#bottle form with elongated neck

[busaccagallery]

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[memethebum]

Got my @sesecretsanta fic out for @moriohpissky :D

Hope you like ittt 😭🙏🏽

————————————————————————

“Hey, how much longer till’ those cookies are ready Eater?” Spirit shouted from his seat on the living room couch, causing Soul to bristle at the question.

“40 fuckin’ minutes. Now ask me that question one more time and I’ll shove these cookie cutters down your-“

“Ugh, can you two get along for ONCE,” Maka grumbled over Soul before he set the whisk he was holding down and turned his head to see the young woman pouting on the couch next to a suddenly intimidated Spirit.

“I’m sorry Angel, it’s just that-“

“No, I’m through with your excuses. You promised me you’d stop being so crabby with Soul the day he proposed, and it’s been what a year and a half and I still don’t see any improvement!” Maka continued while dropping the photo album she was working on upon the table in front of her with an elongated huff.

A terse silence then began to make it’s way across the apartment, forcing Soul to realize that it was his turn to comfort Maka about the situation.

“Your old man….isn’t all that bad anymore though. I mean, he gave us his blessin’ for marriage so I guess….” Soul started, only to become lost within his erratic thoughts about his father-in-law’s odd behavior on the night he asked him to green-lit the imminent proposal.

“I know the kind of man you are Eater, so let’s see how much marriage changes that. Especially with-“

“Hi Mama!” Maka tittered over Soul’s train of thought as he picked up the whisk again and slowly started to toss the dry ingredients together, all while keeping his ears perked on the conversation behind him.

“Yea, I already set up the guest room for you and…is that this week?” his wife then mumbled, causing the younger Deathscythe to come towards a standstill once again.

“But I don’t understand…you-you couldn’t even come for the wedding and it’s about to be Christmas so I thought…no-no I don’t want to hold you up…no it’s-ok bye Mama,” Maka whispered before tapping a finger onto her phone screen, chucking her phone upon the sofa, and making a sprint towards the bathroom.

Soul immediately set the bowl he was holding down onto the counter and scurried in the direction Maka ran towards. He was able to reach the narrow hallway just as a few muffled sobs began to leak from behind the bathroom door.

The Deathscythe could feel Spirit standing a few feet behind him before he slowly rapped his knuckles against the door and then heard his wife let out a low cough in between her sobbing, which served as all the feedback he needed to silently turn the doorknob and enter the bathroom with a solemn expression.

Soul then watched while Maka looked up at him from the corner she’d wedged herself into within their small bathtub, only to shake her head a moment afterwards and haphazardly kick at a bottle of conditioner laying beside her.

“Hey…,” Soul mumbled before flopping into the bathtub as well and gently circling an arm around his wife’s back.

“I just-just don’t get why she has to raise my hopes just to do this,” Maka lamented while resting her nose onto the crux of Soul’s neck, probing him to nod through the pinpricks forming on his shoulder.

“It’s really fucked up,” Soul commented before pushing back a few strands of Maka’s hair and noticing the way her usual valiant demeanor seemed to be sapped away from her each time she failed to muffle her crying.

Fucked up enough for me to get to the bottom of all this crap myself Soul thought, hoping that his embrace would be enough to let his wife know that her unrestrained crying was the bravest thing she could do in such a shitty situation.

———————————————————————

I can’t believe it’s worked so far the Deathscythe noted while skirting past the babble of families occupying the halls of Death City Airport.

He could feel a few watchful eyes on him, although he was completely certain it was because of his title as the “last Deathscythe” after customs had let him into the terminal once he’d agreed to take a few pictures and scribble out some autographs.

“34 D will be boarding soon,” a voice announced through the airport intercom, causing Soul to push through the crowd before him at an erratic pace.

“Watch where you’re-Eater?” a man then barked at him after being flitted to the side.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here???” the Deathscythe hissed as Spirit turned to face him with a scowl.

“I could ask you the same thing,” his father-in-law grumbled, eliciting Soul to let out a groan in agitation.

“Never mind, I don’t have time for this shit. The receptionist said the next flight for Paris-“

“It’s 34 D? Yea, that’s why I’m here too kid,” Spirit spoke over Soul, probing both men to glance at each other for a split second before they began to push through the crowd once more.

“Guess I can’t complain about ya’ being here all that much, since I hardly know what the lady looks like,” Soul commented, probing a scoff out of the older Deathscythe.

“You’ll be able to tell. She’s got a pretty scary aura…which is probably where Maka gets it from too,” Spirit replied, only to be pulled to the side by Soul a moment afterwards.

“Is that her??” the younger Deathscythe whispered while pointing to a woman situated in one of the airport seating areas.

“Yup, that’s her all right,” Spirit sighed, allowing Soul a quick moment to silently judge his mother-in-law.

She does have a scary energy going on about her Soul noted as he watched the way Kamiko Bushida smoothed through her raven locks of hair with one hand while deftly holding an open magazine ontop her crossed legs with her other hand.

“Lady looks way too fuckin’ cozy to be-“ Soul started, only for his scowl to turn into a look of confusion once Spirit began to march forward.

The younger Deathscythe skidded after him just as Kami looked up with a bewildered expression and loudly slapped her magazine shut.

“Kami.” Spirit enunciated while the woman began to narrow her eyes at Soul once he meekly stood next to his father-in-law.

“Spirit. Can I…help you?” she hissed, forcing Soul to subdue his growing urge to step a few feet back.

Alright, alright remember why you’re here Evans. Someone has gotta get this lady off her high fuckin’ horse…for Maka’s sake he noted before watching Spirit take a step forward with a leveled expression.

“I know I have no right to come here after you, but fuck Kami this isn’t about me. This is about Maka and how much she was looking forward-“

“It’s a shame her feelings had to be crushed like that because of someone else’s actions,” Kami cut over Spirit, causing the older Deathscythe to silently gape at her while Soul began to take a few tentative steps forward.

“Oh so you wanna punish your own daughter for something she couldn’t even control? Is that why you just treat her like a toy you can get bored of after a monthly phone call?” Soul seethed out before watching the woman turn her head in his direction as the flight attendant behind them began to unlock the plane entrance.

“First off young man, you have no right to assume the kind of relationship I have with my daughter. And secondly, Maka understands that my line of work keeps me busy. It’s a shame to see how she has a sensible mind on her but ended up marrying such a-“

“Oh no, don’t you start projecting me onto him Kami. You’re pulling a lot of lows here but that-“

“OH, I’M PULLING LOWS NOW?! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CAME HERE WITH YOUR HOOLIGAN SON-IN-LAW TO CORNER ME INTO A TOWN I NEVER WANT TO STEP FOOT IN AGAIN!” Kami then screeched, causing a few people around them to flinch at the sudden rise of her tone.

“No one is trying to bring you back there, I swear! We just want you to meet Maka at least once, maybe grab some donuts from the airport Death N’ Donuts or even-“

“What the hell did we say to make ya’ jump to that conclusion?” Soul cut over Spirit’s pleas, probing Kami’s eyes to widen at the question.

“It’s not about what you said, it’s about you two even being here,” the woman elaborated before the younger Deathscythe let out a low whistle.

“So what you’re sayin’ is that you can’t even find a reason to start jumping to conclusions-“

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I-“

“No, no lemme explain it for ya’. See, I got a lot of experience with a shitty parent myself, so I can kinda call it when I see it. Now the old man here-,” Soul elaborated before sticking his thumb out at Spirit.

“He was a shitty husband and kinda a shitty dad when me and Maka first partnered. But, I never saw the old man stop tryin’ to push past all that. Sure he’d bitch and whine when Maka would bring it up, but that didn’t really stop him. You see what I’m gettin’ at here? You can stay away from your past, but you gotta acknowledge the way you’re screwin’ up in the present. Maybe then you’d see why we’re the ones here and not my wife,” Soul monologued, only to feel something warm come splashing against his arm while he slowly became aware of how he’d essentially released all the internal anguish he had for a woman he’d only ever previously met once in his life.

“I-I’ve had enough. I don’t need to hear any of this,” Kami gasped as she stared between the cup of coffee she’d spilled onto the tiled airport floor and the security guards marching in their direction.

“Oh and one more thing…” Soul coughed out before the woman turned her back towards him and Spirit.

The younger Deathscythe then unzipped the duffle bag he’d been lugging around the entire airport and carefully picked up the item he’d stowed within it.

“Merry Christmas,” Soul finished while placing the picture album Maka had designed onto the seat closest to Kami, which allowed him a brief moment to watch as his mother-in-law stared at the item with tear-stained eyes before the security guards began to lead him and Spirit away from her.

———————————————————————

“You’ve got some guts saying all that to her kid,” Spirit sighed while slumping further into his seat.

“Yea, well I was hardly thinkin’ shit through when I did that,” Soul replied as he glanced at the wall clock that’d been fixed near the entrance to the airport security office.

Let’s just hope they let us outta here before Maka starts to worry the younger Deathscythe then thought while watching Spirit give him a sideways glance before facing forward and proceeding to clear his throat.

“Ma’am, I know we both broke a few airport security laws and all, but could you let my son go this one time please. Would it be so hard to let him spend his first Christmas as a married man with his wife-,”

“Sorry sir, but you’re gonna have to wait for my boss to get back here and decide if we can let you two go,” the security guard murmured over Spirit before shifting in her seat and going back to scrolling through her phone.

His what??? Soul thought to himself while watching Spirit’s face mold into a grimace.

“Honestly, you’d think people would have a heart around this time of-“

“Your…son huh?” Soul then questioned over Spirit’s misgivings, causing the older Deathscythe to give him a bewildered look before his expression mellowed into a slight scowl.

“I know you’re not that dumb, Eater. Probably in denial but definitely not an airhead when it comes to things like this,” Spirit whispered while tipping his head backwards against the cream colored office wall.

“Then…”

I know the kind of man you are Eater the younger Deathscythe abruptly recalled before watching his father-in-law furrow his eyebrows at his sudden pause.

“Ya’…really don’t hate my guts?” Soul eventually questioned.

“I did. Still kinda do sometimes, but I can’t deny the good you’ve done for my daughter. When I found out that frog witch and her wolf boyfriend advised you to talk to Stein and Marie about proposal advice, I was pissed. You know why?” Spirit responded, eliciting Soul to gape at the man before he answered his silence with a low scoff.

“It’s because I knew Maka would say yes. She loves you and Death, no matter how much I wanna deny it, I can see why. You’re a pretty good kid at heart Soul, and y’know what? I’m glad I got a son-in-law that’d be insane enough to get locked up in a airport security office with me on Christmas Eve just for Maka,” his father-in-law then elaborated, probing Soul’s eyes to go wide at the sudden confession.

“D-don’t tell anyone I said any of that crap, ALRIGHT! How about we just…uh call this a truce,” Spirit finished before stretching a hand out to Soul, who met his eyes for a split second and then let out a sneer at how his father-in-law began to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yea, guess a truce wouldn’t be all that bad dad,” Soul exclaimed while clasping his hand against Spirit’s, only to hear the office door violently slam against the wall a moment afterward.

“UGH FINALLY!” the two men heard a voice shriek out before watching the security guard drop her phone in shock and then being crushed against Maka’s quivering figure.

“I don’t know if I should hit you two upside the head with a hardcover or hug you to death!” Maka exclaimed as her grip against them became increasingly tighter.

“Think it’d be really nice if you chose neither of those two,” Soul choked out before his wife let out a small chuckle and pulled away her arms to directly face them.

“Maka angel, we-“

“It’s ok Papa. Stein and Marie already told me your plan while we were driving here. I came to get my family, nothing else. Can’t really celebrate Christmas without you guys, right?” Maka exclaimed over Spirit’s consoling while reaching down and planting a quick kiss onto the older Deathscythe’s forehead.

Soul then watched as Spirit’s eyes softened from the action, only to feel Maka’s lips press against his own soon after.

“Eugh, I’m gonna go look for Stein and Marie,” the older Deathscythe grumbled just as Soul deepened the kiss, only to let out a huff in protest once his wife separated their lips a second after.

“Oh, um about that. I may or may not have…punched a security guard to get here,” the young woman exclaimed, causing both men to level a startled gaze at her.

The reaction seemed to fit what Maka had been anticipating, as she gave Soul another chaste kiss before pulling him up from his seat.

“Guess we should head out, that way I can apologize to the security guard and let him meet the two men I’d kill for,” Maka finished before taking Spirit’s palm into her free hand and pulling both men out of the office. Soul couldn’t help but let out a sigh at his wife’s words, although it soon turned into a slight grin once he noticed his father-in-law attempting to stifle his tears of happiness.

#soul eater #spirit albarn #soul x maka #maka x soul #meme attempts to write #ao3 fic #soul eater fanfic

[tragedybunny]

Little One, Little Pet

Darth Maul x F!Reader - NSFW, Dom!Maul, Dubious Consent - Reader is Maul's plaything

The sun is setting and you realize you've been in the hangar since dawn. Whatever the last run the modified freighter went on, it left some interesting marks. But every job was insanity since the Shadow Collective formed, and your repair work never stopped. Though they did pay you a fortune as you were one of the best mechanics in the system. It wasn't just the money that kept you around though, there was a feeling of freedom and adventure you wouldn't get in a corporate shipyard. Even with all the unique challenges, it was worth it. There was also him, but you tried not to think about that too much, only when you were being really honest with yourself. 

Glancing at the open panel with wires still spread everywhere, you sighed. The rest would have to wait until tomorrow. Descending from the wing, you started cleaning up the mess of tools that had been left in your wake. "Hello Little One." The voice behind you nearly made you jump, even if you were familiar with it. It held the promise of power and danger. 

Turning, you incline your head respectfully. "Lord Maul." You hold your breath, who would he

be today, the Sith Lord, the madman, the gangster, or the lost son?

He snorts, "I'm in no mood for formality." That didn't narrow it down much, probably not the Sith Lord though. "Come, drink with me."

"Of course." It wasn't the first time your late hours made you his companion by default. Everyone else was wise enough to be in their quarters by now. Removing the fluid stained coveralls from over your clothes, you hurry to catch up. Maul never waits, expecting you to follow, the distinct sound of his metal footsteps leading you along. 

You trail after him to an office, once a corporation owned this building, before they refused to fall in line. He’s already pouring two glasses of Alderaanian Whiskey, a mellow and smooth spirit. The bottle was here when he took over. Lost son or madman it is. Steeling yourself, you walk over and reach for a glass. 

With terrifying speed, Maul grabs your wrist, and pulls you down with him as he sits in the waiting chair, once an unknown executive’s luxury. He presses his nose to your skin and inhales, “I could kill you right now, you know.” 

A question you’ve heard before, the first time it rightfully terrified you, but by now, you are only sensibly anxious. “I know Lord Maul.” 

An iron grip tangles in your hair. “I said no formality.” Exposing your throat with that grip, he nips your neck, teeth lingering long enough to bruise. Macabre excitement envelops you, your pulse races, and taboo desire makes warmth build between your legs. Maul’s laughter tickles your ear. “You’re too easy Little one,” his hand releases your hair, “drink.”

Feeling your skin flush, you lean forward, taking one of the glasses of whiskey and sipping slowly. It doesn’t help as you feel yourself grow light headed almost instantly, leaving you pliable in his arms. Maul finishes his drink in one gulp and returns to marking your neck, his other arm locking you in place. “Maul,” you whimper weakly, knowing he wouldn’t stop even if you wanted him to. 

“Finish your drink.” You obey and as soon as the glass leaves your hand, he grows bored of just your neck and begins to tear away your shirt, elongated nails shredding it. Fingers slide over your breasts, nails skimming your nipples, pain out of balance with pleasure. Your arm almost moves to shield yourself, but a low growl from him warns you to stay in place. Fingers pluck at them, pinching and playing, but more gentle now, and you’re floating away into that space only he can take you too. Leaning down, his teeth go back to work, roaming over your skin, turning it black and blue, and in some cases drawing blood. You moan senselessly, no words for what he does to you, you feel you’ve become slick with your own wetness. A final harsh pinch to a tortured nipple brings you back into focus just enough to realize he’s opening your pants. 

“The things I’d do to you if I were still whole. Oh but I have ways to make up for that.” You tense for a moment, a fresh rush of fear, but it's too late, his hand has reached your sex, wet and swollen with desire. Fingers enter you with no warning, spreading you wide harshly. Yelping you squirm, but he’s holding you even tighter. “Isn’t this what you wanted Little One?” Mercilessly they move back and forth building you up to a release, even with the feeling of being uncomfortably. Just as you reach the precipice, he pulls back, and you crash back down. 

More laughter, and you fight to sit up. “We’re not done yet.” A single digit traces along your clit, and begins to rub in slow, maddening circles. Almost no friction is afforded to you, and the emptiness inside you feels like it will drive you mad. Desperately you buck your hips, trying to convey your need. Cruelly he squeezes your clit in response, his voice low and dangerous. “You are not in control here. If there is something you want, beg me for it.” This is what he enjoys, the power, the control, knowing you are desperate for what he can do to you. 

“Maul-” He squeezes your clit harshly and you yelp. Staring dumbly for a second, you can’t understand what he wants. Then it comes to you. He is always the Sith Lord, deep down inside, no matter what face he shows. “Lord Maul, please let me cum.” 

Sighing, he looks at you as though indulging a poorly behaved pet. “Very well.” Fingers roughly enter you again, working you relentlessly, his thumb finds your clit, guiding you on. Once you may have found it humiliating but now you continue to beg him, until a wave of bliss crashes over you and you go limp. Arms pull you a bit closer, keeping you from sliding onto the floor. “You may have two minutes to gather your senses, Little One.” Sometimes it seems like he might almost like you. 

#darth maul #darth maul x reader #darth maul x f!reader #star wars #star wars fanfic #my fanfiction

[srorgana1]

Into The Reverb (Kylo Ren/Reader)

Chapter Thirty Four

As the crowd chants the band’s name, Kylo draws in a deep breath through his nose. He sweeps a hand through his hair, securing his other headphone in his ear. Fixing his guitar strap on his shirt, he watches Vic bounce on the balls of his feet. The lights dim and the crowd screams louder.

As the AI electronic voice starts the pre show recording, he follows Vic and Ushar out onto the stage which is covered by a screen with their trademark insignia on it and gets into position on the left. He has his own mic stand and a platform in front of it if he wants to use it.

“Error, Error, Error” the voice fades as Kylo lets out the opening riff. The cover drops and pyro flashes as they start into Wolves. The crowd screams and writhes under the flashing lights. His hands fly over the frets, hitting the chord slide perfectly as he joins Vic singing the chorus. He can feel the burn already and it’s delicious.

The energy stays high as they play through Make Believe, Battered, Never Giving Up and Watch Me Burn. He holds the endnote, echoing Vic’s elongated scream. He continues to hold it as the lights dim to darkness. He lets go and the crowd reacts. Running his hand through his sweaty hair, he walks back to the side stage as Usher starts his drum solo.

A towel and water bottle are thrust into his hands as guitars are switched out. “Fuck” he breathes out. “It’s fucking nuts out there” Cardo says, wiping his face and neck. Draining his water, he hands it back. Looking down, he makes a quick decision, pulling his hair half up.

He normally doesn’t play live with it up, too self-conscious about his ears. But tonight, he doesn’t care, it’s hot and it’s in his eyes. He shakes his head, making sure it was secure along with the headphones cords laying down the back of his neck.

Vic smiles at him as they resume their positions on stage. He rolls his eyes, focusing as the intro starts. He hopes up onto the platform and hits the opening chords as Ushar matches him not for note. He plays with all he can, the muscles in his arms and back bulging and straining as he plays. Right now, he may look like he is playing for the love of the crowd, but it’s not true. Anytime he plays Miracle, he plays it for you.

He barely notices the photographer recording him play as he hops back down, growling deep into the microphone. He hits the shift, bringing up the energy for the breakdown. Kurak joins him, staying steady, while he dirties the sound, hitting the harmonic note just right. He allows himself to immerse himself in the moment.

No weapon formed against me shall prosper

My will is stronger

His back hits Kurak’s as they both burn through the breakdown. He hits the riff, and they separate. His abs burn as he hunches over, focusing on the quick and complex melody flowing though his callused fingers. The crowd roars, responding to his energy. As Vic starts singing the chorus again, he steps back, flipping sweaty tendrils out of his eyes. This is the feeling he’s fucking addicted to and if he is lucky enough will get to continue to do this as long as he is able to.

The rest of the set flies by, finishing off with a pyrotechnic show as the last notes of The Art of Suicide ring out. “Thank you!” Vic yells to the crowd, waving. Kylo raises a hand giving them a tight smile, his chest muscles straining with his heavy breaths. He can feel the sweat dripping down his back cooling as he continues to wave. As the lights dim for the last time tonight, he walks off the stage handing off his guitar and sound pack.

Not caring, he rips off his shirt and wipes his neck with it. “Great shot Kylo! Can you turn around?” the photographer yells, clicking more photos. He turns slightly, giving the photographer a stern look. “Perfect, they will love this!” the photographer says, giddy at the candid shot. Great more thirst shit, Kylo thinks as he heads backstage towards their dressing room.

There are even more people back here now. Reporters and journalists and fans who bought backstage passes. The fans reacts as he and his mates pass them. He waves as cameras flash. “Kylo, Kylo!” they scream trying to get his full attention as Baze and his crew stand guard. “I told you before, no questions beforehand. If you do that again you will be removed” he hears Baze growl as he enters the dressing room.

Grabbing another towel and water bottle, he collapses onto the couch. His muscles twitch and groan from the exertion as adrenaline rides high through his veins. A clean shirt is thrown at him. He looks up and sees Vic wink at him as he sat down. Pulling the shirt over his head, he hears Hux and his leather shoes approach.

“Ok we are doing a quick Q&A session since the fan group is bigger today” he says. He nods, already ready to be done and onto the hotel. He runs his hand through his messy hair, retying it back up. That really worked out, he thinks as he stands, twisting his back to relieve the pressure. The door opens and a small group is ushered in. He sits down as Hux reviews the rules with them. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

He does his part, answering redundant questions he has answered already on this tour. But he does it anyway because it’s part of the job. He stands and smiles and signs autographs. He is cordial to the fans, allowing Them to take selfies with him and Vic.

They have an unspoken rule with backstage fans, no hookups and no pictures alone with fans. It causes trouble. He smiles again, willing the soreness in his back away as he takes another ill angled selfie, this time with Kurak. The girls are close, too close for his liking. Kurak doesn’t seem to mind, allowing them both to kiss his cheeks. His phone buzzes again.

“Time’s up everyone!” Hux shouts “Please follow Mr. Baze here out if you please.” A chorus of groans and whines erupts but they all quickly exit, leaving the band alone at last. Draining another water bottle, he sits on the side of the couch, finally releasing his hair. He runs his fingers through it, thinking that if he ties it up before he gets all sweaty it will hold better. He watches Kurak smirk as he types something on his phone. He probably got one of those girls’ numbers.

“Alright, you all are clear to go. Here are your hotel keys, food has already been ordered” Hux says, passing them out. “The rest of the guys are staying there too, so please don’t make asses of yourselves please.” “Yes sir” Kurak says, giving Hux middle finger salute.

Kylo watches Hux roll his eyes as he holds the door for them. “Remember, Rocky will be picking you up at 9 tomorrow” he says as the men head for the SUVs. “Hey Poe” Cardo says, “make sure they don’t throw my stuff away.” “I am not responsible for what they do and do not touch in there” he says sighing “if your so worried, go get it.”

Cardo returns quickly from the bus with his additional bag, smirking to himself. “Damn, they already started in there” he says, sitting down next to Poe. “Well yeah, do you know how long it takes to clean and restock that monstrosity? They will be there most of the night” Poe says grabbing an edible out of Cardo’s bag. Kylo already knew that though, hoping some of his bandmates will take the hint and be more respectful of their support staff.

His phone starts long buzzing in his pocket signaling a call. Perfect timing baby girl, he thinks hopping out of the SUV. Sliding to accept the call, he sees you had sent him a few text messages as well. “Why hello there” he croons, happy to hear your beautiful voice. “Hey there handsome, how did it go?” you say. You didn’t even really say anything, but he fights a shiver of pleasure. Your voice just does that to him.

“It was good, lots of photographers this time” he says, walking down the hallway to his room. He can hear music and yelling from a couple rooms along with the smell of weed. Sounds like the after party has already begun. “Hmm so that means I will see you on Instagram tomorrow?” you say. “Probably” he chuckles, unlocking his door.

The room is nice but basic. King sized bed, standard furniture, and a bathroom with a large shower. At least Hux took that into consideration, he thinks as he flopped on the chaise by the window. He feels gross now. The sweat has long since cooled, creating a sticky film. He runs a hand down his face and grimaces.

“Baby girl I feel gross, I’m gonna shower and I will call you back” he says. “Okay, that’s fine. Did you eat yet?” you say seemingly unbothered. His stomach rumbles. “Fuck I forgot. Hux said he ordered in for us but this place has room service, so I’ll just do that” he says walking into the bathroom. “Okay sounds good, l love you” you say. “I love you too” Kylo says ending the call.

As the water heats up, he orders himself a Burger, some chicken cheese quesadillas, waffle fries and a couple bottles of water. He strips, and steps under the hot water. He groans as the hot water hits his aching muscles. He hears his phone buzz a couple more times on the counter. Thinking it was confirmation of his order, he cleans quickly but thoroughly.

He steps out and hears a single knock on his door. Perfect, he thinks, as dries off quickly and wraps a towel around his hips. He walks to the door and slides the tray inside. It smells divine. He puts it on the side table and sits down, drying his hair with the hand towel. He puts his phone down and clicks on your texts.

He nearly chokes on molten cheese as he looks at the picture on his phone. It’s you, your back to him in nothing but a lacy black thong. Your peachy ass and curves all on display. Your hair is down, falling in messy waves down your back. His mouth goes dry at the thought of yanking it and biting your neck.

He flips to the next couple ones, moaning lowly. You on the bed showing off your long, shapely legs. You holding your arms around your breasts as you look seductively at the camera. He is rock hard as he stares at the last photo. You are sitting on the edge of the bed, legs open, your pussy barely covered. Your hands are tracing your curves as you give him a come-hither look.

He hits your contact for FaceTime. He’s not hungry anymore, at least for the food in front of him. He rips open the towel, griping himself and giving a few pumps as he waits. Your beautiful face pops up, giving him a big smile. “Hey Ky…” “Holy shit, are you trying to kill me?” he exclaims. You laugh. “Maybe” you say, winking at him. His cock twitches. “Fuck I am so hard for you right now” he groans “those were so fucking hot”.

Your face warms as you get closer to your phone. “Oh really? Guess they did the trick then” you say. “Baby girl…” “Can I see?” you say. His hand stalls, as he looks at you. “Fuck yes, baby girl” he groans, shifting his phone down. He is so hard right now; he can feel the blood pulsing through his veins.

You hum looking at him, licking your lips. “Look at you. I wish I could just lick all that up” you say, shifting back. He moans at the sight of your bare breasts. “Baby girl are naked for me right now?” he says, stroking himself hard but slow. “Yes, and so very wet” you say “I miss you”.

“I miss you too, baby. I miss you every fucking day. Can I see you please?” he whines. You smile as you lower the angle. “Fuck” he whispers. He can see you glistening from here. “I want you to touch yourself, baby” he says.

“Like this?” you croon, running your hand over your hard nipples as the other passes through your folds. He moans at the sight. He shifts, so you can see his face and chest along with his throbbing cock. “Hmm Kylo…” you groan.

“Touch yourself baby, I want to watch you fuck yourself like I would” he growls, stroking faster. He hears you moan out a yes as your slim fingers play with your clit. “Kylo” you say, your voice breathy “I love them, I want to play with them.” His hand goes immediately to his left nipple, his fingers pulling at the bar. “Fuck, I can’t wait for you to, I will nut so hard when you do” he moans, pulling and twisting slightly at the other.

He can her your wetness as you fucking yourself on your fingers. You whine and shake in front of him and it’s glorious. “Ky…Ky I can’t. I need you. It’s not enough” you say, frustrated tears falling on your cheeks. “Put in another one baby girl” he says.

He’s close but he wants to cum with you. “I know baby, I know you need my thick fingers and my cock. No one can fill you like I can” he growls. “Yes” you hiss. “Fuck look at you” He can’t look away. He pulls at the piercings again has his hand moves faster.

“I dream of this baby girl. Every fucking night. Of your sweet pussy…” he says, his eyes rolling back as you keen loudly. “Yes, baby cum for me, cum with me” he grunts, fighting to hold it together. His eyes widen as you arch your back and scream his name. A bolt of pleasure hits him as he explodes all over his abdomen and chest. The image of you at this moment sears into his brain like a brand.

He falls back onto the chaise, chest heaving. He squeezes his pulsing cock, shuddering at the stimulation. He can hear you ragged breathing. “I love you so much baby” he whispers into the speaker.

“I love you too, Kylo” you respond, smiling. His heart soars as he shuts his eyes, enjoying the post-orgasm high. “I will never tire of you saying those words” he whispers. He hears you hum, shifting and walking to what he assumes is the bathroom.

He looks over and grabs his discarded towel, sitting up. “So, what brought this on?” he says, wiping his spend off. “Don’t laugh but I saw an ad for it on Instagram and thought you would like it" you say, laying back down on your bed. You looked so precious. He wishes he could be wrapped around you, softly kissing your exposed neck and shoulder. “Well, I would say mission accomplished” he chuckles, grabbing his now cold burger. Worth it.

“Well, I didn’t have to pay for it. I told Rae of my idea, and she helped me” you say, pushing some of your hair back. He stops mid bite looking at you. “Rae took those?!” he says, impressed “I think she maybe in the wrong profession.”

You giggle. “She said she studied photography in school as a hobby, so when I told her my thoughts, she ran with it” you say shrugging your shoulder. “Well tell her thank you for me. I approve” he says, saluting you with his food.

He finishes his food quickly, staying on the phone with you until you fall asleep. As he listens to your quiet snores, he thanks every deity available for you. You are perfect. You challenge and surprise him. You make him feel alive. He smiles as you snort, moving in your sleep. “Good night baby girl, I love you” he says, ending the call. As he shifts in his own bed, he shuts his eyes and dreams of you safe in his arms.

#adam driver #knights of ren #kylo ren au #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo x y/n #rockstar! kylo ren #star wars au #kylo fanfic #kylo ren imagine #kylo x reader #rockstar au #kylo ren fanfic #adam douglas driver #adamdriver #Spotify

[queen-of-the-boos]

*Hellen sobbed…she didn’t even know why. Why did she have to?!*

“…Don’t. J-…just do…you needn’t….”

*Truthfully…Hellen felt HORRIFIC. She wasn’t exactly in control…and she felt as if she wanted to do this,regardless of her feelings towards his majesty.

They made up. For once they made up. Everything was going so well…

“…You…you weren’t…it wasn’t you. It…that…”

*Before she could say anything further,the long amythest leaves vines of the banshee blossom elongated around the hotel owner’s neck,the shadowy filth that covered Hellen before travelling up to cover her mouth*

“HE DID THIS. DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?! IT’S NOT TO DO WITH YOU. IT’S ALL BECAYSE OF THAT-“

*She pulled away in an instant,somehow having some control of her body as she slapped herself in the mouth…it’s mouth.

She stared pulling away from her to no avail. It was like pulling a filmy slime away from you…yet too sticky. It clinged to her. A seperate being. Formed entirely from negativity,Spesifically a grudge. (Not too dissimilar to a Bogmire…huh!!)

“IT’S HIS FAULT. YOU’RE ONLY PREVENTING US FROM HAVING OUR JUSTICE. YOU’VE DONE THIS SINCE DAY O-“

*SLAP!!!!*

*Hellen pulled it off,looking towards the queen with…fear. Not towards her. It was pleading.*

“…I’m sorry,alright? I’m terribly sorry. He was yours,and always was…I may not know everything about…him. Sometimes I wish I never did…but this…”

*She struggled to find out what to say!! She didn’t figure she’d ever have to say these words towards this person. Also the separate being composed of sheer hatred from her own body forcing itself to take over!! That too!!*

“…This has gone on long eno-“

“…Hellen…?” *A small,very worried voice called out,echoing from the hallway. A voice all too familar.

*And whatever that thing is. It seemingly also reacted at the ambassador’s presence. Separately.”

Part one of this ask! I think! ↑

"Please excuse my outburst, but I think you needed to hear an apology from SOMEONE."

Not like she'd likely get one from the king. He simply wasn't the type. Especially when he felt justified trying to keep the Boos safe.

The queen listened to Hellen sputter out words and watched in absolute anguish as whatever dark being she had manifested tried to take her over again. The Banshee Blossom she had given her...was it trying to protect her? Did Hellen even realize that one had been for her in the first place?

"Hellen..."

She was about to say "let me help" before she heard that still, small voice echo from behind her. Mary. Poor little Mary. She must be worried sick.

"Stay back. I.. Have to try to neutralize whatever this being is trying to control Hellen."

She had experience with things like this before. Helping Bogmire was...different to say the least. Mostly because that emotion was fear and despair, and this one with Hellen was pure fury. She realized now that it wasn't Hellen at all. It was some sort of seperate spirit.

The purple gems she wore glowed faintly as she approached Hellen again. If her theory was correct, them being small pieces of the Dark Moon might've been what calmed the spirit enough to give Hellen back a little control in the first place. If she could just make contact with it again...

"Hellen. I'm sorry to ask this, but try to fight it off just for a moment longer..."

The Queen looked back at Mary with a reassuring expression before she advanced towards Hellen again with outstretched hands.

She reached up tentatively and cupped the gooey creature in her hands warmly taking it from Hellen's grasp. A gentle purple glow wrapped around it like a soft blanket.

"You... Not Hellen. You, spirit who embodies anger and bottled up emotions... Please, take this."

She reached up and took the Banshee Blossom from her hair, placing it on the gooey being.

"You deserve to feel care as well. I know anger is a terrible emotion to have to deal with... But you must redirect it. Perhaps I can take you to a place you can truly let loose and express it in a healthy way... Would you at least trust me to do that?"

She glanced at Mary, stepping far out of the way of being between her and Hellen, and motioned for her to go to the hotel owner. She'd be safer at her side.

The queen began to gently pet the goopy specter in her hand.

"I'm terribly sorry you weren't allowed to express this awful feeling for so long. I can make sure you're well taken care of. You see, I think I know someone that would greatly understand you."

Queenie looked around as if someone would appear at any moment.

"...Bogmire, dear? Are you around? I know you like being around fear."

She gestured to Hellen lightly.

From the shadows, a goopy, purple being appeared. They looked upon Queenie with sorrowful eyes. Their mouth was outstretched into an unnaturally large expression of sadness.

"...Why am I here? Where is this? I want to go home..."

Queenie's expression softened at the sight of her familiar friend. She walked over to them with Hellen's spirit of anger still in her grasp.

"It's alright, Bogmire. It's alright... This is... Ah, I haven't quite gotten their name yet, but I believe I may have found you a kindered spirit."

She held the inky black goop of a being out to Bogmire, who began to cry at the sight of it.

"You're... So sad... Like me... But you're also really mad... I'm mad too... Mad that everything was taken from me once upon a time..."

#i havent been tagging this aAAA #banshee blossom ball

[jadbalja]

ink smoke

When he was young, he invited stares and glances. The tattoos curled and twisted around his neck and clung to his arms, and spread like wings across his back and shoulders. His chest, shaved smooth, was forested with them. Cabalistic symbols and runes, mythic animals and obscure phrases, intertwining. The ones on his bare skull and face were smaller, except on his face. On each side of his face, passing even over his eyelids, were the split halves of a large leaf-shaped and damascened blade, the curved edges outwards. The short hilt was on his forehead, terminating on his brow. When he smiled, which wasn’t often, the blade tips curved inward. When he frowned, a knife almost seemed to form. But as he aged, things changed. The skin of his skull became looser, the folds on his forehead more permanent. As he approached his 70th year, the sag of his cheeks brought the knife tips closer. As he looked in the mirror one day, he thought to himself: I must never frown. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the gradual migration of tattoos across his body, heading south, their forms blurring, elongating. Only the arching dragon over his heart stayed firm, its shape almost the same as what he remembered it to be 45 years ago. Later that year, the man in the basement clinic gave him news he did not want. As he walked back to his apartment, he felt the heavy shroud of a black mood fall over him. He knew his frown had become deep. People looked at him askance in the elevator, and on the stairs. At home he avoided the mirror. His mood darkened, and he reached for a glass and the bottle with its dark, amber fluid. The next few days, few people saw the tattooed man. It was only after the neighbors complained of a smell that his associates broke down the door. Though it was as they feared, his face did not display the necrosis and greying that had happened elsewhere to his body. It was beatific and uncreased, unlined and without tattoo. His associates did not understand when he could have got them removed, it had been less than a week. As they prepared him for a quick cremation at the local mortuary, the men cutting the clothes were momentarily struck by the corpse’s tattoos. On the chest, as real as if painted by a brush, was a large knife, passing through a small dragon that was splayed under the impact. They marveled at the realism of how the dragon had almost been sliced open by the large knife tattoo. They marveled but quickly prepared the body. One of the workers remarked, “that is helluva lot of ink going up in smoke, buddy.”

#tattoos #short text

[henqtic]

THEODORE NOTT AS A BOYFRIEND I . . . 

— summary: how it is watching weekly movies with him. 

— pairing: theodore nott x black!reader . word count: 825.

— masterlist . taglist form . request works .

theodore nott is the kind of person who needs some sort of tradition in a relationship, no matter what kind given. purely platonic like the friends he kept close or the romantic one he had with you. 

it doesn’t have to be anything big or overly extravagant like how it would be with every anniversary that came by or whatever random days out of the month he would deem as important enough to treat you to yet another expensive restaurant.

he actually prefers it to be a smaller thing a majority of the time. just the two of you completely relaxed and comfortable, tangled up in each other's arms without a single knowledgeable way out of the knot or interruption from the outside world.

so soon enough, weekly movie night became a thing, held nearly every friday after lessons were done and both of you felt like collapsing onto a familiar bed. 

and the thing is, he's definitely the type of boyfriend who's always into the movie way more than you are — even if you were the one who wanted to watch it and he was first whining about how it had to be one of you worst choices after. 

every single time, less than twenty minutes later, he’s paying attention to every single pixel dancing crossing the television or projection placed on the wall. and it’s not in a, he was trying his best to love it just for you and it’s actually really sweet he's put in enough effort to do so in a non-artificial way but in a really annoying, headache inducing way. 

“hey theo, can you pass me the popcorn really quick?” you asked carefully with a small smile, gesturing to the bowl filled with the snack that he had clutched close to his chest from being on the edge of his seat, your bed actually in this situation. 

amusingly enough, his actions were following along with how the background music played louder and more high pitched as the main character took painfully slow steps towards the door that had “suspicious” noises coming from it.

ones that could only be owned by the masked killer who she had literally just seen run in the direction of the small closet with a sharp knife that outmatched her lamp by a long shot. 

it was a terrible movie really, you knew that from the first time you viewed it with your mother who loved cheesy muggle horror films. everything was horribly predictable and the only entertaining parts were when you couldn’t hold in the yell at every character to not make a dumb decision which they would always end up going through with anyways. 

but he didn’t even glance at you, skimming his hand along the top of the buttered pieces and making a bad and messy attempt at stuffing them into your mouth, every single one falling right to the blanket or smearing everywhere except for your mouth.

“oh merlin — are you serious right now, it’s not even that exciting?!” you half heartedly scoffed at the boy as you wiped around your face and dust them off of your lap.

“if i’m being honest, i just wanted to push your buttons with it and you know there is a possibility i could’ve choked—”

“shhhhh, it’s about to happen!!” he hushed you, rubbing his right hand frantically on your thigh as if to calm himself down, missing the roll of your eyes and second scoff that had a little heart put into it as you hoped another jump scare would come by, watching the way his neck practically elongated an extra five inches as she finally started turning the knob. 

“fine whatever, i’ll be more... cautious with my picks next time, yeah? if i even end up coming at all.”

you scrunched your face at him as he didn't acknowledge the empty threat. 

getting the idea to quickly twist your body enough to reach over to your desk and grab the full water bottle, pretending to scream just when he did and squeeze half of it on him. 

“see now, i could have choked from that, went right up my nose—”

“oh no, well i hope it comes out soon, you're already such a terrible snorer,” you laughed as your sarcasm was met with half of the bowl of popcorn thrown at you and his body coming half on top of yours to pour the rest, not upset in the slightest that this same routine would repeat in about a week. 

“mmm, is it reaching your mouth this time or just your hair?” he squinted his eyes and looked everywhere around the room except for down where his legs trapped you under him and the yellows of popped kernels that decorated the strands that were still out at this time of night for some reason.

“oh shut up, just know i won't forget to tie up my hair next time—”

“yeah, and what if i hide everything from you?”

🔖— !! @harmqnia @eunoniaa @magicchai @ambi-doo12 @ang9lic @daltonacademia @inglourious-imagines @willowmores @arcaneslut @slutfordracoluciusmalfoy @axgelre @beforeoursunsets @selenesheart @o-rion-sta-r @alexavolturisblog @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @myalupinblack​ @l0vely-lupin @ameliasbitvh​ @mauvea​ @cupids-crystals​ @wlfstxr​ @enchqnting​ @writeandtranslate @jemimah-b99​ @bookfrog242 @i-love-scott-mccall​ @velqvet​ @velvetcloxds​ @joyfullymulti​ @meetmyblondemuffins​​ @pinkcloxds​ @wrongilbert @alanniys​ @magicchai​ @sydneekomspacekru​ @iwannafeelallthatloveandemotion

. . . info to be tagged in future works 𓂅

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#/then that would be a little anti… 🧐 ( i’m joking… unless 👀 ) #— theodore nott. #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott blurb #theodore nott drabble #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott x reader

[thatslikely]

a little too much - s.s.

a little too much - stiles stilinski x gn!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption (the reader is sober), hilarious drunk stiles

word count: 1.1k

a/n: this is pure fluff of just the reader taking care of drunk stiles <3 see 1x08 for reference!! also I am so, so proud of this one so yay! go me!

“And then… and then… he… what was I saying again?” Stiles slurred, a goofy grin wide on his face. 

Saying that the party you and Stiles were currently in attendance was loud would be a monumental understatement. Every beat of the song rattled the interior’s posters tacked on the walls, every adolescent swaying violently through the night air was practically submerged knee-deep in glossy, amber alcohol; uncomfortably stuffy air ascended high above the wooden fence cooping the drunken teenagers in the backyard. 

You didn’t answer Stiles’ question, allowing him to continue his intoxicated ramblings; he bubbily informed you of any stray thoughts that hitchhiked into his mind.

Through Stiles’ eyes, his surroundings were reduced to an unfocused haze. The cliques the huddled together in celebration were nothing but abstract splotches against the canvas that was the dim yard. The only thing anchoring him from seemingly floating away in the lawn chair he occupied, as if he was filled with helium, was you. While the outline of your figure was still spotted with smudges of the night air, it was in more focus than anything at all. You were his tether, his lifesaver.

“Hey, Y/N, is that Lydia over there?” He droopily raised his hand to a point- the one that wasn’t loosely gripping the neck of a half-empty bottle of jack. 

“Um, I don’t think that’s her,” you cooed softly, smoothing out some astray strands of his chocolate-brown hair that he had ruffled haphazardly only seconds prior. It was Lydia, in fact, and she was, for lack of a better term, dancing with some boy whose name you couldn’t place.

His teeth dug into his lips lightly, the corners of his mouth upturned slightly. “She must have a twin then.” Short bursts of giggles fluttered in his chest, only barely escaping his lips. 

His body heaved with every increasing laugh, lifting his back from its slouched position in the foldable lawn chair. The bottle of whiskey insecurely gripped in his palm nearly slipped from his grasp, but with your gentle guiding, its base rested stilly on the concrete slab of a patio.

“I’d like to go meet Lydia’s twin, Y/N. Let’s go.” The last ‘o’ was elongated until his voice became airy and faded. Any hope of a levelheaded Stiles was gone for tonight. 

He attempted to get up from his seat with a stumble, which was successful for all of about two seconds before he stumbled to the floor, his palms flat in front of him on the ground. He clumsily reached for a random terracotta pot, which was housing a small plant. His fingers gripped the rim for dear life as he gagged over the soil. 

“Stiles, oh god, Stiles,” you said, concerned. You lightly grabbed his shoulders, feeling the rough fabric of his graphic tee between your fingers. One hand supported his back, resting on his shoulder blade; the other was holding his hand, helping him rise to his feet, all the while he was both gagging and giggling out of his mind. “Stiles, we’re gonna go on a little trip to the bathroom.”

“Ooh,” he babbled, “sounds like a bowl of fun!” 

You slid open the backdoor, leading him to the nearest restroom. “A what of fun?”

“Huh?” 

“Nevermind.” He hunched over the icy porcelain toilet once you both were inside. The fluorescent lights of the bathroom stung the corners of his eyes, and the faint smell of bleach only intensified his gagging. 

Eventually, his hurling motions slowed to a stop, to your relief.

He straightened his spine, lifting his grip off the toilet that previously supported all his weight. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Let’s go have another drink, get absolutely wasted!” 

“Stiles, you’re already plenty wasted. We’re gonna go home now, okay? You’d be even worse if you have another round.” 

“Aww, c’mon Y/N, lighten up,” he groaned, his words still blending together and the end of his sentences stretched out like a rubber band. You tugged on the collar of his tee with an eye roll, forcing him to trail behind you to the front door. “I don’t wanna go home.”

Once he was buckled up safely in the passenger seat of his well-loved jeep that the both of you had arrived in, you revved the vehicle to life, feeling each familiar crease and flaw on the steering wheel under your fingers.

The majority of the drive to the Stilinski residence was silent, to your great surprise. Looking through the window, watching the blurs of shadowy trees and the occasional house seemed to lull Stiles to a peaceful sleep, though he sporadically uttered something inaudible between his soft snores.

You could’ve sworn you heard your name sprinkled in his drowsy babblings. 

The golden porchlight of Stiles’ house tinged your heart with sadness. Every moment you spent with Stiles, whether he was wasted out of his wits or not, was comparable only to a breath of fresh clean air after being submerged in a pit of water. He was your lifeline just as much as you were his’, but you had yet to tell him of the love residing in your heart for him. 

You’ll admit it to him soon enough though, just maybe when he’s sober.

“Hey, Stiles,” you whispered while lightly tapping his shoulder, “wake up. We're here.” His head of messy, brown hair slowly lifted from its spot against the window, a trickle of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his palm while furiously blinking.

“Oh, okay,” he replied hushedly. “Why are we whispering?”

“I just didn’t wanna startle you, that’s all.” Stiles popped the passenger side door open, nearly hopping out of the pompadour jeep with the seatbelt still slung across his chest. You got out with him, once he was unbuckled, and you escorted him to the door, arm linked with his’ supportively.

He turned the doorknob while pivoting to face you.

“Stiles, if you need anything, call me, okay?” He nodded with the goofiest smile you’d ever seen etched onto his face. You melted at the almost child-like joy in his enrapturing umber eyes, but before you could be fully reduced to a puddle of slush, he dizzily shut the door.

You walked out the curb, taking a seat as you pulled out your phone, intending to text someone for a ride. Before you could though, Stiles’ ringtone, the song you both loved to belt on late night drives in his CJ5, echoed through the idle street.

“Hey Y/N… sorry for calling. I know we saw each other like two seconds ago but I- um, just missed the sound of your voice."

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@loulouloueh

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[buckysdolls]

Wine and Whine

One Shot- Thor x Reader

Summary- Requested By @buckybarnes101

Hello! Can I please request a Thor smut with enemies to lovers? Maybe they're all on holiday and Thor and the reader get locked in somewhere? Just fluff and smut really. Thank you x

Warnings- 18+ TURN AWAY NOW!/ Fluff Thor/Smut Thor/ Swearing

AN- Thank you for being my first request! I’m absolutely thrilled to be writing this! I hope you like it?

The team decided to take a break for a few days, destroying Thanos had consumed everyone for the past five years that no one had seriously taken a stress-free environment break for a while. It was your idea, you suggested visiting Wakanda to relax before everyone went off on their separate adventures. Though you loved some of them more than others, you had become a family, one unit and you wanted to hold onto that for a little while longer. Clint’s family, Pepper and Morgan, all came along too. You were able to reflect on fond memories of Nat, Tony and Steve.

You all sat by the roaring fireplace of the cottage T’Challa had provided you with. You looked around soaking in the laughter and chatter that escaped everyone’s lips, a smile forming on your lips. That was until you saw Thor, you quickly regretting bringing Thor along on the trip, you’d always thought he was obnoxious and stroked his ego a little too hard. In the time you’d known him he’d always speak over you or do the tiniest things to annoy you.

Thor did this on purpose, he knew what made you tick, and he got great humour out of annoying you, just like he did with everyone else although he seemed to notice it bother you more. Of course, he did it because he liked you, that was the type of person Thor was. Finding it difficult to be affectionate and put down his walls, he’d rather annoy you and listen to you moan at him than you not speak to him at all.

He was howling away and bragging about him being the one who punished Thanos the most. You rolled your eyes, was this god serious? Could you deny he was amazingly eccentric? No. Could you deny he was extremely charming? No. Could you deny he was devilishly handsome? No. Was he incredibly irritating? Yes!

“Why does it look like your killing Thor with your eyes?” Sam leaned into your ear whispering. You’d obviously been staring at him for too long if Sam had noticed. You rolled your head back with a huff.

“He’s annoying Sam, his voice is too loud” You pouted letting your eyes fall on Thor again.

“I think someone has a crush” Sam elongated the word crush teasing whilst gently shaking you. You rolled in your lips trying to hide your laughter.

“I don’t not have a crush on him okay Sam. He maybe charming and a spicy specimen but…no” You didn’t even know how to finish that sentence; you’d just kept giving him compliments explaining how attractive you thought he was.

“Besides, you can find someone attractive and not like their personality Sam!” You hushed him turning your evils to him. Sam nodded his head puling a funny face to mock you. You sneered at him returning the funny face.

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Rhodes spoke up.

“Well…” You watched Sam sit up in is seat, adjust an upright posture, cross his knee over and clasp his hands together.

“I do believe Y/N fancies-“

“Wine... I fancy some wine!” You jumped up from the floor interrupting Sam, faking a smile. Feeling the heat rise up to your cheeks you composed yourself as everyone looked at you.

“Sounds like a good idea! I could go for another beer” Thor raised his glass at you requesting another knowing it would wind you up. You looked over at him, he was wearing his cheesy grin. You scoffed raising your eyebrows…you were not his god damn servant.

“Get one yourself Thor.” Quickly turning on your heels you walked past Sam, flicking his head on the way out of the living room calling him a ‘douchebag.’ You heard the heavy footsteps that you identified as Thor’s following you. All the alcohol was kept in the basement which is where you and Thor headed for. Swinging the door wide enough for Thor to enter you listened to the door shut behind you.

“Fancy wine huh?” Thor questioned leaning his body weight against a rack of wine. You looked at him reaching for a bottle wine on the exact rack he had leaned on. You stood on your tip toes, your body inches away from his. You concentrated on grabbing the bottle.

“Uh-huh”

You felt his breathing tickle your skin as he towered over you, unknowingly you laid you free hand on his chest, steadying yourself as you finally gripped the bottle and lifted it up. You looked at your hand and slowly looked up to meet Thor’s eyes, his smirk was gone and his face  was relaxed and gentle as he searched into your eyes. His hand settled on your back pulling you closer to him. You wet your lips which suddenly began to felt dry. Was Thor going to kiss you? Nah, you awkwardly coughed and stepped out from Thor’s touch.

“How’s your day been?” Thor asked quickly trying to override the awkwardness.

“G--good” Your words fumbled as you tried to compose your beating heart and the flutters that you felt in your panties.

“Good” Thor repeated not actually knowing what to say, before you could walk up the stairs to reach for handle of the door you heard it lock. In sync you both moved your heads to the door upon hearing the click.

“Have fun you two” You heard Sam’s voice snigger as his footsteps disappeared from ear shot.

“No no no no no” You mumbled, placing your wine bottle down, rushing up the stone stairs and fiddling with the doorknob. You sized Thor up demanding he opened the door.

“You have superpowers. Open it!”

“Maybe I don’t want to open it?” Thor closed the gap between you, you felt as though the air was being sucked from around you.

“Please just open it” The words escaped your mouth so quick you weren’t sure it was even English, Thor grinned, enjoying watching you get nervous.

“Are you nervous around me Y/N?”

“Pffft, no. You’re so annoying and”

Thor cut you off crashing his lips onto yours, he was getting impatient at you and didn’t want to listen to you stumble over your words anymore. You melted into the kiss, after letting it go on. You were surprised you hadn’t pushed him away. Thor placed his arm under you bum gesturing for you to jump up. The kiss was lustful as you jumped wrapping your legs around his lower waist feeling his cock hard. He stumbled as you carried on kissing, his teeth pulled at your bottom lip wanting to explore, pushing you against a wall you clung onto him, your hands wrapped around his neck gripping and pulling on his long dreadlocks, he growled into the kiss and smiled enjoying you pulling on him. He freed one of his hands whilst the other kept you up against him, you felt him move your panties to one side and gently stroked your clit testing the water. You gasped at Thor’s advances; he took your moans as a ‘please carry on.’ Thor inserted his fingers inside you, your gasps getting louder as his fingers increased with speed.

“Fuck Thor” You cried out burying your head into his neck squirming, relishing in the pleasure he was giving you.

“That feel good huh?” Thor grinned as he looked down at your head stuffed into shoulder, you managed to mumble a ‘yeah’ and nod your head to answer him. A few seconds later you realised he’d stopped and was using his hand to unbuckle his belt and expose his cock, you felt it hit your walls. Your insides turned squishy knowing you were just about to get fucked by Thor. He looked deep into your eyes affectionately brushing the knotted hairs that hung over your face letting his hand settle on your neck and his thumb on your cheek. He smiled once more placing the most tender kiss on your lips. The tenderness of the kiss felt real, you felt as if your lips matched together perfectly. He wasn’t hungry in this kiss he was loving and soft. He slowly inserted himself into you, you wailed his name as every thrust had you craving more. The concrete wall began rubbing you skin as his thrusts got harder and faster.

“Thor!”

“Be quiet” He demanded sniggering, as much as he loved hearing you, whine for him you’d completely forgotten the group of people not too far way. You bit down onto his shoulder to control your moans. Before you knew it Thor had you cumming, he slowed down as he listened to you cum for him. Thor set you down from the wall and around him. Your legs gave way wobbling, luckily Thor caught you before you could meet the floor.

“You okay?” He smirked, the smirk that used to make you cringe inside now made you feel weak. You thinned your lips and pointed your finger at him.

“1 minute” You said catching your breath and regaining your composure.

“Mhm, I’m good”

Thor engulfed you in a hug, you let your head lay on his chest as he rubbed your back lovingly.  It would be a few minutes before Sam would open the door. You quickly pulled away from Thor and picked up your bottle of wine heading straight up the steps leading to the open door with Sam leaning on it.

“You get your wine?”

You waved it in Sam’s face as you walked through the door highlighting that you definitely got your wine.

#thor #the avengers #thor fanfiction #thor x reader #thor imagine #thor oneshot #marvel #marvel universe #thor odison x reader #chris hemsworth #thor fluff #thor smut #thor fan fiction

[busaccagallery]

Pair of spectacular 20th Century Asian Bronze floral Vases for sale 6 ½"H x 3 ¼" Pair of bronze vases, bottle form with elongated neck, one with Gold gilt dragon, the other with Gold gilt phoenix decoration.

[nat-20s]

what’s poppin everyone please have this fun lil writing warmup/short story inspired by me thinking “Dancing in the Moonlight” was definitely 100% about werewolves

~*~

“So, this your first transformation?”

The counselor? Leader? Tour guide? Asked this with a perfectly jovial tone, as if the typical social mores surrounding, ugh, lycanthropy, didn’t apply to her. They didn’t know what exact title to call her, and her name tag just said “Luna”, which, reflecting on it, either was a joke on her part or a reflection of her parents’ sense of humor.

Picking at the scabs from last month, they cringed and replied, “No. Uh. Second.”

Luna lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That sucks. Guessing you got bitten rather than inherited the ol’ wolfman gene?”

“That’s...kind of personal?”

Unlocking the front door of the log cabin that served as King Harvest’s Headquarters, Luna shrugs and says, “Shit, sorry. Forgot the whole weird stigma around your source of the once monthly nightmare, as if it fuckin matters. Also, I know, I know, ass out of you and me. Hey, you got any dietary restrictions? Gluten, peanut allergies, the like?”

Voice flat, they tell her, “I’m vegetarian,” and waits for the obvious response.

As they wander through the cabin towards the kitchen, Luna flipping on the light switches, generic club music starts to filter in. Instead of the obvious response, Luna asks, “You like veggie burgers? Or maybe pasta? I’d offer salad, but that’s really not gonna cut it for tonight.”

“I ate before I came.”

With a snort, she tells them, “Oh yeah? Did you have about 4000 calories?”

“No? Why would I have?”

Sweeping out her arm, she gestures at the food laying out on the counter and tells them, “Then eat up! 4000 is really a minimum for the night if you don’t want to feel like someone physically beat out all of your energy in the morning. 6000 is more the target area, but we got, hmm, about 15 minutes before things get uncomfortable, and half an hour max before things get dire.”

They glance down to the food, and, admittedly, the broccoli alfredo does look pretty appealing. Still, they have to ask, “Is this a cult?”

Luna lets out a bark of a laugh that has nothing to do with her (maybe) being a werewolf. “Okay, first of all, what kind of cult is like ‘fuck yeah, we’re a cult’? Secondly, despite the first thing, I can say that we’re not a cult. I know how “King Harvest: Center for Movement Therapy” sounds, both clinical and vague enough to be suspicious as hell, but I didn’t come up with the title, blame my long deceased dad for that one. Plus, ‘King Harvest: Bitchin’ Wolf Dance House’ probably wouldn’t look good on the grant applications.”

“Grants?”

“Oh yeah. This bad boy’s been publicly funded since its opening in 1972. Hence no membership fees.”

“Is that why animal control is giving out your business card? Are they one of your sponsors?”

“Nah, that’s just Jack. Me ‘n’ him go way back, hell, to his park ranger days.  I mean, yeah, I think he’ll campaign for us, but mostly I think he just hates capturing a wolf in the night only to have a naked, trembling human in the morning, and he knows that our program significantly reduces the odds of that happening, at least in this neck of the woods.”

They let out a hum, then glance back down to the food. As appealing as it down look, they’re still about..30% convinced this is an elaborate organ harvesting operation. Or sketchy sex thing.

Apparently sensing their hesitation, Luna says, “You got a favorite chip?”

“Salt and vinegar.”

Grabbing a sealed family sized bag from the overhead cabinets, Luna tosses it to them. “If you come back next full moon, either eat enough in advance or have a real meal here. That being said, excuse the turn of phrase, you should wolf that down. It’s sure as hell better than nothing.”

They catch it, and the bag opens with a puff of air that speaks to a reassuring lack of tampering. As they toss a chip into their mouth, Luna grabs a water bottle from the fridge and places it down next to them. “So? Any questions for me? We’ve still got about ten minutes before we have to go out there.”

Rolling their eyes, they tell her, “No. None at all.”

“Great! Soon as you’re done eating we’ll get you started.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Yeah, no shit, smart-ass. Seriously, what are your, we haven’t got much time.”

“I don’t know? The whole..thing? I mean, how is it supposed to..work? Like? At all?”

“You ever see Amok Time?”

“Is that relevant?”

“It’s a yes or no question babe.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then the explanation is going to be a lot more technical and take a lot longer, ultimately to likely make less sense.”

“...I’ve seen it.”

“Great! So, Pon Farr is basically this chemical blood imbalance that results in fuck or die disorder, yeah? But then Spock neither fucks nor dies, and eventually the vulcans get their shit together and find out that an intense fight can serve the same function, and the blood fever chills out. Lycanthropy operates on a similar enough basis for comparison. You’re compelled to act out on energetically heavy base instincts, returning to the ways of the wolf or whatever. Traditionally, that’s done through running and hunting, which has, historically, been a crapshoot at best. Theoretically, sex can also get the job done, but I’m sure you can imagine how that gets extremely dicey extremely quickly. Either restraints or isolation has been implemented for a while, but, c’mon, they’re bandaid solutions, and they’re far from foolproof. Luckily for us all, my grandmother decided to connect back with her ancestors, and there was a handful of stories having huge festivals to deal with ‘moon violence’. She tried it out, and, yeah, dancing works.”

“That sounds…”

They don’t know how that sounds. Made up, mostly.

“Like a bunch of hippie bullshit? Yeah, it kind of is, Grandma Josephine was a huge hippie, but it’s hippie bullshit that works. In fact, let’s go see the others, it almost always makes things clearer.”

Figuring that whatever they’re about to see can’t be worse than their transformation last month. They head through the sliding glass door out the back, the thump of the music suddenly loud enough to be felt in their chest. The sight that awaits them makes them drop their chips and let out a gasp. Barely able to speak, they exhale out, “None of them...they’re not wolves. How..how??”

Indeed, the roughly forty people jumping to the pulse of whatever they’re listening to (some to the in house DJ, some, apparently, to what’s playing over the large headphones they have adorned), resemble the image of a wolfman much more accurately. They bare claws, fangs, elongated snouts, upright ears, and  serious amounts of hair, but they’re on two legs, and moving like humans. Some of them are even singing along to the lyrics, which really shouldn’t be possible.

Luna grins, making it obvious that she’s used to this level of shell shocks. “Ultimately, you do have to give into some damn rigorous instincts. But dancing is a human instinct, not a canine one, so you end up, well, humanoid. Pretty nifty, huh?”

“And they all..they all keep their minds? I didn’t...they don’t blackout?”

“Not since we banned alcohol in the 90s! Here, watch this.”

Luna nods her head at the DJ, and the DJ, obligingly, turns down the music for a moment. The members of the crowd not listening to their own music pause, then look towards the door. She cries out, “Hey gang! HOW WE ALL DOIN’ TONIGHT?”, and gets a mix between a howl and “WOO!” cried back. The DJ then turns the music back up, and the general movement of the crowd resumes.

They should be more skeptical. They want to be more skeptical, they were just minutes before, but it’s hard to disagree with something right in front of you. “This will work for me? I just..have to dance?”

“Well, it’s not guaranteed. Few things are. But we have yet to have someone turn violent on us. If you start to fell yourself slipping from consciousness, though, I do ask that you start heading further into the woods, as to not hurt other guest. If you find yourself just getting tired, there’s beds inside, and a fair amount of pillows around the edge of the quote unquote dance floor, if you end up in more of a nesting mood. Also, I recommend taking off your shoes before you start.”

“What? Why?”

Luna gives a pointed glance at the dancers’ feet, which, ah. They’re about twice as large as normal and at least twice as sharp. The converse on their feet would be no match. “Ah.”

“Ready?”

They shove off their shoes and place the remainder of their chips aside. “As I’ll ever be.”

Good thing, too, as they’re starting to feel an uncomfortable pressure in their chest that was the prelude to disaster last month.

Luna strides to the center of the dance floor, which is really a plush lawn surrounded by forest. The crowd naturally moves around her, and she yells out, “Aiyana! Play my song!”

Aiyana gives a nod, and the opening notes of “Dancing in the Moonlight” start to sound out. “Seriously?”

Luna shrugs, grinning like a fool, and says, “It’s a classic!”

“It’s cliché at best.”

Luna shrugs, and then begins dancing. She’s hardly elegant, but she is dazzlingly joyful in her uncoordinated movements. As the song reaches the first chorus, she gives a twirl, and in the split second it takes, she’s transformed. They blink in shock, not knowing you could transform that seamlessly, that quickly, that painlessly. Luna in half wolf form is just as expressive as the human Luna, and she gives a nod over her shoulder as if to say Come on.

Feeling somewhat foolish, they start to bop their head to the tune. Luna lets out a huff and grabs their hands, spinning them around and forcing them to get moving. At first, it’s them indulging Luna, but as they let themselves get lost in rhythm, they feel a stretching sensation in their face and limbs. It’s not unpleasant, more like when you wake up and work out the tension in your spine. They open their eyes and look down at their hands, now covered in fur in and made for slashing. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt, and they’re still themselves, and they had no idea that full moons could be like this, maybe for the rest of their lives.

They turn their head to the night sky, and their body can’t help but continue to dance. Despite all their fear, all their dread, “movement therapy” worked, and they can admit, at least to themselves, that they feel warm and bright.

#my writing #nats journey into writing short stories based on 70s songs continues lmao

[ficforce]

Asakusa Crush Part 2

Shinmon Benimaru x Reader SFW / NSFW No set timeline New relationship

Y/N had to hide a giggle behind her hand as she brought more sake over to the table, she had heard that Benimaru had been lured into drinking tonight and was pleased it was in her grandfather’s bar. A few people from the market, a couple of Company 7 and Benimaru sat around the table, a serious game of Cho-Han going on with a large wager. She knelt down at a space on the table and collected up the empty bottles before putting out full ones, she looked at Benimaru’s face again and held in her laughter - he was smiling so cutely. Apparently, it was something that happened when he drank, it was something he had no control of and it changed his usually sullen face completely.

“He’ll get grumpy if you laugh at him, Y/N,” she hadn’t realised that Konro was to her left, he was drinking quietly in comparison to the others, seemingly there to watch people lose their money rather than his own.

“It’s not like he can do anything but smile right now.” Y/N liked the Lieutenant, she had heard he used to be a real terror in his teenage years but had mellowed out to become a protector of Asakusa, even risking his life for it. She swapped out his usual Sake for a premium bottle and put her finger to her lips with a mischievous grin, “Snitches get stitches.”

With that, she went about serving the other tables and cleaning up between, it was nice when it was busy but she was going to be so tired in the morning when she had to get up for restocking. It had to be done in the morning and she had foolishly offered thinking it would be an afternoon job. A loud cheer from the corner made her look back to Benimaru’s table, the man was losing and all he could do was grin about it. “If only you were that cute all the time…” Every time they crossed paths it ended in a challenge, people said they were flirting and Benimaru would get quiet and stalk off. She just liked to pick on him, there was nothing like winding a man up to see what they were really like. He kept his cool most of the time but he wasn’t going to back down and surrender for a second.

Only the strongest could run Asakusa and he wasn’t about to let her knock him down a peg or two in public.

Benimaru wasn’t completely oblivious to Y/N serving, between games and drinking he kept an eye on her, she was a pretty good hostess. No one was left waiting too long, she kept the other servers in check and was doing a pretty good job at avoiding drunken, wandering hands. He was struck again by how at home she was despite being an Empire girl. The twins had given him their low down of her - despite him saying he didn’t care - they said she made tasty food, that she wasn’t a follower of the Sun God and that she thought that the Empire couldn’t care less about people they couldn’t profit from. The girls kept going on about her ignition ability being cool and that she hated mornings.

Every time he saw her before noon she would look completely different from the tidy, cheerful woman with an attitude. She walked around like an old school Yakuza brat. Y/N would leave her hair loose, she would wear a flowery yukata that was thrown on and too open at the front, she seemed to always be wrapped in bandages from her chest to at least her waist - the yukata was always done up properly from the belt down. Y/N walked around like a zombie and was pretty moody if she was still sleepy. He kind of liked that.

At closing time she politely but very firmly kicked everyone out, Benimaru felt like refusing just to see what would happen but Konro practically dragged him out before he could do more than just think about it. He did hear that she had to be up early in the morning and his grin was a little too big at that.

—

“Waka, you’re up early.” Benimaru nodded and pulled on his boots as his Lieutenant gave him an exasperated stare, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

Konro gave him a jab in the side with his foot, “Some people buy a woman flowers or invite her to festivals - not try and start a brawl with her.” It was like dealing with kids, they were both eager to punch the other rather than just hold hands as a normal person would. “It’s obvious you like her, why you gotta be such a brat, Waka?”

“I can’t have some outsider challenging me the way she does.” He wanted to know how strong she was, he didn’t want to like someone who was all bark and he wanted someone who could look after themselves if things went to shit with the White Clads. “I won’t hurt her too bad.”

He figured she’d be on the edge of town to make a restock order, it was easier to tell one of the guys what was needed and have them deliver later. Sure enough, he spotted her sleep-deprived face through the crowd of vendors and stockists. Somehow, Benimaru still found her pretty that way, he remembered how she punched that guy’s lights out with no effort what so ever and even then she was still sweet to Hinata and Hikage. He watched her turn around and begin walking toward him, unaware that he was in her way until she was right in front of him. Y/N’s eyes travelled up from his collar bone to his face and she sighed, her hand coming up to rub at her eye, “I’m too tired for this, what do you want?”

“Fight me.” She snorted at him and laughed, moving to pass him and get back home for a quick nap. Benimaru reached out and caught her upper arm, “I’m serious. You keep pulling my hair and I’m gonna react.”

It was a metaphor she was tempted to act on, yanking his hair and punching him in the face was looking rather appetising.

“I’m not challenging your authority or whatever, I’m just asking you to have some damn manners, you bump into someone you should just apologise. Why are you always so fired up when you see me? Just go cool your head and get out of the way!” Y/N didn’t care who he was or how strong he was - she deserved some respect too. She watched him cross his arms and then he had the audacity to smirk at her, Y/N’s eyes lit up and she acted without thinking. Her fist flew forward and Benimaru caught it easily, already prepared for her counter but not her foot connecting to the side of his calf.

Why did she have to like this conceited man child?

Why did her heart flutter in her chest and he body heat up whenever she saw him?

Love, at first sight, was a gross cliche and she refused to be a victim of it. She liked Benimaru but she wasn’t going to swoon at his feet like every other girl in Asakusa.

People got out of the way as they got physical, Benimaru taking advantage of her lack of basic fighting to push her toward the centre of the street. He had to admit her defence was good, he Aikido helping her just keep up with him and give her openings to hit him square in the ribs and then get a little distance between them. The man pushed off his sleeve and took up his stance again, watching her carefully in an attempt to figure out her next move - she really was just trying not to get hit and it made her unpredictable. If she found a decent teacher he figured Y/N could be a pretty good fighter.

Y/N watched him too and she realised that his style usually involved a sword or two, Iaido. She searched her memory for whether she had ever seen him with a weapon and came up blank. He had seen her moment of lost concentration and advance with an elegant swipe of his arm, his index and middle finger concentrating his flames into something similar to a sword.

So that was his style… She was so fucked.

Though that wasn’t going to get her to back down.

He sliced through her sleeve and Y/N took the chance to counter with fire. Benimaru didn’t know where the explosive little fireball had come from, he thought maybe from her sleeve, but he staggered back as it blew up in his face. The ball reformed itself and he just managed to bat it away and into a nearby wall. He waited for another, watching Y/N get ready for her next move, her hands coming up as if to form a new attack and when he took a defensive stance she took the opportunity to run in the opposite directing and into an alley. “What the… Oi!” Benimaru gave chase immediately.

He ignited baskets and debris around him and launched them into the alley after her, there was a plume of orange and red as they struck something and then it was quiet. Benimaru frowned and walked toward the mouth of the alleyway, concerned that he might have gone too far and hurt her, she was a fire user, right? That meant she had some defence against the flames and he hadn’t made his particularly hot this time. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and stood up all of a sudden, his senses told him something was coming and as he stood between the two houses he was startled backwards by what he had first thought to be a fireball. It flew past him, elongated and as he looked he could almost think that the yellows, reds and oranges looked like scales.

Benimaru flipped back onto his feet, barely dodging as the head of the fire aimed at him, “That’s…” Red eyes widened as he saw the full effect of her ability, twenty feet of serpentine-like flames rose above him, Y/N came out of the alley, her yukata singed and smoking as she moved her hands. Each subtle movement formed the flames into a stronger shape until it resembled a serpentine dragon. It dived down at him and he avoided the hottest part, it was like it wanted to swallow him whole, it’s mouth was blue and he figured it was best to keep away from that. He felt his heart hammering against his chest and it was more than the excitement of a good fight, she was sloppy and untrained and her ignition was visually impressive and right now she was angry at him and looked like she would happily let the dragon devour him.

The tail of her attack took out a stall to the side, her control wasn’t as tight as it could be and he saw potential ways to fix it. The Captain ignited a ring of flame and in three quick steps, he extinguished her attack, standing ready for another. “You’ll have to do better than that, send a bigger one!”

Y/N glared at him and waited for him to set something else on fire.

They both stood ready, seconds and then minutes passing by until he figured it out and relaxed his body, “You can’t make your own flames. Second generation, huh?” He pulled his sleeve back onto his arm and gave a satisfied nod to himself, “You’re pretty good, Y/N.”

“That’s it?” She yelled after him angrily, “You…” Was he teasing her? Was he just going to go about his day like nothing had happened?

“That’s it,” Benimaru raised his hand and waved as he headed back toward the guardhouse.

—

Konro swept the entrance of the guardhouse quietly, Benimaru had headed for his room for a nap as soon as he had gotten in half an hour ago and the twins had run off to terrorise some of the new recruits. He looked up as Y/N stepped into the guardhouse, “Hey Lieutenant Konro, can I borrow that candle?”

“Y/N?” He looked her up and down, she was panting as if she had been running and her clothing had burns on it, “Uh…Sure.” He picked the candle up and she stole the flame from it, making it grow into the size of a tennis ball and then walked past calling for Benimaru.

Benimaru opened the shoji door with an annoyed grumble at being disturbed, the words were barely out of his mouth before she launched the fireball at his face and shoved him back inside.

The Lieutenant snorted to himself and shook his head - Maybe he should go out after all.

#shinmon benimaru #reader #fire force #enen no shouboutai

[absurdthirst]

If you could please Javi x virgin reader?

***Poor Javi...a virgin???

The Bar

He saw you in the chipped and peeling mirror from behind the bar. Cigarette held in his fingertips burning lazily as he brought the glass of whiskey up to his mouth. The smooth burn of the liquid sliding down his throat didn’t distract him from watching you scratch the label on a sweaty bottle of beer you were nursing.

You were new, he would have noticed you in here before. Javier Peña didn’t miss spotting a good looking woman if there was one to be looked at. And you were something to look at. Sitting by yourself, you were looking around, as if familiarizing yourself with the little bar. He watched you tip the bottle back, your neck elongating and pulsing as you swallowed the beer. Javi shifted slightly in his seat as his thoughts went x-rated.

His eyes shifted and he caught the eye of the bartender, shifting his head to motion him over.

“Another?” The older man asked in Spanish.

“Yes.” Javi replied, his eyes flickering to your reflection again. “And send that new girl a fresh beer.”

The older man smirked as he did what Javi asked. He had seen the DEA agent seduce plenty of women in this very bar. Women falling for the lanky, dark haired mustachioed agent and letting him take them home for the night. It all started with buying them a drink.

Javi waited until the drink was delivered before grabbing his own glass and sauntering over to your table. A half smile on his face as he approached. “You look lonely, beautiful.”

****

His eyes opened slowly, arm stretching out to the other side of the bed, expecting to touch a warm body. Instead, cool sheets were all he found under his fingertips. Turning his head, he found the bed empty. He lifted up, bracing on his elbows as he looked around his bedroom. You were gone, your clothes missing from the scattered remains of his own outfit from the previous night.

Swinging his feet off the bed, he reached for the ever present pack of cigarettes of the nightstand. Firing one up, he groaned and stretched as he wondered when you slipped out of his bed and out of his apartment.

Both of you had collapsed into the mattress after fucking, and for once, Javi hadn’t been interested in shooing you out the door. Instead, he had fallen asleep almost instantly and had expected to find out your name this morning.

He looked back at the spot where you were supposed to be laying still, wondering if you had left a note on the pillow. His brow furrowed as he noticed a dark shadow on the sheets. Sucking in a drag off the cigarette, he leaned over and took a closer look, choking on the smoke in his lungs as he realized that his sheets were covered in blood. His bed looked like a crime scene.

****

“Fuck” Javi nipped at the bottom of your jaw as he tried to guide you through his apartment. Not bothering to turn on any of the lights, he kicks the door closed as he shrugs off his leather jacket.

You moaned, your own hands ripping his shirt from being tucked into his jeans, racing up the planes of his back to drag them down his skin.

You pulled them out from under his shirt and moved between them. Unbuttoning the few buttons there were left where he normally left it very liberally undone. He knew how to play that the smooth expanse of his chest to his advantage, plus it was a hell of a lot cooler in the heat of Columbia.

His mouth covered yours again, the taste of cigarettes, whiskey and beer melting together as his tongue slipped into your mouth. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers gripping the loose material of the sundress you were wearing. Bunching it up so he could touch the hot flesh beneath.

His palms slide down to cup your ass, pulling you up to grind against the bulge forming. He tapped your ass, sliding down farther to grip the back of your thighs. Yanking you up into his arms, making you squeal into his mouth and your legs automatically lock around his waist as he carries you up the two steps into his hallway.

He didn’t break the kiss as he carried you into the bedroom before letting you slide down his body. Letting your dress catch on his clothes and ride up. Easier to pull off your body that way. Which he did, just as soon as you were on your feet.

You pushed his shirt off his shoulders and reached for his belt buckle. He walked you back to the bed as you each stripped each other of the rest of your clothes, creating a trail from the door to the bed.

You palmed his cock, making him groan and bite at your lips before pushing you back on the bed. You sprawled out, your legs spread as you watched his nostrils flare as he looked down at you. His hand wrapping around his own cock and tugging on it as he licked his bottom lip.

“Fuck me.” You taunt, spreading your legs wider and letting your hand run down your body to rub your clit.

He could see the slickness of your arousal, could smell that tangy delicious scent from where he was standing. The urge to pin you down and slam his cock into your cunt made him growl as he knelt on the bed and grabbed your thighs, guiding them around his hips.

The urge to bury his face in your cunt was suppressed by his need to feel you wrapped around him. He lined up with your entrance and fell forward onto his palms, braced on either side of your body as his hips surged forward, driving his cock deep into your body.

He watched the way your body arched up underneath him. Your head tilted back and your mouth fell open, but no sound came out. The ability to draw in air or make a sound stolen by the pressure of his cock ramming into your tight walls.

Javi shuddered at the way that your cunt gripped him. Clenching and pulsing around him as your thighs squeezed his hips and your hands flew to brace themselves on his shoulders.

He leaned down and started kissing you, every flick of his tongue into the cavern of your mouth was accompanied by a thrust. He groaned into your mouth, his hips snapping against yours as he fills the tightest cunt he’s had in a long time. Grinding his hips and pulling back to surge forward again.

Your fingers dug into his shoulder blades, the pain of your nails making the pleasure of you cunt even more palpable. You were mewling under him, thrashing, begging for him. He huffed out against your mouth and as he moved faster.

He leaned his weight on one arm as the other snaked around your waist, drawing you up against him as he moved. Your walls started fluttering around him, squeezing so tight that he stuttered his thrusts and groaned again. He clenched his jaw and pushed through the tightness, marveling at the way that you responded to him.

You gasped, body tightening and he felt the hot rush of cum wash over him. Fuck, you were gushing. He closed his eyes as he pushed deep, his cock throbbing as he painted your walls with spurts of hot cum, panting against your jaw as he kissed you.

He thrusted shallowly, riding out his orgasm as he pressed more kisses to your skin before moving back and kissing your lips. His eyes watched yours, hazy with pleasure as you gave him a satisfied smile. His nose nudged your cheek before he pulled out carefully and rolled over.

“Cigarette?” He offered.

“Fuck yes.”

****

He wouldn’t deny he was a bit panicked as he scrambled out of the bed and checked the bathroom, hoping that you were just cleaning up and getting dressed. But the small room was empty.

He didn’t bother pulling on his jeans, checking the apartment for any sign of you.

“Fuck.” He spat when he found nothing. No note, no number, nothing. It was like you were never there. Except for the bloodstained sheets.

Javi looked down and winced, there was blood on his cock. He growled out a string of curses in Spanish and English as he stormed back to the bedroom.

He had fucking had sex with a virgin and hadn’t even fucking realized it.

His fist slammed against the porcelain tiles of the shower. If he had known that you were a virgin, he would have done better. Been better. Fuck, he didn’t even prepare you, he could have at least eaten your pussy. And he wouldn’t have just shoved his cock inside your cunt. Jesus Christ, he had been rough, no wonder you hadn’t stayed. He’d torn through your hymen with no fucking consideration.

Just when he thought he couldn’t become more of a bastard, Javier Peña managed to surprise himself.

****

“Hey man, you look like shit.” Murphy gave him a curious look when he stormed into the open area where their desks were shoved together.

He didn’t even respond, too busy scowling as he tried to think of what to do. He took his gun out and put in the desk drawer before flopping into his chair.

He’d even stopped by the bar on the way into the base, hoping that Armando knew the name of the woman he’d taken home. Hoping that maybe she had used a credit card or told him her name. But no such luck. He’d found out no useful information and earned a criticizing look from the barkeep for not even learning your name before fucking you.

“So the new guy is here.” Murphy droned on, Javi nodding as he half listened. Grabbing his pack and lighting up another cigarette before flicking the zippo lighter closed and tossing it on his messy desk. His fifth one of the day already and it wasn’t even 9 AM. “But there’s something you should know…..”

“So where is he?” Javi interrupted, not really caring about any office gossip concerning the new blood they were sending.

Murphy nodded behind Javi. He turned and his eyes widened.

“Agent Peña.” He froze, the cigarette halfway to the ashtray. He hadn’t heard those words, but he recognized that voice, it matched the face he had been searching for. “Your reputation precedes you.”

You offer your hand, pushing off the half wall you had been leaning against. Javi’s eyes narrow before he puts the cigarette down and comes halfway out of his chair and takes your hand in a hard grip.

His life just got even more fucked up. His mystery virgin was now his new partner.

****

Your first official day in Colombia was turning out to be a fucking kick in the pants. You had woken up in a strange man’s bed after letting him take your virginity. You hadn’t regretted it, it had been some fucking amazing sex.

You had met one of your partners earlier. Steve Murphy was polite and informative. He had given him the rundown on the office and given you a fair warning. Watch out for your other partner. Javier Peña was apparently a man whore who would try to get into any woman’s pants. So imagine your surprise when that man whore turned out to be the same man you had left passed out in his bed just hours before.

After meeting with the Ambassador, you had been sent out with them to look over the scene of the latest bloodbath in the ongoing war in Columbia.

You grimaced as you took in the scene. Blood was sprayed over the concrete and walls.

“Looks like my fucking bed this morning.”

You jumped as you felt your new partner lean close against your back, his voice low in your ear.

You repressed as shiver as his hand moved to your hip. “We need to fucking talk.” He growled. “Right now.”

You knew he was pissed when he pulled you into the alley beside the crime scene. His hands were around your upper arms, pushing you into the bricks as he fought his temper, his eyes hot.

“Are you fucking crazy?” He spat.

“What are you talking about Peña?” You shoot back.

He looked at you incredulously, like you had sprouted two heads. “You didn’t tell me you were a fucking virgin!”

You sighed. “It didn’t matter.”

“Fuck yes it matters!” He growled. “I would have been more careful.” He released your arm and propped his hands on his hips, his eyes sliding off to the side. He sighed heavily.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked. “Is that why you didn’t stay?”

You shook your head. “No.” You said honestly. “I left because I didn’t want an awkward morning after.”

He gave a short bark of a laugh. “No, just pure fucking panic at the sheets and the fucking woman not there.”

“I’m sorry.” You sighed and shook your head. “You were the last fucking person I expected to see this morning. I didn’t say anything last night because I was embarrassed.”

He didn’t say anything, there was nothing really to say. You had met by chance in the bar last night. Gone home together because there had been an attraction. He’d wanted you, and apparently you had wanted him to. Enough to give him your virginity without saying anything other than ‘Fuck me’. And now he was going to work everyday beside a woman that he knew what it felt like to be buried inside her body.

He looked off towards the bodies that were still laying out on the side walks, pushing his aviators up the bridge of his nose. A stark reminder of what the fuck you both were doing in Colombia. He needed to forget about last night. They needed to focus on catching Escobar.

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[meloingly]

Under Forts of Love and Comfort

@tarlos-valentine​ Day 3: “I told you this ages ago” + Love Languages + Favourite Kiss

Summary: When Carlos locks his car door and fixes his duffle bag over his shoulder, all of this concentration is focused on keeping his exhaustion hidden and getting inside the house without TK knowing. Unfortunately, that means that he is so zoned into where to step and how to talk, that he doesn’t notice the soft glow of lights until he opens the door and comes to a complete stop.

When they finally pull back, it's to smiles and giggles. And as TK turns Carlos around again, holding him safe and secure around the waist and starting the movie, he can't help but wonder if they can have comfort dates more often - make it a regular occurrence.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Established Relationship, Soft Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Cute Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Good Significant Other TK Strand, Supportive TK Strand, Caring TK Strand,   Movie Night, Comfort.

Warning: None.

Day 3 YOOOHOOO!!!

Now, yes, I am aware that I'm late. It's no longer the weekend. Unfortunately, real-life sucks sometimes and it doesn't allow you to write when you want to. And so, this is a day late.

@lire-casander has, as usual, been like 97% of the reason I was able to ever get this done. She's a wonderful human being and I don't know how would I have ever done anything without her.

I do not own any of the characters. I am writing this for fun.

Read on AO3:

---

When Carlos locks his car door and fixes his duffle bag over his shoulder, all of this concentration is focused on keeping his exhaustion hidden and getting inside the house without TK knowing. Unfortunately, that means that he is so zoned into where to step and how to speak, that he doesn’t notice the soft glow of lights until he opens the door and comes to a complete stop.

There is nothing normal about the living room. The dining room chairs are pushed up to the kitchen counter, freeing the entire space in the middle. The coffee table is moved from the centre to a side, next to the staircase railing.

And then, right in the middle of the room, is the dining table, the sofa and a single chair all covered, forming a blanket fort.

He can immediately pick out the multiple throw blankets, they usually reside in their linen closet, but right now they’re laid on top of the furniture. He can tell that there’s a single high point in the centre, and he can only guess that it’s a chair, a stool or a pole of some sort; their dark grey and royal blue blankets laid inside to make the floor of the fort.

And through it all, in the depth of the fort, he sees TK, propped up by blankets, peeking his head through the opening of the fort, illuminated by fairy lights that hang behind him, framing the edges of the fort.

He’s dressed in a tank top and running shorts. His hair is damp and ruffled, it looks like he’s showered and just rubbed a towel through his head. There’s a soft smile on his face and a glint he can only describe as a mix of fondness and mischief in his eyes.

He doesn’t think he needs to guess that the mischief has to do with how torn the living room looks right now.

A chuckle forces itself out of his chest before he gets a chance to stop it. He drops the duffle bag, letting it hit the floor. He toes out his shoes, kicking them in the general direction of the shoe cabinet, then crouches down until he’s at TK’s level. The wide grin that he’s immediately faced with washes through him like a soothing balm, TK’s the smile so giant his eyes become minuscule in comparison.

“Hellooo,” he says, elongating the greeting. “Welcome to your weekend retreat!”

His eyebrows raise in question, and he finds himself smiling. He’s about to greet him back when TK twists to a side, pulling a box from one of the many crevices in the fort.

“Here you go,” TK says as he pushes the box into Carlos’ arms. “Go shower, change, and come back. I’ll be waiting right here,” he says patting the empty space next to him.

Carlos looks at the box. He knows there are a few bottles in there; he can tell by the way one side is heavier than the other. His favourite shirt is folded on the very top, and there’s a corner of black fabric underneath it, but he can’t tell what it is. He looks back at TK, the love he feels for the man growing by the second.

“Do I get to say hello first?”

TK’s eyes widen at that, before he bends forward, balancing on his knees and pursing his lips at Carlos, who meets him in the middle. It starts as a soft peck, just a ‘welcome home’, a type of kisses he didn’t think he could have before. The soft pecks whenever either one of them comes back home, the gentle caress of their lips on one another when they don’t have a reason to kiss, the sweet kitten licks he likes to lay on TK when he’s next to him.

It stays like that, soft and sweet, until it’s not. Until Carlos drops the box and holds onto the back of TK’s neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He responds immediately, lips parting to entwine their tongues, his hands sneaking underneath Carlos’ shirt, moving upwards to palm at his chest.

Carlos moans, dropping to his knees and letting TK pull him closer with an arm around the waist, until not only is half of his body inside the fort, but he’s also half on TK’s lap. He feels a soft dip underneath his legs, guessing that TK must have taken one of the guest room mattresses and laid it down as cushioning. With it, he also feels a hard imprint pressing on his thigh, and he feels the excitement start to bubble in the depth of his stomach. It reminds him of their first time together, the push and pull of their bodies on one another, as they gave and took, bending to each other’s will and demanding the same of the other person.

He’s about to lean more of his weight forward, to push TK on his back, when he breaks their contact, leaning back and holding Carlos in place with a hand on the front of his stomach, a single line of saliva connecting their lips.

“TK!” he whines, hands still wound around TK’s neck, pulling himself closer. He tries to kiss TK again, but he moves, making Carlos miss his face. He ends up detouring to the front of his throat.

“No, no, Ca-Carlos, you need, you need to go.”

Carlos tries to take him seriously and listen, he really does. It’s just extremely hard to accomplish such a thing when TK is moaning and withering and stuttering underneath him. He hums in reply, thrusting his hips as he tries to hump on something, anything. He’s almost sure that TK is going to give up and lay down, let them get on with the program. Instead, TK pulls back, planting his hands on Carlos’ chest this time, making sure that he won’t be able to reattach his lips to any visible body parts.

He pouts, watching as TK closes his eyes for a moment to take a deep breath. When he opens them, they’re still wide-blown, the green of his irises almost hidden. Carlos trails his gaze lower, passing by the quickly darkening bruise on the side of TK’s neck, and the quick rise and fall of his chest.

Carlos can read the lust that’s falling off TK in waves.

TK shakes his head, relaxing his arms a little and dragging his hands down Carlos’ front, giving his pecs a subtle squeeze. He rests them around his hips, bending forward to press his forehead to his chest.

Carlos bends his own head, kissing the top of TK’s head.

“I have something planned for you,” he mumbles, voice muffled by Carlos’ shirt. “So, as much as this pains me,” he pulls his face away, looking up at Carlos. “You need to go upstairs.”

Carlos huffs, pulling back to dramatically cover his eyes with his arm and loudly sigh in the corner of his elbow. He tries to keep the facade, but then he hears TK chuckle at him and he breaks, smiling as he straightens up and slides off TK.

“Okay, okay,” he says as he pulls his bag over his shoulder and holds the box in both arms. “Shower, you said?” TK nods, a smile on his face as lays back on the blankets.

Racking a final glance over TK, stopping for a few moments at the kiss-bitten lips and the sliver of skin showing between his top and shorts, Carlos takes a deep breath and gets up to his feet, turning around and running up the stairs two at a time. He wants to be back with TK as soon as possible.

He opens the bedroom door and comes to a stop in front of the bed, dropping both the box and his bag. He pauses for a moment, torn between going through the box TK prepared for him and between going through his own gift for TK. He looks between both of them once, twice, and thrice. Eventually, he decides to check on his present and make sure it’s ready so that he’s free to enjoy TK’s.

He opens the duffle, praying that it wasn’t crumbled or crushed. He pulls it out, turning it around in his hand, re-aligning the paper and straightening the bow tied around the middle. Once he’s sure that it’s as presentable as when he first bought it, he lays it on the bed, satisfied that it wasn’t been ruined. He turns his attention to TK’s gift.

The box is wrapped in blue wrapping paper - he knows it’s the one they bought months ago to wrap all the birthday gifts they give out to their friends and family - with small hearts drawn with a white marker. He runs his hand through the shirt he noticed in the very beginning. It’s a long-sleeved oversized shirt, incredibly soft and unbelievably cuddly. It’s what he usually wears when he’s having a bad day. And he’s been having a bad two weeks. Underneath the shirt is one of his black sweatpants, one of the fancy, woven wool ones.

He picks both of them out, finding a pair of underwear and fuzzy socks next. On the opposite side of the box is a fluffy towel. He pats it down, feeling something in the middle. He grabs the towel, laying it on the bed and unraveling it to find another towel, and in the center of that; four travel size bottles with nothing but home-made labels. He opens each bottle, smelling it as he reads the labels; one is shower gel, one is shampoo, one is a conditioner and the last one is a lotion.

He recognises the smells, and the brand of some almost instantly. The woodsy Oud of the shower gel is a luxury he doesn’t buy for himself much, and the sandalwood of the hair products is a brand he hardly finds nowadays. He isn’t sure what the lotion is exactly, but after pumping a bit from the bottle, he can tell that it’s his favourite kind of smell and his preferred texture of lotion.

A smile makes its way into his face just as tears start to cloud his vision.

He’s been bound to overtime and extra shifts for the past two weeks after a supposedly simple prisoner transfer turned into an active felony on the run. It had required multiple units and several hours to control the situation, and it still left five officers with different degrees of injuries and off-duty time.

He's glad that there were no lives lost that day - neither fellow colleagues nor prisoners - but it's been a heavy load for the remaining officers to carry, physically, emotionally and mentally. Worst of all, it didn't only affect the officers themselves, but also their families and partners at home.

So when he was finally approved for a weekend off, he immediately called TK and asked him to come over. He had missed the man. The minute smiles and nods during joint calls and late-night facetime calls didn't satisfy either one of them anymore.

Shaking his head, he takes a deep breath and lifts his hands to cover his eyes. Once he feels his emotions rear back, returning to their initial state of containment, he grabs the shower gel, shampoo and conditioner and walks to the en-suite bathroom.

He drops the bottles on the sink counter then opens the shower stall door to turn on the hot water, giving it a moment to warm up. He undresses quickly, pace increasing as steam starts gathering in the bathroom. After he throws his clothes into the hamper, he reaches into the shower, testing the water. He fiddles with the lever for the moment until he finds the desired temperature.

Grabbing the bottles off the sink, he opens the door and steps inside, putting the bottles down in the little shelf he has in the stall. And then he steps under the spray.

He closes his eyes and drops his head, letting the hot water fall down his hair and body, letting it take some of the stress and tension he's been feeling. The warm water feels heavenly, the jets hit at his tense muscles and the warmth calms his racing mind.

After a few minutes, he decides that he might as well get to showering and finally reaches for the bottles. He tries to go through the process quickly, but the lather and the spice of the Oud forces him to slow down, the feeling of cleanliness from the shampoo has him scratching at his own scalp, and the softness that the conditioner leaves behind makes him curl his hair around his fingers.

When he's done with the shower and he's just standing under the water for another few moments, he decides it's time to get moving. Closing the water, he grabs the towels, drying himself up with one and wrapping it around his hips, and then using the other one to dry his hair as he walks out of the shower.

His vision falls on the bed, the remains of the box contents… and his own gift to TK.

He barely resists the urge to smack himself on the forehead. He was so engrossed in the gifts he just received, and the thought TK put in each one, that he completely forgot about the very real possibility that TK could walk into the bedroom, and see what Carlos had bought right there.

He moves to the slightly open door and tries to listen to any noises around him, wondering if he'll be able to hear TK walking up or down the stairs. When he doesn't hear anything he turns back towards the bed and starts to put on the clothes from the box.

Getting dressed doesn't take time or concentration, and neither does applying the lotion. He's ready within minutes. He pulls the long sleeves over his hands and winds his arms around his chest, burying his nose into his shoulder and taking a deep whiff. He isn't sure what the laundry detergent that's been used on these clothes is, but it smells heavenly.

He turns back towards the bed, grabbing the bottles and putting them back into the box, and then grabs the whole box to deposit it on top of their dresser. He moves back to the bed, grabbing his own present, and then he's out of the door and making his way to finally join TK.

He tries to sneak down the last few steps, turning so that his hands are hidden behind his back and TK can't see them. He lands on the last step, moving to a crouch in front of the fort, repeating what he did earlier.

"Hi," he says, getting TK's attention, who's laid back scrolling on his phone.

TK's eyes snap to him, a smile immediately taking over his face. He drops his phone and sits up, moving a few feet to the front of the fort so he's in front of Carlos.

"Hi," he replies. "How was the shower?"

"Oh, it was okay, I've had better," he retaliates, huffing a laugh when TK pulls away with a gasp and a dramatic eye roll.

"Now, that's just a lie."

"I dunno, I'm a cop, I don't think I can lie."

TK huffs, shaking his head.

"That's basically saying that I can't start fires because I'm a firefighter, and we both know that's a lie."

Carlos laughs, falling completely onto his knees. He is fully aware that TK starting fires is something that isn't only a possibility, but a reality that has happened multiple times. Whether it be forgetting that he started breakfast and that there's toast in the oven, or the numerous cakes that have been left a little too long - or completely forgotten - than they needed.

"Whatcha hiding?" TK asks in his sing-songy voice, his hands sneaking around Carlos' waist along his arms. Luckily, he catches on to what TK is trying to do in time and he brings one hand forward, holding onto TK's wrists.

"Something. Let me into your humble abode and I'll show you."

TK hums, pretending to think about it, even though he's already moving back and to a side, until his back is resting onto the sofa and there's enough area next to him for Carlos to slip in.

He looks at the space ahead of him, trying to figure out how he's supposed to get inside without ruining his present or TK finding out what it is.

"Close your eyes, baby," he tells TK, continuing when he lifts an eyebrow at him. "You'll see in a second, come on," he urges, smiling when TK rolls his eyes before he does scrunch his eyes closed and covers them with his hands.

Carlos extends his hand in front of him, trying to make sure that it doesn't get ruined. He turns around, giving the front of the tent his back and then sliding in on his butt. Once he's settled in, slotted next to TK, both of them touching shoulder to thigh, he turns towards the man and lays a quick kiss on the back of the hand covering his eyes.

He feels TK perk up, turning his entire upper body towards Carlos.

"Can I open my eyes now?"

Carlos stares at his hand for a moment, straightening the paper again. "Yeah, okay, go ahead."

He looks as TK moves his hands, undoubtedly blinking the blurriness away, and then as he focuses on Carlos' hand.

"Are-are those?" he starts to ask, interrupting himself to run a palm across the paper wrapped around the bouquet.

"Uh, yeah," he stutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

"They're-it's beautiful!" TK exclaims, wrapping his hand around the stem of the bouquet, over Carlos', and angling it his way enough that he's able to stick his nose in it.

"Oh, God," he closes his eyes, a soft smile on his face. "It smells amazing!"

There's a preen of pride ruffling deep in Carlos' chest. He tries to conceal it the best he can, but judging by the smirk that TK throws him, he isn't doing a very good job at it. He clears his throat and hands the bouquet to TK, allowing him to turn it around and look at all of the different flowers.

"Red chrysanthemums, alstroemerias, primroses and stocks," TK mumbles underneath his breath, followed by a few words Carlos doesn't quite pick up on. He sits in his place, awaiting the final verdict.

He doesn't really know flowers, but he knows that TK loves them. So he's tried to do some research, and he has picked the flowers in the bouquet because they all mean love, in different variations.

His biggest hope was to find a florist at the store, someone who actually knows the intricate details of what each plant means. Unfortunately, the only person available when he got there was a teenage register keeper. Which meant that he had to do with what he had Googled earlier in the day.

While he is aware that he didn't do half as good of a job as an actual florist would have, he isn't sure that TK cares as much about that. He's still looking at the flowers with a fond gaze, holding a primrose petal - he thinks it's primrose at least - between two of his fingers and caressing it lightly. The smile on his face only gets bigger, and that is all Carlos cares about.

"How is it that even when I plan a surprise for you," TK whispers, his voice soft between them, "you still manage to surprise me?"

Carlos chuckles at that.

"Great minds think alike?" he offers.

He receives a soft hum in response, and then TK lays his head on Carlos' shoulder, bringing them even closer together, something he didn't even think was possible.

A few moments later, TK takes a deep breath and lifts his head. He kisses Carlos, telling him he's going to get a vase for the flowers and then he's out of the fort.

Carlos stays inside, arranging a few pillows behind his back to get comfortable. He looks at the empty side next to him, and over the edge of the mattress where TK had pulled the box from earlier. He spots a couple of water and soda bottles, a few small bowls and a couple of larger ones.

He can immediately tell that one of the larger ones is popcorn. One of the smaller ones has some type of candy - maybe skittles or M&Ms - and another bowl has marshmallows. He leans to the side to grab a few marshmallows, popping one in his mouth as he moves to completely lay down across the space, resting his head where TK's thighs were.

TK shows up at the opening of the fort right then, without the flowers in sight. He stops when he spots Carlos laying down, blinking a few times as Carlos stares back at him, a wide grin on his face.

He opens his arm, eliciting a laugh out of TK as he gets it and tries to maneuver himself around to Carlos' back.

"Babe, no," he whines when he sees that TK isn't going to lay down in front of him. But he settles down once he realizes that TK is laying down behind him, snaking an arm between his waist and the ground. His other hand moves over their heads, grabbing the TV remote and pressing a few buttons till the screen in front of them turns on. TK drops the remote and connects both of his hands over Carlos' stomach.

Carlos tries to burrow deeper into the body behind him, wiggling until his entire back is in contact with TK's front. He overlaps his hands with TK's, holding onto the other man.

This is his favourite way of unwinding. He likes to just sit and cuddle with TK on the couch, watching some lightweight comedy movie as they laugh and snack on whatever junk food they have on hand. They don't get to do it to this scale though. In fact, they've never done it this way before. Certainly not to the extent of a full-blown blanket fort.

He takes a breath, letting the scents of the products he just used, mixed with TK's cologne and the smell of the food around them, lull him into peace. He can feel his mind start to calm down, and the thumping of his heart begin to slow down.

He's starting to drift away, eyes closed, mind and body relaxed, when he hears the first few dialogues of the movie. He frowns, trying to pinpoint where he's heard the sentences, before his eyes snap open, and sure enough, he finds himself staring at Hiccup.

"Wait," he murmurs, turning his head around to look at TK. "That's How to Train Your Dragon!"

"Yeah, that is true."

Carlos can tell that TK is being sarcastic, but it still doesn't dampen his amazement.

"How did you know I like it?"

"You mean how did I know that it's your favourite comfort movie? Or that you absolutely love and adore it? Or that you cry every time you watch the third instalment?" TK asks, and Carlos' eyes widen with every question.

He can feel the heat starting to build up in his face, but he ignores it, choosing to untangle their hands and turning around until he's face to face with TK.

"All of it," he replies. "How did you know about any of that?"

TK stares at him for a moment, a slight smirk on his face. He loves the man, his smirks and smiles included, even when they're directed at him. Even though he is extremely curious and genuinely waiting for an answer, he still can't help smiling back at him.

"You told me," TK whispers. "We were babysitting your nieces one day and we were watching this, cuddled up on their couch. I was half-asleep, so I'm sure you didn't think I'd hear you. But you were telling me about how it's your all-time favourite movie and why you love it so much."

Carlos blinks at TK, going back to the exact day he's talking about. He remembers it crystal clear, simply because it was the first time his three nieces met TK. They had been a little wary at first, before he showed them videos of himself on the firetruck, and then they were immediately enamoured, flicking behind him from one room to another, and demanding to sit next to him. At the end of the night, they had huddled up on the couch - Carlos and TK next to each other and, and his nieces spread out of top of them - as they watched How To Train Your Dragon. His nieces and TK were all out within fifteen minutes.

But Carlos had stayed awake. Holding Amalia over his shoulder, and playing his TK's hair with his other hand. He sat there, and for the next hour, he relayed everything that happened to a sleeping TK, going as far as telling him why he liked specific parts and why others hit him deep in his soul.

When the movie ended though, he woke TK up. Together, they moved all three kids to the guest bedroom, and then they went to theirs. And the movie was never spoken about again.

And so, to hear TK say that not only was he awake and actually heard every word, but he has also remembered even though it's been almost a year since the situation, Carlos can't help the tears that spring up to his eyes, again.

“I told you this ages ago," he whispers, voice thick with emotions he isn't sure he can keep locked inside anymore.

TK seems to understand though. He brings a hand to his cheek, wiping at a few tears that have escaped, and then he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Carlos' nose.

"Yeah, you did. I figured if there's ever an occasion to put that piece of information to use, it'd be when you've been having an absolute hell of a week," he explains, continuing after a moment of silence. "And why stop there? Might as well combine with your other favourites: hugs and cuddles," he says as he pulls Carlos closer.

They stay in each other's arms for a moment longer, TK holding onto Carlos as he silently cries into the crook of his neck. Once his tears run out, he pulls back slightly, only to lean forward again and kiss TK, trying to pour every emotion of love and adoration and devotion into it.

When they finally pull back, it's to smiles and giggles. And as TK turns Carlos around again, holding him safe and secure around the waist and starting the movie, he can't help but wonder if they can have blanket fort comfort dates more often - make it a regular occurrence.

#tarlosvalentine21 #tarlos corazonados 2021 #tarlos corazonados weekend #day 3 #prompt: i told you this ages ago #prompt: love languages #prompt: favourite kiss #prompt: favorite kiss #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #tarlos fic

[darkparablesthorst]

In which Henryk burns yet another carriage with unnamed she/her character. A bit obscure with strange dialogue, but I just wanted to write something out. 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that every man who has lost his wife to his  rival by the means of a devastating war that has resulted to horde of casualties, severe economic consequences, and the hostile rift forever between magical and non-magical creatures, must be in want of another wife. 

And months after a stiff wedding with the sullen king and a cold bed in the same night where no touches have been exchanged at all, said wife is sprawled across the same bed, fiddling with the fine furs of her heavy blankets in lieu of paying her husband any attention. 

“You are upset with me,” he remarks after a long moment of silence, clenching the sheets.

“Indeed I am, my king,” she replies, bearing no hint of remorse or reproach. 

The king stiffens in his seat over the edge of the bed and glances back at the indolent resignation his wife’s form embodies behind him. He restrains a flinch, burying a pang of destitution to see his wife silently stew in misery. 

“You know why I had to do it,” he insists. The frown that curls down his face seems to elongate the lines of age that are beginning to appear prematurely. 

“I know, my king,” she consoles, and turns to face her husband, looking up at him with a dull smile. “I only worry about the expenses you have incurred over yet another carriage that has burst to flames but two days ago. And it is to my understanding that barely a month had passed since it was carted into our castle, and only lived for a mere three weeks in my service until one of our valets smashed a liquor bottle into it before a few castaway embers from a torch nearby has burned it into charred ruins. Allegedly,” her mouth splits to a lazy grin that does little to eclipse the lifeless amusement in her eyes. 

“It is what the stable boy has reported, yes,” he replies, stiffly nodding, before turning away again to stare at the polished floorboards beneath his riding boots.

“Now, now, Henryk, dear. Why avoid the blame after you’ve admitted to it but a few sentences prior? Fickleness is unbecoming of your steadfast disposition, which you have proven with each ruined mode of transportation in the few months of our marriage.”

He feigns no reply, feeling his tongue heavy in his mouth, and hears the blankets shift behind him.

"Lady Hardrow,” he hears her begin, “promised to teach me how to sew baby clothes the last time I visited her humble manor,” she drolls. “I’ve yet the confidence to pursue the endeavor on my own, but it’s maybe for the best, since there won’t be anyone to wear it, after all.” 

“That’s...” he grasps for the words, but they slip through his fingers before a thought can spring from them, “we can...”

He hears her laugh, colored with the faintest breath of genuine delight. It comforts him as much as it apprehends him. 

“I doubt it’s wise, my king, unless you promise not to add any wheels to the baby’s crib and promise to keep any bottle-smashing valet nearby.”

His chest stutters, and he startles upon the realization that he is laughing. When the back of his neck prickles from her gaze marking his back, he clamps his mouth shut. 

A weight of silence descends into the space stretching between their backs, like a heavy blanket smothering a sleeping babe. 

“I...” he starts, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m sorry. For, er, the--laughing was uncalled for.”

“The wound would have been bigger had you not.” 

The desire to engage her banter swirls in his stomach like traitorous brambles that ensnare at the faintest brush of fabric upon it. He teeters close, expecting, welcoming the trap, but the chains of his guilt rattle behind him, noisy and unpleasant like the rustle of blankets as she sprawls along the length of the bed behind him again. 

It’s too late to proceed.

A light, distant sigh tickles his ears, and the unspoken emotions it belies is as close to intimacy as he will get. 

“Let us sleep, Henryk. I only hope that I will not find myself lying down in a pile of burnt fabrics after my dawdling in dream land.”

He nods stiffly, no longer feeling the bubble of laughter in his chest (He misses it). He waits for her to come to him, anticipating a chaste kiss, a curious, awkward finger on his back, or even a clipped good night that might beckon him to cross the distance of the bed between them. . 

All that comes is silence, then the soft snores of someone taking refuge in the oblivion of slumber. 

He stands up, marches out of the room and closes the door behind him without sparing her another look. He is not brave enough to do so.  

#dark parables #dark parables 14 #dp 14 #blue tea games #my writing #king henryk #cw angst

[lonelyyinchicago]

//tw blood, violence, stabbing//

remus landed softly on their street, his ears sensitive from the last full moon. behind the shutters he could make out flashes of light in various colours until a green one made him freeze.

remus threw the knee-high gate open and pulled out his wand. despite bursting in, the level of volume within the house covered his entrance.

his eyes widened as he passed a body slumped against the wall in the hallway. he knelt next to it, extending two shaking fingers to the person’s neck. his fingers were retracted quickly as he felt breath and noticed the pulsating dark mark.

remus moved into the kitchen and stopped when he heard sirius’ voice.

“TELL ME! TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO HIM!”

remus cracked the door open slightly, the small amount of light he let in elongating sirius’ shadow. bellatrix’s body was convulsing on the floor, twitching as she took ragged breaths. he watched as her fingers slid silently across the smooth tiles before remus pieced together what she was about to do.

his foot came down hard on the wand, breaking it in two. her fingers recoiled as her knees flew up to her chest, protecting the skin sirius had broken open.

remus watched as the knife disappeared once again into bellatrix’s body. he looked up at sirius slowly, watching as the man before him became unrecognisable.

leaning back on his heels, sirius ran a quick hand through his hair, smearing blood across his pale cheeks.

sirius stood up, the knife dripping. he took a step towards remus as remus simultaneously took one away, his back flat against the wall.

“remus. remus i-”

remus shook his head. sirius moved closer, reaching out to his husband. remus’ eyes couldn’t help but float down to the knife that was still in sirius’ hand.

“remus? oh my god, remus no. of course not.”

remus shrugged weakly, still leaning away uncertainly.

“you killed her” he whispered eventually.

“she was going to kill me.”

“you stabbed her. y-you were torturing her. i saw you. the way you were stood over her; screaming at her-”

sirius’ fist closed tightly around the knife’s handle and remus gulped.

“hear me out.”

“what?” remus snapped. “no. just answer one question.”

sirius raised an eyebrow to indicate he was listening.

“did you enjoy it?”

“oh because you’ve never killed before.”

remus pursed his lips: “not family.”

sirius swore loudly, throwing the knife past remus until it hit the photo frame hanging on the wall, causing it to crack. it fell to the floor and remus watched, frozen.

“they,” sirius breathed heavily, pointing a shaking finger at the body on the floor, “are not my family.”

instead of allowing the thousands of words he had bottled up to spill out, remus released the small noise that was caught in his throat. he fiddled absentmindedly with the silver band on his finger, twisting it so furiously until it came off.

“you can’t treat family like that.”

“SHE WAS NEVER FAMILY!”

“i’m going home.”

“remus please. listen to me.”

remus stopped, his hand hovering centimetres above the door handle.

“i don’t know how it happened, okay? she was coming at me and i only grabbed the knife to defend mys-”

“BULLSHIT!”

remus turned suddenly, taking long strides towards the smaller man.

“I SAW YOU. SHE DIDN’T GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANTED AND YOU KILLED HER. SHE WASN’T EVEN ARMED.”

“YOU KNOW FULL-WELL SHE WAS REACHING FOR HER WAND.”

“YOU COULD’VE SHOWN SOME MERCY.”

sirius let out a loud laugh that continued to ring in remus’ ears long after he’d finished.

“when did she ever do that for me?”

remus ran a frustrated hand through his hair, glaring at the man whose cousin’s blood was drying on the pale face before him. when sirius spoke again, his voice was low.

“she would never have done the same.”

“i’m going home.”

“no.”

sirius stepped forward, pausing in line with the knife. the blood was soaking into the carpet, seeping in, slowly making its way towards remus’ feet.

“well i’m not fucking staying here.”

‘with you’ he added in his head.

sirius looked up at him, a small smile at his lips as though he knew exactly what remus’ was thinking. remus breathed out shakily and left.

sirius stood in the dark hall, hearing the sound of the front door close over and over again. he picked up the broken photo frame, tears forming. he refused to release his grip on it even as the glass shards pierced his skin, his own blood joining the the small puddle already on the floor.

back out on the empty street, remus looked down at his hands. flecks of blood were still visible and he couldn’t help but think to himself that his finger looked naked.

he shook his head violently, ridding his brain of any and all thoughts of sirius and what could’ve been.

#harry potter #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #wolfstar angst #tw: death #tw: stab wound #tw: violence