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whatsk-poppinhomies · 5 months

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Pairing : Dad!Yang Jeongin x F!Reader TW : children ; mention of pregnancy ; slightly suggestive ; mainly fluffy though ; Word Count : 1.4k Request : nope! A/N : all of the skz snippets are done!! yay!! These little drabbles really helped me and I kinda want to do another group for the snippets of life... hmmm...

The lock on the front door clicked, alerting you to your husband's arrival. It would be his first day home after three long months of being on tour. Nights of phone calls between you and him would almost always be interrupted by your 4 year old son who missed his father just as much as you did.

“BOO!” You had been in the kitchen when Jeongin came through the front door, rather quietly as well, like he was planning on surprising you and your son, but Jeongyoo had different plans. Your boy had been in position behind the little table for a solid hour just waiting for his fathers return.

“Holy shi-!” Jeongin began, but you pointed at him sternly with the wooden spoon you were holding, stopping him before he could finish the curse word that you didn’t want your son to utilize just yet. “That was a good one, thanks bud.” Jeongin quickly said when he looked down and saw Jeongyoo still standing in front of him. “Do I get a hug? Did you miss me? Hmm?” Jeongin asked, crouching down in front of the boy who was almost like a statue at this point, just staring at his father as if he didn’t understand him.

A long moment of silence, and you were intrigued by it, wondering about what your son was about to do or if he was going to speak at all. He was a lot of things, but predictable was not one of them. “RAWR!” He suddenly shouted, his hands flying up into tiny claws before running off towards his bedroom.

Jeongin, in a pure state of reasonable shock, fell back onto his butt, his eyes wide as they followed the little boy that was full of scares right now. “What the fu-! FLIP!? WHAT THE FLIP?!” Jeongin screeched, quickly pushing himself up off the floor to go into the kitchen where you were, almost like he was hiding behind you. You couldn’t help but laugh, especially after hearing stories from Jeongins own mother about how much of a goblin-respectfully-he was as a child. “Does he do this to you? Are you okay, jagi? Has he been tormenting you for three months?”

You snorted loudly, rolling your eyes at your husband's dramatics before turning to face him, cupping his cheeks and pressing a kiss to his slightly pouty lips. “He’s been a good boy. You’re the only person he’s been scaring, unless he does it at the daycare and his teacher just hasn’t told me.” You explained, turning back towards the little lunch that you had been preparing. “I think he’s doing it because he misses you and he just doesn’t know how to express that feeling yet.”

You could hear the pop of Jeongins lips as his mouth fell open, clearly not on board with your reasoning, but he wasn’t going to argue with it. “Little dude could just give me a hug but he tries to make me shit my pants… got it.” Jeongin joked quietly, and you couldn’t hold in your laughter. “It’s not funny… I miss my son and he doesn’t even miss me enough to not terrorize me as soon as I walk through the door.”

Sighing softly, you turned around once again, your hands firmly placed on Jeongins shoulders so you could look at him and so that he would look at you. “He does miss you, very much actually.” You started, your thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the tense muscles of his shoulders, feeling him slightly relax under your hands. “He misses you so damn much, he wants to be just like you. Your mother came over and she was telling us stories about how you were as a child…” It was as if a lightbulb clicked inside his head and you could only smile and nod as you seemed to watch it all start to make sense in Jeongins head. “You really were a little stink when you were younger.” You teased and now Jeongin seemed to have both a sense of pride, and maybe just a hint of fear in his eyes. He knew how he was when he was younger, and now he wondered whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that his son wanted to be like him.

“I don’t think I jump scared my parents like he is though, or at least they never said anything about me doing that. Did they say I did?” He inquired, leaning back against the center island in the kitchen and pulling you closer to him as he did. His hands rubbed up and down your sides, unknowingly sidetracking your brain from answering his question until his head tilted to the side, prompting you to answer.

“Mm… No, she never said anything about you doing anything like that, but he put his own little spin on being a mini stink stink just like you.” You joked, and in retaliation he squeezed you hips, causing you to squeal and squirm against him. “Rude ass. Don’t get me excited. You know damn well we can’t do anything when Jeongyoo is awake.” You quietly scolded, but Jeongin seemed to find more fun in teasing you, his hand landing firmly against your ass with a loud smack that had you jumping and pressing further against him.

“Who said I was trying to do anyth-“ Before he could finish his sentence, Jeongyoo once again popped out, seemingly from out of nowhere, this time making both Jeongin and you jump in shock. His blanket was over his head, pretending to act like a ghost, but when he attempted to run off he ended up slipping on the blanket and falling to the floor. “Ah… shi- shoot!” Jeongin shouted, miraculously holding in his curse as he carefully moved you to the side and ran to help his son, scooping him up and holding him tight against his chest. “It’s alright, bud. Daddy is here…” Jeongin cooed, soothing the little boy's soft whimpers as he tried his best to hold back his cries to be strong in front of his father.

“Did I scare you?” Jeongyoo asked softly, his glistening eyes looking to his father for acceptance, and Jeongin nodded so swiftly, you could almost see the sadness wash away from your son’s face, replaced with a look of both excitement and pride. “I not hurt… I just fell down… I okay now.” He said, attempting to wiggle out of Jeongins hold, but he held onto him tighter, running crazily around the room while making siren noises just to elicit giggles out of your son.

“My boy! He’s gotten a booboo! Nurse Y/N, we need ice cream and stuffed animals! Quickly!” Jeongin shouted, gently dropping your son onto the couch as you swiftly jumped into the role of nurse to keep up with the impromptu game that your husband had just come up with. “Oh no! He seems to have a case of the giggles! What should we do?!” Jeongin wailed as your sons laughter only got louder, and you rushed over with all the stuffed animals you could carry from his room and dropped them onto the couch.

“I’ve never seen a case of the giggles like this! I think he needs Mr. MonkeyBoots!” You picked up your sons favorite stuffed animal, one that had been a gift from Jeongin when he had come back from tour last year, and Jeongyoo quickly grabbed his, holding it close to him and hiding his face in it as his laughter slowly died down. “We did it, Dr. Yang! We cured the giggles!” You cheered, clapping your hands together.

The game ended just as quickly as it started, and soon there was a silence, but it was calm, it was peaceful. Jeongin knelt down on the floor in front of the couch, his hand brushing through his son's hair and he had a smile that he seemed to save only for his son. “I missed you so much, bud.” Jeongin whispered before leaning his forehead against Jeongyoos and letting out a little sigh. “When you’re a little bit older, I’ll take you on tours with me. You and mommy. I don’t like being so far away from you two…”

“Three…” You corrected him with a soft whisper from the kitchen, and Jeongins head whipped up to look at you over the back of the couch, his eyes wide, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the shocked look on his face. “You’re the one who wanted to give me a parting gift before you left for tour… It was one hell of a gift, thank you.”

Jeongin gasped loudly, causing his son who had at some point fallen asleep to stir. “That one better not get any ideas from my mom like he did… I don’t think we can handle another mini me.”

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thisisnotthenerd · 3 months

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as the fhjy premiere is upon us, i'm back with another edition of thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats. it's just the updates that are relevant, since relationship tracking is taking so long to do and i got sidetracked by polls for a few months. this will be sorted by the categories i have data for--you can look at the spreadsheet to find data for all d20 seasons. or you can read it on ao3. anyway:

player data:

runtime and episode data:

before the start of junior year, we have spent 88 hours, 40 minutes, and 14 seconds with the bad kids on-screen, including in oneshots. this is about 3 days, 16 hours, 40 minutes, and 14 seconds.

that's 41/221 d20 episodes, 22 of which were battle episodes.

we've spent 125 hours, 37 minutes, and 32 seconds in spyre as a whole, or 5 days, 5 hours, 37 minutes, and 32 seconds.

that's 57/221 d20 episodes, 32 of which were battle episodes.

cast appearances:

brennan at the top of the list, with 19 d20 appearances, 15 of those as a gm/dm.

next is lou, with 11 seasons as a player; 8 intrepid heroes seasons, 3 sidequests.

followed by ally, zac and siobhan, each with 2 different sidequests under their belts

second to last is emily, with 9, with acofaf

and in last is murph, with only 8. if aabria is in 2 of the 2024 d20 seasons, she's in the running to beat him.

seating preferences:

junior year tipped a lot of the intrepid heroes into a distinct preference, simply by setting them on one side of the table.

emily axford: strong left side preference (6/8), most commonly in L1 and L2. paired next to zac 5/8 seasons, and across from murph 5/8 seasons. fig sits in L1.

zac oyama: strong left side preference (6/8), most commonly in L2 and L1. paired next to emily 5/8 seasons, and across from ally 7/8 seasons. gorgug sits in L2.

siobhan thompson: weak left side preference (5/8), most commonly in L3 and R3. paired next to lou 7/8 seasons [doubled across 5/8], and across from emily 3/8 seasons. adaine sits in L3

lou wilson: even split preference, most commonly in R3 and L3. paired next to siobhan 7/8 seasons [doubled across 5/8], and across from murph 2/8 seasons. fabian sits in R3.

ally beardsley: strong right side preference, most commonly in R2 and R1. paired next to murph 6/8 seasons, and across from zac 7/8 seasons. kristen sits in R2.

brian ‘murph’ murphy: strong right side preference (7/8), the strongest of the intrepid heroes, most commonly in R1 and R2. paired next to ally 6/8 seasons, and across from emily 5/8 seasons. riz sits in R1.

character data:

given what the bts's have shown, there might be some changes to these that i'll update during the premiere, but as of now, this is a quick summary of the bad kids' data, including dnd race, class, level, highest stat, feats, and age. you can go through the thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats tag for my previous commentary on this data, or check out the spreadsheet.

i'm putting them at level 9 for now because that's what we left off with, but more than likely they're starting at level 10 or higher. we know about riz's respec, but there may be others that crop up during the season.

fig faeth: tiefling. lore bard 8, hexblade warlock 1. CHA. actor, lucky. 17-18

gorgug thistlespring: half-orc. berserker barbarian 8, artificer 1. STR. orcish aggression/fury. 18

adaine abernant: high elf. divination wizard 9. INT. spell sniper, war caster. 16-17

fabian seacaster: half-elf. battlemaster fighter 6, swords bard 3. DEX. sentinel. 18-19

kristen applebees: variant human. twilight cleric 9. WIS. human determination, inspiring leader. 17-18

riz gukgak: goblin. arcane trickster rogue 9. DEX. healer. 17

all of the bad kids have some magic now--the ladies are all full casters, while fabian is a split multiclass, gorgug is a 1/2 caster multiclass, and riz re-subclassed into a 1/3rd casting progression. still an even split of multiclasses and pure classes, though that may change. riz's re-spec has bumped arcane trickster up to the most common rogue subclass, with 6 arcane trickster characters, 4 of whom sit in R1.

and that's it! all of the intrepid heroes/bad kids data that i have updates for! see you all at the premiere of fantasy high: junior year tomorrow!

#dimension 20 #intrepid heroes #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats #brennan lee mulligan #lou wilson #ally beardsley #zac oyama #siobhan thompson #emily axford #brian murphy #fig faeth #gorgug thistlespring #adaine abernant #fabian seacaster #kristen applebees #riz gukgak #dimension 20 meta

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knight-of-flowerss · 1 year

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The hobbit

Thorin x hobbit reader

Reader is bilbos older badass sister who kills anything and anybody with her cast iron pan.

So we know dwarfs don’t get pregnant much, an basically rare to have girls, so how would the others react to reader (everyone lives au) telling thorin she’s pregnant after the battle, now hobbits are small so one imagining they have have up to 4 kids at once and be ok, probably even expected.

So when the dwarfs and surprise her (and bilbo the soon to be uncle along with lady Dis) with her finished nursery, and after the excitement, reader asks were the rest of the cribs are!!!

…

The dwarfs ask what she means and she an bilbo say that hobbits give birth to more then one child, so I wanna see there reactions (including Dis) when reader says she’s pregnant with 4 children I wanna know the reactions of the grate thorin and the fearsome Dwalin!

Bounes if you add when the babies are born (3 girls and 1 boy ) and the reaction of the company

thorin screaming “I can’t hold them all I need more arms or bigger ones!! 😭😭😭”

OMG YES I LOVE THIS SMMMMM ITS SO CUTE AHAHAHHA!!!! I opened this at like 10 o’clock at night so I was tired so I’ve don’t it today after school so I had more time and it didn’t sound loopy 💀

This hasn’t been spell checke btw!

Masterlist

Happy Ending

Anyone’s name: this colour and in bold

Thorin Oakenshield x Hobbit!Reader

You’re little brother Bilbo has always really only kept to himself, occasionally having relatives (but never distant because he doesn’t trust them around his cutlery) around Bag End.

You were his daring older sister, never afraid of anything, selfless, badass. You were staying at your brothers while your burrow got a new door. You offered to help but the other hobbits refused as they were paying you a favour.

You and your brother sat in shock as twelve dwarfs and a wizard wrecked Bilbo’s house. But after the table was set you soon forgot all about it, your brother on the other hand..

When a dwarf named Thorin showed up you couldn’t help but stare at him. He was your height, had long, dark locks and eyes so beautiful that you could get lost in them with just one glance. And when they proposed Bilbo come on this journey with them you immediately invited yourself along.

The journey was harrowing, fighting off ogres, goblins, orcs. Then there was the ‘final battle’ against Azog and his army. It was tough but it was no match for the dwarves and their resilience.

They fought with all there might, defeating the army and Azog and returning home safely.

For almost half a year now, you and Thorin had been married. Half a year of pure joy. And surprises.

You felt sick as a dog for almost 3 weeks now, your body weak. Dís, Thorin’s sister, suspected something was wrong and encouraged you to go and see a doctor of some kind. It had been confirmed though that it wasn’t any fatal illness, nothing of the sort.

You and Thorin where actually expecting.

The two of you were estatic, jumping for joy, but a little bit inside of you was sacred, terrified even. You knew what this meant. You knew you had to push out multiple of the little creatures miracles. But you would go through all that pain for Thorin.

As the months passed your belly grew and grew, never stopping, even for just a moment. The dwarves and your brother offered to help build a nursery for the little lad inside you (they assumed it was a boy because of the very low chances of a little baby girl popping out), at first you tried to help them but they just brushed you off and told you to relax, so, you hesitantly accepted the offer.

While they moved everything into the nursery and decorated it, you took a nap (which ended up being like 3 hours but we don’t talk abt that-). When you woke up you saw Bilbo and the side of you, reaching to wake you up.

You jumped as you hadn’t expected him to be there.

“Bilbo! What are you doing here?!” You whispered-shouted through gritted teeth. “Uh- the nursery- um, it’s ready.” Bilbo stutters, clearly shocked that you wanted to shout at him.

Bilbo helped you up as you where weaker and your belly put more and more pressure on your back.

You stood at the doorway as Dís and Bilbo pushed the doors open with big smiles. In the room stood Oin, Glóin, Dori, Ori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dwalin, Balin, Fíli, Kíli and stood in the middle with a soft smile one his face was your dear husband, Thorin.

You slowly stepped into the room looking around. Little toys on shelves, a play area with a fur rug, a changing station, one crib and more.

When you had finally reached your lover, you turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a cocked head.

“One crib? Really?”

Thorin looked a tad confused, “what do you mean my love? What is the babe supposed to rest in?”

“I think you mean babes.” You replied with a smirk. A bunch of ‘eh?’s where muttered around the room while Bilbo suppressed a chuckle.

Thorin sat with a half confused, half shocked face. “Whatever do you mean my love?..”, “you do know Hobbits have multiple children, do you not?”

Thorin’s eyes widened as your words registered in his head. “What-..”

The pregnancy was terrible, horrendous even, but your spirits where high when Thorin was by your side. You had given him four children, 3 girls and a boy.

(I got the last two names from a D&D website for dwarf names cus I couldn’t think of owt 💀)

Your little boy was named Thráin (III) after his father. Your first girl was called Dísa after Thorin’s sister Dís. Your second girl was named Arrin, meaning ‘exalted’ and ‘lofty’ and your last little girl was named Asta, meaning ‘divine strength’ , ‘love’ and ‘star-like’, she was named this due to her being the hardest out of them all to give birth to and that you and Thorin nearly lost her.

You and Thorin are sat on a couch in the children’s room with a fur blanket o top of yous while your four little toddlers play with eachother with wooden and plush toys.

You lean your head on Thorin’s shoulder as you look at your children and then up at your lover, who was already staring at you. “I am so grateful for the children you have brought me, love. You have made me a father, you a mother and all of us a family, I am forever in your debt my queen, I love you.”

You smiled up at your husband, tears welling up in your eyes as you wear a dopey smile on your face, “I love you too my King,”, you lean up and kiss your husband, you couldn’t ask for a better life.

An amazing husband, a gentle son and three graceful daughters, you loved them all so much, you finally had your happy ending.

I hope you like this cus i finished this while I was ill 😭

@thethreeeyed-raven

#Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin #thorin Oakenshield x reader #Thorin x reader #Thorin fanfic #Thorin Oakenshield fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic

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shadowtriovibes · 10 months

Text

the waves won't break my boat

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "okok what about like Seb telling reader he has a surprise to show her and then sneaking her out at night to take her for a ride on the boats toward the castle like first years do bc she missed it as she wasn’t there during first year and he wanted her to see such a beautiful sight?? just pure fluff"

“Sebastian,” you whine a bit pitifully. “Where are you taking me?” “It’s a surprise,” is all he offers. “Don’t get your wand in a knot, we’re nearly there.” You trail after him in the darkness until he comes to a sudden stop next to a concealed doorway you’d never stopped to investigate. Upon closer inspection, you realize that it’s actually a lift, and from there you deduce that Sebastian means to take you deep underneath the castle. “Absolutely bloody not.”

“Oi! New fifth year!”

Frowning, you glance up from the Ancient Runes textbook you’d been pouring over for the last hour by the fire in the Gryffindor common room.

“Me?” you ask dumbly.

Across the room by the Fat Lady’s portrait, one of the sixth-year girls who always seems to have a sour expression on her face rolls her eyes.

“Yes, you,” she calls out with a sneer. “Your little boyfriend is outside looking for you. Brown hair, Slytherin, bit of an arse?”

You slam your book shut and narrow your eyes, willing yourself not to go red while the handful of other Gryffindors studying nearby start to giggle and whisper to each other. Then you awkwardly shove your book back into your school bag and weave through the common room’s array of plush armchairs and couches toward its guarded entrance.

“Thanks for that,” you mumble as you shove past her into the tunnel behind the portrait.

(You don’t bother telling her that Sebastian is not your boyfriend, because it’s very much not her business.)

When you emerge from behind the Fat Lady, you find Sebastian pacing in the empty hallway. He looks a bit nervous, but as soon as he notices you, his usual air of casual confidence settles onto his shoulders like a fresh set of robes.

“Good, you’re not busy,” he says simply.

You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. “As a matter of fact, I was doing some reading on runes. Did you want to join me?”

Ever since your adventure in the not-so-abandoned mine outside Upper Hogsfield, you’ve been trying to learn as much as you can about the rune symbols that the two of you had encountered in case you come across them again. You assume that Sebastian has been doing some research as well, though he seems to be most interested in that ratty spellbook you’d found in the Scriptorium.

“Not tonight,” he says, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides. “Actually, there’s something that I’ve been wanting to show you for a while now, and I’ve just found out that tonight is an excellent night to make it happen.”

Now you’ve shifted from merely skeptical to outright suspicious.

“I promise, you’ll love it,” he says quickly. “There’s no danger to life or limb, I swear.”

“Does it involve any active goblin mines?” you ask dryly.

“Not this time,” he answers with a grin. “In fact, we won’t even be leaving Hogwarts.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised.

Of course, he hesitates. “Well, not technically. We’ll be on the grounds, at least.”

You roll your eyes fondly – you should have known it couldn’t be that simple when Sebastian is involved.

“Isn’t it nearly curfew?” you ask him knowingly. “Won’t we get detention if we’re caught?”

“You know I have ways of not getting caught,” he reminds you. “But I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I’d even wager that we won’t see a single living soul where we’re headed – not this time of year.”

Damn him, he knows that throwing in a tease of a hint like that is bound to tempt you.

“No living souls?” you repeat.

“No dead ones either,” he laughs. “But it’s clever of you to notice that bit of wordplay. I suspect the Sorting Hat must have sensed some Slytherin in you.”

(Even if he’s right, you’d never admit it to him while he’s being that cocky.)

You quickly glance around to make sure there aren’t any other stragglers lingering in the hallway before you start to follow Sebastian toward the marble staircase. While you make your way through the mostly-deserted castle, Sebastian earnestly quizzes you about what you’ve learned on the subject of runes since your last outing. This leads to a conversation all about Isadora and her journal entries, and before you realize it you’re following him outside into the Viaduct Courtyard.

The cool autumn air feels bracing after you’d spent all evening curled up by the fireplace, and you drape your scarf a bit closer to your face as Sebastian casts Lumos from the tip of his wand and leads you toward the far end of the courtyard.

“Sebastian,” you whine a bit pitifully. “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise,” is all he offers. “Don’t get your wand in a knot, we’re nearly there.”

You trail after him in the darkness until he comes to a sudden stop next to a concealed doorway you’d never stopped to investigate. Upon closer inspection, you realize that it’s actually a lift, and from there you deduce that Sebastian means to take you deep underneath the castle.

“Absolutely bloody not,” you tell him.

“Merlin’s beard, haven’t I proven myself to you yet?” he asks, exasperated. “This is Hogwarts, it isn’t dangerous at all!”

(You may only have been a student at this school for several months, but you know that he’s utterly full of dragon dung if he seriously believes that.)

Regardless, you reluctantly allow yourself to be led into the lift, your wand at the ready as it magically comes to life and starts to sink into the ancient bedrock beneath the castle. However, instead of emerging into another spider-infested passageway or tomb-like chamber filled with Merlin knows what, you take a step out of the lift and realize that you’re standing on sand.

“Where are we?” you ask softly.

Glancing around, it seems to be a hidden harbor of sorts, tucked away inside a rocky cavern lit only by enchanted lamps and the faint strands of moonlight that manage to filter through its crag-like opening. A shallow lagoon stretches out in front of you, and floating atop its placid surface are half a dozen narrow boats tied to wooden docks.

“What do you think?” Sebastian asks you eagerly.

You’re quiet for several long moments as you take a few steps toward the water.

“...Are we about to go out onto the lake in one of these?” you ask, even though you think you already know the answer to your own question.

“Brilliant, you are,” he teases.

“May I ask why?” you counter.

“I was thinking I’d explain along the way,” he replies, easily rebuffing your line of questioning while he walks out onto the nearest dock and starts to untie one of the boats. “Go on then, ladies first.”

You are very cautious as you lower yourself into the boat. Mercifully it stays steady while you take a seat on its narrow bench and wrap your robes tightly around yourself. As soon as Sebastian piles the slack ropes that had previously held it in place onto the dock and joins you inside the boat, it starts to slowly pull away from its resting place and curves toward the harbor’s ivy-covered opening.

The novelty of the self-guiding boat emerging from the harbor onto the lake proper is enough to distract you for a short while, but by the time you round the corner and spot the shores of Hogsmeade in the distance, you refocus on your scheming friend.

“Well?” you demand. “What reason could you possibly have for bringing me out onto the Black Lake well after curfew, in late November, in a very tiny boat?”

He sits back with a smug smile on his face as he starts to explain. “First off, the boat isn’t tiny, we’re just much bigger than its usual occupants.”

You frown. “...House elves?”

“No!” he laughs delightedly. “First years.”

“And why do the first years ride in boats?” you ask.

“It’s a Hogwarts tradition,” Sebastian says simply. “Every new student rides across the lake in these very boats from Hogsmeade Station on their first night here.”

Then he pauses and pointedly adds, “Well, almost every student.”

You feel a wave of wistfulness pass over you just then. There are so many experiences that you’ve missed out on by not starting school at Hogwarts until your fifth year – more than you’ll ever be able to chronicle, most likely. But every time you learn about a new one, the chasm between you and your fellow students seems to grow wider.

“Don’t fret,” Sebastian says softly, interrupting your train of thought as if he could detect that your mind had flown miles away. “That’s why I wanted to show you this. It’s one of my favorite memories of my time here, and you should get to experience it too.”

Occasionally, Sebastian surprises you with how genuinely thoughtful he can be.

“Will you tell me about what it was like?” you ask hopefully.

“Of course,” he says happily. “It starts when you first arrive on the Hogwarts Express. Returning students take the carriages pulled by Thestrals up to the castle, but the little ones all stand around on the platform in little huddles like baby Puffskeins.”

You picture younger versions of Sebastian and Anne nervously clinging to each other on the hectic platform and very nearly melt.

“Then Mister Moon arrives and starts herding all the first years down toward the docks,” he continues. “‘Four at a time in the boats please, no more and no less!’”

“Is that when you met Ominis?” you wonder aloud.

“It was,” he confirms. “He rode in our boat with Anne and me, along with a friend of Anne’s who’s in Ravenclaw now.”

“It seems like you all made fast friendships,” you murmur.

“What can I say?” he says with a cheeky grin. “When I get a good feeling about someone, I’m usually right.”

You duck your face into your scarf to conceal your blush.

A few moments later, the boat gently bumps against the shores below Hogsmeade Station and curves as if to turn back toward Hogwarts.

“Quickly, close your eyes,” Sebastian instructs.

This time you easily comply – he hasn’t led you astray so far, after all.

“I can still picture the first time I saw Hogwarts from across the lake,” he tells you, and even with your eyes closed you can hear how nostalgic he sounds. “It will always be one of my favorite memories, especially now that Hogwarts has become more like a home to me than anywhere else.”

Suddenly you’re nervous, even though you’ve already approached the castle from across this very lake countless times on your boom. With one hand covering your eyes, you wordlessly reach for him with your other. He takes your hand in his and squeezes it reassuringly.

“Ready?” he asks quietly. “...Alright, open.”

When you open your eyes, you can’t help but gasp out loud.

From down below like this on the rippling surface of the lake, Hogwarts looks positively enormous. Since you began exploring its secrets and eccentricities, it became all too easy to forget the downright colossal scale of the venerable castle. Here, however, it looms over you like a friendly giant, its storied facade dotted with sparkling windows and lofty turrets.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe. “Sebastian, I… thank you.”

You manage to tear your eyes away from the castle only to catch Sebastian staring at you instead.

“Worth the trip?” he asks you.

“Absolutely,” you answer, squeezing his hand when you realize he’s still holding yours. “This was… This was amazing. I’ll never forget this, Sebastian.”

“Me neither,” he confesses, and then he blushes. “I – I mean, er. You never forget the first time you see the castle from the Black Lake, is what I meant.”

Easily distracted by the allure of the castle, you mumble in agreement and fall silent until the boat starts to curve back toward its cavernous home.

Sebastian lets you keep his hand in yours until he chivalrously offers to tie up the boat upon your return. You silently reclaim his hand once more when he joins you in the lift, and he doesn’t let go again until he drops you back at your common room.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #this is NOTHING BUT FLUFF #and i've had this request for ages anon you're a champ i'm so sorry #she's here now!!!

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swampstew · 7 months

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Luffy, N36 ~ Anal Beads

Summary: Drabble of Incubus Luffy getting his pretty ass fucked. @writing-yarn-goblin this is all your fault tbh!

Warnings: GN reader, pure smut, Incubus Luffy getting dommed, milked, and railed by reader. Anal play (Luffy receiving), breeding kink if you squint. Poor guy, it's his first day on the job. Word Count: 492

Monkey D. Luffy – Incubus in training, ready and reporting for duty! First day officially on the job and a human has already summoned him. With a sly smirk on his face, the horned demon with small scar under his left eye answered the summoning.

It was…unexpected. Usually, a summoning involved a human summoner calling out to them in their wet dreams, or intentional rituals for more experienced practitioners. This one was the latter. Luffy didn’t quite understand the request but once he was bribed with something called a ‘shark coochie’ board that held various meats, cheeses, and crackers, he was down for anything.

Plus, those pastel colored anal beads had smiling faces on them, it couldn’t be too bad. They kind of reminded him of the ones he kept back home. In his favorite color.

He wasn’t inexperienced to anal pleasure, however it had always been a personal preference to do himself with his toy of choice. But this human had been so so generous with their food and they had such a honeyed voice that he was just about sure he’d agree to anything they’d ask of him. And when Luffy told their human of their favorite toy, they had squealed so deliciously that Luffy practically hoisted his hips higher in the air to receive.

Luffy was in over his head, eyes bounded and ears plugged, swimming in exotic pleasure. Incubi were meant to be leading the sexual intercourse, not being bent to a human’s will as he was currently being twisted and bent over in pleasure. The ropes and harness weren’t a surprise. The monster shaped dildos with intimidating ridges, cones, and bauble shapes kind of were, especially as they had stared at him from their position on the kink shelf before his human tied silk around his eyes. Thank the sea devil his body possessed rubberlike qualities and he could stretch out so as not to experience pain like others.

He had no idea what to expect or when to expect it, all he had were his human’s soft hands tracing around his body, teasing, and pleasing him, brushing the objects they wanted to use against his hip and he would let out a yes or no. He hadn’t said no yet. And he wouldn’t, not when he was a panting mess, his wrists tied together above his head, his body bent over a rubber coated table as his human slowly pulled the pastel beads from his ass, one by one. 10 beads in all, and 8 to go as he whined from the taut pull – his cock twitched against the silicon cup that was secured on his tip. Collecting his seed, literally milking him.

For hours.

As the last bead was pulled from within, Luffy’s head threw back as he howled in pleasure with drool running down his mouth. His cock twitched and jerked, his seed shot into the hold and slowly filled the collection cup once more.

23 tiles to go, 5 calls made so far.

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 masterlist #raven's bingo board #raven's halloween party #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #monkey d. luffy #tw dark content #swampstew stories #swampstew bedtime stories #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy smut #incubus #cw breeding

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tiefthieves · 3 months

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Let Me Silence the Storm [Karlach x Tav (Sikah)]

hello all :) I've decided to stop being a little bitch baby and post some of the things I've been writing for my Tav, Sikah, and Karlach. This is a little drabble surrounding Sikah's fear of thunderstorms. In my mind, this takes place around the early quests of Act 3. Here's a picture of them because they're cuties! My blorbos ♡

From the balcony of the inn, Sikah sat and watched as dark gray clouds, heavy with rain, slowly crept their way up the horizon and toward the city. She could hear the low rumble of thunder as they drew nearer and could smell the raindrops in the breeze. Her stomach ached.

Thunderstorms weren’t an abnormality along the Sword Coast. The proximity to the raging sea and the area’s pseudo-island climate brewed a perfect storm. When it rained in Baldur’s Gate it rained hard. Light showers were a rarity, only spitting in spring; for the remaining seasons, there was little snow, no showers, and no sprinkles, only drenching downpours.

When Sikah was young she loved the rain— loved splashing in puddles, counting the seconds between thunder claps, watching lightning race across the sky. Her mother would tell her it was the gods and goddesses practicing their archery, each hot flash of pure energy an ethereal arrow.

Lightning was just that, pure energy in a blistering flash. She reached up and carefully brushed her fingertips across her permanently disfigured skin as the memories resurfaced. Sikah could still feel the sweltering pain on her face and see the blinding bolt of light emitting from a whip which cracked like thunder.

She gasped as something, no, someone, tapped her shoulder.

“Shit baby, I didn't mean to scare you.” Karlach took a step back, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Sikah lied as she stood up and brushed dust from her pants. “Need something?”

“I was just checking in on ya, you’d been out here on the balcony for a while,” the taller tiefling leaned her back against the railing as she took a deep breath of coastal storm air. “Smells like rain.”

“Mmhm,” she hummed another passive lie, eyes still fixated on the darkening horizon.

“For a rogue you’re a shit liar sometimes,” the barbarian observed, “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing,” Sikah winced as the skies opened up, darkening the cobblestone with heavy drops of precipitation, “let’s go inside.”

Karlach wasn’t buying it. Something was up with Sikah and she was damn determined to figure out what. She pondered for a moment, cogs turning in her head while she reviewed the past hour. The evening had been rather normal, she thought. The party had stumbled into the tavern bruised and bloody from a day’s worth of adventuring. Firstly, herself and Sikah promptly made their way up to the inn to wash up before having dinner with the group, after which they retired to their shared room. From then on, Sikah had been out on the balcony watching the storm clouds. Even now, laying in bed with the balcony doors shut, the smaller tiefling kept an eagle eye on the window.

“Did’jya see something suspicious out there? I can go pester Astarion to take care of it, he’s probably hungry.” Karlach attempted to draw her lover’s attention away from the window and onto her.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine, really,” Sikah gave her a reassuring half-smile.

The taller woman raised a brow, “Darling, I love you, but you’re really bad at lying to me— which I appreciate, don’t get me wrong, but you can talk to me.”

Sikah was silent, eyes fixated on Karlach’s fingertips as the larger woman moved to pull her into her chest. “I’m afraid of thunderstorms, of lightning, all of it,” her voice came out in a whisper. “It’s stupid. I can face goblins, devils, shapeshifters, cultists, and shadow cursed lands all without an ounce of fear, but a thunderstorm? I feel pathetic.”

“Hey now, I don’t date pathetic people, if I wanted to do that I’d go find Volo or some shit,” Karlach joked in an attempt to lower her lover’s guard. “Everyone has things they’re afraid of, baby. Usually for a good reason too.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Sikah rolled her eyes as a tiny smile dared to escape her lips. She tensed as a clasp of thunder shook the building, pressing herself into Karlach’s warm embrace. “Shit.”

“Hey, you’re alright, I’ve got you,” the barbarian cupped the woman’s cheek and ran her thumb over its textured flesh. She wanted to ask Sikah to tell the story of her scars, to uncover the mysteries that hid behind tarnished skin and bask in her bravery. Yet, Karlach’s mind was absent as she continued to pet Sikah’s cheek, softly humming as her eyes shamelessly wandered across the map of her speckled skin. “You’re beautiful, you know.” She eyed Sikah’s lips, her thumb teasing to inch closer. The smaller tiefling reached up to guide Karlach’s hand away, placing it on her chest before she draped her arms around the hellion’s neck.

As rain continued to cascade down the inn’s window, the tieflings kept warm under the lush duvet of their bed. The next hours were spent in a lovers’ embrace; hands wandering across skin, muttered adorations, and airy breaths. With their clothes strewn across the floor, Karlach was able to fully appreciate her partner’s body in the blossoming candlelight. Sikah lay on her chest, back exposed to the air, arms hugged underneath one of the plush, feather pillows the inn provided. Her hair was down and out of its usual ponytail, cascading just barely past her shoulders. It had to be a horrible mess of tangles by now, for it hadn’t seen a brush in gods knows how long, yet her lover’s fingers effortlessly combed through it. Karlach reached out and traced her fingers over Sikah’s complexion, connecting the freckles in constellations across the map of her skin. Amongst the freckles were several scars, ranging from small cuts victim of anxious picking; to deep, discolored scar tissue from tougher quarrels.

“You know, I’ve always liked a woman with a bit of story to her.” Karlach hummed as her nails trailed over scars, smiling as Sikah peeked an eye open and looked at her.

The smaller tiefling raised a brow, “and by that you mean?”

“Your body tells a story that no other can tell. Each scar, every dimple, freckle, and divett is completely unique to you. I could stare at you for hours and still manage to find something new.” Her infernal engine flickered as she shifted to prop herself on her elbow and rest her chin in the palm of her hand. “As you live you get more scars, maybe some more tattoos, all which give more stories to tell, I think it’s nice. I’ve never really cared for the flawless skin of elves, too smooth, reminds me of a naked cat.”

“I’m going to tell Astarion you called him a naked cat,” Sikah chuckled, too comfortable to budge from her current position.

“Good, tell him, I think it’d be hilarious!” Karlach laughed. “He can stay being a pretty boy, I like my rogues tougher ‘round the edges.”

The rogue bit her lip and pondered on her next words, tracing the raised skin on the back of Karlach’s strong hand when it rested over hers. “I haven’t told you how I got the scar on my face, have I?” Sikah shyly looked up at the stronger woman.

“Nope,” Karlach shook her head. “If it makes you feel better, I thought it was a birthmark or something at first; but a battle scar is much more sexy.”

She rolled her eyes, “Hush and listen, it's story time.” She moved to rest on her back, inviting the larger woman to lie beside her. Karlach’s head came to rest on the smaller woman’s chest, listening to the heartbeat she yearned for. “I told you about my time in Avernus,” Sikah began, “my two-year stint in prison, but never how I got out and what I did once I had…”

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luxwing · 3 months

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Okay one thing I wanna talk about regarding BG3 is that everyone talks about the story and the romance interests and shit but something about it I didn't see a lot of talk about was just how endearing all the NPC encounters are. Even the ones you only meet for a bit manage to cement themselves in your mind. This dude - this smart ass motherfucker - we had maybe 10 lines of dialogue between us and he managed to make himself my favorite character. Not only are the animations and dialogue well made and endearing, but the voice acting is absolutely breathtaking.

This stupid ass game managed to make a fucking Ogre that refers to me as a "tasty kibble" one of my favorite characters of all time within the span of five minutes. I ran into this guy after I helped a Gnome that was tied to a windmill blade by some Goblins that were all betting on whether the Gnome would sprout wings and fly or not.

Honestly, going into BG3 I was just hoping it would be a modicum better than dragon age inquisition. I'm 10 hours in, barely a third of the way through act one, and this is shaping up to be one of my most favorite games ever purely because of the characters and storytelling.

Idk I just really like it and I like Lump.

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spacemonkeysalsa · 2 months

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Any opinion on a character that focuses too much on approval/disapproval, I tend to dismiss. You know, unless it leads them to conclusions that I think are right for other reasons that they just didn't explore. Or, I would feel that way if I'd seen that, but I haven't.

If you're whole theory of the character is based off the approval system and doesn't take their actual story into account, you tend to be wrong.

Partly, this is because it's tricky to confidently know why a character reacts the way they do, though that's a fun exercise on its own. Every once in a while I'll read an explanation that completely nails it, but for every one fandom theory written by someone who actually sounds like they get the characters, I read about twenty from people who sound like they are maybe 12 hours into the game, or even familiar with the characters purely from marketing material they saw on Facebook.

Like, I do think speculating about certain moments of approval/disapproval is fun, and also, totally inevitable, but I only consider it on a case by case basis and not when it's extrapolated into something immutable.

IE - I think it's interesting that when you find Halsin in the bear cage you can throw rocks at him with the Goblin children and a) no one disapproves of this, including our animal lovers and our Halsin saviours and b) Astarion approves.

A bad example of analysing this would be "well b) Astarion is just evil and I guess a) the other characters think the bear is in jail for good reason" or more likely "idk a) it's not that deep unless its Astarion then its b) definitive proof he's irredeemable"

So,

a) I think they each have their own individual reasons for tolerating it, and its first important to note that at this point, none of them know the consequences of you doing this, because if they did, you'd see some disapproval for sure: Shadowheart appreciates subterfuge and commitment to it, so even though she doesn't like to see animals get hurt, she doesn't react and also has a high tolerance for situations in which a group mentality forces you to do something cruel. She has to. Karlach wants to give you the benefit of the doubt, so she probably tells herself that it was just a mistake. If you'd known what would happen, you never would have done it, maybe you thought a little extra pain and rage would motivate the bear, she knows something about that.

Wyll I legitimately think that when surrounded by Goblins, Wyll's ability to power through unpleasant situations and his rage goes way way up, and empathy consequently goes way down. He only ever gets nasty when it has to do with them. He's too focused on his enemies to consider much else.

Gale may love animals, canonically, but like I remember one time I was talking with someone who told this story about having to shoot a feral dog on his property when it went after his chickens, and this guy was clearly traumatised that he had to do this, but our clueless acquaintance just dismissively said "well you did what you had to" and proceeded to kind of invalidate the conflicted feelings our buddy was having about it. Gale is somehow both of them. I don't think he'd throw the rocks, unless forced. I think he'd be upset at having to hurt an animal under any circumstances. But I don't think he'd feel much if someone else did it. Bears are capable predators, bears can handle a few rocks.

Lae'zel doesn't disapprove because violence, pain, cruelty on its face aren't offensive to her, and she doesn't have a particular love for animals. Alternatively, I also think it makes sense she doesn't approve either because although she does approve of some acts of cruelty, I think she prefers when there's a discernible purpose to it, or something impressive about it. and

b) Astarion approves because he begins the game in the paradigm that acts of cruelty are how you gain and demonstrate power, and that being kind gets you punished. You can either prove him right or prove him wrong through your choices in the game, but I don't think it's an accident that these moments become less and less frequently as you progress the story, regardless of the path you choose. You can challenge Astarion, and even shift that paradigm for him. Takes time though, and at least when you first meet him, he's very comfortable with you being a bastard because it affirms that paradigm and the dynamic that he's used to. It's notable then, that on the flip side, he's vocally uncomfortable with you being kind, but his approval still steadily climbs if you keep him in your party and don't treat him poorly, even if you are kind to everyone you can possibly be kind to, and you always have him with you, his approval still climbs at a regular rate. Basically, I think its reductive to say that he's just entertained by violence and cruelty. Like, yeah, one point awarded for noticing that about him---he absolutely is evil aligned, gold star. Why's that? Why does he approve of cruelty? And what does it say that as he finally spends the first weeks of his life able to make his own choices, he seems less and less inclined to approve of the cruel acts that you commit? There's loads of these moments in act one, less in act two, and in act three you have to go hunting for them and mainly find them in big story events that you will only find when you are RPing evil.

I think it supports the theory that he's got a kind of mechanically enabled redemption arc, but it doesn't prove it. The game is meant to embody 15K different realities and AUs, they had to make it so that the character would have different version of themselves for you to interact with, depending on your choices.

And I guess that makes the emphasis on NPC choices that much more interesting to me. Removed from Cazador, Astarion's arc naturally bends away from cruelty, unless you act as his new master which you are totally permitted to do.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion

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thedo0zyslider · 2 months

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Taken (Far Away From Here) - Chapter One: Found You - 6k Words

Martyn's past finally catches up to him. Jimmy places himself right in the middle of it.

A03

Word is that, around midday, a bandit or two seem to be causing trouble in the middle of the mesa. At first, upon hearing the news, Jimmy just sighs. He figures it's probably Martyn again, attempting to do one of those wild west wagon heists he always tries to do. Or he's just fooling around and being stupid, another normal occurrence with the local bandit.

But then he hears that there are multiple bandits. Three at the least, maybe four, and he gets a little concerned. That is definitely not just Martyn. Martyn works solo, and he’s said as much to the Sheriff and any deputy he’d even had when they questioned him. He’d insisted on it fiercely.

So this way clearly something else, something that might actually be a real problem. Something he had to stop everything and deal with. He takes a moment to find his deputy before leaving, Rowan, the one who'd replaced a certain goblin. He tells her that if he's not back in an hour, to start looking for him. She agrees to it, and then the Sheriff is on his way out.

Jimmy gets out there, after about twenty or so minutes of riding his horse as fast as it will go. He knows he is nearby when he hears the sounds of shouting and a pretty bad scuffle. That’s when the Sheriff picks up the pace, panic starting to set into his bones. He thinks one of the voices is Martyn’s.

When he finally gets close enough to see the commotion, there are four people fighting. Well, more like three guys kicking the fourth, outnumbered on to the ground. The fourth that is the one yelling in pain and anger, the very man Jimmy seems to be on the hunt for. So he gets even closer, and starts yelling out to them when he is in earshot. Four heads turn at the sound, and before Jimmy knows it he is off his horse and right in the middle of the confrontation. The very situation part of him had been greatly hoping to avoid. But this time it seemed way more than worth it.

“Sheriff! Oh thank god!” Martyn says, his voice absolutely trembling with relief. He was indeed the bandit Jimmy had seen on the floor, being held down. There were three other criminals around him, all who looked pretty threatening in their own right. One was a man with a fair amount of scars littering his arms, and a shirt with ripped sleeves, revealing his tanned arms. He was the one holding Martyn down, seemingly as tight as he could.

Another bandit, one with very pale skin, white hair and a scar over his eye, as well as baggy clothes, took a warning step closer to the Sheriff. The last man, one with darker skin and curly hair, seemed to be the least aggressive. For right now at least. He just stood there, ready to step in when the situation required it. “You gotta help me man…” Martyn begged, giving each bandit around them a cautious glance. Glances that also seemed to hold fear as well, deep down in them, if you knew where to look for it. Like they would do worse than just hold him down, and the blonde bandit knew it with a kind of certainty.

Jimmy’s never really seen Martyn genuinely scared before. Not like this. An indicator the situation is far worse than he originally assumed then. A rather worrying indicator indeed. He took a cautious step forward, and one of them went to grab at Martyn’s collar in response. The blonde’s eyes widen a bit in fear at that, and he goes rigid.

“I’m sure we can all sort this out.” He says, holding his hands out in front of him. “Peacefully.” The Sheriff adds, his eyes darting to the man’s hold on Martyn. He’s hoping he isn’t making this worse, he hopes they aren’t going to hurt him. Not too badly at least. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it comes to that.

He takes a few steps forwards, and Martyn is shoved harshly to the floor. The bandit lets out a pained cry as he is further injured, and Jimmy is pretty sure his tail lashes with rage and he sees nothing but pure, blood colored red.

“Hey now! Hey!” He barked, quickly grabbing for the handle of his gun. “Get your hands off him!” Jimmy took another step forward, and raised his weapon on warning. With hindsight, going on the offensive instantly was an admittedly horrible idea, and possibly the direct reason for what happens next. He does have a loaded gun, after all. And the legal power to get away with murder if he so desired.

Next thing he knew, the Sheriff was being hit on the back of the head. The white haired criminal had moved behind him, fast as the wind, and elbowed the blonde right in the back of his skull. He let out a yelp of pain, unbalanced, and a leg trips him up so he goes tumbling to the ground.

Martyn calls out his name, and it sounds like a small scuffle starts where he is. Jimmy, despite his spinning head, tries to prop himself up and feel around for his gun. He's kicked again in the sides, over and over again. While he tries to fend off the attacker, the Sheriff steals any glimpse of Martyn he can. Currently the other two seem to be holding him down and tying him up. Which is bad. Bad, bad, bad . Lord knows where they're gonna take him, what they're with him-

He yelps, another blow being delivered to his head. Martyn screams out his name again, more desperate and worried than he had been the first time. Jimmy can really only fight back a little, after having been taken so off guard. He never manages to get ahold of his gun or hat, both of which lie a few feet away from him, but the Sheriff does get in a few good hits. Enough to make his attacker.

A second one joins in however, and the world goes dark, the sounds of desperate cries ringing in the Sheriff's ears.

“Don’t touch him, don’t you dare! ” Martyn starts to scream again, futility kicking in thrashing against his binds. Fighting his captors the best he can, even trying to bite at any wayward limb that got within range. “Don’t you dare fucking touch him! Get off me! Get off!” He snarls, like a rabid animal, as if desperate to protect the Sheriff. The very man that's supposed to have arrested him long ago.

One of them--he can't see which bandit it is--starts to drag him away from the scene. Yet he still kicks against the cool floor of the mesa as he is dragged, hoping that will do something. He is mostly just kicking up dust, unfortunately for the both of them. “Jimmy! Sheriff!” Martyn yells, screams out. He sounds desperate and panicked even to his own ears.

He watches as the other two bandits give one last kick at the Sheriff’s form, helpless to stop as they did so. He screams and thrashes again and again and again, hoping to do something. If he screams loud enough maybe someone will hear, maybe they can save him, maybe they can help Jimmy. Maybe that new deputy he'd hired is on her way right now and can hear him, maybe backup is coming. If Jimmy wakes up right now maybe he can save him-

The bandit who's dragging him, by the shirt collar no less, suddenly jerks up himwards. Martyn’s cries are cut off by a pained sound, and he briefly worries that they're going to choke him and leave his body to rot in the middle of nowhere. He doesn't recognize this part of the mesa, not anymore, so they have taken him very far away from home already.

“Hush him up, please.” A familiar voice says, and they stop moving. It takes a few moments, but Martyn is able to recognize it as Skizz. His tone isn't harsh, but rather somber. And maybe even almost unwilling.

BigB is crouching in front of him before he knows it, with a cloth to tie around his mouth. He doesn't look happy about doing this, his eyes shining with sympathy for his old friend. So Martyn takes his chance to plead quietly.

“B please….” He nearly whispers out, right before the other puts the cloth over his mouth. He doesn't want the other to hear, but doesn’t care if they do. He's already fought like an animal, might as well beg like one too.

“Please don't do this.” The blonde feels his real fear slipping through, the mask he normally wears shattering into pieces. He can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't. He doesn't know what will happen if he does. Though he thinks he might die.

A sob threatens to leave him, and Martyn gives one last plea before he is silenced. BigB wears a look of pain on his face. “I don't wanna go back there.” The cloth is tied around his face regardless, but BigB does it half-heartedly. Like he doesn't want to be here almost as much as Martyn does.

Even with the cloth, and the extra binds they add to his limbs so he stops thrashing, Martyn still protests. But now they just come out as whimpers and honestly pathetic sounding cries. Some even panicked and were fearful. He didn't cry through, the blonde wouldn't, not in front of these people. Never in front of them ever again.

Yet his now weaker pleas and protests do nothing, and the lonely bandit is slowly but surely brought back to his old stomping grounds. At some point they get horses, and he endures the worst and bumpiest ride of his life.

A few hours later, when the sun is starting to set, they reach their destination. They've been moving for a while at least, because this was always very very far from where Tumble Town had sprung up. A cave system with buildings around and attached to it, a place Martyn hasn't laid eyes on in years; and thought he never would again. He is dragged into the cave, probably right towards that old dungeon they never quite had the chance to use before. Before today that is, probably. Hopefully. He doesn't know what his captors have been doing since they split, he just hopes it wasn't something far too insane.

Once they are underground, Etho shoves him off the horse, and watches his former friend fall helplessly. Like a fucking assshole . Martyn lands on the ground with a muffled cry of pain, falling on his arm awkwardly.

From what Martyn could see from the ground, Skizz gave Etho a punch on the arm and a pretty good scolding for that. BigB just sighed, and got down from his horse with a frown while his two allies bickered behind them. He gently tied the horse to the nearest rein, before turning back to the new prisoner.

He gently moved his old ally into a sitting position, offering a tight smile. Martyn would've tried to return it, if his mouth wasn't covered from view. BigB was honestly the only bandit he would let touch him, for his hands were still as kind as they had always been. And Etho was in a foul mood today, plus Skizz was known to be scarily loyal.

BigB slowly removes his half-hearted knot in the back of cloth, doing it quickly. Mainly because Etho and Skizz have stopped arguing and put their horses in their temporary spot as well, the two men's attention now back on their prionsser. And as soon as his old friend removes the cloth and steps away, the blonde immediately starts hurling threats and other such words you should not say to your kidnappers.

“I swear to god if you hurt him, I’ll rip your fucking throat out- ” Martyn growls, glaring up at his captors properly for the first time. The people he had once called friends. The thought of doing so right now made him truly sick to his stomach.

“Relax, he’s fine.” Etho cuts him off, calm and collected as ever. Annoyingly so, in fact, considering he’d just beat the living shit out of someone. “Just passed out.”

“That's not any fucking better.” Martyn spat, struggling against his ropes a bit more. Give him an hour or so and he could probably work his way out of these. He'd wormed his way out of worse predicaments over the years. Plus he was the guy who always tied the knots and picked the locks, back in the day.

“Just be quiet, please?” Was what Etho responded with. He turned to Skizz and BigB, as if Martyn did not matter at the moment. The blonde wanted to jump up and punch the living hell out of him so badly and it was so frustrating that he couldn't.

“B, can you take the horses up? I hate leaving ‘em down here for too long.” Etho asks, nodding to the other man. BigB nods, and quickly vanishes right back up the way they came. He seems to want to remove himself from this whole situation as fast as possible. Honestly, Martyn can’t really fault him for that. He wouldn’t wanna be here either, as either captor or captee.

“Do you want me to get Ren?” Skizz asks after a moment, when BigB is out of sight and earshot. Like he didn’t want his ally to hear that part, for whatever reason. Martyn cannot help but wonder what has changed and what has not since he’s been gone, and how much of that was his fault.

Etho just shook his head. “No, he'll show up when he wants to. I want you to take our prisoner to his cell.” He flicked his gaze back over to Martyn once more, as if he remembered that the blonde was there and on the floor. No emotion shown in his one good eye. All of Martyn’s insects were still screaming to give him a matching scar right there. “Take him to a cell, if we have one.”

“On it bossman!” Skizz said with a salute, and walked over to the prisoner. Martyn said nothing as he was nudged to his feet, and Etho disappeared somewhere else into the base; presumably to his room. Skizzle tied another rope to his upper arm, extra insurance that he wouldn’t book it, and started to lead him down to the cells. If they had any, because they barely did when Martyn had left. Their group was never fond of taking prisoners, except in extreme instances. And apparently the blonde himself was one of those extreme instances.

Martyn studied the walls as they walked, walls he had once knew very well. Walls that had once been his home for god knows how long. But they weren’t home anymore, hadn’t been in half a decade. And they never would be again. Now the walls felt slightly unknown to him, like strangers and ghosts of people he’d once known had come and claimed them. The blonde could feel himself getting almost mournful over the thought, too.

“Where is he?” Martyn asked quietly, following behind Skizz dutifully. Mainly because if he did try to run, the blonde knew he'd just get attacked again and maybe knocked out this time. Which he really doesn’t want right now, even if he would like to get a good hit on one of these guys before he goes.

“Either trying to wager with another crime boss, or getting wasted.” The man hummed, not even needing to ask who he was referring to. They both knew there was only one option, after all.

“He wanted me so badly but won't even show up to my kidnapping.” Martyn muttered, glaring at the familiar floor beneath him. Typical fucking Ren.

Skizz seemed to hold back a frustrated sigh when he spoke next, and tightened his grip on the rope he held. Way too tight, Martyn might add. “He's been a mess since you left, you know.”

“Oh yeah,” He snorted, his tone souring in an instant. Because his ex was the messed up one here. “Such a mess he spread rumors about me and fucked up my good name.” His good name in the criminal world, for the record; his name wasn't really known elsewhere. It had taken years to fix his reputation, years . It had stopped people from wanting to work with him and cost him god knows how much money. Safe to say, the blonde was still pretty bitter over it.

“Those rumors are forgotten now, man. Plus he was always drunk out of his mind-” Skizz argued back, quickening his pace. He probably didn’t want to talk about this conversion, but the topic was not going to be dropped anytime soon.

“You know that doesn't excuse him! I know you know better than that!” Maryn raised his voice suddenly, his ears flattering back in rising anger. Skizz would hate anyone else for doing that, but as soon as it’s his beloved leader it’s right and justified? Or he acts like it is? Fucking hypocritical bullshit, thats what that is.

“I-”

“Ren tells everyone I'm a cheating whore but it's okay because he’s drunk and heartbroken? Really? ” Martyn says, glaring at Skizz. The cheating whore rumor was the first one, and the one that stung the most. A few others followed after it, mostly about how Martyn was going to steal all his poor co-workers money and run. Which wasn’t true, because he didn’t even take half of the Red Army's money when he left! He only took enough to feed himself until he could get another gig.

The only way other criminals would work with him was if he told them the truth. If he told them all about Ren's crazy batshit plan and that he left before everything went wrong. And Martyn didn't want to do that, he didn't want to lie or reveal his ex-fiance’s plan to everyone before it happened. But his hand had been forced, and he liked having money to eat with.

He was also bitter about being called a cheating whore and a slut. (Even if getting wasted and sleeping around didn't help his image at all. But hey, unhealthy coping mechanisms. They get you when you least expect it.) So maybe revealing that stupid Bandit King plan was more satisfying than it should've been.

“….No, you're right.” “I guess I just…feel bad for him. I watched him lose his mind, literally, and he's still recovering.”

“Well I'm sorry he's mentally ill, but he still fucked my life up.” Martyn hisses, and his tail lashes against the ground with a loud thud as they stop. They are at the prison area now, and Skizz has to fumble with a key and unlock the door. Martyn gets the pleasure of remembering his stupid drinking problems that had spurred because of the rumors and the breakup, and how it had almost killed him. So excuse him if he's not very sympathetic to Ren, especially after he was fucking kidnapped by the man’s goons.

He thinks Ren was going insane while they were dating anyway. And that it wasn't entirely Martyn’s fault to begin with. They both came pre-packaged with all sorts of problems, after all.

“Well, that's something you both have in common then.” Skizz huffs, opening the door to his new cell. He shoves Martyn inside, his touch more gentle than he had been before. The blonde says nothing, and helplessly lets himself be chained to the ground. It’s not like him to be so hopeless, to give up so easily. Normally he would be fighting against the chains, screaming and making one hell of a fight. Maybe that shows just how much this place scares him now, how much it breaks him.

Skizz leaves him there, tied to the floor and with the vague promise of food, water, and bathroom breaks. (Because Martyn knows damn well they still have a working bathroom somewhere in this place) When the boss gets back, he says. Whatever time or day that may be. And if Ren isn’t wasted. A very good promise, reassuring too. Totally doesn’t make Martyn feel like he’s going to rot and die in this cell, like he’s some sort of scum. Like he didn’t help build this whole place from the dirt up, like he hadn’t been the bosses right hand man for so many years.

A few hours later, after a lot of shuffling around, no food, and trying to calculate and escape route; the door opens. The very man Martyn has been dreading to see the most walks in, and the blonde has to stop himself from doing…anything. He holds back any reaction, as their eyes meet through his ex-fiance’s sunglasses, and time seems to stop for a moment.

“Me hand, welcome home.” Ren says, his voice monotone. That old accent grades on Martyn’s ears, and he hates hearing it. It brings back far too many memories. The good and the bad, all the things of either that he would rather not remember. Even looking at the man has the same effect, because he’s in that old robe and cape again, goddammit .

When the blonde cannot muster any response, for his tongue is locked in place, the old king keeps talking. He’s about to go on one of his rants or speeches or whatever, something his snappy prisoner is not in the fucking mood for right now. Nor will he never, ever be again. "Not even gonna say hi to me, eh hand? That’s a shame.”

“I'm not calling you Mi Lord or whatever, for the record.” Martyn interrupts, glaring up at Ren. It was a weak glare, but it got how he was feeling across pretty well. The blonde thought he would say that, since the other was already bringing out those dumbass nicknames again. He thought so anyway. Ren just huffed, ignoring his comment as he continued on with his rant. Which was absolutely great and lovely .

“You’re with that Sheriff now, aren’t ye?” Ren said, his tail now lashing behind him as he spoke. Martyn preferred to watch it rather than his owner's face and whatever expression it might boast. “Gonna promise to marry him too?”

“Drop the fake accent, Ren.” Martyn hissed, trying not to flinch. Trying not to show how much that comment stung. He didn’t have to be such an ass during their first conversation in five years, now did he.

“Fine.” Ren huffed, his fists already balling up at his side. His tail gave an irritated flick as he spoke, and his ears twitched with the emotion occasionally as well. “But the damn Sheriff? Really?”

“You don't get a say in my life anymore! Not after this! ” The blonde spat, still glaring up at the dog with disgust. He didn’t get a say in his love life, not anymore. No one did anymore. He’ll date and mess around with whoever he wants to, thank you very much.

Ren makes a broad, questioning gesture with his arms. “This?”

“Yeah this! ” He spits again, kicking one of his boots against the ground in….some sort of gesture. He talks with his (currently tied up) hands normally, okay? “Kidnapping and tying me to the floor, that's a real good way to make me fall for you again.”

“Shut up!” Ren barks, his stupid accent slipping amongst the anger in his tone. Fucking finally. Martyn’s already tired of listening to it. “I'm not trying to get you back!”

“I think you are!” He snaps, struggling against his ropes again, the one on his legs and the ones holding him to the floor. He either needs to run out of here or punch this asshole, no in betweens right now.

“And why is that?” The brunette huffs, throwing his arms up in the air in what seems to be slight outrage. The blonde wouldn’t know, he can’t read this guy like a book. Not anymore, not like he used too. They were both far too bitter and jaded about each other for that nowadays.

Martyn rolled his eyes in frustration, his tail kicking up dust as it flicked behind him in annoyance. “Everytime I hear about you, you're trying to find me or something like that! You're obsessed!”

“Well I'm sorry for being so upset, after you proposed to me and ran off! ” Ren retorted, hands angrily being placed on his hips and his ears flattening back as he talked and talked and talked. “I'm just trying to get my old fiance back-”

“I'm not the same man you fell in love with, okay!? That man was going to kill you!” Martyn yelled out suddenly, his tail starting to lash behind him. His chest heaved with leftover emotion, and all the blonde wanted to do was sit and rot in his own misery. But no, Ren just had to barge in here and have the conversation. Because of course he did, he could never let Martyn have any peace, not anymore.

Ren stops his berating, and seems to blink in surprise at his outburst. “You were…?”

“Heh, yep. That was the plan.” The blonde said, a broken kind of laugh escaping him despite himself. God his old plan….how much it stung to remember and retell. “I was gonna let you get all rich and powerful, and be the Bandit King. And then I would kill you and take it all for myself. So I could win.”

He leaned his head back, so he didn't have to see Ren's face. Even if those dumb sunglasses still held his light blue eyes from view. “And I knew I could do it too.”

“So what changed?” The former king asked, quieter than he had been this whole time. The softness of his voice was so shocking, it seemed almost misplaced in the situation.

“Well, I cared more about the gold than my fiance. Figured if that was the case, then I didn't really love you as much as I believed I did.” Martyn said it simply. He'd basically figured out he was a piece of shit, and then Ren had probably deserved better than a man planning his murder. And he didn't know what else to do other than run. Nothing more, nothing less.

Ren growled again, going back to the original subject. He was growling a lot today, it seemed. The blonde must be pissing him off pretty bad for that. “But you love that goddamn Sheriff more than gold?”

“Yes.” He says, and that is the whole and honest truth. He hates that he still feels compelled to never lie to this guy. Stupid old undying loyalty of his.

“ Why. ” The brunette asks, almost commands. Maybe that long gone power is rushing back to his head right now. “He's not that great of a person, ya know.”

“Like you can talk.” Martyn mumbled, his gaze fixed on the cold stone floor below once again. His ex really can't, not after the last five years. He'd argue the both of them were just as bad, even with Jimmy’s…..questionable law bending and near irrational respect and anger issues taken into account.

“ Why. ” Ren repeats, demanding. He should know that his old flame isn't one for demands, and that still hasn't changed a single bit. Yet there he goes, demanding anyways.

“Why do you think I fell for you?” Martyn asked, somewhat rhetorically. He kinda genuinely wanted to know his ex's answer to that, just to see what he would say. Unfortunately, the brunette is not up for playing games right now. A crying shame, really.

“ Why. ” Ren repeated again, not caring for any of the blonde's games. Well then, if he wanted the real answer, he'll get that. Even if Martyn knows it's more likely to annoy him than satisfy whatever jealousy he has.

“Well he's handsome, for starters.” Martyn hummed casually. He looked out for the way Ren's ears flattened with slight annoyance, and any movement of his tail that indicated the feeling. “You want me to keep going?” He smirked, watching the deep frown stretching across his ex's face.

“No.” Ren huffs, clearly annoyed. .

“You asked.” The blonde shrugged nonchalantly. You get what you ask for, and Ren had asked for something he knew would make him mad. And now he's all worked up about it.

“What else have you done with him?” Ren pops the final question, seeming just as ready to be done with as Martyn is. It is a question he should not have asked, with some hindsight, but some that is out of nothing but pure curiosity. “Other than flirting, I mean.”

And for some reason, the blonde knew it would be wrong to lie about this one thing, or never mention it, so he said the worst thing he could possibly ever say in response. Like a fucking stupid idiot would, of course.

“…I sang the wedding song to him.” Martyn murmured, flinching before he even got a reaction to his words.

Ren growled loudly, and for a fleeting second, the blonde feared he would gain another bruise. Maybe worse. “Get out of my sight.”

“Dude, I'm chained to the floor.” Martyn retorted, risking the smallest of glances upwards. What he did see of the dog's face held nothing but probably justifiable anger. The blonde did not want to be in a room with him ever again, especially not right now. He knows how volatile Ren's anger can easily become.

Ren growled at the last sarcastic remark, and lashed his tail one more time at the comment. After that he practically stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him. Once he is alone again, Martyn feels his shoulders slump and like he can finally breathe for the first time that day.

It’s gonna be a long few days, stuck on this stone cold floor and chains. And with whatever food he’ll be thrown. As he settles down for the day, curling up in on himself best he can, the blonde just hopes he can get a good night’s sleep; for the first night anyways. Before the ground really starts digging into his back.

His head hits the cold ground, and he is instantly missing the warmth of a good bed, and the man who usually shares it with him.

Jimmy groans as he comes too, covering his face with his hand. There’s light from somewhere, and it’s doing his pounding head no good. He scrunches up his nose, and tries to bury himself further into whatever soft pillow or blanket seems to be under him.

Wait. Why is there a blanket around him.

He was last in the mesa, not anywhere near civilization. Passed out on the ground with a head injury, amongst others. He should be waking up cold and bleeding, not warm and feeling relatively unscathed.

He sits up slowly, opening his eyes. The Sheriff was back in his room, at his house and in his bed. The covers are thrown over him, and he finds that a bandage has been placed upon his head. His outfit is still on, minus the hat and badge placed on his nightstand a few feet away. Judging by the light streaming in from his closed windows, it’s just now getting to be sunset. Meaning he’d been out for at least six hours, give or take one.

“Mornin’ Sheriff.” His deputy appears in the doorway to his bedroom, leaning against the frame. She’s changed out of her work clothes, and is now in a more casual but still western styled outfit. The jeans are still on though, Jimmy doesn't think he’s ever seen her without a pair of jeans, in and outside of work.

“Roxanne…?” He muttered, blinking a few times. Just to stop his vision from spinning, since it kinda was at the moment. “How did I get here?”

“I waited an hour, and you didn’t come back. So I went a looking, and found you knocked out and bleeding a little bit.” She said, taking a few steps further into the room. She walked towards one of the windows, and closed the curtains. She must’ve been able to sense that even the dim light of sunset was bothering him, and Jimmy silently thanked her.

“That’s why I have a bandage.” He muttered dumbly, staring at the other bandage that seemed to have spawned on his right arm and hand. Owie.

“So,” Roxanne said, leaning against the headboard, her arms crossed over her chest comfortably. “What happened out there?”

“Well, you know our usual bandit? The blonde one?” He asked, and his deputy nodded in conformation. It was a stupid question, because of course she knew who the town’s one main criminal was, but he still asked it anyways before continuing on. “Three other bandits came in, knocked me out and dragged him away.”

“You know what they look like?” Roxanne asked, her eyes wide. That’s the most shock she would show over the incident, even if it clearly did catch her off guard. It wasn’t like any of the local bandits to get the bold, or to tango with the Sheriff. They all knew better than that, which means these guys weren’t local. Which also meant they were big trouble, more often than not. Jimmy nods, his thoughts clearly elsewhere than the new criminals' appearances. “Yeah, yeah I can do the sketch for the wanted posters.”

They lapse into silence for a few moments, both of them thinking. One trying to wrap his head around the day, and what tragedy had befallen him. The other is thinking of ways to help out, what other things need to be done around town, and how to break some pretty bad and terrifying news to her boss. She decides to just rip the bandaid off after a few moments of pondering.

“There was also…this left at the tavern earlier.” Roxanne said after a few minutes of nothing, pulling a folded up piece of paper from her jean pocket. She handed it to the Sheriff a little reluctantly, as if she almost didn’t want him to read the notes contents. He doesn’t want himself to read it either, in all honesty. Jimmy guesses what the note is, and what it;s about as soon as his eyes land on it. He wishes it wasn’t real.

The Sheriff takes the piece of paper, unfolds it, and reads what is Martyn’s fucking ransom note.

Dear Jimmy, Sheriff of Tumble Town,

As you will probably come to know, we have taken your local bandit, one that you seem to be housing, hostage. The bandit has been an enemy of ours for years, and you have willingly been keeping him under your protection. As payment for such crimes, we have taken your town’s most beloved bartender as well. To get him back safely, we demand a payment of 500 gold. We are sure you can pay it, it's just a small amount to such a wealthy town, after all. And, well, if you don’t cough up the money…..then we are afraid there will be no more bartender.

You have two weeks to make the payment. Have it in before then, and all will be well. You’re smart enough to know what will happen if you don’t.

Signed, The Red King of The Red Army.

Jimmy just stares at the words for a second, almost taken aback by what he had just read. “They took Martyn.” He muttered quietly, not sure if Roxanne could hear it, the words somewhat being for her ears as well as his.

These bandits, this army, whoever they were, they clearly knew the bandit and the bartender were one in the same. They had to. They were covering for him, as well as holding him hostage for money and whatever revenge they wanted to enact. The plan was well researched, and well thought out. Meaning they had been hanging around the town, spying and disguised as normal people. They could’ve been anyone he’s spoken to over the last god knows how many days, maybe even weeks to months at this point.

The group of three, maybe now four, was a lot more dangerous than he had originally envisioned. The Sheriff has to wonder what Martyn did to wrong these people, for them to react so horribly. He wonders if he even wants to know what one could do to anger such a dangerous group of criminals like theirs..

“We need to search.” Jimmy says, finally tearing his eyes from the paper. He folds it up, and sets it down somewhere on the bed. Somewhere for him to find it and fret over later, when he is alone with nothing but his racing thoughts.

Roxannae just shook her head in reply, and went to pick up the ransom note. She knew what would come of leaving it around, it seemed. “Respectfully, sir, I don’t think you should make that search party.”

“Because it puts them in too much danger?” Jimmy guessed, holding back a sigh. He hated that his deputy had a point here. He wanted to find Martyn as soon as possible, and a search party was the most efficient way to do that in his mind.

“Yes.” She agrees, opening the drawer to his nightstand and slipping the note inside, before returning the drawer back to its original state and closing it. “You gonna save the bandit too, when you go to get him?”

“I can’t just leave a man there to die, innocent or not.” The Sheriff huffed, feeling his ears flick downwards in displeasure. She was unknowingly suggesting he leave Martyn to die back there, something Jimmy cannot even fathom doing in any circumstance.

“He steals from us all the time, sir.” Roxanne pointed out, being right again. His deputy is frustratingly good at that, being right when he’s not. That’s why she’s the deputy though, he supposes.

“That bandit is a man in need, and technically a part of our town. And I said I would help every citizen I need, every single one.” The blonde said, feeling his fists ball around the sheets under him as he spoke. “That’s a Sheriff duty, to serve and protect.”

“Well, if you say so, Sheriff.” Roxanne shrugged, knowing when her boss was not likely to budge on a matter. “I’ll get the wanted and missing posters up by noon tomorrow.” How she would do so without a drawing was beyond him, unless she was saving him making the sketches for the morning. Which the Sheriff was more than okay with right now. He was damn tired from the day’s excitement, and felt like he was barely hanging in there.

“Thank you, Roxanne.” He offers her the kindest smile he can muster in the moment, watching as his deputy takes a few steps towards the bedroom door.

“I already told you, just call me Roxy.” The deputy smiles back, and she would absolutely be tipping her hat at him if she was wearing it. Sadly though, that seems to have vanished with the rest of her work clothes a few hours before.

Jimmy felt his smile widen, it feels a little stronger than it just had a few seconds before, somehow. “Right, Roxy. Right.”

“Now you get some rest and food now before you pass out again.”Roxy says, already starting to take her leave as she speaks. “But take it easy for a few days, you hit your head pretty bad.” The door swing shuts behind her, and his partner in crime vanishes to supposedly go and do the rest of both their duties for the day, if she hast done so already,

“Yes ma’am!” He calls after his deputy, and flops back down in the red once more. He sighs as his injured head hits the pillow, and immediately feels like he is missing something. That something is off about the room.

Martyn had just shared this place with him the night prior, and should be stumbling in after a day of work in a few hours. If he so chooses that day, however.

There is a feeling, a longing, for the missing warmth that is normally beside him. A yearning deep in his soul for something that is his, that had been wrongfully taken from him. Something that the Sheriff so desperately wanted back.

Jimmy sighs again, and knows this is going to be a very, very long night.

#ron.fic #ron.writing #bandit au #inthelittlewood #jimmy solidarity #renthedog #ethoslab #bigbst4tz2 #skizzleman #trafficshipping #taken (fafh)

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gaybananabread · 15 days

Text

☾༺Just a Bit Longer༻☽

~So I’ve been brainrotting over RW&RB for a solid month now. The goblins need a walk, and I cannot productivity until they get one. I love these two’s dynamic; they’re just so silly. Not my best work, but writer’s block be damned; I needed to post something this week. This is completely self-indulgent, but if it’s your thing, I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Alex

Ler: Henry

Summary: Alex is overworking himself, going late into the night and working hours without breaks. Sick of his lover’s dreadful work-life management, Henry takes it upon himself to get Alex to sleep.

Warnings: mild Red, White & Royal Blue spoilers! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Life for Alex Claremont-Diaz was the best it had ever been. Henry came over almost daily from his Brownstone, and he finally felt like he had a definite idea of where his life was headed. The only downside: he was still in school.

The NYU Law course was a bit more rigorous than he’d expected, but it was definitely what he wanted. Sure, that meant long, painful hours of reviewing for extremely difficult exams, discovering that tort is a real word, and trying to figure out a system for coursework that didn’t make his brain want to explode.

His sleep schedule was already shit, so he didn’t think any of it would be a problem. If he just pulled a few all-nighters and pumped out some late-night essays, he’d be fine. What he didn’t think about, however, was how Henry would take it.

Alex was working late on another essay, running off of coffee and pure determination. He hadn’t meant to put it off, but with the three exams he’d had that week, his mind was a scattered mess.

Henry had put up with it for most of the night, but as two AM rolled around, his understanding had run dry, replaced by concern.

Knocking the “shave and a haircut” pattern on his lover’s door, Henry entered the room. He was immediately greeted with the strong smell of coffee and desperation.

There sat his boyfriend, hunched over a computer with a half-eaten ham sandwich (he couldn’t handle turkey anymore) by his side. The blonde couldn’t help the sad sigh that escaped him.

Alex looked up, his glasses nearly all the way down on his nose. It was unfairly cute, though Henry shoved that feeling down for the moment.

“Uh…hey, Hen. Not done yet; gimme, like, another half-hour.” Alex’s gaze was back on his computer in seconds.

Henry rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache brew. For once, why couldn’t Alex just use common sense?

“Alex, darling. It’s two in the morning. You need to sleep.”

Alex scoffed, not stopping for even a second. “Says you. You stay up later than I do most of the time.” While that wasn’t untrue, Henry’s problems were because of insomnia. Alex was just a stubborn asshole.

“Look, I’m going to be brutally honest here. You look terrible, you seem exhausted, and the bags under your eyes could fit the entirety of the Royal Wardrobe. Go. To. Sleep.”

Henry laid things out bluntly, crossing his arms. It was meant to leave little room for negotiation, but defying Henry’s expectations was Alex’s special talent.

“This is due at eight AM…uh, today. I’ve only got six hours to finish this thing, but I’m almost done. I promise, just a bit longer.” This would have been more comforting if Alex hadn’t already said that three times.

“Alex, please. If you sleep now, I’ll wake you up at six, and we’ll work on it together. It hurts to see you like this, dear.” He used pet names, trying to sway Alex to listen. It was a last-ditch effort; if he still refused, Henry didn’t have much of a plan left. Sure enough, he did.

“It’s fine, Henry. I’m all good, just a little spacy. I promise, the moment I’m done, I’ll eat your face. Okay, baby?” Alex flipped the other man’s strategy back on him, hoping to fully bury the concern. He was fine: end of story.

For Henry, though, the tale was just beginning. He racked his brain, searching for anything to help him get Alex to cooperate. He could only remember one time anyone was successful.

Alex had invited him to the White House for June’s birthday party. As the night dragged on, everyone but Alex was drunk and exhausted. To tire him out, June had employed some rather…unconventional methods.

Methods that would be extremely useful to him at that moment.

Casually approaching his boyfriend, Henry put a hand on the laptop. Then, after making sure the work was saved, he closed it. He pointedly ignored Alex’s scoff and protests, grabbing his chin and pulling him in for a kiss. Alex still squirmed, though a smile was breaking out on his face.

That was all Henry needed to continue. He gripped Alex under his thighs, lifting the man up and plopping him down on his nearby bed.

A surprised sound left him, his cheeks gaining a nearly imperceptible red hue. He was expecting some push-back from Henry, but nothing this active.

“Just couldn’t wait for me, could you~?” Alex weteased, starting to sit up on the bed. Henry was quick to stop that, grabbing Alex’s arms and pinning them above his head.

Before his lover could make another joke, Henry tapped a few fingers on his side. That shut him up, if only for a second.

“Henry, I swear to fucking god, if you try anything-” He was cut off when Henry squeezed his side, resulting in an indignant squeak.

“Sorry, dear, but I’m afraid I already have~” With that, Henry clawed his fingers into Alex’s stomach, straddling him.

The tired man tried to bite his lip, but the coffee wasn’t quite enough to give him that energy. A few giggles slipped out, quickly followed by tiny curses.

“What’s the matter, Alex? Something bothering you?” Henry chuckled, leaning down further to try and hold him still.

Kicking and squirming, Alex tried anything to get away from the evil fingers. He was tired, though; his brain was moving at half-speed and felt like it was running through soup.

“Gehehet ohoff me, youhuhu prihick!” Henry has decided to move up to his ribs, scritching and scratching between each bone.

Even on a good day, it’d be hard for Alex to get out from under him. With no sleep, coffee fumes and pure spite, he had no chance.

“Why on Earth would I do that? I’m quite comfortable here. Besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself, if that blush is any indication,” Henry taunted, jutting his chin out. He didn’t really need to, but it was a sure-fire way to rile Alex.

“Fuhuhuck off! Hehenry, I swehehear- quihit!” Alex tried to bury his face in his shoulder, though he only drew attention to a new target. Henry leaned down, blowing a raspberry on his boyfriend’s neck. Alex would rather die than repeat the squeal that left him.

“Wow, Alex. Perhaps the Barbara Streisand accusation wasn't so far off,” he teased, his voice about as smug than Alex had ever heard it.

The typically witty man was in giggly shambles, trying his best not to sound like a child. He wasn’t very successful.

“SHUHUhut uhup, youhu douche!!” Laughing like a toddler, Alex was still pumping out insults. Henry was about to put a stop to that. Going for the kill, he hooked his thumbs into Alex's hip divots, kneading and squeezing the area.

That seemed to work quite well.

“GAH- HEHENRY! You- YAHAHA! FAHAHACK!” The law student lost his shit, practically cackling under his boyfriend.

Alex arched his back off the bed, only bucking into the ticklish feeling. There was no room in his mind for witt; the best he could do was “fuck fuck fuck it tickles oh my god-”

Hearts practically formed in Henry’s eyes at the adorably hysteric reaction. Still, as cute as it was, he had a mission.

“This all ends the moment you agree to rest. Or…would you like me to continue? I bet I could just tickle you senseless all night. You’d surely be exhausted then, wouldn’t you?”

Alex couldn’t even get a word out, shaking his head as he laughed. His curls went wild, getting in his eyes and puffing up. Henry wanted to brush it from his eyes, but he had to keep his priorities in order. There would be time for fawning over him later.

“HEHENRY! PLEHE- snrk” It took a solid minute, but Alex’s resolve was weakening. He was already tired beforehand, and laughing his ass off wasn’t helping. The squirming had died down almost completely, snorts slipping into the lax cackles.

While it wasn’t an agreement, the Prince could tell that his lover would be out in seconds. Henry stopped, switching to gentle traces down his sides. The first son tried to calm down, a steady stream of giggles pouring from his lips.

“H-hoholy shihihit… Thahat was evil.” He tried taking some deep breaths, rubbing his cheeks. Alex hadn’t laughed that hard in a while. He was close to just passing out right there, pure exhaustion hitting him like a freight train.

“Possibly. You deserved it, though.” Henry leaned down, gently kissing his curved lips. This sight was one of his new favorites: Alex, his toned skin flushed, practically a puddle of giggles beneath him.

Alex flipped him the bird before melting into the kiss. He weakly pulled his boyfriend down, snuggling against him. He’d all but forgotten about his essay, eyes closed the moment he laid still; the poor guy was wiped. It wasn’t terrible by any means, but all his energy was gone.

Carefully grabbing his phone, Henry set an alarm for six AM.

They’d finish that research paper; he was certain of that. With a bit of sleep, Alex would be a writing machine. True, the slightly rushed grammar would be atrocious, but that’s what Henry was there for. Pulling the sheets up over them both, Henry breathed a happy sigh.

“Good night, love.”

#rwrb tickle #lee!alex #ler!henry #ticklish!alex #sfw tickling community #tickle #tickle fic #red white and royal blue tickle #rw&rh tickle #rwrb alex #rwrb henry #alex claremont-diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb

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secretaccountlol · 2 years

Text

"Sex pollen? Nah sex gas, er liquid..?"

Hi, I'm back to give you new fanfic, I'm really happy with this one.

this was written with no pronouns (other than 'they' obvi), for the smut I do use female anatomy.'

This is based off of tasm and comicverse spiderman :)

Anyways! this 18+ but, the sex is like waaaayyy down the line, I'll even mark when the smut starts so you can skip the sex if you'd like :)

Okay CW time!: Swearing, drugging? (the sex pollen lol), mention of Gwen's death (gotta add that angst), praise kink, lil teasing, pet names n nicknames wounds/blood mentioned (not graphic!), switch peter, switch reader, mention of loving boobs.

Summary!: After you and spidey try to figure out how to reverse the effect of a new gas goblin has created but things go south.

She's a loooong one!! (forgive me if there are some mistakes, one-man band)

3,856 WORDS OF PURE WHOLESOMENESS (and smut) BABBYYY

As always please comment, reblog, and like! I might write a sequel if you do!

your journey awaits my love <3

You twist the knobs on the microscope, and carefully notes are scattered around the walls of your lab. “Ah? Busy bee hmm?” You shriek, tripping over your chair, and you embrace for a hard fall. “Shit shit shit- I am so sorry, I did NOT mean to scare you like that!” you look up, The masked hero cradled you in his arms, his white lenses widened in horror. “I-it’s okay!” You leap outta his arms dusting yourself off. “Just been a Lil jumpy since the villain kidnapped me and all, haha..” you turn away from the costumed man.

The whole reason you and spidey became friends recently is that you were kidnapped by Doc Ock. Somehow he got hold of some old studies of yours and thought he could use “another brilliant mind” of course you said no you weren’t gonna help with his evil conquests and then, well he kidnapped you, forcing you to help him kill Spider-Man. Then Spider-Man saved you but pretty banged up in the process, you felt pretty guilty so you decided to help him with his gear and occasionally with taking down criminals- with science of course!

“Right right, sorry again..” you shrugged, still not facing him, pretending to be busy scribbling away so he won’t see your flushed face. A light thud hit the table, “I bought us tacos from your favorite place” you smile, you only told him about that place when you were trying to keep him from passing out from blood loss. You had read somewhere that you should keep talking to a patient to keep them from flatling, you were surprised he still remember considering he was fading in and out of consciousness.

You turn to face him, “You only buy those when I’m gonna have to do extra hard work” you bite your lip as you speak, if he didn’t have a mask on you’d swear Spider-Man was checking you out.

“I-uhm! Yeah haha, I do actually have work for you” he pulls out a vial from behind his back (where the fuck did he even hide-?) handing it to you, and you examine it holding it up to the light. “What is it?”

Spidey tsked, pulling himself up on your desk to sit while pulling his mask up to chomp on a taco. “Well, it’s a liquid version of a gas the green goblin used today on a crowd of people when we were fighting.” He stated, swallowing a bit of taco. “Once they were sprayed they became incredibly violent. It took me 2 hours just to web everyone down!!” Your eyes widen and you put down the vial cautiously in a container. “It wore off after a while but, I think we should try to reverse engineer it, perhaps even make a calming spray to combat it..!” He pulls down his mask and dusts off his fingers. “Ready to get to work?” His white lenses half-lidded in question, you nod. “But first lemme eat some tacos I’m starving!”

You stretch, looking at all the progress you and the spider made. He had stepped out to do patrol, but he helped you make a lot of progress with the serum. Who knew he was so smart? You kinda assumed he was a jock, not like dumb, but not genius smart. You chew on your pencil, enough about Spidey, focus on the task at hand, Y/N. You stare blankly into the microscope again, the red liquid turned into a delectable bubblegum pink now. You and Spider-Man figured out a way to make the serum “attack” Serotonin receptors, effectively making it, well, a stronger “happy gas” to combat Goblin's next attack.

You fall back into your chair sighing heavily, and you stare at the ceiling. You wish you could talk to him more, spidey only really came when he needed to pick your brain, “because two geniuses are better than one!”. You chuckle to yourself, It’s almost been a full year of knowing him now, your eyebrows knit in the thought of the times you had to patch him up at the lab and occasionally at your house. It took a while for you to open up to him, considering he’s a superhero they tend to attract trouble so you tried not to be TOO involved, strictly business on your side. Of course that didn’t last long, he was too sweet for you to keep playing coy. Yes, the time you spent with him was little and far in between but every laugh and stupid story he told in that short time made you fall more and more.

you liked him, like like him.

You drag yourself up from the chair, scribbling the results of the serum before pouring the serum itself into a vial, sealing it. Not too long after you hear a THWIP! As you turn your head to face the masked man. “Hey look what the cat- holy shit are you okay?!” You run over to check on the wounded spider, you’ll never really get used to seeing him in pain like this. “D..Don’t worry, still kicking” he kinda groaned out as you helped him into the chair you were once sitting in. “Please don’t joke at times like this. Here sit like this it’ll keep pressure on your wound...” you quickly dismissed his remarks frantically looking for your first aid kit on your paper-filled desk. You could hear him shuffle a bit, you turn quickly to stop him, “Nononono don’t move if you do you’ll stop the pressure-!” Spider-Man pouts “You’ve patched me up before, I know” You lean on your desk about to scold him again when you lose your grip.

Suddenly Spider-Man lunges towards you, you instinctively close your eyes, you hear a crash, and suddenly you feel a cool liquid drip down your back. “Shitshitshit!” You open your eyes to see a terrified spider-man, no, you didn’t- you couldn’t have, shit the happy gas- Well liquid? Fell on you! You get knocked out of your state of shock by Spider-Man’s groans again, gripping his side. You rush over to him, “I’m fin- healing already, it's just a flesh wound.” His hands whip towards you pressing his hands on your arms with a crushing force. “Weneedtoworryaboutyouthehappygasgotyouwhatare-” spider speaks faster than you can keep up. You try to calm him down by gripping his shoulder.

“Spidey, sh. I'm fine! See??” You stood up quickly dusting yourself off, you helped him back on his feet as well.

“God, this is all my fault. I should have been fast enough to catch you, I’m sorry” The masked hero ranted to the ground he was too ashamed to look in your eyes.

“It’s not your fault I’m clumsy, Webhead” you sighed, and looking back at your research, one test tube survived the fall. “Plus, I’m fine!” You gently grabbed his head lifting it to look into the white eyes (soulless) eyes.

“See?” You start doing the robot dance, it was something he did when you were sad and always made you laugh. You get a small chuckle from the sad man, You pause carefully before continuing.

“Spider, please be honest with me..That- catch me comment, that wasn’t really meant for me was it?” You're coaxing the answer out of him slowly, as he looks back at you and then back to the ground.

“I- yeah.” He sighs, you don’t remember grasping his hands but somehow he holds your hand in a vice grip. “My, uhm. First love.. she died- I wasn’t fast enough to catch her, she-“ he stops himself, you from breaking away from his bruising grip to hug him pulling him to your chest.

“It’s okay, we don’t need to talk about it anymore, okay?” He nods as steps away from you. “I’m sorry about- I shouldn’t tel- I don’t know why I-“ You put your hand up “Nope! We express our emotions here! You should never apologize for that. Especially considering all you do for this city.” You could tell he was smiling, even if you couldn’t see it.

— (smut starts here)

You rush to get your feet to touch solid ground as Webhead gently sets you down on the fire escape, you’ll never get used to soaring through the sky. “T-thank you” you grip his chest, and his logo twists as you bunch it up, god you fucking hated heights. “I would open my window but I'm a little scared to move haha.” He exhaled through his nose, snickering. “Hey, hey I got you” he bends down as he pulls it open, you sit on the window seal and slide in, thankful to touch actual solid ground. Spiderman turns to leave but you grab his hand, “I-uhm.” Shit, you really didn’t have a plan to make him stay. “I- should check your wounds to make sure they’re okay.” He laughs.

“I assure you I’m fine, honey.” You felt a zing through your body straight to your clit, you have to stop yourself from moaning. God, keep it together!

“I-uhm still would feel better if I check” you fiddle with your clothes letting go of his hand.

“Mm, I think it’s something else.” He sits on your window seal, and you step back.

“I-well” you rock back and forward on your feet.

“If you want me to stay, you don’t have to make an excuse y’know” you look up, his head is tilted at you, he hops down and closes the window.

“Now what should we do now?” He clasped his hands together, you smiled so big your cheeks hurt.

His hands landed on your shoulders squeezing you, and you felt that zing again. “Fuck” you muttered, you definitely have a waterfall in your pants now. What the hell is going on with you right now? Yeah, spider is hot but you’ve never been this horny over just his touch.

“Hmm? What’s up?” spidey eyes quirked, and his hands slid down to your arms. You moaned, FUCK you moaned. You instantly pull away from him, “ IAMSOSORRYIDIDNT-ITI-“ you rushed out as many words as you could as he stood in bewilderment.

“Hey, are you okay?” You tilt your head, and you rub your arm anxiously. “Y-yea uhm why wouldn’t I be haha..” you stutter out, he walks closer to you. “Your...eyes are very dilated.” He tries to take a step closer but you move back, this continues until you fall on the bed.

“Gotcha! Now for the love of god just- please stay still” you fidget as he comes closer to examine you, you hear him mutter some mental notes to him before he slowly attempts to put his hand on your cheek, you immediately flinch and move away. “D-don’t touch me! ” you did not want another waterfall to happen tonight. You bit your lip, why were you acting like this? This is definitely not normal.. that’s when it hit you. The liquid, you and spiderman thought you only neuralized the angry effect on the liquid which is why nothing happened to you after it fell on you. I guess you could check that theory off, clearly, something was happening.

“Spider-Man, the serum..I think it’s affecting me. When you touch me I get ..hot..” you could barely get words out.

“You- you should leave spidey, this could be dangerous, even contagious.” You hug yourself, the heat was getting unbearable but you couldn’t undress in front of him, that was a line you aren’t willing to cross, yet. You also needed to run a few tests on yourself to make sure this- sickness wasn’t permanent.

“No! I don’t wanna leave you like this, this is my responsibility too. Let me help you” he held your face gingerly, and you bit your lip to keep from whimpering. “You feel so good on my skin..” you mutter to him. Wait- did oh god you said that out loud, that wasn’t supposed-.

The wall-crawler's eyes widened, “Oh?” You nodded “I’ve always wondered what you’d be like in bed, spider.” What the fuck are you saying?? Why can’t you control what’s coming out of your mouth?!

“I-is that so?” He was strangely quiet. You move your head and give a lick to one of his digits, he makes a strangled groan. “I shouldn’t- you're sick..serum must be making you a-act” he moves his hand away but you grab his wrist before he can. “I’ve been liking you for a while now, Spiderman. I’ve just never had the guts to say it, this serum is giving me a boost in confidence, let’s say” you were so clear and concise, you couldn’t stop the words flowing from your fault.

You could see Adam's apple move as he mulled it over, you crawled towards him, reaching for his mask. “Ah- wai-“ he grabs your hands at lighting speed. “Don’t worry spidey, I just wanna kiss you.” You whisper “Can I at least have that, hm?” You were gone, the you knew was locked up, the new you came out to play, apparently, they were very dominant and flirty.

The masked hero nodded slowly, you slipped your hands under his mask pulling it lightly. His hands are still tightly banded around yours. You push a kiss lightly to his lips, and he drops your hands instantaneously in favor of putting them behind your head to deepen the kiss, soon you’re full-blown making out.

He pulls away first, panting. “Shit.” His hands travel to your waist, and you shiver. “You were definitely right about this being contagious..” his hands roamed your body as he took you all in.

“Mm, you are so beautiful like this. You were so cute asking me to stay earlier, I couldn’t resist teasing you about it.”

Spider-Man’s voice was low and raspy as he pushed you down on the bed. “If I knew you wanted me to, I would have fucked your brains out 20 times by now, honey.” You moan as he unbuttoned your top. “I love the nicknames you give me, mm..” His hands glide on your skin. “Oh? Mm, you’re too cute” he chuckles.

Suddenly you were back, well back to normal. “S-Spidey, god I’m so sorry I didn’t-“ you yelped as you felt teeth on your neck. “Hah, cute reaction.” Holy shit.. Spider-Man, New York’s friendly neighbor Spider-Man was literally on top of you, giving you a hickey.

“Sp-spidey I- mm” his tongue traveled lower to your breast. “This is in my way” you hear a snap as your bra is ripped off you, and you gasp covering yourself immediately.

“Hm? What’s wrong you were so into this a minute ago?” He sat back a bit to look at you, you squirm under his eyes, he thinks. “Tsk. Oh, I see the serum made you have a pseudo personality to make you get laid then you revert back to yourself when the process is put in motion..” he stated you cocked your brow. “You thought that up in 30 seconds?”

He nodded. “Well I am still Spider-Man, consider me to be his ego.” He dips back down to kiss your neck, as he pries your hands off your boobs. “Mm- Wait-! what if he doesn’t want this?” Spider-Man pulls back to hover over you, and he smirks.

“Really? Do you truly think he doesn’t want to fuck you? He’s literally had a thing for you since you met. Sweetheart, I can’t make this body do anything that it doesn’t. I’m a reflection of his desire.” You feel like a hot coal, and he’s the fire. “Oh..but- why haven’t you changed back yet?” Spider-Man groans.

“God you ask a lot of questions, I guess that’s partly why he likes you..Mm, basically I have the controls now, and mm I don’t wanna give it back, quite yet .” He pauses to give you another hickey, on your breast. “Give you a spin before I do, darling. Now enough talking.”

Spider-Man hand slips in your underwear, and arch your back. Your senses are still very heightened, “Aw, I have even started rubbing your clit” he kissed the side of your mouth. “P-please.” You whisper to him, “please make me feel..good, spidey.” You could feel his dick harden more in his spandex.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.” He frantically pulled his suit as you do the same to your pants. You looked at each other, his body was insane, he was beautifully sculpted, and you gulped. “Did I-? Wha-oh god.. I thought I was just dreaming again.” Spider-Man quickly covered his very large cock you giggle. “ You dreamed about fucking me?” You tease. “I-I mean- sometimes but like not in a weird way I would never-..well..uh..shit” he rubbed his head sheepishly.

You both stare at each other before you speak up again.

“Well, we-.. should finish what we started d-don’t you think?” You spluttered out.

“Are you sure..we..I-“ His lips were moving but nothing was coming out. God, at this point you just wanna get laid.

“Look! We both know what we wanna do to each other!! We basically confessed already!! Let’s just.. fuck already!” He looked at you stunned before, slowly getting back on the bed with you, laughing. “Mm, I guess you know what you want huh?” He teased you. “Well..I had some time to figure it out..” you flushed. His hand hovered over your breast, and you nod. He knead your beast softly, as he licked and prodded them. “So beautiful. I love them, I love you” he looks at you through his lenses, you could feel the love. “I love .. you too, though I’ve never seen your face. But I guess that proves I do love you for you.” You whisper, as he sits up, he stares at you for a moment before ripping off his mask like a second skin.

In front of you is this gorgeous man, with slightly long brown hair, delicious chocolate eyes, and the cutest nervous smile.

“A-are you okay? You’re being very quiet.” His voice was small. “Oh! I-I’m perfect, you're perfect.” you caress his cheek, and he closes the distance as he slips his hands down. You moan in his mouth as he toys with your clit, you buck up grinding against it, “Can I eat you out?” His voice was light, and you nod. “Honey I need verbal communication.” He moved down your body as he spoke, opening your legs but not keeping his eyes level with yours. You squeak a bit “Y-yes, please eat me out, spidey” you covered your face with your hands looking through the cracks of your fingers. “Actually, my name is Peter, Peter Parker .” You beam, “Well hello Peter, nice to meet you.” You chuckled, ruffling his hair as he softly lowered himself down, you jumped as he licked one long stride up. “You taste wonderful” before you could reply he sucked your clit. “Oh god, Peter!” You threw your head back, “Shit- you’re so-Mm” you tugged on his hair as he buried his mouth deeper into you, that’s when his fingers felt his fingers fill you with a delicious ache.

“Oh my god- Peter!” You thrashed around, Peter put his hands on your legs to keep you in place. “Wai- I’m gonna cum, S-Stop!” He pulled away, a string of cum and saliva stuck to his mouth, he grins his eyes low. “Well that’s the point, It’ll make it easier for you cum later on my cock.” His fingers started pumping and curling into you again, you threw your head back again, whimpering, and you whining his name. “It’s okay, let it go” his voice soothes your burning soul, and you unconsciously ball up. “Shh, that’s it come on” you couldn't even moan, you just shuddered as you finally came. He lazily kissed your lips as you recovered.

“I-I think I’m ready for you, n-now” you stare at him, and he smiles back as he leans back rubbing your pussy, to get some of your juices to pump his cock with. He lines himself up with yourself. He slowly pushed himself into you, His moans were delectable, and his hands found yours as he leaned over you. “Move, plea- god.. please move.” You groan, and he obliges.

“Fuck, I feel like I’m gonna cum already. You feel amazing. My god, you know that? You're amazing, y’know?” He rambles, you mewl. “You are too, spidey- mm. God you’re- so so good at th-this. I-I'm -fuck.. I’m gonna cum a-again.” You seize up, Peter rubs your clit in circles and you buck against it, whining harshly. “P-Peter! Please- t-too much” you come feel yourself go numb. “Shh baby, just feel it.“ your eyes closed as you came again, and you pant.

“I’m not done with you yet, Hold on just a little more baby.” His voice was husky. You chuckled and nod “You and your inhuman st-stamina” Peter smiled touching his nose with yours. “Hey love, uhm- are you on? “ you snickered “Yes I’m on birth control. No worries, don’t wanna have any mini spideys around here” he chuckles as he starts Impaling you once more, and you gasp. “Holy fuck you’re so big-“ you gasp once more, gripping his arms. “Mm s-sorry” Peter groaned. “N-no it’s a good thing, oh-!” You start seeing stars as he slams into you once more.

“Good, mm- I’m almost there-“ he was breathless, your hands rubbing through his hair. “I-I can take it, p-please. Cum in me please, Peter.” Peter replies with a guttural moan as he pounds into you. You finally feel it, as his seed fills you, you see white, gripping his shoulder as you cum again.

(Smut ends here)

You jolt up, promptly regretting it as your sore body compels you back down on your bed, you grunt. You look down, an arm wrapped around your waist. What? Whose? How-? The mystery figure groans. Oh shit- you fucked Spider-Man last night. Well, Peter, he said his name was Peter.

“Morning love” you cast your eyes down again, He looked like a god with the sun rays on his face. His hands brushed against your face, “Morning Peter”

“So- I.. wanted to take you on a date to this coffee shop around the corner.” He traced circles on your skin and you hummed at the sensation. “Mm yeah that sounds nice, I’d love to go on a date with you.” You laugh. “Plus afterward, we can figure out how to not make a powerful sex potion.” He poked your nose, snorting at your joke. “Mm, I dunno I thought you liked it?” His eyes crinkled as you covered your hands up with your face. “God Peter no more teasing I’m already still cringing from what I said last night!” Both of you burst out laughing.

“Come on, let's go get some breakfast.” He sat up. “Check in the drawer I have some guy clothes in there from an ex a long time ago.” He nods that you're thankful he didn’t ask questions. You do the same, putting on some clothes.

You two hold hands as you both step outside, “Ready to face the world again, Spider-Man?” Peter nods. “I am when you're by my side.”

#tasm andrew garfield #tasm fic #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #the amazing spiderman #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm smut #tasm!peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman smut #peter parker fic #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction

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mayakern · 1 year

Note

While you're dog-blogging, I'll ask-

What was the process of choosing your family members like? Did you choose certain breeds because of qualities they're known for? Did your heart melt when you met a particular pup and knew they were the one for you?

annie was PURE luck. we were looking for a dog at the same time our friend’s younger sibling was looking to rehome their service dog, who needed to be retired early for being bad at her job (she tried really hard but work gave her anxiety and anxiety gave her hellish diarrhea).

we’d already met annie and loved her and i personally was an absolute goner because i grew up with a rough coat border collie and i absolutely adore them. i just wasn’t sure that i could keep up with a herder, but annie is the absolute laziest sheep dog i have ever met so it worked out.

here’s one of the first pics i took of annie when we adopted her in 2018

we honestly hadn’t planned to adopt a second dog… until the pandemic hit and annie’s best friend moved about an hour away, so suddenly she wasn’t getting nearly as much doggie social time as she was used to.

then our friend who moved away adopted a new puppy (radish), who became known as the face that launched a thousand puppies because she was so cute she inspired multiple people to adopt puppies…

including our friend/neighbor downstairs who got a corgi named pippin that annie absolutely adored.

he was just so dang cute and annie loved him so much that devin and i decided to get a second dog. we knew we didn’t want to go any bigger than annie and we wanted a medium energy dog that wouldn’t compete for human attention because annie is super clingy, and one of our friends who worked frequently with dogs suggested shibas as a breed. in hindsight this was not the best choice for us since neither devin nor i had experience with hunting breeds but like. i love our little goblin man.

and like once we saw this man, we were goners.

rodeo actually ended up not being a mid level energy dog. he’s much better now, but yeah those videos of shibas who refuse to go on walks? can’t relate. at all. he is a rambunctious and VERY active little man with nearly endless energy. which we maybe should have realized when the breeder described him as having a “big personality” lol

and unfortunately after we adopted rodeo annie decided that she was much too mature and didn’t like puppies all that much. she even stopped playing with pippin!!! needless to say devin and i felt incredibly betrayed lol

anyway she eventually got over her jaded older sibling feelings they actually get along great now. watching them play together is one of my absolute favorite things. they both have SO much personality and are incredibly funny to watch together

#ask #dog blogging #dog pics #long post

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suitetarts · 6 months

Text

reasons to be honest

Astarion x Original Female Character, Dark Urge Tav (Good) Angst, Comfort, Kissing, Fluff (Link to AO3) After Astarion’s confession, Delilah is conflicted but still very in love–which she hasn’t quite admitted to yet. Unfortunately for sober her, she is a sad drunk on a mission after the celebrations in Moonrise Tower. Angst-fueled barbs and comforting words ensue.

Another one shot with my Tav, Delilah. This one happens to make no reference to her features or gender, just that she's a drow with mommy issues. You can go to the AO3 series for the other fic I have for her, or click here.

“Another… please.”

The red tiefling boy hesitates as Delilah’s head rolls awkwardly to the side, the previous shots of liquor clearly hitting her hard. Her piercing red eyes dart to his unmoving hands and then meet his own in a cold glare. With a squeal, he grabs a new liquor bottle from Ketheric’s stores and begins to pour once more.

Another child, a bluish tiefling with tight curls, collecting bottles from the small goblin hovels hidden throughout the first floor of Moonrise, comes marching over to chastise. “Drow Lady, oi! That’s enough!”

“Mmm? I saved your sorry little hides ‘nd you’re cutting me off?” Delilah exhales out of her nose indignantly, easily swiping the nearly full bottle from the boy’s hands.

“Oi oi oi! But that’s s’posed to be mine to sell on the road,” the blue tiefling cries.

The darkness within her, the other parasite on her psyche that pulls her to violence, begs her to reverse her grip on the bottle and crack it open, spilling red across the floor in a viscous new style of carpet. Delilah lets out a puff of air and pushes the thought away with a spot of effort. As she walks away with a stagger, she raises her free hand to wave the children good night.

The various hallways and great meeting spaces that were host to a battle between her companions and the Absolute cultists only a few hours ago is now just a bloody path of stones, one that she hopes will lead her to her bedroll. These cursed lands had truly been a nightmare in every sense of the word. Delilah is hopeful that being one step closer to their goals will allow her some peace and rest. However, she knows that defeating Myrkul’s Chosen can’t possibly help the matters of the heart that tear her from a good night’s sleep.

As the liquid inside the bottle hits her lips, she winces. Blood red and horrendously strong like it was distilled from pure malice. Whoever had decided to keep this in their stores either had something powerfully flavorful to mix it with or hated themselves. Delilah ponders if there is anything in this tower that would be sweet enough to cover the taste, blushes, and takes a decidedly large and bitter sip.

She curses under her breath as she finds herself walking the ramparts of Moonrise, her mind wandering back to Astarion despite the severity of all their other issues surrounding the tadpoles. Delilah continued to mull over their talk the other night and had been unintentionally distant, even though she knew that there was still so much more to say. The discussion replays in her mind once more. Astarion had, at least initially, lied about it all. He had manipulated her so comprehensively, body and soul. He told her such sweet things, some that she recognized as flirtatious tricks, but others that she had come to actually believe. He laid with her nearly every night not because he wanted to, but to control her. The bastard had admitted to her face that the only part of his plan that failed is, essentially, he harbored guilt about doing it after catching feelings.

And even after hurting her so profoundly, Delilah had reassured him. The typical shrill tone with which he joked or complained or flirted during their adventures was absent, replaced with a lower, more melancholy genuineness that she couldn’t help but comfort. She said that she deeply cared for him, that she would stay by his side as he created boundaries for himself. The two had a productive yet brief discussion and she never lied, not a single sweet word or supportive touch.

All despite her heart cracking down the middle, threatening to shatter.

Delilah staggers, reaching to the cold stony walls of the tower for support. Her fingers grip the edge of one of the stones and she could imagine it was Astarion’s collarbones. Her nails dig into the sandy mortar for a moment as her temper flares, before guilt and sympathy eases the tension in her joints. She feels justified in her frustration, but he doesn’t deserve her anger. His situation is beyond complicated and she truly is trying to understand it from his perspective. She goes through the situation again, as accurately as she can manage:

After being kidnapped and implanted with ticking time bomb mind flayer parasites, a hot and powerful drow sorceress (with a tendency to murder without warning or reason!) prances around in the wilds of the Storm Coast with a group of equally powerful strangers, including a famous monster hunter and a fierce alien warrior. The sorceress comes across a vampire spawn that has done little else besides use his body to ensnare meals for his master and suffer indescribable abuse for multiple mortal lifetimes. It makes perfect sense that he would use the tools at his disposal to secure his safety with a band of questionable characters. It makes sense to deceive one of these powerful fools into a relationship. It makes sense to target her as the leader of the group. It makes sense to manipulate her until she is no longer useful. It makes sense to try his damnedest to not actually feel anything for her, because gods forbid she’s worthy of real love. It makes sense. It makes sense.

Delilah sighs into the darkness. Perhaps this was not the most favorable interpretation to Astarion’s reasons for pursuing her the way he did. He had admitted that he’d fallen for her, that he wanted them to be real. It was her who felt an implication in his words that he wanted them to be real moving forward and that everything before was never real.

A chill runs through her as she takes another sip of liquor and she decides to focus on finding her way to camp. She rounds the same door twice before going the correct path and finding a host of friendly faces. Lae’zel, Aylin, and Isobel are near the door, with the former two animatedly discussing fighting techniques while the cleric takes the opportunity to rest and enjoy the peaceful evening with her lover. Delilah stops for a moment to listen in before moving further into camp, where Wyll and Karlach speak in a more somber tone around the fire. She almost goes to join them, but Karlach’s heat and ire at the Chosen of Bane the group had seen right before the battle with Ketheric is palpable in the air. Perhaps it's selfish, but she doesn’t want to be angry for Karlach's sake. Not when she’s already feeling so anxious and irritated about her own stupid problems.

Owlbert barrels past Delilah with Scratch hot on his feathered tail, passing close enough to her that she dodges clumsily and begins to trip. Her hands are sent to break her fall but instead catch on the bleached white linen of Astarion’s shirt.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth before speaking with a coy grin. “Darling, I knew you’d fallen for me but I didn’t realize you were going to take it literally.”

A fierce blush overtakes her, bringing a pink tint to her gray complexion. Her tongue rolls awkwardly in her mouth as she tries to cover herself, “I– I didn’t mean to fall. But thank you.”

“You’re completely trashed,” Astarion observes with amused surprise as he attempts to help restore Delilah’s balance. He steadies her forearms before tentatively letting go. Her red eyes, so similar to his own, beam up at him as she only slightly wobbles. His lips pull into one of those sweet half smiles that he only gives to her. “Adorable.”

“Y’think I’m adorable?”

“We’ve been over this. You’re very attractive.”

Delilah narrows her eyes and snickers, doing her best to rub her hands together like a villain in a street play while still holding onto the bottle of liquor. “Again.” He rolls his eyes and begins to lead her towards her tent.

“This–” Astarion emphasizes as he easily snatches the liquor from her loose grip. “–is for not returning the compliment.”

While Astarion has it hoisted in the air, he inches his nose closer before reeling at the strong vapors of the alcohol. She does not opt to carry herself with the typical pride of a female drow, instead choosing to whine and reach for the bottle. The two are evenly matched on height, but he's a master at using his tricks to keep any item just barely too far away.

“Tut tut tut. You know how this works dear.”

She stamps her foot down playfully. “I’ve told you a million times, ‘Starion. You’re–”

He cuts her off with a press of his index finger to her lips. “Ah-starion. If you please,” he asks with a shiteating grin. “Do continue.”

Delilah pulls her mouth to a straight line as she groans in her throat, but her eyes betray the annoyed facade she’s trying to convince him of. They’re smiling. She starts again, “I’ve told you a million times, Ahhh-starion. You’re perfectly gorgeous.”

He preens with satisfaction, tossing his hand through his hair for dramatic flair. “Thank you love, you’re quite perfect yourself.”

Delilah hums and turns away, in part to watch her feet as they approach her tent and also to avoid him seeing her as she repeats his words in her head. Her? Perfect? After all the nasty and selfish thoughts she’s had tonight, and every other night since he finally opened up to her? Hardly. Not to mention that falling for some charlatan with a pretty face and a sad life who tells her what she wants to hear is all far too unbecoming for a drow of her nobility and breeding. Her mother would literally kill her three times over for even an ounce of this behavior. It's frankly a miracle that a mistake like her made it to adulthood. And then there’s the whole thing with nearly uncontrollable murderous urges that, only a few weeks prior, had almost cost him his life?! Perfect.

Astarion notices Delilah’s withdrawal and leans forward to see her chin quivering and her eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey, hey, wait.” His voice drops its usual mirthful cadence. She stops, still facing away from him. “What’s wrong? Did I say something to upset you?”

“I’m not perfect,” she whispers just loud enough for him to hear. Delilah kneels at the rugs outside her tent, clumsily reaching behind her ass to take off her shoes. “Also, I think I’m mad… but I dunno.”

“Mad at what?”

“At you.”

Astarion freezes for a split second before nodding his head in begrudged acceptance. He sets the bottle down and kneels next to her, leaning forward to make eye contact. “Better to be mad than leaving me, which frankly, is what I expected when I confessed what I had done to you. I deserve your anger.”

“No, you don’t,” she says, doing her best to maintain eye contact as the liquor and tears threaten to make her crumble. “Everything you did makes sense.”

He clears his throat, giving himself a moment to gather his response. “I had my reasons, but that doesn’t mean the things I did were right .”

Delilah’s throat contorts as she tries to suppress a sob. All at once, the proximity of the others makes her panic and she quickly retreats into the darkness of her tent. When Astarion doesn’t immediately follow her, she kicks the flap. He peeks in to find her sitting cross legged at the far end, her eyes darting between him and a pillow just out of arm's reach of her.

Nervously drumming against the stiff canvas tent flap as he holds it open, Astarion sighs. “Darling, I’m not sure you’ll be pleased that we’ve had this conversation when you’re so drunk. Maybe this should wait.”

She wipes her eyes with the collar of her shirt. “I don’ care, sit.”

As he crawls in on his hands and knees, his fingers splaying out as his palm leans into the plush of her bedding, she closes her eyes to steel herself. Of their many encounters prior to Astarion’s confession, most of those had been spent here. She was no stranger to the ways of pleasure, but he had brought her to rapture in ways she had never imagined were possible. She had thought of those nightly trysts as an escape from reality, an easy and fun passion to help them both get away from the looming despair of the tadpoles. Just the thought of how Astarion must recollect those evenings makes her own memories turn sour and rotten.

He mirrors her cross legged sit from across the tent, laying the pillow in his lap so that he can fidget with the tassels and flange. He is uncharacteristically quiet.

Was he expecting a scolding, for her to hit him, or some other form of anger, even cruelty? Delilah looks down at her feet. “D’you think I’m gonna yell at you?”

“No,” Astarion says quickly. He plucks at the silver threads of her pillow. “Maybe.”

“I’d never–” she starts, before seeing a fang poke out of his smile and one of his eyebrows shoot up questioningly. “Well, not never, but not about this. ‘Nd I’m not really mad at you. I dunno. You just hurt me–a lot–when y’said you lied to me.” The words seem innocent and childish as she speaks them to her toes. After a pause, she adds, “For months.”

Astarion draws his shoulders forward until his nose almost touches his knees, almost as if he’s trying to make his body as uncomfortable as he feels. “I know, I’m sorry my love.” He looks up at her through his white lashes, a move that could fit right into his flirtatious fop routine if not for the sincerity dripping from his words. “You have every right to be mad.”

“Stop that,” Delilah begs, a smile breaking across her face as she lets out a short sad whimper.

He pulls his back straight once more, looking down before looking back up at her. “Stop what?”

“Stop apologizing and being so nice to me,” she sighs around a smile. But the smile quickly fades. She continues, “And complicated. I dunno.”

“I’m supposed to cut back on the complaints about the niceties you give to me, but you tell me to stop? I thought you wanted me to be all empathetic and sweet to every body,” he says with an air of their usual banter. The pair sit in silence for a moment as the tension once again rises, like a taut bow string waiting for the call to loose.

“What do you mean… ‘complicated’?” Astarion asks, without hardly using any air to carry his words, staring at the pillow flange’s thread between his fingertips as he unweaves it. She knows that he knows what she’s talking about, in general terms. Delilah huffs as she lays down on her side facing away from him, unable to explain this with even the possibility of eye contact.

“I had a lot of fun when we did, y’know, horizontal stuff. I thought you did too,” she starts nervously, holding onto her shoulders as she curls in on herself. “But now… Gods, I’m so gross. I took advantage of you. And you–”

“Stop. You didn’t take advantage of me.” His voice sounds strangled behind her. She can hear him padding closer to her, slowly. “Please, look at me.”

She curls further into herself. “But you didn’t want to fuck me.”

“Stop it, Del. Stop,” Astarion says sternly, pulling her back flush to the ground. He reaches over to hold both of her shoulders in place as he steadies himself on his knees to her side. His eyes unintentionally drift towards her neck, and she recalls this position, with him leaning his chest over hers, is much like that first night when he fed from her neck. His throat bobs, swallowing his sanguine hunger, and returns his eyes to watch hers. “I tried to explain the other night, but– Please understand me when I tell you that everything I did was what I wanted. My intentions weren’t, uh, always the most proper. But! I did want to fuck you. I want to fuck you now. It's just… not that simple.”

Delilah’s skin is hot underneath Astarion’s intense gaze and salacious words, especially the way his hands grip tighter at the idea of taking her at this very moment. She could almost be satisfied with this explanation if sex was truly all that mattered to her. Luckily for them both, it was not.

“Did you ever want to kiss me?” She breathes the question, her eyes softening under the heat of his presence.

He scoffs, releasing her shoulders to kneel beside her. He snakes a hand along both sides of her jaw and tenderly pulls her head up as he leans down to kiss her. Her hands fly up to his ears, her fingertips dragging through his curls. He brings her in closer, their teeth just barely feeling the pressure of the kiss, before he pulls away to hover over her face. He lets out a breath as he answers simply, “Yes. Any time you ask.”

“Even at first?”

“Even the most cold-hearted bastard wouldn’t look at a pretty thing like you and not want to kiss her,” Astarion says honestly, although a hint of his flirtatious tone seeps through.

Delilah tucks her chin into her shoulder, the blush creeping down from her cheeks to her neck and threatening to envelop her whole. She deflects to save herself from burning up. “That better not be a canned line.”

“Well…” His voice cracks and the smile on his lips falters, before he searches her face for some evidence of forgiveness. She still looks like putty in his hands, flushed and pliable. His eyebrows pull together, from pity or guilt or a combination of, as he answers her. “It doesn’t matter, da– Del. It’s true.” He leans back down for a chaste kiss before pulling his hands away from her and returning to a comfortable sitting position.

As he pulled away from the kisses, she did her best to give him a sweet smile but it didn’t quite make it to her eyes. He sighs, laying within reach of her onto his side with his head propped up by his arm. “I’m sure you’re not having an easy time trusting me lately, but… Honestly, it's true.”

She sympathized with his mild frustration. He was saying and doing all of the right things, and they were true, so why was she still upset?

Rhetorical question: she knew.

“Astarion?” She turned to face him with her elbows together and hands gripped at her chest.

“Yeah?”

“I… I think I love you,” she whispers. By the tension between them and the blank look on his face, she feels that the air has been sucked out of the tent. She feels light and breathless, floaty even, at finally putting words to her inner turmoil, and so she continues. “Even though you’re a liar. And I think I’ve loved you for a while now.”

Astarion lets out a large breath, rolling onto his back. As he fearfully studies the roof of the tent, Delilah wonders if he’s reliving some terribly sad memories of others who told him the same thing, others that were doomed to fall prey to Cazador. She wonders if it's the opposite, that he’s never been allowed to keep anyone long enough for them to love him. Or simply that he doesn’t feel the same and doesn’t want to hurt her even more. No matter what his reason is, she reaches a hand out to lay in the empty space between their bodies. An offering that she allows him to take or refuse, regardless of how much she wants to pull him closer.

“Del, I– I’m not sure what to say, but I–”

“If you don’t love me back, or you don’t know how, or whatever…” As she continues, the words trip and catch on the emotion pouring through and threatens to burst from her very soul. “Don’t tell me the truth. I can’t, I’ll… But please, don’t lie either. No more lies.”

Astarion rolls back onto his side to look at her, to look at what he’s done to her. One of his hands finds hers in the no-man’s land between them, as the other snakes through to hold the other against her sternum. “No more lies,” he repeats, earning a nod from his crying lover. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to work on, well, me, and as I do, I will become better. Stronger. For the both of us.”

Delilah curls inwards around their conjoined hands, breathing warm but fading sobs onto the cool skin of his arm. “Are we… Are we going to be okay?”

“Unless you or the tadpoles have other plans.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

He pauses, uncomfortable still with the concept of optimism. Promises of good tidings she made to him were generally met with a bitter snap from a man who over centuries had the ability to feel hope beaten out of him. But, in this moment, he softens at her, as he always has, and says, “Yes.”

They lay in silence for a few too many moments, just holding each other's hands and sharing a peaceful moment of mutual understanding. Delilah begins to lose the fight against her heavy eyelids. The anger, embarrassment, and heartache all seemed so trivial as she laid there with him on the brink of consciousness. He was right; they would be okay.

The last thing Delilah remembers is her grip loosening on his hand at her chest, but the lingering sensation of his cool skin on hers. When her trance breaks, she finds herself parched under a haphazard pile of blankets with a certain elf still resting at her side. She gently lays some of the warmest ones on top of Astarion before she leaves to nurse her hangover, just barely missing the way his eyes peek open mischievously. She misses the way he hesitates to follow her, instead choosing to snuggle into her warmth like a reptile to a sunny rock, trying to keep her heat to himself as the stones beneath the bedding already begin to sap it cold and dry.

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