile, still. I don’t want to fuck them up all over again. Pretty sure the Feds will just clip them once we get back anyway, so.”

“Fuck them!” Baghera screeches indignantly. “Not letting that happen. I kill them first.”

“It’s fine. Just gotta enjoy ‘em while I got ‘em.”

Étoiles pouts at that, mumbles something in rapid-fire French that sounds rude. Phil hums and cups his face with a low trill, talons rapping on the space between his skull and neck, feather-soft. His friend blinks, cloudy silver. “What do I look like to you?” Phil asks, feathers ruffling as he spreads his wings wide, his fellow avians shifting to avoid being smacked by them.

Étoiles smiles, all teeth and greenish gums. “Like home,” he says, and it’s such a silly yet earnest answer that Phil could kiss him into silence. Mine, his hindbrain thrums, fierce possessiveness curling around his heart, and Étoiles laughs, that airy, high-pitched wheeze of his, because he’s making bird noises again. “And he says, he says he’s no hybrid, this man?” he mocks, tackling Philza to the cold floor of their cave to wrestle him into submission. “He’s a liar! Lies! You know who you are, Felipe Minecraft! Embrace it!”

“I am- fuck, get off,” Philza growls, play? play? Swoops Étoiles’ legs from under him to pin him down and they’re both laughing, batting at each other’s faces, talons carefully curled inward to not slice at dark green skin. Baghera and Jaiden cheer them on from the sidelines, loose feathers flying here and there, a viney tail wrapping itself around his leg as they roll and swipe and snap their teeth at each other’s necks, play, play!

Étoiles loses at some point, freezes when sharp claws brush against his jugular. “Oh, he’s too good,” he smiles, tired and fond. “He’s good, and I’m shit. GGs.”

“Don’t say that,” Phil rolls his eyes, but doesn’t draw away. Étoiles’ eyes are squinted in twin crescent moons, and he doesn’t know if he wants to pluck them out to wear like jewellery or forget himself in them. “You. Are the best,” he chirps, pressing his forehead against the other man’s, flock, mine. hello. “I chose you. And I only choose the best for my family.”

“That’s us,” Baghera gasps — she and Jaiden have taken to preening each other instead, her bill ruffling through dark blue and green to dislodge specks of dried blood and sand out of her flockmate’s wings. “Bolas family, yes!”

“You picked Roier first,” the warrior whines, hands pawing at Phil’s chest, not quite pushing him away. “You like him better, no? He’s better, stronger. I don’t blame you.”

“Cellbit wanted him. I wanted to make him happy.”

“Oh, he is,” Jaiden huffs. “They’ve been snogging in the nest all evening. It’s cute and all, but I can only take so much kissing noises until I gotta vomit.”

“Hater!” her sister teases, bonking her bill against her cheek. “You’re just a little hater, let them be gay and happy.”

“They can be gay and happy and not slobber over each other.”

“I kinda like it,” Slime pipes up from his hole in the ground. Jaiden quirks an eyebrow at him. “...You need to get over Cellbit, dude.”

“Whaaaaat? You’re talkin’ nonsense. Put your mask back on, the fumes got to you.”

“Don’t you have Mariana anyway?”

“I don’t see your point.”

“Roier is Roier,” Phil cuts them off, catching Étoiles’ wrists to push them down against the stone. Mine. “You’re you. Cellbit wanted him, I wanted you. Simple.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” A croon, their noses brush together. Jaiden makes a gagging sound, which makes Baghera cackle. What am I doing? “Phil?” He blinks. His friend is looking up at him, eyes crinkled up in amusement, fang poking out from beneath his upper lip. “I’m already yours. You don’t need to go all birdbrain on me.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah. Don’t be sorry, be the GOAT that you are.” Étoiles pushes himself up, and Philza lets him. He tilts his head to the side, like he always does whenever he’s mapping out his surroundings. “Phil, Phil,” he nudges at the crow’s shoulder, vine-tail thumping against the ground in renewed vigot. “PvP check, yes? Sticks?”

“Bruh.”

“Come oooon.”

“We’re actually ahead today, let’s not die and mess it up.”

“Rhoooooo…”

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #fanfic #codebreakers #étoiles #philza #q!étoiles #q!philza #they make me ill #something about them just makes me go *pterodactyl noises*#please étoiles log back on #we need you to bring phil into the résistance already #and they were coworkers!!!! (oh mah gawd they were coworkers)

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fayes-fics · 10 months

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It Had To Be You: Chapter 4 - You've Got A Friend

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Set a couple of months after Chapter 3, Benedict and you are becoming best friends.

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: discussions of sex, swearing, publically faked orgasm

Word Count: 3.1k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, we see vignettes of Benedict and reader's growing friendship. And well... this ends with a twist on the famous scene. Yep. You know the one. Enjoy <3

21 months ago (3 months later)

Benedict Bridgerton is one of your best friends.

If you had uttered that sentence to yourself ten, even five, years ago, you would have laughed your head off. But it's funny how life turns out. In the months after you reconnect, you start to meet up regularly, at least once a week, sometimes more, and you text almost constantly. Becoming each other’s crutch as you rebuild your lives as single people.

On the surface, you couldn’t be more opposites, but he’s matured, and you find his company the most soothing and the most fun. Be it while having dim sum in Chinatown, wandering Victoria Park or helping him set up his new warehouse flat. There's always a tiny frisson, an undercurrent of something between you that, to be honest, makes it more appealing. A pilot light of heat that could, maybe one day, become a bonfire if the timing were right. You are not sure it ever would be, but it would be stupid to deny to yourself that it's there. There is certainly no one you like to verbally spar with more.

He FaceTimes you as you lay in bed on a regular Tuesday in September; it's become a habit. Just jabbering away until one of you falls asleep. Talking about everything, anything, and something nothing, watching a show or film together in digital silence. A comforting presence.

“What are you watching?” he hums, scratching his beard.

“Don't judge me,” is your instant response, and he chuckles.

“Tell me,” his voice drops an octave in a way you are sure he knows has an effect on you. Physically. A little shiver down your spine. Bastard.

“Titanic,” you mutter as he bursts out laughing.

“You hate that film!” he exclaims, and you wish you could throw a pillow through the screen.

“That doesn’t sound like not judging!” you bemoan but concede he is right.

“Channel?” he asks, still giggling.

“Four… wait, are you going to watch too?”

“Of course, then we can argue about it in real-time,” something in that offer makes you feel comforted. “It's near the end!” he decries after briefly pausing to change channels.

“How would you know?” you lobby, and he fixes you with a pointed stare.

“Please. This was Gen’s favourite; I had to sit through it five bloody times.”

“How is she?”

“No idea. She didn't speak to me after the breakup. Besides, wasn't she your friend?!”

“Yeah, but we lost touch,” you sigh, “sometime about seven or eight years ago, she moved to Bristol, and then we sort of drifted.”

He hums noncommittally, watching the movie, “So you’re saying Rose should not have saved him by sharing that door,” he states as the final scenes unfold onscreen before you both.

“I never said that!” you argue.

“Yes, you did! In the car on the way from uni!” he smirks.

“No, I didn’t!” you volley back indignantly.

“Fine, okay, you didn’t.” He rolls his eyes.

“I mean, that dick was so good, they fucked one time, and she returned to the ocean to say goodbye to it 70 years later,” you point out drolly.

He tosses his head back and laughs so hard you can’t help but join in.

“Fuck that’s the funniest take on this film I’ve ever heard,” he wheezes.

“Right?! I can’t take credit; it's a comedy routine; I’ll send you a Spotify link,” you offer.

“Look forward to it,” he giggles.

The urge to ask him if he’s ever had sex so good he’d go to the spot it happened to commemorate it is on the tip of your tongue. You’re almost surprised he doesn’t use the opportunity himself. He’s definitely grown up.

“Are you sleeping okay?” he asks, rubbing his eye wearily.

“Doing better,” you admit, “not completely there, but better than I was.”

“Do you still sleep on ‘your’ side of the bed?” he inquires with air quotes.

“No. I’ve taken to sleeping wherever now,” you answer truthfully.

“Wow, you’re doing so well,” he sighs. “I feel weird if even a leg wanders over to ‘her’ side… and this isn’t even a bed we shared.”

“Yours was a marriage, mine merely a long-term relationship,” you try to justify why he might still be more impacted than you.

“Same difference, except you don’t have a lawyer bleeding you dry arguing about shit…. Urghh, I need a drink.”

“No, you don’t,” you argue, “stay in bed and drink your water.”

“You can be very bossy sometimes, you know?” he opines but reaches for his glass of water on his bedside table as he says it, doing exactly what you suggest.

“It’s for your own good,” you point out.

“I know, I know. I suppose I should thank you. You’d be surprised how little men give a shit about their friends' well-being, even their best friends.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you fire back. “You’re all clueless idiots with the EQ of a shrimp.”

“Wowwww, okay,” he mimes being shot in the chest, “please don’t take out your Dr Tom issues on the rest of us unsuspecting shrimps.” It’s in jest, but you can hear the underlying argument and know he’s right.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. You don’t have the EQ of a shrimp. I’ll give you, hmmm, a crawfish,” you offer with a giggle.

“Oh great, thanks,” he deadpans, “Could you not at least give me lobster?”

“Okay, fine. I hear lobsters are very smart, so you flatter yourself there, but yes, okay, lobster Ben. Please go get some sleep.”

“Alright,” he yawns, “can I call you my lobster too?”

“Why?” you frown sleepily, bemused.

“Some lobster thought it could predict the World Cup winning team—always thought it was right. That’s very you,” he stares pointedly down the phone camera at you.

“Fine, I’m your lobster too,” you stick out your tongue a little.

He chuckles as you settle deeper into your pillow, flicking off the TV as the credits scroll. Even you can acknowledge having a person to talk to is so comforting right before sleep.

“Goodnight, lobster Ben,” you yawn, your eyes drooping.

“Goodnight, my little blue lobster,” he murmurs.

“Why blue? Cos I’m sad?” you hum, eyes closed.

“No,” he chuckles gently, “I have my reasons,” he says quietly, and you pass out as the call drops off.

——

“So I had that dream again,” you mention offhand as you wander down the Southbank from Waterloo a few weeks later. It’s a crisp October day; you’ve taken the afternoon off work to visit the Tate Modern—there’s some exhibit he wants to see.

“The sex dream?” he verifies, weaving around an old lady who shoots him a disapproving look.

“Yup,” you confirm, kicking through the colourful pile of leaves under one of the trees. “So we are going at it up on this roof terrace, and this time he flies away just before I orgasm. I mean, what the fuck is that!?”

“Let me get this straight: you’re having sex with some mythical half-man half-dragon creature?” he seems completely bamboozled by the idea. “And just before you can come, he flies off?”

“Yeah. What do you think it means?” you ponder.

“I think it means you need to get laid,” he laughs.

“Great fucking insight Sherlock Holmes,” body-checking him with your shoulder. “What about you? What’s your latest sex dream?”

“It’s always the same one. There’s this woman. She walks in, just wordlessly strips off my jeans and climbs onboard,” his cheeks have a high dot of pink that looks adorable, almost as if he’s embarrassed to say it.

“What does she look like? Are we talking Halle Berry? Helen Mirren? Florence Pugh?”

“I dunno… she’s just sort of faceless,” he gestures vaguely.

“Hmmm. Unusual. So then what happens?”

“I always wake up,” he sighs, staring into the middle distance, over to the Millennium Bridge.

“Wait….,” you stop walking and grab his arm, “...a faceless woman strips off your jeans and sits on you, and that’s the only sex dream you’ve had… ever?!” You can scarcely believe it.

“Yeah, it’s ridiculous, I know. I’d like to state for the record that I’ve had a much more varied actual sex life. And daydreams? Top fucking notch. But my unconscious, sleeping dreams? Very not sexy or just this one recurring one.”

“Does it ever change? At all?”

“I mean, sometimes I’m wearing trousers, not jeans?” he offers, looking nonplussed as to what else to add.

You cannot think of anything to say to that, so you just shoot him an exasperated look and walk away towards the entrance. How on earth can he get to sleep at night if that’s all he’s got to look forward to?

“Dinner after this?” he offers as you stare up at the giant sculpture suspended in the main Turbine Hall. It's been a fun few hours of wandering the exhibits.

“Oh, I’d love to, but I can’t,” you obfuscate, feeling sheepish as you bring your gaze to him.

“Hooking up?” he inquires with a comedy eyebrow wiggle.

“Maybe,” you deflect, tucking your hair behind an ear, somehow bashful to talk with him about your first date in six years. “I’ll have to see how the date goes first.”

“A date? That’s wonderful!” He seems genuinely enthused, a big smile claiming his whole face.

“Yeah, I mean… I hope so? Let’s see. It’s been a bloody long time,” and saying that, nerves flare in your belly. “Not sure what I should wear, to be honest,” you admit, glancing down, self-conscious of your jeans and simple black top. “You think this is okay?”

“Of course it is,” he dismisses casually. “You look as beautiful as you always do,” the compliment just falls from his lips as if you asked about the weather. It still gives you that slightly gooey sensation under your ribs. Bastard.

——

The next evening you’re three cocktails down at Bar Americain on a night out with some work friends when your phone buzzes.

BB: How was the date?

Y/N: He cried about his custody arrangement at the table.

BB: Divorced dad, eh? How fast did you scarper?!

BB: Guess it will be a while until you can get that orgasm, lol.

Y/N: ... I err, didn't?

Y/N: Oh, I got one.

BB: You slept with him?!?

You always love to push it with him when you are tipsy, be a little daring with what you say. So you have your tongue in your cheek, wishing you could see his face when he reads what you are about to reply.

Y/N: Yeah, I mean, to be clear, the crying didn't turn me on. Not one of my kinks. But he had these nice hands, and I could tell from his jeans something good was going on down there. I was right. 8 out of 10, very nice.

Y/N: And he didn't grow wings to fly off before I had an orgasm, either… so win!

BB: How does one hang up on a text….?

Y/N: 😜

Five minutes later, your phone buzzes again.

BB: Wait. Do all women rate the dicks of the men they sleep with?

Y/N: I don't know all the women in the world, Ben…

BB: How is that an answer?

Y/N: 🤷‍♀️

“Ant…” Benedict calls, tossing his phone aside on his kitchen island and going to consult his brother across the room. He’s pretty sure that can't be all women, can it?

——

“I don't understand this at all,” Kate frowns, resting her weapon on her shoulder like a lumberjack.

“What don’t you understand?” you reply, staring at the target at the other end of the cage. You've decided this is an excellent cathartic way to do girls' night—just flinging axes at Whistle Punks after a hard work day in early November.

“You think he's attractive?” she pauses to applaud your throw as it smacks just below the bullseye.

“Yup.”

“You get on really well and Facetime and text every day?”

“Yup.”

“He’s straight?”

“Yup.”

“But you’re NOT fucking?” Kate quizzes, shooting you a look as she steps up to the plate.

“Nope.”

“I literally don't understand,” brow creasing as she takes her aim.

“Why can't you be proud of me? Not just crawling into bed with him on the rebound. He’s become a really close friend. Plus, I get the straight man’s perspective on things. It's really helpful now that I’m back on the market again. I can talk to him about sex stuff, and he's honest,” you argue.

“Sounds wrong to me…”

“Kate, you are fucking a married man,” you point out her hypocrisy archly.

“Yeah… and that's the point! I'm actually fucking him. What sort of Bert and Ernie shit do you and this Ben have going on?!”

“Please. Bert and Ernie are lovers,” you answer scornfully.

“Well, if they were, all the more reason you guys should be?!” she practically yells, hurling her axe with such gusto the manager comes to check on you.

——

Benedict takes you for dinner in the run-up to Christmas at some place so trendy it doesn't even appear to have a name. It's also where something transpires that haunts your spicier dreams for weeks.

As usual, it starts with you both squabbling.

“Oh please, women fake them all the time,” you dismiss, stirring your soup.

“I don't doubt it,” he agrees, “but men can do it too.”

You shoot him a withering look. “Please. Half of men can't even fake enthusiasm; there's no way a man could fake an orgasm,” you argue with finality.

His eyebrows shoot up briefly as you take a triumphant sip. He puts his fork down and wipes his face with a napkin. Then he makes a low rumbling noise. Perhaps the food doesn't agree with him. When he does it again a second later, you get concerned.

“You okay?”

He doesn't answer; he just makes the noise again. It's a low growl that almost reverberates around in his chest cavity, and something about it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Is your food bad?” you ask, a frown flitting over your face.

Again no answer. Benedict just makes another noise, louder this time. It’s definitely closer to a moan, and he takes a deep breath rolling his head to one side as if he's stretching his neck and really enjoying the sensation. Somehow you can't look away; you just stare at him, spoon in hand. Wondering what the hell he is doing, but captivated at the same time.

“Mmmm, that's it, baby,” he groans, and your insides are suddenly aflame. You've never heard his voice go into that register, it's low and throaty, and you feel a flush creeping up your chest.

“Don't stop,” he moans and throws his head back with a gasp, his Adam’s Apple bobbing hard, and it's then you realise what he is doing. He is faking an orgasm. Right here. In public. In a bloody restaurant.

“Okay, Ben,” you hiss, “fine, you win the argument,” attempting to get him to stop.

But it doesn't work. His head tips back down, and two dilated pupils bore into yours, a hazy ring of blue around black.

“Do you like that?” He’s staring you down as he says it, panting slightly, his jaw firm, challenging, goading.

You want to crawl into a ball and disappear. How much of that is because your fellow diners are starting to look over versus how much your body is rioting is undetermined.

“Yesssss,” he hisses, closing his eyes and biting his lip.

“Ben,” you warn, but again it falls on deaf ears. There is nothing you can do to stop this. Mortification routes you to the spot—that and the pounding in your ears and the little frisson of static running down your spine.

“You feel so good, baby,” he groans with a tiny tilt of his body; it's enough to make your imagination run wild—places it shouldn't. Dear god, this isn't right. He is your friend, one of your best friends; you can't be thinking such things.

To distract yourself, you look around at your fellow diners apologetically, shrugging as if you don't understand what he is doing. Thankful there are no kids in sight.

“Look at me,” he commands gruffly, and without thought, you obey; your eyes tear back to his. He is doing this deliberately, goading a response from you, from your body. And something in your snaps, you won't let him win like this.

“Go ahead, do it,” you mutter through slightly clenched teeth, so quiet only he can hear it. If he is going to do this, damn him, let him.

His hands wrap around the edges of the small table separating you, long fingers splaying out, and then his short blunt nails scratch down the wood. You don't think about those big, shapely hands doing the same thing on your body, no, definitely not. He is groaning and panting hard now, and it's utterly convincing. You can just picture him on top of….. STOP IT! You screech your mind to a halt. Don't go there.

“Come with me,” he snarls softly, just for you, and part of you wants to whisper back: yes, please, but instead, you bite the corner of your tongue to prevent a sound from escaping.

Then he turns theatrical, open hands thumping the table, grunting hard and rhythmically, and you just have to sit there and take it, so to speak. Just endure this weird mix of utter embarrassment and confusing arousal. Knowing you are flushed from head to toe. You daren't look around at the rest of the place, the buzz of conversation mostly dying out as they watch this formidable reenactment.

“Yessss, yesss, yessss,” he chants, and with a few convulsive body jerks and a long groan, his head lolls back, and he exhales a ragged breath loudly.

There are a few seconds of silence, and then he clears his throat, straightens up in his chair, shoots you a shit-eating grin, picks up his forks and jubilantly takes a bite of his dinner. He doesn't even bother to say anything; he knows he has won that argument, fair and square. You are still too shocked and disconcerted to speak.

“Sir, Ma’am,” the maître d' is suddenly at your table, “we would like you to leave, please.” his tone is decidedly stern. After a brief exchange of glances, you both burst into spontaneous giggles.

As you are bundled out of the door unceremoniously, not even being asked to pay, you hear a man ask a waiter a question that makes you laugh even louder.

“Did he have the daily special?”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

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save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year

Text

Cat’s 3K Series

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Part One

Most of the time, the sheer ignorance people have absorbed within leads to an irrevocable consequence, something that hits them so hard they would’ve never seen it coming. Some blame it on destiny, others will say it’s a coincidence. But the hero knew better than anyone else that this was not the truth.

They alone decided their destiny. They were the creator of their own world and despite the challenges and downfalls, they knew it was them who decided what their future could hold.

Maybe the villain’s fate would’ve been a different one — definitely, if they hadn’t let their guard down, if they hadn’t been ignorant of the hero’s moves.

But now they were here, wheezing on the ground, blood running down their chin. The hero had managed to hit their face, making a nosebleed impossible to avoid.

“What a shame,” the hero said, clicking with their tongue. They toyed with their weapon lazily and tilted their head. Today they felt capricious, interestingly so. It was always the villain. The villain who gave them a kick only a drug could. With a gravitational pull that forced them to come closer and get stung. “You have such a pretty face, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

The hero dropped to their knees and got a grip on the villain’s jaw, drawing them closer.

“Forgive me, will you?” They smeared the villain’s blood across their chin with their thumb, putting pressure on a forming bruise.

Unfortunately, the villain showed no reaction.

“I wonder what you look like when you smile,” the hero said.

“Go fuck yourself,” the villain answered dryly and the hero found nothing but hostility in their voice. What a lovely individual.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” the hero said, grinning from ear to ear. They loved playing cat and mouse with the villain but they were here for information. “I’m crestfallen when you’re unsatisfied. I have ways to make you talk. Involving handcuffs, rope, gags…whatever you want.”

They winked at the villain, amused at their own choice of words. No matter what they had to do to get the villain to break, they’d do it. Or so they believed. Sometimes, their own desires would get ahead of them.

“How many times do I have to tell you to suck on a di—” The hero grabbed the villain’s hair and pulled until they yelped, shutting them up successfully.

“Fine,” they murmured. Their heart was beating in their chest and they were sweating, fingers shaking a little. They were sure it was the adrenaline but that didn’t mean they liked it. “Personally, I couldn’t care less. But the agency really doesn’t like it that you have these codes…”

They drew circles around an open wound on the villain’s torso with their fingertip, getting dangerously close to the cut. The villain gasped when the hero put more pressure onto the skin. Intrusive thoughts could lead them on strange paths, the hero had discovered. Sometimes, they were able to resist them but every now and then…

“Give them to me,” they purred. “And you won’t have to scream all night.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The hero sunk their finger into the open wound and twisted, curled even. It wasn’t at all like they’d imagined. They’d thought this wouldn’t affect them, wouldn’t touch them at all but something about the villain’s screams unlocked a horrible memory that was ripping at their heartstrings. Fuck.

Efficiency was a great thing, they told themselves. This hurt, it didn’t kill the villain, right?

They pulled out the bloody finger and let it cool in the chilly air of the warehouse. Looking down at their nemesis, they felt like they’d made a mistake, going too far for the first time. God, sometimes the hero thought the past was pulling them back and dipping them into dark matter to transform them into an alternative version. But this was the enemy…the stupidly pretty enemy.

But no. It wasn’t too much. There was no too much. The villain had many enemies, they’d even come here injured already. This was normal for them.

“Okay,” the hero said, only a little shaky. “Let’s try this again.”

They forced a smirk to their face, thought of a stupidly flirty line.

“I wonder if it always feels this warm when I’m inside you.” The villain threw a death glare at them, annoyed and the hero was sure they’d try to murder them if they weren’t this injured and exhausted.

They were about to say something — probably another insult —but the beeping of the hero’s device interrupted them.

“C’mon…” They loosened their grip on the villain’s hair and slid back down to their throat, closing their fingers around it. The hero stared at their enemy. The blood, the intensity of their eye colour, the dried tears on their cheeks. “Don’t move.”

The villain didn’t answer, just stared as the hero checked their tech. Reinforcement arriving in 8 minutes.

“Alright, time to get out of here.” They overwhelmed the villain easily, turned them around and pushed their head into the concrete. The hero’s knee pressed into the wonderfully soft spot between their shoulder blades, making the villain groan.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t fantasised about this before,” the hero said. Flirty. Casual. They should’ve stuck to that, not brute violence, right?

They found their handcuffs and forced the villain’s wrists together. The satisfying clicking reached down into the hero’s subconsciousness to gnaw on their bones. Improvising was half of this business. And yet, they didn’t know if it was smart to push the villain into their car.

And though they were fairly aware of their competence, they doubted themselves even more when they pushed the villain into their apartment.

#make some room for the afterlife #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #heroxvillain #hero x villain #request #3K

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moonlightdreamzz · 9 months

Text

QUICK STOP — MINHYUK

<3 You didn’t think Minhyuk was going to have a day off and not stop by and see you, did you?

THEMES ✰ Angst w/ glimpses of fluff. Reader and Minhyuk have a very confusing relationship.

NOTE ✰ Seeing Minhyuk literally made me feral…so I had to quickly write about how it made me feel, but me being so angsty it just took a turn.

9:00AM

“I have something to tell you. Don’t be mad at me.”

You take a deep breath, your mind already preparing for the worst to leave his lips. The facial expression he’s currently wearing isn’t angry though, or guilty, which is making everything even more confusing for you.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” His palm holds itself up to his screen; a signal for you to not freak out like you always do whenever he does anything unpredictable around you. “We talked about this.”

Your eyebrow raises in synchronization with the smile you can never keep hidden whenever he’s doing anything in your direction. Whether it be staring, speaking, breathing, whatever; you can’t help it.

“Mhm.” You encourage slyly.

He continues, “And I promised you I wouldn’t say ‘I have to tell you something’ without proceeding to immediately say what I have to tell you, because if not, it makes you, and I quote, ‘want to slam your head into a wall’. So I’m sorry.”

Your laughter escapes your throat so hard that it hurts a little. Minhyuk is cracking up just as hard as you, and it feels like as soon as one of you has caught your breath, the other snorts, and all progress goes to shit. Your phone is now on the floor even though you don’t know when it fell.

“When did you get that phone? Like in January?” Minhyuk wheezes. You find it difficult to recall the exact duration it takes for him to regain his composure because you are laughing more than he is now. “This is like the 200th time you’ve dropped it. Speaking of, have you taken that old ass screen protector off? It’s clearly been through enough.”

“How about you buy me one, since you got so much to say.” You scold as you hop off your bed to retrieve his virtual presence. The moment you step onto the floor, a sudden chill zaps through your body, causing your laughter to briefly freeze in mid-air. It's like the floor is playing a cruel prank on you, reminding you of its icy presence as a rude awakening to reality. If Minhyuk was here, he would have foreseen this frigid encounter and saved the day with his thoughtfulness.

He possesses an extraordinary talent for predicting where your tired, exposed feet would seek refuge in the morning. Your slippers would have been here. If only he were here in this chilly moment, you think, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Cold feet?” He teases, as always, knowing what you’re thinking without you having to say anything.

His smile is brighter than you've seen it in a long time as he gazes adoringly at you over the phone. You're curious what he's thinking and what he's been up to this week. He certainly has been eating well, which warms your heart because he was constantly anxious before enlisting, focusing on everything but himself. You've missed him in every way, but you can't bring yourself to tell him.

The saga of your relationship reads like a bestselling novel. It's a tale of tangled emotions and unspoken truths, a rollercoaster ride of passion and confusion. You both know there's something between you that defies any clear definition, something beyond the boundaries of conventional romance. A connection so intense that it keeps pulling you back together, no matter how hard you try to resist.

You're head over heels for him, and he claims to feel the same way. But there's always a lingering doubt, a whisper in the back of your mind questioning the authenticity of his words. Is this love or just a twisted game? Can two people who share such an undeniable chemistry remain in this perpetual state of limbo, reluctant to label their feelings?

You feel yourself drowning in his orbs. Those beautiful brown eyes of his that matches yours are your home. You often think to yourself though, who else has found refuge in his eyes when the two of you haven’t spoken in weeks?

“You have something to tell me?”

Did his phone freeze? His eyes are clearly on you, but he’s not responding.

“Minhyuk?” You chuckle with a pure expression of confusion resting on your features.

He appears to come out of a trance you weren't aware he was in, blinking repeatedly to test whether his unconscious heard what you said to him. "I apologize. What did you say?” He asks, embarrassedly touching the back of his neck. Was he blushing? "I'm looking at the most beautiful woman on the planet. I'm a little disoriented right now."

That was another thing that terrified you about your lover. Were you even allowed to call him that? No matter, he talked so damn good. He could sell you a beach house in Idaho if you wanted to. Regardless of the confusion between the two of you, you trusted him wholeheartedly. Your concerns and uncertainties were cut away by his smooth tongue like a bullet made of gold, leaving you captivated by his alluring charisma. He had an answer for every ask, a fix for every issue, and a promise for every aspiration.

“I’m off tomorrow.”

You immediately beam, hoping he's telling you this because he's going to spend the entire day with you doing everything you enjoy. You may make him his favorite depending on when he arrives, but if he arrives too early, the two of you can find somewhere to sneak off to, right? You can also order takeout. Sure, take out—

Mingyuk took a photo

“I’m sorry.” He apologies, his naughty tone showing that he is indeed not sorry at all. “You just looked so cute smiling at me like that. I’ll send it to you.”

Before you can even start scolding him for snapping terrible pictures of you, you remember the second part of what he started this entire conversation with.

Don’t be mad at me.

“Why would I be mad at you for having a day off?”

“Because…I’m not going to be able to see you.”

Confusion always has to be present, right? You can't possibly be angry. If you told this story to anyone else, they'd advise you to be grateful that he cares enough about your sentiments to tell you what he's doing. It didn't make the pain go away, either. You can't help but wonder if he would come see you if you were his girlfriend.

“Don’t do that, baby. It’s not like that.” He assures. “The concert is tomorrow, and I really want to see you, but I haven’t seen them in forever. If they weren’t performing I could split the time, but it’s been a while since I’ve been with Monbebes and the boys. I hope you understand.”

What we’re you going to say? No Minhyuk, don’t go and support the people who have had your back since before we even met. Spend time with me instead, the person who you haven’t seen in months, isn’t your girlfriend, and probably never will be? You damn sure wanted to, but you can’t.

If he were here right now, he'd be softly rubbing your back, looking for traces of rage or hurt in your eyes. He despised inflicting pain on you. He'd press his lips to yours, expecting you not to kiss him back but hoping you would. Of course, you'd never be so unhappy with him that you'd refuse him his treasured kisses.

"Thank you, babygirl. You’re so understanding." He always replies to your devotion, planting a sensual kiss to the side of your head before peppering kisses on your neck.

You put on a brave face. He knows it's a ruse, and you know it, but you're not feeling charitable enough right now to fake it to the point where he believes you're actually happy with it.

“It’s cool, shawty.” Is all you can muster in the moment.

What was once a vibrant phone call full with delightful laughing and admiration has suddenly turned cold—or so the aura feels for you. You haven't found the words to bring the vibe from earlier back, and you know him; he wants to move on from this subject now, but based on previous arguments, he doesn't want you to think he doesn't care about your feelings, because he does.

You haven't talked to him in a long time, so moping about it is worthless. Breaking the silence was in his best interest, and regrettably, satisfying him meant more to you than it should have given how un-defined the two of you are.

“You wanna hear about my week?”

His smile glows through your phone once more, exactly like it did when you answered it the first time. You can tell he's sighing with relief. He's not sure if you want to keep talking to avoid feeling guilty, or if it's sincere, but he doesn't care. You're well aware of it. He always says to you, “I just want us to be okay. Always.”

“Now you know I didn’t call just to talk about me. Tell me everything, and don’t leave anything out.”

8:00PM

Despite how childish it seems, you promised yourself that you wouldn't check Twitter today. Of course you failed. All day, your timeline has been filled with Minhyuk looking so damn good. You two stayed on FaceTime for hours yesterday, giving you plenty of opportunity to admire his unrivaled attributes, yet a phone conversation doesn't do him justice, and neither does a photograph. You wanted him right now.

His white sweater suited his tan skin beautifully, and you were drawn to the way his muscles, which you had no idea had expanded so much, were attempting to escape from it. He’s the only man that has to ability to make you quiver at a simple photo of him.

Had he been here, instead of there, the second he walked through your door you wouldn’t have hesitated to rip it off. He wouldn’t have questioned you for a moment, missing you just as much as you’ve missed him. The two of you would have made love all over the house, probably until the morning time, and it would fill the gap inside you from not being able to call him yours—temporarily of course.

With Minhyuk absent, the empty house lies before you, beckoning you to decide how you will occupy yourself in his absence. Now is the time to contemplate and plan your activities, to explore the rooms and corners, and to find solace or adventure within the walls that surround you.

But you'd rather sit on your couch and do nothing, which is the exact opposite of what Minhyuk would like. He used to make fun of you for lazing around the house all day.

You have no recollection of falling asleep. After an hour or two of scrolling through Tiktok, your vision went fuzzy, and your grasp on your phone became increasingly shaky before dropping to the floor, much like it did on the phone with him the day before.

12:00AM

He hasn't been here in what seems like an eternity. Despite the recent distance between you two, his heart feels warm as he looks at the wreath packed with red tulips that is still hanging on your door. He remembers it as if it were yesterday—you couldn't believe him when he said it was what he wanted you two to make one for anniversary of you two meeting, because you never believed that you genuinely mean something to him.

He types in your passcode, stepping into your cozy apartment. Instinctively he inhales the brisk air that smells of lavendar and another scent that he can’t quite put his finger on.

As he looks around your place, he giggles to himself in adoration. “This girl…she really thought I wasn’t coming.”

Minhyuk hasn't even begun looking for you yet. He figures you're in your room, knocked out cold, because he doesn't hear feet dashing into your closet, nor did you try to come out with a lousy excuse for a weapon—yet another thing he chastised you for on a daily basis. He confidently strides into your kitchen, his eyes scanning the room, immediately recognizing the disarray that has become all too familiar to him. He knows, without a doubt, that your seasonings need to be meticulously arranged in their designated spots, and there are a few dishes lingering in the sink, patiently waiting for attention.

It doesn’t take him long to tidy up in there. He walks further into your apartment, prepared to pick up your clothes he’s certain you stripped off earlier before you went to bed, that he hears your little snores. When he sees you, snuggled up to the soft, cozy blanket that he carefully picked out for you a few months ago, his heart practically leaps out of his chest. The sight of you wrapped in that warm embrace brings a flood of joy and contentment, knowing that he was able to provide you with comfort and happiness.

His knees, slightly bent, fall naturally to your side with a light thump as he quietly settles next to you. In this moment, he wrestles with a choice: should he wake you up, gently brushing his fingertips against your cheek to rouse you from slumber? Or should he carefully lift you up in his strong, comforting arms, carrying you to bed like a precious treasure? As he contemplates his decision, he can't help but smile at the thought of tomorrow, knowing he will capture the beauty of the present moment by snapping a photo of himself holding you tight in his chest, a symbol of love and protection. Then though, you’ll be upset that he didn’t wake you.

His hands move to your shoulder, gently shaking you. Not to his surprise, you don’t budge.

“Kisses it is, huh?”

His lips continue to press irritatingly wet kisses all over your face, causing your nose to wrinkle up and your eyes to clench up like an irritated teenager. You try to turn the other direction, but he holds you down and prevents you from moving. Minhyuk is relieved that it's him in here with you and not some stranger, because your survival abilities are pitiful.

“Y/N.” He says sternly, although his smile is as radiant as it always is when he’s looking at you.

Your eyes begin to flutter open unexpectedly. You're not sure whether to yell, cry, or both. Your eyesight isn't the best, but even in your waking disorientation, do you realize who's standing in front of you?

“Minhyuk?” Your voice is raspy and filled with utter confusion. “What are you doing here? What the fuc—

His kisses you instantly, and whatever the feeling is called when you feel like your body is exploding with every emotion at once, that’s how you feel. You want more, and you attempt to pull him on top of you, but he stays put. You whine into his mouth, causing him to chuckle at you before pulling away.

“Don’t do this to me right now.” You protest.

Minhyuk takes a deep breath. The kind he takes when he‘s in the midst of making a choice that’s for the greater good, but not exactly what he wants to do.

“I want to do that. So bad.” He begins. He adjusts his collar that you just a minute ago had a very seductive grip on, and when he touches it he swears he’s right back into that moment with you. “And we will, but I haven’t seen you in two months and I don’t have long. Isn’t it wrong for that to be the first thing we do?”

“If I wasn’t crazy, I would say you actually care about me.” You laugh, absolutely and thoroughly in love with the man in front of you right now. This is the man who has captured your heart. This is the person who knows just what to say and when to say it. His eyes are sparkling as they take you whole, swallowing any resentment you felt toward him when you thought he wouldn't stop by. You can’t help but to leap into his arms, squeezing tight as you still haven’t processed how real this moment is.

He laughs as well, but his tone his somber as well as his smile. “Why do you always say that?” He questions. “That I don’t care?”

Maybe this is the reason why you aren’t his girlfriend. All you ever did was question him and his feelings for you. Minhyuk always said to you that one of his favorite things about you is how outspoken you are. How you’re never afraid to say how you feel, or how other peoples actions make you feel. But in this moment, and every other doubting moment the two of you have shared does it feel like all you do is fuck things up even worse.

He’s looking at you, but you’re now looking through him. Minhyuk didn’t mean to send you inside your head, feeling embarrassed for saying what’s on your mind. He really just wants to understand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I was just making a little joke.” You attempt to cover.

“No you weren’t. And that’s okay. I just want to know why you always say that.”

You two couldn’t be about to argue after not seeing eachother in two months, right?

You don’t want to say the wrong thing, but you know you have to say something. His eyes are becoming impatient with you. You know he’s wondering why say such a thing if you can’t tell me why you said it when asked.

“I don’t want to fight.” Is all you can muster, shooting your eyes to ceiling. Let it go, Minhyuk. Is all you can think to yourself. The tension is getting thick, practically suffocating you. You just want to have a beautiful night with him. You want him to make love to you, and you want to fall asleep in his arms. You want to wake up before him, watching him sleep soundly before getting up to make his favorite breakfast. You want to tell him how much you love him. Not this.

“Tired of doing that.”

So, he really wants to do this?

“What are we, Minhyuk?”

Now he’s the one unable to find the words.

He pretends to contemplate. You know it’s insincere, because he looks to the left of him while he thinks instead of the right—a tell sign of him pretending to do something. He often did this when he was trying to surprise you with a date, claiming the two of you were going one place, when in reality he was taking you to some expensive restaurant.

“I love you.” He says confidently. You don’t know why you were waiting for him to say more. You want to laugh out loud, but you can’t, because the laugh will turn into a pitiful cry.

“That’s it?”

“No. I just—we talked about this, baby. I love you, and you love me, and we’re figuring this out. You’ve been through a lot with love and so have I. I just wanna enjoy this, because this,” he places his thumb to your cheek, rubbing it softly before continuing, “this is a beautiful thing that I don’t ever want to ruin. Do you understand?”

You nod helplessly. He knows that anytime his hands are anywhere on you, that his word is law. Being embarrassed about how delusional you are when it comes to his confusing analogies wasn’t going to make you come to your senses. You can’t help how much you love him. He makes you feel; something you never thought you’d do again. And you like it—no, you absolutely love it. It’s better than being numb and emotionless.

“I love you.” He repeats, moving his lips to your neck now. “And I want you in my life forever. I’m yours. We don’t need a label for that. Let’s just be.”

“Let’s just be.” You repeat, giving him more access and moving his hands to your chest, letting him to love you anyway he wants.

Minhyuk is on top of you now, and as he attempts to continue with your night, his phone begins to vibrate in his pocket.

“Just ignore it.” He breathes out, taking his phone of out of his pocket and throwing it behind the couch.

It’s his world, so you do as he says.

1:00AM

#minhyuk #monsta x imagines #minhyuk imagines #kpop black reader #minhyuk angst #minhyuk fluff #monsta x angst #kpop x poc #kpop x black reader

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karahofthedawn · 11 months

Note

I loved your „You Owe Us One“ series! could u please consider making one more part where the twins have their shop and the reader is pregnant and how she tells them the news (or they find out before her because of the way she started to act u know with all the pregnancy hormones haha ) even if it’s just a short one please it would honestly make my day ❤️

Thanks for your kind words. 💜 I apologize for how long this took, but here you go!!!

An afternoon spat between the Weasley Twins and you can be easily heard from even the most bottom level of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Ron, who works here part time, cringes as he hears yelling then a door slamming. The guests are so enthralled with the cluttered and colorful surroundings that they don't seem to notice the chaos that was unfolding just right above them.

Fred comes storming down the spiral stairs, carefully dodging a woman carrying several puking pastilles in her arms. He reaches the counter and pulls out a box of damaged products that had been returned. One by one, he flicks his wand and fixes them with silent anger practically steaming off of his bright red face.

Ron exchanges payment with a customer while side eyeing his brother. A few of the boxes he had repaired had to be done again, due to him slamming them down on the counter.

Once they are alone, Ron asks playfully, "you're supposed to be fixing those, right?"

Fred rolls his eyes and continues with his project, his lips tighten from the words he forcefully held in.

Ron reaches over to take one cracked love spell bottle, when Fred snaps his head to the side and glares at him. "I'm just trying to help," the younger brother explains. "Come on, get off it. It's not my fault your weird relationship is in the toilet."

Fred freezes, his scarlet cheeks overpowering even the color in his flaming hair. He has every right to kick Ron out of the store. He could even fire him on the spot. Who knows, maybe he could even be an unknowing guinea pig for their next few inventions.

Before Fred can land on one, George stumbles between them and sighs loudly. "I don't know what's worse, her yelling or crying." He props himself up on the counter and rubs his eyes.

"I think I could deal with the crying at this point," Fred says aimlessly. "It's been a bit much lately, hasn't it?"

Ron pipes up first. "Crying?"

They both nod and reply simultaneously with, "yes."

"What's gotten in Y/N? She's always seemed level headed." Ron says with his brows furrowing. "You're not tormenting her, are you?"

"No," George snaps. "If anything she's torturing us."

"Really," Fred adds. "It's like someone has taken our girlfriend and replaced them with an unpredictable replica."

Ron laughs, "almost reminds me of mom."

George twists his face in confusion. "What are you on about?"

Fred shakes his head and drops a bright green box into the empty bin. Once he's finished with repairing everything, it can all be stocked back on the shelves.

"Don't you remember when we were little and mom got so angry at you for fighting over a broom that she snapped it in half?" Ron laughs and shakes his head. "Never understood the reasoning in that."

"I'm surprised you can even remember that," Fred says as he fixes another crushed box. "You were like, one."

"I don't," Ron admits. "But you two always bring it up. Don't make mom upset or she'll break another broom."

"Ah," George smiles. "Yes, that always gets a rise out of her."

"It does," Fred agrees, pushing himself up and turning to the shelf behind them. New items are normally placed here and the front window, just so guests can see their newest invention. "And she always makes the same excuse."

"Yeah, that her pregnancy with Ginny really messed with her emotions," Ron says with a shake of his head. "And to think that dad had to experience that six times with her."

The box that Fred was holding slips from his fingers and bounces to the floor. His younger brother rolls his shoulders back and begins checking out a customer, the conversation drifting into the back of his mind.

Not for the twins though. They both turn to each other with wide eyes and mouths slightly ajar. How could they have been so stupid? It was so obvious all along.

—---------------

You are sitting in front of the toilet again, as you have been a few times a day for about two weeks. At first you thought it was something you ate, but the normal food poisoning curing spells haven't been effective at all. It doesn't help that Fred and George have been practically hovering over you.

You know they mean well, but your temper has been rather unpredictable lately. It's not like you haven't fought with the brothers before, but it's never been this turbulent.

After a wave of nausea passes, you push yourself up from the floor and stretch out your back by lifting your arms over your head. A door opens and closes, and you hear soft murmuring right outside of the bathroom. You swing the door open by its knob, revealing Fred and George a few feet away.

They stop talking at once and stare at you in a very peculiar way. You furrow your brows and cross your arms.

Fred nudges his brother, who steps forward. "We brought you something," he says and pulls a small clear orb out of his pocket.

"Oh." You eye the item, it's not something you recognize. "What is it?"

They look at each other, then back at you. George holds out his hands with the small ball laying in his palms. "Take it."

"If this is a prank, I swear to-"

"No," Fred reassures. "It's not. I promise."

You hesitate and search his face for any kind of smirk, but his eyes sparkle with a strange kind of excitement. You take the smooth cold object between your pointer and thumb. It sparks, then a cloud swirls on the inside. It expands the entire orb until it becomes a completely solid blue.

"I can't believe it," George says under his breath.

"I can," Fred laughs with his pupils glued to the little blue marble.

"Was it not supposed to do that?" You ask, rolling it around between your hands.

"Well it-" Fred hesitates and looks for his brother to continue.

"It did what it was meant to," George says carefully. "We just didn't know if it would or not."

You glance between the two of them with confusion written all over your face.

"It's meant to, well, it's meant to," George stammers out, but the words are stuck in his throat.

"Meant to what?" You urge and step forward. "Just tell me!"

He blinks rapidly and reaches to take your hands gently. "It will only turn colors if, if you're-"

"Pregnant," Fred finishes, leaving the room with an aching silence.

This was a joke. There's no way that you're pregnant, you were always so careful. Especially since you moved in with them above their shop. Protection spells every time before you'd sleep with either one of them.

"You're kidding." Your legs are frozen in spot as they approach both sides of you. Was this really happening?"

George clasps his hands over yours, enveloping the small orb like a clamshell. "This time, we're not."

A lump in your throat grows as you stare up into their freckled faces. "And you're not," you pause and swallow hard. "Upset?"

"Upset?" Fred says with a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Y/N, we have never been happier."

You look at George who nods, the corner of his eyes swell with tears. "We will love him as much as we love you."

You choke on the emotions that bottle up your neck. You let out a sharp breath, the word "him" escaping your lips.

"The color is the gender," Fred explains, a huge grin spreading from him to his brother.

You fall against Fred's chest, George joining in from behind you. "We're having a boy?" You ask between sobs.

Fred hums and kisses the top of your head. Their arms tangle around you as tears of joy stream down their faces.

"And who knows," George whispers. "Maybe it'll be twins."

You all laugh at the thought. You know that no matter what life throws at you, that you'll be able to make it through. Especially with Fred and George at your side.

#fred and george weasley #george weasley #fred weasley #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred and george weasley x reader

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giggly-squiggily · 8 months

Note

Hi Squiggly! I saw your requests were open and was wondering if you would be willing to write for Haikyuu? Totally understand if you’re not feeling up to it though! If you are willing though, could I request platonic lee Suga and ler Tsukishima? I think they’d be such an interesting pair with how mischievous they both can be. I don’t know if you want a prompt or not, but if so, maybe Suga was trying to get a rise out of Tsukki and get him to be a little more joyful/playful, but that backfires and when that playful side comes out, there do be tickles. Thanks Squiggly and I hope you have a fantastic day/week and have fun with your writing adventures!

Ooo, the rare playful Tsukishima! We love to see it! :D I've gotcha covered, anon! :3 And thank you so much! I wish the same to you- may your week/weekend be a great one and your day be lovely!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@thatbigbisexual29, @duckymcdoorknob @rachi-roo

“Hey, Tsukishima! How’s the weather up there?” Suga slapped him on the back, the gesture far too light to send the blonde off-balance. “I gotta ask- do you like being the team’s wall? You’re really good at it.”

“Uh, thanks I guess?” The middle blocker raised a brow, fingers twitching to pull on his headphones. It wasn’t that he disliked talking to Suga- it was more he just…didn’t like talking. Usually Yamaguchi carried conversations for both of them, but he had after school tutoring today- meaning the blonde was left on his own. “And I suppose. It’s a position.”

“Ah, you’re trying to act cool. A Lot of first years do, you know?” Suga gave his shoulder a squeeze before shaking it some. “I remember when us third years did. I like to think we’ve grown into our cool era.”

“You have? I couldn’t tell.” Oops- that slipped.

Suga’s jaw dropped, eyes lighting up at the comment. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh? Very well then- take THIS!” He dropped the hand on Tsukishima’s shoulder, clamping it on his side for maximum effect. “Now you’re gonna learn to respect your seniors!”

“Er! Hmmph!” Immediately Tsukishima clamped his mouth shut, twisting away from the ticklish touch. He should have known where this was going. “D-Don’t! I’m n-not ticklish!”

“Sure you’re not.” Suga snickered, bringing both hands up to attack his ribs, increasing his efforts. “That’s why you’re smiling so much, yeah?”

This guy! Tsukishima willed himself not to laugh, bracing against the tickly fingers. Suga was good, but this was nothing compared to the torment Kuroo and Bokuto unleashed upon him during the training camp. He could deal with it until Suga gave up…

Or he could get him instead.

“Hm? Is that a laugh I hear- whoa!” Suga yelped when Tsukishima grabbed his wrist, twisting with all his might. The setter stumbled some as he was whipped forward, just barely saved from falling by the blocker’s hands. “C-careful no-OH!”

“I think being careful’s gonna prove difficult.” Tsukishima mused, his fingers itching along Suga’s waist as the setter squirmed and giggled, doubling over into himself. “What’s wrong? I thought you were teaching me a lesson?”

“Yoohohohohure a snehehahahahaky ohooohohohne! AHehahahahaha- Dihhihihihid thehehehy teach yohohoohou thahahhat?” Suga wheezed, cheeks pink and giggles increasing when his ribs were marched on next.

Yes. “Nope. I just picked it up somewhere.”

“Lihihiihihiiar! Aheahhhahahahhaha- wahahahahit wahahhahait I’m sohohohohorry, I tahahahke it bahahahhack!” Suga all but flailed when his middle ribs were prodded at, nearly headbutting Tsukishima in the process. “Yohohohohohu ohahahakay?”

“Yeah, fine. You’re so squirmy though- hang on.” With another move he ‘picked up somewhere’, he kicked Suga’s legs out from under him, sitting on his hips as he carried on drilling into his ribs from behind. “There- now I can tickle you better.”

“Gehehehahahahahhahhaha! Tsuhuuhuuhuhkki, plehahahahhahahhase!” Suga was a mess of mirth, feet kicking against the ground as he pressed his arms tightly into his torso. “Iihihihihihihihit tihihihihihihickles sohoohhoohhoo muhuhuhuhuhuhuch!”

“Huh, you don’t say?” Tsukishima let his fingers walk across his back, looking for newer spots to torment. “Are you ticklish here? How about here?” He prodded randomly, snickering when Suga jerked and squeaked with each jab. “I think I remember you having a spot along…here?” He wiggled a finger beneath Suga’s armpit experimentally.

“AHAHHHHAHA!” The shriek was so loud it echoed across the empty gym.

“Wow. What a spot.” Deciding he’d take the hearing damage, he dug both hands into Suga’s pits, grinning as the Setter thrashed beneath him in hysterics. “That’s right- laugh for me.”

“TSUUHUHHUHUUHUHKI PELHAHAHAHAHAHAHSE!” Suga begged, cheeks hot and eyes starting to mist over. “STHAHAHAHAHAHP!”

“Heh, given up already? Alright.” The tickles came to an end as the setter gasped for air, curling onto his side. “That’ll show you for trying to tickle me.”

“Ehehehehe…hehehehee…ohoohoho doohohon’t wohohorry…yohohour lesson is stihiihihll underway.” Suga pointed out, earning a raised brow.

“Really? And how is that?”

Just then- two hands from two different bodies touched his shoulders, making him stiffen up.

“Hi Tsukishima.” Daichi was all smiles.

“Ready for lesson two?” Asahi grinned.

Thanks for reading!

#haikyuu!!#tickle #tickle fic #fluff #tsukishima kei #sugawara koushi #karasuno antics #I love them your honor #they are good bois akrjkeakjrakerjk

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divinegrey · 2 years

Text

𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 / 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

welcome to angst central, everybody! I tweaked the prompt for this one, but please read the warnings for this one. It's a little gruesome. title is inspired by repeat until death by novo amor!

prompt: Reader is from Omega earth on a mission to secure some radianite until they run into Viper from Alpha earth. In their worlds they were together but Reader's Viper died and vise versa

words: 1950

warnings: blood, violence, character death, extreme grief

They say to never pull out a knife unless you’re ready to fix the problem, but god, it’s starting to become a little tempting.

Back pressed against the wall, one hand on your stomach to stem the small flow of blood, you slide down until your ass hits the floor. Every movement causes you pain, but you can’t help but be a little grateful for it. The pain, at least, is a distraction from everything else that has you chained down to rock bottom.

What are the odds one of your teammates comes and gets you right now? Last you checked, your squadmates were pushing on A site, and you went to wrap around B and see if you could flank them from behind. That went awry when one of Alpha Jett’s knives got lodged into your stomach and you barely had time to throw a smoke bomb to cover your escape. You ran (hobbled) into a hallway near B site and… here you are.

Bleeding from your stomach because the one place your armor doesn’t cover is the place Jett sunk her knife into. Go figure.

“Need heals!” Killjoy’s voice flows through the earpiece lodged into your ear, followed by the sound of gunshots that you can hear faintly in the distance. “Reyna’s down— Shit! Atlas—” Another spray of bullets garbles KJ’s words beyond your understanding, but you catch the end. “Where are you?!”

Pulling your hand away from your stomach, you yank out the earpiece and throw it at the wall in front of you. It clatters onto the ground. Stupid fucking mission. Stupid fucking Radianite.

Everything would just be so much simpler if she was still here.

You look down at the Ghost gripped between your blood-smeared fingers. This wouldn’t be the first time you considered it.

Is this even worth it?

Footsteps come to your ears, hazy through the pain bleeding in your stomach. Weakly, you raise your gun to the door in the hallway that leads out to the B site on Fracture, trying to muffle the sounds of your strained breathing. There’s the taste of blood in your mouth, thick and metallic.

Green eyes flash around the corner, the nozzle of a gun aimed at your face, and you drop yours.

“S… Bean?” You whisper, your voice just barely loud enough over the clank of your Ghost hitting the floor.

Viper— Alpha Viper— stares at you, a Vandal held in her arms and a glare in her eyes. The glare, god, it’s so familiar. Tears come to your eyes, and you turn your head to the ceiling.

“I love you so much, please don’t cry, my love.”

The memory cuts through you worse than any pain you’ve ever felt, because this isn’t a pain that can be seen or witnessed. No, grief is a knife that burns hot against your skin every single morning you wake up and every single evening. Grief is a knife that cuts your dreams apart into ribbons.

You wait for the blessing of death, and yet, it never comes.

Opening your eyes, you look at Viper, telling yourself that this isn’t yours.

“Not pushing A, huh?” You say, a slight laugh coming out of your throat followed by a painful wheeze as the knife twists inside of you. You curse, looking down at the knife before looking back up at Viper.

She walks closer to you. Slowly, you raise your other hand, showing that you’re holding nothing in it, head leaning against the wall. But even with how strong you are, the pain makes it difficult to focus; you drop your arm onto the ground, your body shuddering with a forced inhale from your brain struggling to keep you alive.

“You called me Bean. Familiar with my counterpart, are you?” Sabine says, and a chuckle escapes your throat.

“More than familiar,” you say, running your tongue over your teeth. “Before you died.”

Sabine stills, and you see every single emotion working through her eyes the same way you’d see them work through your Sabine’s eyes, when she was still alive. You see the confusion switch into questioning, before settling into a curiosity you’d call morbid. Every second you spend staring at the Sabine standing before you is another bullet burying itself at home in your broken heart. Tears spring to your eyes, and to save yourself the embarrassment before your death, you tilt your head away.

You see Sabine’s boots in your peripherals, before she lowers herself down to a knee.

“I died? In your world?”

With a sigh, you nod. “You did. You died, in my arms, and I was too late to save you.”

Salty tears slide down your cheeks, evident in the way it cleans and clings to the dirt on your face from the intensity of battle. A hand comes to rest on your stomach, just below the site of Jett’s knife embedded into your stomach, and you can’t hold it back. You can’t hold back the sob, and the only thing you can do is bring your hand to your mouth to muffle the sounds.

“I’m sorry,” Sabine says, sounding distraught herself, in the way her voice is tighter like the words are being forced from her throat. “What’s your name?”

You lower your hand, letting it fall to your leg. “Atlas.”

“Atlas,” Sabine repeats, as though she’s saying the word for the first time, and it hurts so much more. “You’re not with us. Not on our Earth.”

The ache in your chest grows with every weak inhale for oxygen. You turn your head to Sabine. “Really? I’m not? You didn’t even find my twin? Did you try looking harder?”

Even through her mask covering half her face, you see the material shift. She’s smiling in the way she does when she thinks a joke is funny but doesn’t want to admit it— you know that smile. You caused that smile, hundreds of times on your Earth. You watch Sabine’s eyes dip down, then flicker back up to yours.

“Married?” Sabine asks. You glance briefly at the gold ring sitting on your finger, before looking back up.

“For a few minutes,” you say, the words sinking deeper and deeper into your body with every passing moment. Or is that the exhaustion finally catching up to you? “Then I was widowed.”

Sabine puts two and two together, because of course she does. With a quivering smile, you raise your hand, aiming to cup her face. Your strength abandons you, so you whisper instead, “Don’t go. Please, just let your face be the last thing I see. Mine was the last you saw before you—”

You can’t say anymore. Your body physically can’t— between the knife in your stomach, the wounds on your body, the grief that lays potent like poison in your heart, there’s not a single part of you that wants to go on. That can go on, knowing that your wife is gone and her copy is right here.

Sabine pulls her mask off, and you notice a cut you hadn’t seen before right where the line of her mask seals to her face. How much of yourself do you have left to give?

“Sabine, please, I can heal you—”

“And that will leave you dead, my love. Don’t.”

Pushing through every part of you that refuses to go, you place your fingers on Sabine’s cheek, ghosting the pads over the cut on her cheek. Sabine is frozen, her hand gripping your knee, and you exhale what life you have left not through your lungs, but through your blood and into your fingers.

The cut on Sabine’s cheek seals together, scar tissue modulating quickly before fading, almost as if she had never been cut at all. In return, your face slices open, in the exact same place.

Sabine asks, “Why?”

“Atlas may have held the world and its sins on his shoulders, but you will never have to hold mine,” You say, the words coming out with blood trickling from the corner of your mouth. You smile, if only for a moment. “You’d say that to me. Had you— your copy— not said so, I would’ve traded her life for mine. But she didn’t let me. I suppose I’m trying to make up for it now.”

Sound from your earpiece on the ground causes both of you to look toward it.

“You should go,” you say, voice hollow. “I don’t think many of my teammates are left alive as it is. Here.”

You shift to grab some spare ammo mags because you have nothing left to give, but the movement causes your spine to say fuck off and you fall forward.

Or, you would’ve fallen forward if it weren’t for Sabine catching you and pulling your arm around her shoulder. You make the mistake of getting too close, because you catch the smell of her mulberry perfume and it’s like she’s dying all over again. You see the smile she gave you before the light left her eyes every night in your dreams, and you see it again now.

You don’t realize you’re being pulled to your feet until you’re support a little of your own weight.

“What…?” Your voice trails off, your head resting on her shoulder.

“C’mon,” Sabine whispers, her voice so, so soft. “Keep your hand on that knife. Don’t pull it out.”

“What are you—”

“I’m paying it forward,” Sabine cuts you off. You don’t question her. You don’t question her when she gets you out of the hallway, aiming with her Vandal to check corners and hallways as she moves. You try not to drag your feet, but pins and needles make it difficult. Your vision is going blurrier and you’re struggling to stay awake, held down only by the smell of Sabine’s mulberry perfume and the residual trace of toxins.

“Eyes open,” Sabine says. Your eyelids feel like they’re filled with lead, but you do it.

You watch as she walls off B site entirely— you’re at the spawn site.

At some point, Sabine lowers you down to sit somewhere, and you can hardly keep your head level.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Atlas,” Sabine says, and you have the energy to smile.

“You’d say that when we’d watch movies, you know,” you whisper. Sabine nods.

“What movies would we watch?” Sabine asks, her hand pressed against your shoulder to keep you upright. She turns, pressing her other hand to her earpiece. “Sage, get back to spawn. I need healing, bad. They’re coming from B.”

Lie. She walled it off.

There’s a slight garble from Sabine’s earpiece.

“We started with action movies,” you say, the words farther apart with every breath you struggle to take. Sabine flicks her eyes toward you, and you focus on those evergreen depths, the beauty inside of them. “But you secretly love romcoms, even if you won’t ever say it.”

Sabine leans forward, pressing her lips to your forehead. Into your skin, she whispers, “Don’t ever tell a soul that, Atlas.”

Tears fall onto your lap. “I never did.”

Blackness crowds into your eyes, paired with the feeling of your limbs going numb. Your fingers are long gone— when was your last breath?

“Atlas?”

You slump into Sabine’s shoulder.

“I love you,” you say shakily. “Find me in your world, Sabine, I’ll be yours in a landslide.”

You wrap your arm around Sabine, and with one final exhale, you fall into darkness, echoed by Sabine’s shouts. The last thing you see is the glittering gold of the ring on your finger.

I can’t seem to not need to need you, Sabine. In this world or yours.

~~~~~

A/N: well that fucking hurt. fuck you (appreciatively) to the anon that requested this

#viper x reader #valorant viper x reader #valorant x reader #viper #viper valorant #valorant fanfiction

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equallyloyalandlethal · 1 year

Text

Steo Drabble #2

“Damn it, Theo. Just hang on, okay?” Stiles pleaded, his hands sliding against the chimera’s blood-soaked chest as he tried to compress the gaping wound in his side.

A weak chuckle answered him, pushing another wave of blood out of the hole. Stiles groaned, tears falling down his cheeks, falling to his boyfriend’s chest only to be swallowed by the gushing sea of red instantly. This was not okay. Not in the fucking least.

“Did I do good?” Theo asked, words airy and breathless for all the wrong reasons.

Stiles almost jumped when the chimera’s bloody hand squeezed his arm. It was weak, but the attempt was there, and that was all he cared about. The bastard was strong enough to snark and attempt reassuring gestures. He shifted, putting the full weight of his upper body on the wound, forcing a pained hiss from the man beneath him. His arms shook beneath his weight as he pressed down, leveraging all his hundred and sixty some pounds into the motion.

A noise somewhere between a snarl and choking back tears welled out of him as he glared at Theo, “Shut up, asshole. You’re not getting a thank you for trying to die, again. We talked about this whole martyrdom thing. I’m not into it, otherwise I’d be dating Scott instead.”

“Told you not to fall in love with me.”

Risking snarcasm being his final words to Theo paid off, a light smile parting his lips. Honestly, it was verging on gross, with the amount of blood spread across his teeth and the discoloration scattered over the too-pale-from-blood-loss skin, but all he saw was Theo. Beautiful, stupid, reckless, self-doomed to constant near death experiences Theo.

“And what did I say back?” Stiles asked, struggling to keep his face from twisting as his hands slipped again.

Theo’s eyes softened as his grip tightened, though his voice was weak, “Too late.”

Stiles nodded with his whole body, sending his tears flying. He had been ass over teacup for Theo since the first time he saw him. There was no stopping them from existing without wiping the chimera from the face of the planet and time, which admittedly was possible, thanks to the Wild Hunt, but even then Stiles would fight tooth and nail to get him back.

“That’s right, so shut up,” he said, bitting at his lip as he glanced down.

The gaping hole was smaller, overflowing with a steady a trickle as opposed to the torrent he’d originally been dealing with. A trip to the hospital was still likely, if only for a transfusion. There had to be half a body’s worth of blood around him. A relieved sigh nearly toppled him over.

“No dying,” Stiles said, dropping his forehead to Theo’s. “Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. You hear me?”

Theo shifted beneath him, hand coming to rest in the crook of Stiles’ neck, likely feeling the pulse. He knew his heartbeat was settling to the chimera, no matter how erratic or inconsistent it was at times, so he let him, despite the tackiness of the drying blood on his skin. Some things were just too gross to get used to, regardless of how often he came in contact with them.

“I’m a chimera, not a vampire,” Theo said, a little huff punctuating the words, telling Stiles he was smiling despite the dead pan tone.

“Don’t care, figure it out.” Stiles blindly flicked his arm.

“As you say, oh mighty human.”

The light laugh wheezing out of the man beneath him made Stiles’ head spin. It was a pitiful sound, so near to being broken and weaker than water’s alcohol content, not the kind of thing anyone in their right mind would fall in love with. But Stiles’ had no concept of what the right mind was. Not then and not even when he was ten. All he knew was that he loved the idiot excuse of a supernatural creature below him with every fiber of his being, and had since before he knew what the word really meant.

“Damn right.”

#theo #theo raeken #teen wolf #teen wolf fandom #stiles #steo drabble #ao3 stuff #fandom stuff #steo #stiles stilinski #theo reaken #theo X stiles #theo raeken/stiles stilinski

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peaseblossom-and-cobweb · 2 years

Text

Bramble

“Ah!” Remus half shouted as he lurched forward on uncertain footing. His leg twisted slightly unnaturally as he watched his half-drunk coffee bounce dramatically and then roll under the bramble bushes. He had a brief moment where he really truly believed he would finally succumb as he crumbled to the floor. He wasn’t proud when the only thought that flitted through his mind was a half-dejected I didn’t get to finish my Cornettos in the freezer.

Instead, his palms collided rather painfully with the pavement and he let out a pathetic little wheeze of air you could barely call an exclamation. Do not go gently into that dark night, indeed.

It was bright for an April morning, almost cheery. Remus didn’t like when the mornings after full moons were too happy, it felt like the world was mocking him. It was, but he didn’t need the constant reminder. He contemplated staying on the ground forever, but he had a job and some semblance of a life to get back to. He huffed out a breath as the sky began to regain its color through his spotty vision and tried to muster the energy to even sit up. He hoped the coffee cup hadn’t made its way to Russia by the time he stood. He was a responsible recycler, at the very least.

Brown eyes blinked down at him in the corner of his vision. They were set in a thin face behind large round spectacles. The boy’s hair was a riot, standing out against his scalp as if personally offended by its roots. On his forehead was a scar that threaded through his brow like a tributary map.

Remus would have found it odd to be staring at Harry Potter if his life wasn’t made up of odd occurrences.

“Hello.” He said from the ground.

The boy who lived blinked slowly a few times. Then- “Are you dead?”

“I surely hope not.” Remus replied.

Harry looked away to someone outside Remus’s field of vision. “Dad?” He said at mid-volume with a shrill uncertainty.

“Merlin’s beard, Harry you can’t run off like that- oh.” A very posh voice stopped just far enough so Remus could not see the owner. He nudged his chin down into his chest to see and only got a crown of dark hair as a reward. “Harry, did you knock this man over?”

Harry put his hands on his hips and huffed. “No. I found him like that.”

There was a crunch of gravel and suddenly the man was there beside him and oh no, Remus thought. Too pretty.

“Can I help you?” Remus’s sarcasm seemed to remain annoyingly intact in the face of this gorgeous man.

Luckily he seemed to like the bite. He smiled. “You’re on the ground.”

“It seems I am.”

“Do you need help?”

Remus thought about it. “I’ll be up in a moment. I’m resting.”

“He dropped his coffee and it spilled everywhere.” Harry supplied unhelpfully. The man’s lips were twitching.

“Hm.” He said. His eyes were grey- the color of a recently departed storm. If he were a poetic man Remus would say comment on the depth of them.

“Don’t you worry. Carry on.” Remus waved up at him from the ground. The man caught his hand and gave it a tug.

“Something tells me you are lying.” The man muttered, gingerly pulling Remus up to an upright position. The smile he wore was more of a ghost of one than anything, but it seemed to be an ever-present feature on his face. When Remus was fully upright it was no better- the man was just as pretty vertical as he was horizontal. Damn. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Sirius Black.”

Remus had nothing to give except his name. So he did. “Remus Lupin.”

They watched each other for a moment when suddenly there was a rustle from the bramble bushes. Harry had leaves in his hair and a dour expression on his face. In his tiny hand was an empty coffee cup. “You shouldn’t litter Mr. Lupin.”

@wolfstarmicrofic

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #writ #Harry Potter

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somekndofnature · 5 months

Text

Summary:

Inuyasha reveals something important to Sango and Miroku that shocks both. Kagome and Sango get some things off their chest.

Notes:

Hello all! Time for another couple of chapters. These next two sort of go together so I wanted to release them together. This is where the story starts getting thicc. So, I hope you enjoy.

For this chapter, there were a few songs that really inspired this chapter. First, is 'Walls (You Changed)' by Sick Puppies. I feel like this song is really important from Sango and Kagome's perspective, towards Inuyasha. And for those who were wondering about the music Inu is working on, this is one of the songs he ends up 'writing' in the story as he grows a little more. Second is 'Goodbye Apathy' by One Republic which is obviously chosen for Inuyasha in this moment. And the last is 'Torn' by Natalie Imbrugila which is also probably obviously chosen for Kagome.

Anyway... that's my music rant for now. Let me know if you like it.

AO3

Chapter 4: That Left Me On the Floor

Inuyasha was stunned into silence and could only watch Kagome’s shoulders tremble as she retreated towards the restroom, wheezing from the hole she’d punched straight through his chest. Each tear that had fallen onto her cheeks lashed his heart like a whip, drawing an answering warmth from his eyes. He had struggled to stay in place, compelled to drop to his knees and grovel on all fours, begging forgiveness. He knew that he had hurt her but…

You broke me.

Inuyasha bit back the whine that crawled its way up his throat and let his head fall into his hand, rubbing the gathered moisture from his eyes. Fuck , he hated seeing her cry. That was why he had always walked away; he’d never been able to take the shame that could—rightly—be placed at his feet for hurting her.

“Smooth,” Sango said from beside him.

Inuyasha scowled in her direction but didn’t respond; he had nothing to say in his defense.

Miroku sighed and pushed a hand through his dark hair. “Well, I guess that’s out of the question. It sucks, but I think we’ll have to find someone else.”

“No!” he growled, making their eyes widen. “It has to be her, no one else.”

Sango shook her head. “Inuyasha, I know you feel guilty for everything that happened but—”

“This isn’t about that!”

She raised a dubious brow.

He winced. “It isn’t just about that. It’s—fuck, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” she insisted.

Inuyasha shook his head.

“If you want any more of my help with Kagome, you’ll have to tell me why this is so important. Why does it have to be her? Why are you suddenly so eager to have her in your life?”

His ears lowered against his head; he couldn’t tell them. When Sango and Miroku understood what Kagome meant to him, the resulting guilt might bury him alive.

“Inuyasha?” Sango prompted again.

He hung his head, allowing a curtain of silver hair to hide his face as he whispered, “She’s my mate.”

He heard them suck in a sharp breath. Both had no doubt heard the same stories in school growing up. Great demons searching for their fated mate, the first glimpse of romance that their little minds were afforded. Inuyasha had been bored out of his skull just listening to them.

In the past, when the world was smaller, there was a reasonable assumption that this goal was attainable, that this mysterious person who made up your other half could be found, but on a planet of over seven billion beings, those odds slimmed considerably. A mate was someone to be treasured, and he had treated Kagome like she was… worthless .

Argh! The sound of that word gasping from between her trembling lips wouldn’t leave his ears. It twisted his heart, pumping an icy poison of regret through his veins.

“Wh-what? When?” Sango went silent for several seconds before gritting out through her teeth, “How long have you known?”

“From the beginning,” he replied, voice low. “From the first day I met her.”

“I knew it. I knew you were hiding something from me.” He heard Sango move but didn’t even brace as her fist connected with his cheek. “You ass!”

Inuyasha’s head whipped to the side, and he embraced the sting. He deserved her wrath on behalf of their friend, on behalf of fate, on behalf of everything he had scoffed in the face of, like a complete idiot. If it made him worthy of Kagome, he’d let Sango beat the hell out of him with a godsdamn smile.

“Nine years?!” Sango screeched. “Nine years and you… you were fuckin around, stickin your dick in anything that moved—”

“I didn’t actually do that.”

“What?!”

He shrugged. “I know it looked like I was always with a woman, but I just wanted it to seem that way. I didn’t actually sleep with any of them; I couldn’t. After being with Kagome, touching another woman felt,” he shuddered in disgust, “wrong.”

“Why?” Miroku asked. “Inuyasha that just sounds—”

“Cruel,” Sango interjected. “Why the hell would you do that to her?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I was trying to push her away, to make her hate me.”

“Well, congratulations,” Miroku said with a hint of reproach in his tone. “I think you succeeded.”

Inuyasha’s head fell back, rubbing his hands between his spread legs while they jittered with tension. He was getting judgment from the pervert now?

“No doubt,” Sango agreed with a derisive snort. “You only made it worse by constantly falling into her bed, too.”

“I couldn’t help it!” He pushed a hand through his silver hair, scraping his claws against his scalp.

Her lip curled with disgust. “That’s pathetic.”

“You got me, Sango,” he snapped. “I’m a completely pathetic, sad sack, piece of shit. Happy now?”

“Don’t say any of that like it’s going to save you,” she said, placing an indignant hand on her hip. “You think just because you finally pulled your head out of your ass means you deserve a second chance?”

His shoulders slumped. “No.”

“You’re damn right! What you deserve is to watch her move on with her life…”

Inuyasha squeezed his eyes shut as a hopeless anguish ripped through him, but Sango continued without mercy.

“You deserve to watch her find a man who treats her with compassion and devotion, like she’s precious.”

Mine! His demon howled from the back of his mind until his temples throbbed.

Still, she didn’t relent. “You deserve to watch her build a happy life and at its end to be surrounded by a family who loves and treasures her.”

Inuyasha folded in on himself, a keening whine breaking past his lips when he could no longer contain his misery. Did he deserve to watch Kagome leave him behind forever? Probably… Was it something he feared with every fiber of his being? Absolutely…

Miroku cleared his throat, saving him from any further torment. “Sango, sweetheart.”

“What?” she snapped.

“I’m not entirely sure if this shame-fest is having the desired effect.”

She went quiet for a long moment, but Inuyasha didn’t raise his gaze from the floor, which he was hoping would open and swallow him whole. “What was the point of doing all that?”

“I told you,” he said again. “To push her away.”

“Yes,” she hissed. “But why the hell would you want to do that? Any other demon in your position would be over the moon and that should go double for half-demons. Most people don’t even think you have mates. So, why?”

Inuyasha took a deep breath before answering. Eventually he’d have to face the same question from Kagome, he better get damn good at answering it now. “I was a dumbass! I was young and stupid and arrogant and…scared,” he admitted.

“Scared? Of what?” Miroku asked.

“I wasn’t ready for something like that,” he said, looking down at his clasped hands. “I’m not good with women in general. How was I supposed to win this person who was meant to be it for me? And let’s be honest, she’s way outta my league; it didn’t seem like we would ever actually fit together. It felt like I was being set up for failure.” He scratched at the back of his head. “I resented it, being forced into this relationship that I didn’t even want or think myself capable of growing. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, anyway. We were just starting out; it was supposed to be all parties and music and groupies.”

“Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll,” Miroku said in a wistful tone.

Inuyasha lifted his hand, gesturing at him over the table. “Exactly!”

“Don’t lump me in with you,” he grumbled. “You took that entire thing to an extreme.”

“Exactly!” Sango mocked with a similar wave of her hand.

Inuyasha scowled. “You don’t get it. These instincts are overwhelming. It felt like I wasn’t in control of myself.”

“And copious amounts of alcohol and amphetamines made that better?” Sango asked in a disbelieving tone.

“Not exactly,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “When I was around her, it made it damn near impossible to control my impulses, but away from her… I was able to forget about it, I didn’t feel this constant need gnawing at me.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t just your instincts or fate,” she explained. “It was you being infatuated. The mating bond doesn’t force you to want someone, it reveals who you’re most likely to be compatible with.”

“I get that now,” Inuyasha replied, his mounting frustration clear in his tone. “But back then it was just easier to blame it all on my demon side and push it away.”

She clicked her tongue. “You almost died, Inu. Was it really worth it?”

“How many times you want me to admit that I’m a dumbass?”

His ears twitched as Sango cursed. “You’ve made such a mess of this.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” she replied. “Humans feel it too, you know? That connection, those bonds of fate. We may not be able to name it and maybe we don’t feel it with the same intensity, but it’s there. Imagine the pain, the betrayal she felt.”

“Please … stop,” he whispered, hiding his face in his hands. “I just want to fix it.”

“Sango,” Miroku interjected again.

She sighed. “Inuyasha, I don’t know if you can fix this. You threw a gift back in fate’s face; you’ll need a miracle.”

He finally worked up the courage to meet her eyes. “Then help me… please ,” he begged through clenched teeth. “I can’t do this by myself.”

She pursed her lips. “Fine, I’ll go talk to her, but you have to promise me that if I get her to come back out here, you’ll be on your best behavior.”

He nodded.

“And you swear that you’re taking this seriously?” she asked. “No more waffling back and forth, no more jumping into bed with her only to push her away?”

“Fuck no!” he snapped before deflating. “Look, I know what life is like without her and I don’t want to do it anymore. If Kagome’s really done with me, then I’ll accept that,” he admitted, “but if there’s even the smallest chance that I can win her back… I gotta take it, Sango.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled, her face softening just a fraction. “Fine, I’ll go talk to her, but I don’t think she’s any happier with me than she is with you.”

Miroku chose this moment to pipe up, “I could go if—”

“No,” Inuyasha and Sango cut him off at the same time.

“The last thing we need is your brand of charm,” she added before walking away, following Kagome’s path to the restrooms.

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

Kagome avoided the curious gaze of the woman standing at the mirror as she stormed into the bathroom, feeling the warm burn of tears in her eyes. She slammed open the door of the nearest cubicle and immediately rested her back against it, sucking in a shuddering breath. What the hell?

It was difficult to even parse out how she was feeling. All of her emotions clambered on top of each other, fighting for dominance: betrayal, rejection, grief, compassion, and even still longing.

This was supposed to be a no pressure reconnection with a good friend. She had been excited to see Sango again, to heal her relationship with a woman who was once her sister in many ways. She had been prepared for it to be a little awkward and uncomfortable, but this had felt like an attack.

She had tried not to resent Sango when her partnership with The Strays had fallen out and her friend had gone silent for almost a year. Inuyasha was Sango’s oldest and best friend, they were more like family. It made sense that she stayed to help him recover, to help him find his way back to reality. It still felt like she was choosing Inuyasha over her, though. While Kagome logically understood, it didn’t negate the disappointment at being so easily forgotten.

When Sango had finally reached out, she had started by apologizing over and over again. It had been difficult to deny her. They had stayed in touch during the next five years by text and the frequent phone call, but this was the first time since severing her ties with the band that she was supposed to see Sango face to face. Just a quick little stop over on her way home from vacation.

Kagome had been eager; it had been ages since she had seen Sango’s smile and laugh or felt the strong reassurance of her embrace. She had missed it and, on her way here, she had allowed herself to feel the deep loss, that hole in her life that the absence of her friend had left. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel grateful that Inuyasha had her support during such a difficult time, even if Kagome felt guilty that she couldn’t provide it. He looked… good, and, if not content, more himself.

Seeing him after all this time was such a shock. Inuyasha had filled out, his tanned skin was packed with more muscle than she had seen in a while, still tall and lean but healthy. He was magnetic; she hadn’t been prepared to steel herself against his appeal. He had the same irreverent, bad-boy look that had drawn her in the beginning, with the piercings, tattoos, and black jeans that barely clung to his slim hips, torn by his fidgeting claws rather than designer labels.

It had been Inuyasha’s golden eyes that tugged at her heartstrings, though. They had been full of the same pain and remorse that was reflected at her each morning in the mirror, as if he had suffered every day of their separation with her. Those invisible ties that had grown slack between them had bound her once more and with it came that same fierce desire to hold him, soothe him, and to allow him to comfort her in turn, a yearning that she didn’t truly understand.

She heard the doorway to the bathroom swing open and closed. “Kagome?”

Sango’s voice made her flinch, and she bit her lip as another frustrated tear fell down her cheek.

“Kagome, I know you’re in here,” she said in a patient tone.

She grit her teeth and flicked the lock, flinging the door wide open. “Of course, I’m in here,” she hissed. “I have nowhere else to escape. You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

Sango rolled her dark brown eyes. “That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it? You can leave at any time.”

“Not without making a scene,” Kagome grumbled as she stomped towards the sinks and grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser. “I’ve already made a hysterical fool of myself once today,” she said while leaning forward to dab at her smeared mascara. “Not exactly eager for a repeat.”

Sango sighed and took a step towards her. “Look, I know it was a shock to see Inuyasha—”

“Don’t.” Kagome whipped around to glare at her. “Don’t you dare come in here and argue on his behalf.”

“I’m not,” her friend replied in a shaky voice. “I’m arguing on mine.”

Kagome swallowed hard as Sango took another step closer.

“I know that I’ve said this before,” she began while staring at her hands. “But I’m sorry, that I abandoned you.”

“Sango, we’ve talked about this,” she said in a dismissive tone. “What you should be apologizing for is bringing him here with no warning.”

“I know but this is the first time I’ve seen you in person since Inuyasha…” She hesitated. “overdosed.”

Kagome pursed her lips as another tear fell from her eye.

“I didn’t want to choose sides,” Sango continued. “But then you left, and I-I couldn’t leave.”

“And I couldn’t stay,” she whispered around the lump caught in her throat. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see him or have to use your hands to keep his heart pumping. For a moment, the whole world became gray and dull, like life itself wasn’t even worth living. I never want to feel like that again, especially for someone who doesn’t love me.”

Sango stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Kagome’s trembling shoulders. “I don’t blame you for leaving.”

“I don’t blame you for staying,” she replied through sniffles. “I’m glad Inuyasha had you around.”

“He’s doing a lot better, if you’re wondering.”

Kagome pulled back with a watery chuckle. “I thought you weren’t here to argue for him.”

“I’m not,” Sango replied with a shrug. “It’s just that, even though I’ve watched his health improve, he’s become quieter, more withdrawn than I’ve ever seen him. I just thought this would give him something to live for again. And I know if anyone can make it happen, you can.”

“I don’t know, Sango.”

“Just give him a shot,” she replied. “You don’t need to commit to anything now.”

“So what?” Kagome said with a sly grin. “Just take the music and run?”

“Why not? We already had plans today, didn’t we?”

“You don’t think that’s a little rude?”

“Serves him right for how he treated you.” Sango ducked around her and took a quick glance in the mirror, dabbing at the skin under her eyes.

Kagome did the same before she felt a nudge against her shoulder. She met Sango’s reflected gaze.

“Remember that time in New York when we stole Inuyasha’s wallet and went to have brunch at the Ritz?”

She giggled. “How could I forget? Inuyasha was so mad, he made us pay for his meals for the rest of the trip.”

Sango rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, I wonder if he isn’t half-cat instead of dog. That asshole can sure hold onto a grudge.”

“Don’t ever let him hear you say that,” Kagome replied.

They shared a dubious look and melted into a fit of giggles until Sango’s gaze grew tender. She swiped a few strands of hair behind Kagome’s ear.

“See? There were some good times, too.”

“I know. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it.”

Sango smiled and pulled her into another hug. “I’m really glad you came.

“Me too, the ambush notwithstanding.” Kagome paused and pulled back, loosely gripping her friends’ elbows. “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?”

“I wanted to see you and I didn’t want you to cancel just because of him.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have canceled. To be honest, I’ve been wanting to see all of you. I just didn’t expect him to be so—”

“Dickish?”

Kagome laughed. “No, it’s just… the way he was looking at me.”

“Like he’s head over heels?”

“Don’t say that,” she scoffed. “It’s not true.”

Sango’s gaze grew serious. “You have to know that he cares about you.”

“Not really, he never made a point of showing it,” she replied.

Her friend grabbed her by the shoulders. “I know he’s screwed up in the past, but Inuyasha’s changed, Kagome. More like the guy you fell in love with and less like the playboy rockstar.”

She looked down to study her nails and remained quiet.

“You do still love him, don’t you?” Sango asked.

Kagome hesitated to answer. She should hate him, everything she knew about being a strong independent woman told her so. Inuyasha had toyed with her affections, pulling her close only to push her away. He had used her, satisfied his lust within her body only to treat her with disdain. It was hurtful, but Sango wasn’t wrong. There were good times.

The moments when they were intimate seemed to exist in a universe of their own, outside of the way he treated her in the real world. Lost in each other, Inuyasha showed a new side of himself. He was attentive, generous, and focused solely on her pleasure before his. In those sweet hours, she had felt like all that mattered. It was only afterwards that he made her feel like a mistake and that contradiction had slowly chipped away at her self-esteem.

Things were different now, though. She wasn’t the same immature girl anymore. She owned her own business, managing several different well-known clients. She owned her own home, and had just paid off her modest sedan. She had even adopted a cat. By most people’s standards she was successful, but the wounds that she had incurred back then had left lasting scars.

Kagome didn’t open herself up to people anymore. She was friendly and polite, with many close acquaintances, but none that she considered actual friends other than Rin. She wasn’t sure she could count that one since technically she was family. Her love life was non-existent; she’d practically become a nun. No one had touched her intimately since… him .

Not that she hadn’t tried, but being in romantic situations with other men made her stomach turn. No one had touched her, held her, set her blood on fire the way that he did. It had been years since the first time they had connected in such a way, but she could still remember every detail. It was a well-trodden and comforting memory. From the first moment she was hooked; he became her drug, one that she had been in withdrawal from for the last six years.

#inuyashaxkagome #inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag fic #modern au #rockband au #here with you #chapter 4

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tickle-bugs · 2 years

Note

Symbrock + 🐷 for the ask meme, if you're accepting prompts for them?

Find the ask meme here!

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?” His eyes don’t leave the screen. He shovels popcorn in his mouth and groans when he misses, fumbling for the loose pieces before the couch consumes them forever.

“Look at me.” Venom jostles Eddie’s shoulders a little bit. He drops the popcorn again.

“Shit. Hold on.” Eddie manages to grab the pieces and shove them in his mouth. He settles back into the couch cushions as the Golden Girls intro plays. He smiles and hums along. It’s fuckin’ classic, he’ll never get tired of it.

“Eddie, it’s very important!” Venom twists into Eddie’s line of sight, teeth bared in irritation. He…actually sounds worried. Very worried. Eddie pauses the TV and tosses the remote to the coffee table.

“What is it, V?” Eddie’s brow furrows. Venom’s head hovers in front of him, uncharacteristically quiet. He thinks if Venom had lips, he’d be chewing on them.

“You can tell me anything, you know that.” Eddie cradles Venom’s face, brushing a thumb over his cheek. It’s a little sappy for them, but it looks like he needs it.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Venom murmurs.

“...what?”

“If I were a worm, Eddie. Would you still love me?” Venom blinks at him with his big eyes, strangely soft, even as he demands an answer. Silence drifts over the living room like a freshly-washed blanket.

Eddie cackles. He full-on witch cackles and it’s so embarrassing, but what the hell else is he meant to do, oh my god--

“That’s what’s bothering you?” Eddie wheezes, clutching at his torso. The more he thinks about it, the more ridiculous it gets. He tries to stifle his laughter into his fist, but then it hits him again and he’s throwing his head back into the couch.

“I am being serious! Stop laughing!” Venom swats at him a few times and Eddie blocks as best as he can, eyes blurring with tears. Oh, his face hurts from smiling.

“Okay, okay, phew. Of course I’d still love you, man.” Eddie tilts their foreheads together as the last few chuckles bubble free of his chest.

“Are you sure? Worms are very small. And fragile.” Venom squints, as if this is a trick question.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Eddie smiles.

“Are you positive?” Venom gets closer. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Nope. If you were a worm, I wouldn’t love you.” Eddie fights tooth and nail to muster a serious frown. He leans around Venom to resume Golden Girls.

“You suck! You are not bold enough to love a worm! I’d love you if you were a worm! But you’d be a small worm. A small loser worm that smells.” Venom announces it as if it’s some grand proclamation, not petulant in the slightest. He jabs at his stomach in a way that’s probably meant to hurt, but they’d been talking a lot about softness and being gentle with each other lately, so it doesn’t do anything more than tickle. Which isn’t ideal when you’re trying to do a bit.

Eddie flinches and a giggle escapes him. Venom grins with all of his teeth.

“Y’know, I’m starting to see the appeal of you as a worm—“

Venom descends on him like a rushing tide, squeezing at his waist and spidering at his ribs. Before Eddie knows it, he’s sideways and smacking the shit out of the couch as he cackles with newfound purpose.

Eddie rolls on his back and Venom keeps him there with well-timed pinches at the crease of his hip. He throws his head back into the cushions and lets out a garbled squeal.

“Eddie, do you know what time it is?” Venom’s grin is sinister. Eddie’s eyes widen and he tries to shove Venom away. His hands get stuck in the mass of goop.

Inside Venom’s chest, he feels a hand squeeze his own. Aww.

“Don’t. Do not. I’ll throw us both into the bay, don’t you dare—“

“It is time…for breakfast!” Venom cackles triumphantly. He grabs hold of Eddie’s knee with two hands. Another two arms sprout from Venom’s shoulders and a little black, goopy egg forms between them. He taps it on Eddie’s knee and it’s not a yolk that comes out, but Venom’s claws skittering across his kneecap and down his calf and up his thigh.

Eddie would never harm a hair on Anne’s head, but he wants to kill her for showing this to Venom. It’s lethal. Loved ones are supposed to protect your weaknesses, not dole them out for free because Venom got bored.

He becomes aware of his own giggling through the frenetic jumble of his mind and he shoves his face into his hands. Venom tickles under his arms to try and get him to come out, but Eddie just wheezes and kicks his legs. And snorts. Very loudly.

“Do that again.” Venom looms over him.

“No.” Eddie tucks his face into his bicep so he doesn’t have to make eye-contact. He’s starting to feel a burn in his chest but it’s a good one.

“It was cute! I want to hear it again!” Venom shouts, personally affronted. And yeah, okay, Eddie does snort again, but it’s not because Venom tells him to. It’s because the bastard is tickling the back of his legs so viciously that it sends him directly into the stratosphere.

So this is how it ends. Not a heroic death in battle or old age after a life full of badassery, but laughing to death on his shitty couch. At least he’s happy.

Eddie squints up at Venom through tear-blurred eyes and clocks the way his eyes light up when he snorts again.

Yeah, he’s pretty damn happy.

#my drabbles #i love them with my whole ass #symbrock #ticklish!eddie #eddie brock #venom #marvel

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ethereal-inquisitor · 2 years

Text

Chapter 6: Bofur

Warnings: Sex pollen (slight dub con) Bofur being a sweetheart, Bofur being ridiculously good in the sack, fem!reader

Bofur had left your side very few times since you literally dropped into his lap a few months ago. He was quite smitten, and every single person in the group knew it except for you. It was a running joke among them that Bofur would eventually have to tell you because there was no way you’d figure it out, but he would just smile softly and shake his head.

“If she doesn’t like me like that, then I’m alright with it,” he’d say, watching you help Bombur cook with a wistful sigh. “Just being near her heals me like nothin’ else.”

It was of no surprise to anyone when the rocks crumbled beneath your feet to drop you onto the giant sex flower that Bofur was literally standing right next to you. As you fell into the cavern, he grabbed you and pulled you close enough that you landed directly on top of him as his back hit the center of the flower and pink dust flew everywhere.

You stared down at Bofur, coughing as you inhaled a huge burst of dust. “Bofur, I am so sorry!” you wheezed, rolling to the side and running your hands over his chest to make sure you didn’t break anything. “Did I hurt you?”

Bofur huffed a chuckle, moving into a sitting position as he brushed the dust off himself. “Not at all, love,” he said absently, studying the pink motes as they flitted through the air. Blinking as something occurred to him, Bofur immediately climbed down off the plant and pulled you with him.

A string of curses left his lips as he tried to dust you off, and when he heard the others yelling he called up to them. “Do NOT come down here! We’re covered in pink spores, and there is an active flower right in the middle.”

Silence from above.

“Bofur!” Balin called, “how bad is it? Can you come up so we can speak?”

You glared at the back of Bofur’s head. “What about me?”

Bofur turned to look at you with an expression you’d never seen before, but he quickly wiped it away and smiled brightly at you. “Nothin’ to be worried about, love, just dwarf talk. I’ll be right back!” He skittered off, glancing back at you like he was afraid you were going to disappear.

In the five minutes Bofur had been gone, the temperature in the room had raised at least ten degrees. You sat on the edge of a little pool in the back of the room, and after you pulled your shoes and socks off, you sank your feet into the tepid water with a moan. Every sensation was amplified. You were tempted to take off your clothes and dip into the water, but you didn’t want to make Bofur uncomfortable. Besides, with how wet you were currently, you needed privacy to fix whatever it was that was happening to you.

As your mind started drifting to what you could do to ease this issue, Bofur returned looking rather….mussed. His hat was skewed, his shirt was crooked, and half of his normal layers were gone. His cheeks were flushed, and as his gaze travelled over you, he swiped his hat off his head and twisted at it nervously.

“Listen, love,” he started, shifting from foot to foot. “This dust we have on us is usually used as…er…it’s for intimate times?” he said lamely. “It’s not that bad for dwarves, but when humans get doused in it, it can be a problem.”

Your brain was drifting along, listening to the dulcet tones of the dwarf in front of you when you processed what he was saying. “What do you mean? Am I going to die?”

Bofur shook his head. “No, as long as you’re able to…..work through the problem.” His face was a little deeper shade of red by this point. “Balin says it only takes a day or so to work it out if you’re taken care of, so I’m here to ask if you would like me to. Take care of you, that is.”

You blinked, arching a brow. “I’m not quite sure what you’re asking, Bofur,” you said finally, tugging at the neck of your blouse to try and let cool air touch your skin. He was so fidgety that it took you a minute to realize why he was shifting like he was. He was doused in the powder, too, and if the way you were feeling was any indication, that meant he was dealing with a far more visible issue of his own. Which he was, impressively so.

He watched as the gears turned in your head, carefully studying the expression on your face to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable with him. He wanted nothing more than to take care of the both of you, but he wouldn’t touch a single inch of your soft skin if you didn’t want him to. “I—heh—I’m asking if you would like for me to assist you in dealing with the side effects of the dust so your heart doesn’t explode. But not just for that!” he added quickly, “I would have liked to have done this correctly as you are the only lass I’ve ever felt this way about before, but…If you don’t want it to be me, then I will find someone you do want to help.” He was babbling, so nervous you would have felt badly for him if it weren’t for the veritable movie of completely filthy thoughts drifting through your mind’s eye.

It was difficult to concentrate, but you tried your best to focus on Bofur’s face, not what was in his pants. “Are you asking if I’d like to share in some….carnal delights with you?” you tease, pulling yourself to a standing position. His eyes were riveted on your hands as they started tugging at the laces on your shirt to loosen them.

“I am,” he replied darkly, inching forward slowly. You weren’t running, and you were obviously not opposed to him. The dust was already roaring through his veins, demanding he take you, and every barrier he had against doing just that began to fall away. His One was in need, and he would do everything he needed to make sure that she was safe and satisfied.

Bofur’s sweet face hardened, and the look in his eyes was predatory as he watched every slice of skin you unveiled like it was a holy moment for him. The noise he made when you pulled the tunic over your head had you squeezing your legs together, and in the moment it took to bare yourself to him, he was standing in front of you hardly breathing. Simply staring at the half-moons of your breasts peeking over the top of your lacy black bra.

His breath ghosted over your skin, and you shivered. You raised your hand to tilt his chin up to look at you. “I’d like that, Bofur,” you whispered, leaning in to press your lips against the shell of his ear. “I’d like that very much.”

Permission was what he was waiting for, and as soon as the words left your mouth you found yourself pressed up against the nearest wall with Bofur’s lips fitted tightly against yours. His groan vibrated through your entire body, and his warm hands settled along your waist like they belonged there.

His kiss was like nothing you would have imagined. Bofur was sweet, funny, even goofy, but the dwarf in front of you was none of those things. His lips scorched yours, and he confidently nipped at your lower lip before sliding his tongue along yours in a sensual dance. He exuded dominance in the way that Thorin and Dwalin did, demanding submission in the most primal of ways.

You were dripping just thinking about it.

His hands wove through the strands of your hair, and he made a fist at the base of your skull to easier move you where he wanted you. The slight tug at the roots of your hair made you moan against his lips, and his dirty chuckle had you gripping both of his shoulders, nails leaving little crescent marks in his skin.

“If we do this,” he growls against your jaw, lips grazing along your skin, “really do this, then you are mine.” He nipped right below your ear, and you gasped. “Truly mine. So if you’re going to regret this later, then I will leave right now. But if you aren’t…” His large hand slowly moved up your bare skin, cupping your breast over the silken cloth while he gently slid his thumb over your nipple. “I assure you all that talk with the lads about my talents are entirely true. I’m a great admirer of the female form.”

You let out a breath of a giggle, smacking his shoulder lightly. “You haven’t shown me anything yet, master dwarf.”

Bofur chuckled and tugged you to a clear spot near the water where he had laid his extra lawyers and some blankets down. “Dwarrowdams tend to be rough in the bedroom. It’s all fighting and forcing her to submit to your will.” His eyes were dark, wandering over you like he was imagining that very scenario as he was speaking. “But women, oh,” he purred, leading you down onto the blanket and pushing you gently onto your back. He admired the view for just a moment, his hands sliding along your stomach and stopping at the laces for your pants, “women are soft and sensual. They beg so sweetly.” He pulled at the laces, but finding them knotted tightly, he caught your eye before he grabbed both halves of the offending clothing and tugged, ripping them straight down the middle.

You yelped, glaring at the dwarf as he removed your boots and the pieces of ripped pants from your legs. “Well, I’m not begging. Those were my favorite pants!”

When you were in nothing but scraps of lace beneath him, Bofur knelt between your legs and chuckled. “By the time that dust kicks in, love, you’ll be screaming my name because that’s the only word you will remember.” His rough hands settled on your thighs, and he parted them with a hungry expression. “You are a treat,” he breathed, “and bless the human who came up with these delightful little underthings.” He hovered a single fingertip at the edges of your underwear, and you sucked in a breath at the tickling sensation.

“You’re a lot of talk, I think,” you tease, bringing your knees up to bracket his hips. He was warm, and you were nearly shaking with the need for him to touch you anywhere he could reach. The lace you were wearing was soaked, and you could feel it stick to your skin a little as he dragged it to the side to slide that finger through your wetness and dip into you just enough to make you arch your back to get him deeper.

He brought his hand back, making eye contact with you as he brought that finger to his mouth and sucked on it. The moan he let out was downright orgasmic, and you whimpered a little and tried to close your knees for some friction.

His hands shot to your thighs again and spread them out, pressing them to the bed so that you couldn’t move. You were completely open to him, soaked panties and all. He was so transfixed at the picture you made that you squirmed and slid a hand down to pull your panties to the side.

“Should I help get you started?” you purred, letting your fingers drift over your clit and lower. You needed to be filled, but you didn’t think your fingers were going to get the job done. Even that small touch to your clit had you almost to the edge, and you bucked a little at how sensitive you were.

Before you could sink into yourself, Bofur snapped out of his thoughts and growled, gripping your wrist and pulling it up enough that he could see your slick glistening on your skin. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself. I haven’t heard you beg a single time.” He sucked your two fingers into his mouth and swirled his tongue over the tips, pulling a whimpering noise from your lips.

He shifted away from you enough to easily flip you over onto your belly, ignoring your protests as he gathered both wrists into his hand and held them easily above your head. “Alright?” he asked gently, breath puffing against your neck. You nodded, brain blanking as he settled his still-clothed form over you, surrounding you in his scent and warmth.

You feel his erection against the cleft of your ass, and you arch back to rub against him. He grunts and thrusts forward, his free hand slipping over your hip to pull your pelvis up enough that he could fit his hand between you and the floor. His middle finger settled directly over your clit and stilled, tormenting and not enough pressure to do anything but tease.

You were unable to move at all with his weight settled on you and your hands bracketed above your head, so you tried to wriggle your hips enough to grind against his finger. “Bofur…”

He hummed, lips moving along the back of your neck to your earlobe. “Mmm, yes, love?” He nuzzled your head to the side so he could get access to your neck, nipping the skin there and slowly thrusting against your backside. “Is there something you’d like?”

You were burning up, every inch of skin he pressed against was on fire. All you wanted was for Bofur to move something, anything, and put you out of your misery. “Please,” you begged, tugging at your wrists. “I need…”

The first stroke of his finger against your clit had you seizing, and he nuzzled your neck. “I know, love,” he purred. “I know.” He shifted just enough to kick your legs further apart, opening you to him while he rutted against you. His thick fingers slid lower, sinking easily into you. You keened, pushing against him as his fingers curled inside you, catching the one spot that you could never reach yourself. He groaned into your back, his fingers pumping once, twice, and on the third time you shrieked his name as you were pushed over the edge.

Once you had relaxed in his arms, he flipped you over onto your back again with a smug smirk, and you watched as he tugged the laces of his breeches enough to push his pants over his hips. You couldn’t look away as his cock bobbed proudly in front of him, so thick you wouldn’t be able to close your hand.

“My eyes are up here, love,” he teased, using the hand he had brought you to climax with to spread your slick all over his length. Your eyes snapped up to his, and he winked at you before he pulled your thighs apart and brought them around his waist again. Your lacy underthings were soaked to the point of ruin, so Bofur reached down to rip both sides and tug them off you completely.

He tugged his tunic over his head, and then he leaned over you enough to prop himself up on his elbows and cradle your head in his hands. He pressed a kiss to your lips, his tongue sliding along the seam as he teased you. You arched against him, pressing into that hard length of his and he groaned.

“Careful,” he growled in your ear, one hand leaving your head to grip your hip and still you. “I’m trying not to ravage you. You deserve more than that.”

The thought of Bofur doing anything to you at this point had you squirming under him, and you brought your arms up to wrap around his neck gently. “Bofur,” you said, proud that your voice didn’t waver as you burned beneath him, “I need you take me. Flip me over, bend me in half, ruin me. I don’t care, but if you don’t do something immediately, well… then you are a lot of ta---”

You didn’t even finish your sentence before the dwarf was pushing your thighs forward to open you up to him. Completely at his mercy, you made an embarrassing noise as he pressed nearly all the way into you with one smooth stroke of his hips. “What was that, love?” he asked, pulling back just enough to press all the way in, his deep groan causing you to clench around him with a gasp.

He was moving just slow enough that you couldn’t reach your peak, and the glint in his eye told you he knew it. “I didn’t quite make that out.” He let your legs fall to either side of him, and he gripped your hips tightly. The next stroke he gave you was a little harder. “Remember that you asked for this,” he finished darkly, and you barely had time to take a breath before it began.

His thrusts turned nearly violent, as he pulled you onto his cock as he pushed into your wet heat. You tried to wrap your legs around his hip, but he would have none of that as he pushed them back to the pallet, growling in warning as his hands returned to their previous position.

You always enjoyed hearing a man growl, and this was no different as the sound flung you off the cliff into your next climax. His grip tightened on you as you fluttered around him and shrieked, arching into him as much as possible as you rode through it. Literally. Bofur didn’t stop moving, instead choosing to slow his thrusts and press into you as you came, rotating his hips and pressing as deeply as he could.

This pulled a second orgasm out of you, and you reached blindly for Bofur. Your hands brushed you face, and you vaguely remembered something about their beards as your brain melted. You opened your eyes enough to reach out and touch his mustache, tugging on one side.

His eyes widened as his hips stuttered, and you could feel him thicken and pulse. Oh. That was nice.

“Both hands,” he requested, grinding against you now as he brought his face closer to yours. His hands moved as yours did, though one of his hands rested on your breast while yours came up to thread through his beard. It was just long enough to thread your fingers in to, and he nearly purred as you scratched along his jaw. It wasn’t until you curled your fingers into fists and tugged gently that his gaze darkened and he flipped you over so that he was under you and you were pressed tightly against his chest.

“Use me,” he demanded, thrusting up in to you. “Hold onto me just like that, and use me.” His hands guided you as you gripped his beard and tugged a little, pulling yourself up and dropping back down with a moan. His responding sound was nearly primal, and you arched your back enough to give him a good view of your breasts.

He buried his face in them, sucking and licking his way to your nipples. He nipped gently at the sensitive peaks, the warmth from his mouth engulfing it in one move.

Your hips stuttered, and you sucked in a breath. “B-Bofur,” you tried to warn him, your thighs shaking from how close you were to coming.

“Oh, I love my name on your lips,” he purred. “But this time, love, I’m going to need you to scream it.”

You were so close you didn’t realize how hard you tugged on his beard, but the answering moan that escaped his lips had your entire body going rigid while you wailed his name. His hands became a vice around your hips, and he held you still while he ground up and into you. You felt him swell and burst, coating you with his seed while he kept moving you to prolong the feeling.

But he didn’t stop.

Like a man possessed, he nearly threw you off him and flipped you over onto your hands and knees. His hands slid admiringly over your ass, and one slid up your back to push your head into the blanket, giving him a wonderful view of you open and dripping. He kicked your knees further apart, pushing back into without warning.

Your hands scrambled for purchase on anything as he pistoned in and out of you, hitting that one spot that had you seeing stars every time the head of his cock pressed against it. The noises escaping you were unintelligible, and all you could do was take what he was giving you.

You felt him wind his fingers through your hair, and he tugged enough to pull you to your knees and arch your back, the other hand curling over the top of your thigh to press one large finger to your clit. He pressed his face to the side of yours, nipping at your jaw gently. “I could do this for hours,” he said, hardly breathing roughly at all. You were a little offended with how hard you were breathing at the moment. “I have so many,” his rough finger circled around your nub with expert finesse, “ideas. You’re just as wonderful as I imagined.”

You seized around him again, whining as he kept you right there at the edge.

“But I’m not going to this time. There will be other times…” He tilted your head to the side and bit your neck hard enough for it to sting, “For now, I need to feel you one more time. Come on, love, for me…” There was no more talk as he brought you down on top of him, rolling your clit between his fingers and whispering dirty dwarvish in your ear as you did what he asked.

Lights burst behind your eyes and you nearly blacked out as you lost complete control of your body and screamed his name. A smaller pulse followed right behind the first as you felt him lose control and follow right behind you with a growl.

Little aftershocks had you whimpering as he pulled from you, and he turned and laid you gently on the blanket. Settling on his side, he swept his fingers along your skin to push your hair back from your face. “Alright?” he asked softly, his gaze catching yours as you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Mmmm,” was all you could manage as you shivered through the aftershocks.

His amused chuckle made you smile, and you reached out to pull him closer to you. He ran hot naturally, but the spores made him feel like a furnace, and it felt glorious as the cool air made your damp skin feel a little chilly.

Every touch he swept over you had you burning for him again, and you rolled onto your back to give him better access to everything. “You dwarves and your sexual escapades,” you murmur, grinning at him.

He huffed a laugh, his eyes focused on various parts of your bare skin. “If it weren’t for those escapades, we wouldn’t be here,” he noted, giving you a sly glance. “I can’t say I’m complaining about that, love.”

“Neither am I,” you replied, rolling over to crawl over the dwarf again.

“You don’t regret it?” He gave you a vulnerable look, as if waiting for you to reject what this was.

You shook your head, shifting to sink down onto his still-hard length again. Gasping as you felt him fill you to bursting, you brace a hand on either side of his head. Your hair curtains around the two of you, blocking out the world. “If this hadn’t have happened, I would have eventually paraded myself around you naked, you silly dwarf.” You clench teasingly around him, rolling your hips. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but it’s hard when there is no privacy.”

Bofur snorted. “I thought you couldn’t tell…” He tugs you down to catch your lips with his, putting all his feelings into that one press of lips. It has you catching your breath, and you speed up a little to chase the orgasm that is beckoning. Pulling back to sit up straight, you put both his hands on your breasts and tilt your head back to savor the sensations.

“I’ve spent the last few months imagining nothing but this,” you whisper.

“Well, then,” he replies smugly, “I think we should spend what time we have making sure I live up to your expectations.” He thrusts upward and pulls a moan from your lips. “Because I’ve also had some….thoughts about you, love. So many. And now that you’re mine, I can explore ever single one of them.”

Bofur spent the next two days making sure you were thoroughly cared for, and he marked every inch of your skin with his marks and his essence to make sure every other dwarf knew who you belonged to. Privacy was something that was scarce on the journey, but you were surprised at his creativity in getting his hands or other parts down your pants whenever he could. And when you finally made it to Erebor, he took you in every room he possibly could, loving nothing more than his name echoing off the walls so that everyone could hear.

Choose your dwarf!

Thorin Dwalin Fili Kili

#Bofur x reader #bofur x fem!reader #bofur smut

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