#Coolie in the Cut

[underground-hip-hop-affiliated]

Coolie in the Cut

[wavnexttimedotcom]

04/03/17

[dadsbongos]

being sevika's clueless, pretty girlfriend.

she's having you hold her arm steady as she repairs it. you're perched on a desk while she's on a chair right in front of you. stiff, frozen metal laid across your pillowy lap. big eyes wondering down at each gear and wire as she leans against your knees to screw a joint into place.

"this thing doesn't look like you at all..."

"yeah, baby, 's an arm."

"no! like, uhm, it looks... fun?"

sevika glances up through her thick lashes, a brow raising curiously and lips curving sideways, "i'm not fun?"

"you're like if the color orange was a person."

"good thing?"

"uh-huh!"

"good."

your knee starts bouncing at some point - sevika sighs and shoots you a soft glare,

"baby," she presses, "stop moving."

"oh, sorry!"

"'s okay," she mutters, "you're real antsy today. need to get up?"

"no, i'm fine." disbelief is written clear over her face, you melt under the mere notion and shrug, "i guess i could get out... in a bit... whenever you're done."

"i've done what i can today," she sits up, a harsh ache panging up her spine and through each rib, "you wanna go out? where?"

"uhmmm," you purse your lips as sevika attaches her clunky new arm -a faint guilt stings through your gut; today was meant to be about slimming the design. cutting jinx's fatty, maximalist design wherever possible.

sevika slices that shame where it sprouts, "'uhm's not a place. i told you those piltover guides are shit scams."

"i know, i know, uhmmm... let me think!"

"okay."

"sev' you're gonna hate me..."

"what's up, baby?" she helps you off the desk with her organic hand, looking down at you passively.

"i have no idea where i wanna go..."

"want me to pick?" she grins when you nod, eyes scrunching cutely. yanking you into her side, sevika shrugs cooly, "can't start hating you 'cuz your head's empty, baby, it's what makes us so good together."

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family Part Two

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Part One ☁️ Part Three ☁️

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A/N: I was genuinely thinking this wouldn’t be as liked as it was. I kinda wanna take my time with it and slow it down. Focus on the Yandere aspect, and the little blurbs to go along with it. But, I hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Pregnancy, mild yandere themes (blink and you’ll miss it)

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It wasn’t like you had unintentionally forgotten to mention the apartment search to Stephanie. Mom brain can make you a silly forgetful goose.

Besides, other things had popped up that were much more important. Like, finding out the bean’s gender and finding yourself some actual maternity pants. Or, trying not to pass out. The waves of exhaustion that hit you were surprising. You had hit you second trimester and were supposed to start feeling better, the Doctor said.

But, apparently every pregnancy was different.

Stephanie, on the other hand, had started spending more and more time with you. Which was nice. The way you two were bonding over your experiences was kind of grounding. The little tips she gave were also kinda helpful. She tended to mother-hen you, though. Getting really strict about eating the cold cut sandwiches and your caffeine intake.

The lack of caffeine definitely didn’t help your irritably. Which you were struggling to control. You kept your snappy attitude to yourself as best you could, but sometimes the other’s in the house would do something that would make you glare at them. Alfred and Cassandra had definitely caught on that something was up. You showed the most restraint around them when it came to controlling your emotions. Stephanie was supportive as well.

But, Jason eventually had the absolute audacity to eat your fried cornbread one day. A recipe you had learned from your Momma’s Momma before she died. He left not a single crumb when you found him in the kitchen with a content look.

When you found the empty food container in the sink, you could feel your blood still.

“Did you eat my cornbread, Jason?” You had cooly asked, still looking at the empty container.

He had the further audacity to seem so nonchalant about it, “Yeah, it was good. You should make some more some time.”

“You ate my motherfuckin’ cornbread and you wanna telll me to make some more?” You were about take the empty container from the sink and chucked it at his stupid head.

“Watch the language, princess. It’s not that big a—“ Before he could finish, the restraint was gone and you were throwing the empty contain at him. Some of the dirty water splashing on him.

“What the hell? What gives?”

“You. Ate. My. Fuckin’. Cornbread. Do you know how much I was looking forward to that? And, you just fuckin’ ate it with a damn care?”

“Look, chill.” Jason is more baffled by your sudden behavior than anything to give you his usual temper. Normally you’re more mellow. Just letting them ignore you with ease. Hell, you used to seem scared of him.

“No, I will not fuckin’ chill. You ain’t ask, you just took it, you son of a bitch!” Honestly, you’re about to throw another dirty plastic container at him when Alfred walks in. Seeing the rage on your face and Jason sitting at the counter without care.

“Master Jason, I believe Master Dick requires your presence.” Alfred says with a masterfully controlled tone. You can’t tell if he’s lying or not, and, assumedly, neither can Jason because he gets up to leave.

Jason gives you a glare as he walks out of the kitchen. But, there is a hint of confusion in his gaze that you ignore in favor of trying not to cry over fucking cornbread of all things.

With a huff you go to pick up the empty container, only for Alfred to stop you.

“I believe you shouldn’t be straining yourself so much in your condition, my dear.” He picks it up for you before giving you a very pointed look. His eyes drifting towards the bump you have hidden underneath your oversized hoodie.

Instantly, guilt floods you. You hadn’t tell Alfred about the baby, despite him being your pillar of support in the manor. It makes tears actually spill over your lashes, and it cause you to feel even more frustrated that you can’t contain your emotions anymore.

“How long have you known?”

“I’ve had reason to suspect, but you yourself have just confirmed my suspicions, my dear.” The way Alfred’s single eyebrow raises makes to want to laugh on top of crying.

“Besides, I’ve noticed an unusual increase in the consumption of hot sauce and ice cream in this house. And, bowls containing the remains of the unholy concoction in the sink at the odd hours of the night.” But, the way he gives you a gentle and understanding smile makes a little choking noise escape you.

Thankfully, he lets you bury yourself in his chest as the tears start flowing. Willfully letting you ruin his freshly pressed clothes with your tears and snot. You can feel his hand rubbing your back like he was consoling a child, and you definitely felt like a child in that moment. A broken and pathetic child.

“I’m sorry” You mumble. The two words an apology for a million things. The tears, the recent volatility, the secrets, the way you’ve seemed to have lost control.

“You are forgiven, my dear. You are forgiven.”

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Jason had stormed into the cave, fully knowing Alfred had lied about Dick needing him when he saw him training with Damian and Steph. The sound of their soft grunts, punches, and kicks echoing a bit off the cave walls

“Alright, I’m just gonna say it. What’s the princesses’ deal? Little brat just threw Tupperware at me.” That got everyone’s interest and amusement.

“Are you sure you didn’t deserve it?” Tim quipped from the BatComputer with a grin. Typing away on another case.

“Shut it, Timbo. That’s not the point. She’s acting off.” He huffed as he moved towards one of the seats in the cave. Haphazardly throwing himself into the chair and leaning back with his legs spread.

“Maybe she’s finally coming out of her shell?” Duke suggested without looking over at him. Too focused on his gear. Checking over the material for any tears since the time he’d been on patrol.

Once again, the idea makes Jason scoff and further lean back in his seat.

“She’s literally been living here for years and now she wants to finally grow a spine? Not buying it. Something’s going on.”

“You sound like Bruce.” Dick immediately points out with a raised brow and a wiry grin. Him and the other two moving back over towards the rest of the caves current occupants. Sweat currently on their brows and forms.

“Fuck you, dickhead.”

Dick playful stumbles at the insult, clutching his chest. “Hurtful.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so concerned. Aren’t you always antagonizing her?” Tim points out mildly curious, but most of his attention is directed towards the giant screen in front of him.

“Not the point.”

“This conversation is pointless.” Damian mutters, taking a drink of water with a bored look on his face.

“Isn’t she your sister, Damian? You used to go on and on about being the blood son. Shouldn’t you care about your blood sister?” Tim goads him, never one to let Damian forget his old bratty behavior.

“Half-sister. She’s just a mistake.” He scoffs.

“Damian, knock it off.” Stephanie says with a sharp tone and a even sharper look.

That stuns everyone.

“Steph?” Dick says in… not concern, but bafflement.

“Excuse me, Brown?” Damian’s hackles rising. It was rare for him and Stephanie to go at it. But, not exactly unheard of.

“Just, knock it off, Damian.” She bluntly stated. Not allowing the argument to go any further before she’s whipping the sweat from her face and walking towards the cave’s stair. “Jason, where was she?”

He eyes her for a moment, slight suspicion on his blank face.

“In the kitchen with Alfred.”

“I’m going to go check on her.”

They’re quiet as her feet briskly climb the stairs.

“How much do you want to bet Steph knows what’s going on and isn’t tell us?” Tim breaks the silence with a curious look.

“I’m not taking that bet. But, I think you have a point, Jason.” Dick says, acknowledging his earlier suspicions.

“You have any ideas, Cass?”

“… Something is going on. Not sure what.”

“Guess we have a little princess mystery on our hands.” Jason snarks. Content on being validated, but mind now wondering.

“Might be interesting.” Tim replies with a shrug of his shoulders. “Oh, hey, Damian, just got a space transmission from Conner. Jon and him will be back in a few days and will probably stop by the manor.”

“Jon is tolerable, but must Conner come here as well.”

“Hey, he’s my best friend. Chill out.”

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A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part 8 has surpassed 4000 words and I’m still not done. And, I cut it in half. I’m really focusing on more dialogue, cause it’s starting to be kinda fun!

A/N: I will get to my asks. Eventually. I mean it, I cleaned it out and then y’all doubled it! I’ll get to it! One day!

A/N: The BatFam tags are lighting up y’all! We are blessed, we are fed!

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Taglist:

@bunbunboysworld @ellaprime7 @bad4amficideas @victoria1676

[lovemebutleavemewild]

John Price goes into security consulting when he retires from the armed forces and ends up working for your company.

On long nights working late, you've made a habit of sneaking out the escape door for a smoke. You learned a long time ago how to deactivate the alarm for the few minutes you need to get your nicotine fix.

The first time he catches you at it, he almost gives you a heart attack, emerging from around the corner in the dark, scowling and folding his arms.

And when he tells you off - because that's what it is, he's completely talking down to you - it immediately gets your back up.

So you keep doing it, just to piss him off. Almost want him to report you so you know you've gotten under his skin, so you know you've won.

On the third night in a week that he catches you at it, he stalks towards you. You watch him cooly, staying calm until he gets up in your face and snatches the cigarette from between your fingers.

"What is your problem?"

He cuts you off, grabbing your arm and spinning you around, pushing your face into the wall.

"My problem?" he growls in your ear. "My problem right now is you, you little brat."

And then he pulls you over to a bench by the wall, dragging you over his lap.

"You," he says, yanking your knee-length skirt up over your waist, "are going to learn to follow the rules, if it kills me."

You fight him viciously for the first few spanks to your bare ass, almost but not quite, bucking him off.

But after a while, you start to feel your lower stomach soften. He notices as soon as you relax into him.

"That's right, darlin'. Know you deserve this for being such a fuckin' bad girl, don'tcha? Been wreckin' my head all week."

He spreads the spanks over your ass and thighs, jolting you further into his knees every time. And even when he stops, your hips keep jutting forward of their own accord, grinding into him.

John reaches down to slip a finger, then two, inside you, and you moan.

"Not so bad doing what you're told is it?" he asks you, pulling out just to rub circles into your clit.

Leans over you as he pushes you over the edge.

"Pretty girl," he croons. "Smile for the security cameras - me and the boys are gonna be watching this 'lil movie for a while."

[heizlut]

corrupted creampie with Cyno mmgh-

when will it be my turn😩 i love cyno, i can do so much for this so here goes:

Best Friends

cw: manipulation, corruption, creampie, dubcon, kinda dark

tags: sub fem! reader, scummy dom!cyno, mostly proofread

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

⌁₊˚⊹ ⌁₊˚⊹ ⌁₊˚⊹ ⌁₊˚⊹ ⌁₊˚⊹

You had always been such a studious girl, having graduated at the top of your darshan in the Akademiya. You naturally became close with Cyno during your time spent there as he loved the way you stuck to the rules, unafraid of making reports to the Matra when you took note of people who broke them. You were so proud of him when he told you he was taking over as General Mahamatra, giving him endless praises and support.

Cyno wasn't one to show much emotion, keeping his expressions neutral and his voice monotone. But when it came to you, something inside him stirred to life. Something that shouldn't be there that twisted his thoughts and brought heat to his loins. Cyno wanted to ruin you.

A knock sounds on Cyno's door and his sharp gaze shoots to the source. His tense body relaxes when he hears the sound of your voice coming from the other side, "Cyno! Hurry and let me in, I'm soaked!" His lips twitch at the thought of you being soaked, wishing you were saying such a thing in sexual desperation for him rather than literally being drenched by the pouring rain outside. "Coming", his usual tone of voice as he pads over to the front door. He opens the door to see you completely wet from the rain and moves to the side, letting you in.

You shiver as you step in and smile gratefully at him, giving your thanks. Cyno hums in acknowledgement, not trusting his own voice at the moment as his cock comes to life in his pants. Thank the archons for that slip of purple cloth that hid his bulge in his shorts... Your sweet laugh breaks his thoughts and he looks to you as you smile at him, "Sorry for making your floors wet. I didn't realize it was going to rain or else I would've asked to see you another time." Fuck, you were too innocent. The fabric of your clothes clung to your body, emphasizing each curve, the roundness of your breasts, and the curve of your ass.

You tilt your head slightly with mild concern, "Cyno? Are you okay?" Cyno blinks and tries so very hard not to let his eyes wander, "Mhm. How about you take a hot bath and I'll let you borrow something of mine to wear?" You smile, but shake your head, "You can just give me a towel. I don't want to impose or cross a line with you." Cyno frowns a little. You always stuck to rules, never one to even toe the line. He used to love that about you and he absolutely should still love that about you considering his position in Sumeru, but now... Now he wanted to send you careening over that line.

"I don't want you to get sick. I'll start the bath and leave out some clothes for you to wear when you're done", he says cooly, trying to remain indifferent as always. You begin to protest, but one pointed look with his scarlet eyes made you snap your mouth shut. A hint of a smile plays on Cyno's lips at your compliance and he leaves the room to fill the bath with hot water for you. You follow him almost like a lost puppy, dripping water falling from your body to the floors. Cyno digs through his clothes and pulls out a simple white t-shirt and looks to you with an unreadable expression, "This is the only thing that might fit you. I would give you pants, but they would be too big." He holds the shirt up to your shivering body, "The shirt looks like it'll be big enough to keep you covered."

Your cheeks flush the prettiest shade of red at the idea of only wearing your best friend's shirt and nothing else. The blush of your cheeks doesn't go unnoticed by Cyno who feels immense satisfaction. He folds up the shirt and hands it to you, his hands grazing yours as he does so, "The bath should be ready now." You look at him with such a cute expression that makes that sick feeling in him grow. Cyno shouldn't want to corrupt you, but he so desperately wanted to see you writhe underneath him. What expressions would you make then...?

You clear your throat awkwardly to bring Cyno back from his thoughts. He startles slightly and immediately lets go of your hands that held his shirt, "Sorry...", he mutters. You just give a small smile, feeling more concerned about why he was spacing out so much today. You knew your best friend would tell you if he felt inclined to, so you didn't push. You turn and head into the bathroom, shutting the door. You peel your wet clothes from your body, leaving them in a little pile on the floor as you step into the steaming bath.

Cyno paces in his room trying to will away his boner, trying to keep his dark and lustful thoughts at bay. HIs head snaps up when he hears the bathroom door open. You peek your head out from behind the door and look at him, flushed with embarrassment, "I...I'm coming out now." You were so fucking cute and his cock throbs for you under his clothes when you step out timidly, pulling at the hem of his shirt that fell right below the curve of your ass. Cyno fights the groan that is clawing at his throat.

You can't even look at him when you make your way to him, too embarrassed about the whole situation and the shirt that truly didn't leave much to the imagination. This was so inappropriate in your mind and you fumble over your words, "S-sorry again for inconveniencing you and getting your.. floors all wet...and-" You're cut off when Cyno reached forward and twisted a lock of your wet hair around his finger. Your eyes meet his and he speaks gruffly, "Don't apologize." He lets the strand of your hair fall back into place, "Should we continue with our original plans?"

You just gawk at him for a moment, trying to process your thoughts and feelings, "Hmm? O-oh, yeah, let's do that." You lead the way back to the main room of him home and seat yourself on the plush green chair, pulling at the hem of the shirt once more. Cyno sits across from you, almost studying you as you fidgeted. He lets out a sigh, "Let's have a drink. You clearly need one." You laugh a little, "It seems that way doesn't it..."

Cyno moves to the cabinets, taking out a bottle of snake wine he had been saving and pours it into two glasses. He hands you one, to which you thank him politely and he moves back to his seat. You take a tentative sip, your eyes widening at the taste. A ghost of a smirk on Cyno's lips as he watches you take a longer drink. By the time you'd finished your glass, the strong wine was messing with your senses and it felt...good. You felt more relaxed despite the fact that you were sitting across from your best friend wearing his shirt that hardly covered you. The same best friend who protected you always, but now wanted to feel your tight walls strangle his cock.

You fake a pout at Cyno, "I need more, 's empty..." You tilt and shake your glass to display just how empty it was. He chuckles softly at your cute mannerisms and hold his untouched glass of snake wine out towards you, "Here, have mine and I'll refill the empty glass." Your eyes light up like you were a child in a candy store, reaching out to take the full glass from him as you speak in a sing-song tone, "My best friend, always taking care of me~" Cyno's eyes hold a glint of something dark and lustful as you take the glass and sip from it; looking especially cute and naive.

His scarlet eyes linger on your body then make their way back to your eyes, "Come sit with me. You're far away." His voice was monotone and collected as usual as he speaks to you. You tilt your head so cutely at his words, "But there's no room in your chair?" Cyno felt so fucking dangerous, wanting to split you apart on his cock right here, right now. But he didn't want to scare you. He wanted this to work. He pats his thigh, "Come here. There's room." Your lips form a little smile as your eyebrows raise, "Is that okay with you?" He gives you an incredulous look, "I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't okay with it. Now come here."

You chew at your lip as you rise from you seat, glass of wine in hand, and you make your way to him. A groan nearly slips from him when you settle into his lap. Cyno snakes an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him, doing his best not to rut up into you. You wiggle against his bulge as you make yourself more comfortable and you suck in a breath, eyes wide as you look up at him, "There's something..." Cyno shushes you, "Don't pay me any mind. I'm fine." Oh, he was so far from fine right now... Your bare pussy was pressed against his hardened cock and you were too dumb to realize what you were doing to him.

He does his best to control himself as you sip your wine and chatter on about your day. You eye flit to his hand that was now slowly making its way up you thigh and closer to the hem of your shirt, "Cyno?" He shushes you again as his fingers trace little shapes against you skin, steadily moving under you shirt now. Your cheeks heat up again, unable to tear your eyes away from the outline of his hand making its way up to your breasts. You let out a little squeal when Cyno squeezes one of your breasts, "What're you doing?!"

Cyno takes a deep breath as his hips begin to rock underneath you, his hand massaging your breast and toying with your nipple, "Shh, let your best friend decompress, yeah?" "F-friends don't do this...", you say softly as your breathing begins to pick up and your arousal starts to make a mess on his pants. Cyno pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers, "Friends might not. But best friends do..." Your mouth forms a little "O" as your drunken mind decides that what he's saying must be true. He was always brutally honest, so why would he lie now...right?

He moves his hand back out and takes your glass from you, setting it on the table in front of the two of you. Cyno's hot breath fans against your ear as he speaks, "Arms up." Your hesitantly raise your arms and Cyno drags the shirt over your head and tosses it to the floor, leaving you completely naked in his lap. You felt so exposed, but your thoughts melt away when he brings you closer, pressing little kisses against your shoulder and neck as your naked back meets his bare, tanned chest.

As he continues leaving kisses along your skin, Cyno's hands spread your thighs apart, "Always such a good girl following all the rules... Never bending or breaking them..." He trails off for moment as his teeth sink into your skin, making you gasp. He licks at the mark and chuckles, "You'll follow all my rules, won't you?" You turn your head a little to look at him nervously, "Your rules?" Cyno gives a slight smirk, "Mhm. You wouldn't dare break the rules that come from the General Mahamatra himself, right?"

You take too long to answer and slaps your sticky cunt, "Answer me." Your breathless as you nod, your voice coming out shaky from both nerves and arousal, "I-I wouldn't break them... That would be... wrong." Cyno practically purrs at your answer. You were too naive and too much of a good girl to ever dare to break a rule and he would use this to his advantage exponentially. He brings two fingers to your lips, "Open." Your lips part for him and he pushes the fingers inside. You instinctively begin to suck on them, wetting them with your saliva.

Cyno hums in satisfaction and pulls them out, watching as they glisten in the light, "Let me play with you." Before you can ask what he means, his wet fingers push into your tight pussy, making you moan as your head falls back against his shoulder. He slowly pumps his fingers in and out, then scissors them to stretch you out. The slick sound coming from between your legs made you dizzy and he presses upwards to your g-spot. A pretty whine falls from your lips as your eyes flutter shut. Cyno removes his fingers from inside of you to play with you little clit, circling it with the pads of his sticky, wet digits, "Your pussy is so good for me. Have to get it nice and ready for my cock..."

You whine pathetically when he stops and holds the same two fingers to your lips again, "Clean them. Want you to taste how sweet you are." You take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his fingers as the taste of your own arousal fills your senses. Cyno takes them out and begins to pull his leaking fat cock from out of his pants. You're in a daze when he pats your ass and gives you another command, "Turn around and face me." Without a second thought, you turn so that you straddle him. His cock throbbing in anticipation against his abdomen. Cyno takes your hand and places it on his length, "This is what you do to me. Take responsibility."

Your pussy clenches around nothing at his words as you wrap your hand around his lightly tanned cock and pump it languidly, mesmerized by the way the pre cum leaks from his flushed tip, "Do best friends do this too?" You asked to shyly that it makes him twitch in your hand, "Yes, and they do so much more." You lock eyes for a moment, the heat of his gaze is so intense and you can't help but want more. Wanting to make Cyno happy and not wanting to go against his commands.

Cyno grips your hips, "Lift up and put my cock in." You obey, of course, lifting yourself up just enough to position yourself over his length. He raises an eyebrow when you hesitate, hovering over him. The look alone made you feel like you were guilty of doing something wrong so you immediately sink down onto him. Cyno's head falls back against the cushion of his chair as your tight, wet walls engulf his cock. "'S too big, Cyno", you whine as your face twists in pleasure. "You can take it", he growls as he thrusts up into you, making you cry out.

The grip he has on your hips tightens as he fucks up into you cute little cunt. His balls slap against your ass as he hits the deepest parts inside of you. Slapping skin, slick squelching, and grunts and moans fill the space as he fills you, "Look at you taking your best friends cock so well. Gonna let me fuck you all the time, right? Wouldn't want to disappoint me or break a rule, right? You're too good for that." "Uh-huh... I'll always be good! Don't wanna get in troubleeee", you cry as he pistons his cock in your cunt.

Cyno lands a smack on your ass and you clench hard around him, creaming on his cock. He growls at the sight of your white cream making a sticky mess at the base of his cock and dripping between his thighs. It's enough for him to be catapulted to his own end as a deep moan comes from his throat, "Take it. Be a good girl and take it all." His cock throbs wildly as his thick ropes of cum fill your sweet pussy. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his neck as his forehead rests against your shoulder.

His cock twitches a few more times before it finally settles. You both are breathless and sweaty, neither of you wanting to move from your position. You look into Cyno's scarlet eyes, face flushed from everything that happened. Cyno looks at you lips then back to your gaze, "Can I kiss you?" You blink in confusion. He had just fucked you and he was asking if he could kiss you? "Do best friends do that?", was your cute reply, genuinely wanting to know so you didn’t break any rules. He chuckles at your naivety, "Yeah, best friends do that too."

⌁₊˚⊹ ⌁₊˚⊹ ⌁₊˚⊹ ⌁₊˚⊹ ⌁₊˚⊹

a/n: somethin about scummy cyno really does it for me…

[kryptonitejelly]

Three times Jake takes on the role of your knight in shining armour. Jake Seresin x reader - I’ve imagined this in the Flyboy!universe but you don’t have to read that to read this.

College Flyboy

“12 o clock,” Jake hears you mumble into his ear as you reach up to circle your hands around his neck. Jake’s hands drop around your waist instantly, almost like a reflex as he cuts off from the conversation which he was having with the group of his teammates. They are used to it by now, Jake being distracted and dropping everything for you, so they pay him no mind, picking up easily from where he had left off.

“What am I looking at,” you can detect a current of concern, laced with a hard edge, as Jake’s eyes fan out to the background behind you, scanning over the cluster of faces in the bar to his 12 o clock direction.

“Guy in the blue shirt,” you say, hands still curled around his neck, your body taking a small shuffle until you are pressed flushed against Jake’s chest, “couldn’t shake him so I told him I had to get back to my boyfriend. Pretend, please.”

Your tone has a desperate quality to it, a sign to Jake that the blue shirt chump had been aggressive, likely he had been slimy as well.

“I got you,” Jake’s voice is almost a growl, as he catches sight of the said offender who sees you in Jake’s arm but continues to approach. He looks to be about a similar age range, but doesn’t seem to be from the same college as you both. Jake takes in the red tinge blossoming over the stranger’s cheeks, the wild look in his slightly bloodshot eyes - definitely not sober.

The stranger stops just behind you and opens his mouth to speak but is immediately cut off by Jake who simultaneously holds you tighter but doesn’t bother turning because by hell is he going to even allow the man to touch a single hair on your head. He feels your hands curl around the collar of his shirt as you turn your head to rest your cheek against his shoulder, your lips just ghosting the side of his neck. He identifies your attempt to get closer to him, to get safe, while playing into the ruse.

“Fuck off,” Jake is blunt, to the point and loud. Loud enough that it makes his teammates drop their conversation to collectively take in the sight that is unfolding. They don’t move to back Jake up because they know he’s got this, but they find themselves observing in case he does need back up. It isn’t the first time they’ve seen this happen, Jake playing the role of doting boyfriend to ward of unwanted male attention.

“Just wanted to see if she really had the boyfriend she conveniently pulled out at the last minute.”

“Seen enough?” Jake responds cooly, his gaze not leaving the other man’s. His hold on you doesn’t falter. Jake turns his head just slightly, gaze unwavering as he lets his lips brush the side of your head in an outward display of affection.

“Alright man,” the stranger holds both hands of in defeat, shrugging before walking away with an unsteady gait. His teammates resume their conversation, amused smirks on their face.

Jake doesn’t let you go until he has disappeared from sight, woven back into the crowd.

“He’s gone,” he says with a squeeze to your waist, but Jake doesn’t let go of you; not even when you unfurl your arms from around his neck. It causes you to be standing, body still flush against Jake, your hands resting lightly on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say before pressing a soft kiss to Jake’s cheek, and he finds thinking for a fleeting moment what would happen if he moved his head to capture your lips with his.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” is what Jake says before he finally lets you go.

-

Pre Flyboy

Jake hears it before he sees you. The uncomfortable fake laugh you throw out catches his attention one supermarket aisle away. It makes his brows furrow slightly and he turns on his heel to follow the sound of your voice, his search for cornstarch forgotten.

Jake’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of the problem - a man standing slightly too close to you, his gaze openly dropping down to the your ass which is clad in a pair of workout tights, tracing each of your curves.

“I know a fantastic coffee place near my apartment,” he leers openly, his gaze moving up your body to meet your eyes. Jake sees you attempting to inch away.

“Hey babe, I couldn’t find the cornstarch,” is what Jake says, loudly as he is beside you in a flash, his arm coming around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side, all while placing himself as a human barrier between you and what he’s termed in his head to now be the grocery store pervert.

He sees relief in your eyes as you tuck yourself further into his hold by sliding your arm around his middle before tucking a palm into his back pocket

“You can never find the cornstarch,” is what Jake hears you say with a laugh as you look at him through your lashes with a look thats bordering on smitten - staged, he knows, but it makes his heart skip a beat.

“Help me?” He says as he begins to steer you away by your shoulders, but not before shifting both your bodies so that he is now positioned behind you, his hand on the small of your back, shielding you from further unwanted attention.

Jake throws a glance behind his shoulder, his green eyes steely and swirling with anger. He catches the eye of the grocery store perv who, taking in the way Jake’s biceps bunch under the sleeve of his t-shirt, has turned a shade paler than before.

“Thank you,” is what you say with a visible shudder as you both round the corner.

“Anytime darlin,” Jake says, his hand still on the small of your back while leaning towards you to let his lips brush against the side of your hair.

-

Post Flyboy

“Would you like to grab a coffee?”

“I don’t think so,” you say with a shake of your head and a polite smile.

“What about a drink another time?”

“I -,” you open your mouth to respond only to be cut off by a voice that carries your way. You turn to see Jake walking towards you, a coffee cup in each hand.

“Hey baby,” he says, too loudly, large smile on his face. Jake maintains the smile as he walks towards you, but you see his gaze dart fleetingly to the man beside you.

“Sorry,” you say, flashing the man a look. You don’t get a chance to see his reaction, or the moment he walks away because Jake reaches you, his lips meeting yours immediately in a kiss that borders on being just a bit too much for being in public on a Saturday morning.

“He was actually harmless,” you say when Jake finally pulls away from you. You let your eyes flicker open, face feeling slightly heated from the kiss.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead before handing you your coffee, “I quite like playing the role of knight in shining armour.”

[annwrites]

⸻ a call to arms. part five. ⸻

· pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & jace hide yourselves away in a familiar alcove after a morning tiff. · word count: 3,286

When you wake the next morn, you feel in at least slightly better spirits.

You’d, after your 'incident' with Jace, sent the coin he’d given you to your family in King’s Landing, writing for them to send notice to you as soon as possible, informing you that they've received it.

Once you’ve broken your fast and dressed, you emerge from your chambers, wanting for an early-morning walk along the beach…only to be greeted by an unfamiliar guard outside your door.

“Where…where is Ser Myles?”

He bows his head to you. “I believe he has been reassigned, My Lady.”

You blink up at the strange man before you, anger quickly flooding your every sense.

You head directly for Jacaerys’ room.

Jace is interrupted from breaking his fast by a loud pounding on his door.

He panics, immediately worried that, mayhaps, it is Baela. 

What if she knows of last night—what nearly occurred between the two of you? What if she has come to call off their betrothal? Gods, what in Seven fucking Hells had he been thinking? What has he been since your first meeting but a couple of nights ago?

When you’re near, he finds himself unable to think straight. You cloud his judgements. Rather, force him to think with only one part of himself—and it is most certainly not with what sits between his ears, but rather his legs.

He stands, walking toward the door—lightly jumping when the pounding begins again. He wrenches it open—ready to loose his sharp tongue on whomever has forgotten their manners so early in the morn, only to be immediately cut off by you barging into his chambers.

“Where is he?” You ask acidically, swiftly swinging round to him, your loose silver hair falling over your shoulders. 

His mouth tugs into a frown.

The pleasant girl from last night has clearly fled him once again, instead replaced by one filled with fire.

“You’ll need be more specific, I’m afraid,” he replies cooly.

You take a step closer, your hands balled into tight fists at your sides, your nostrils flared. “Ser Myles, my guard. Where is he?”

He grits his teeth. “He has been reassigned.”

“To whom?” You spit.

“Not to whom, but to where,” he states flatly.

You seethe. “You sent him away.”

“I did. He was no longer suited to his role here as your protector.”

“Because he dared touch me, as if I did not do it back?” You ask with a raised brow and a hammering heart.

He takes a small step toward you, and then another. “You barely knew him. Why does it matter?”

His brow twitches in irritation. “Unless it was more than just a few ‘innocent’ touches which were shared. Mayhaps...”

He grins then, chuckling darkly, shaking his head.

“What?” You bark with vehemence. 

He steps closer, followed by another step and another, while you back up, glancing behind you, the wall on the right side of the room growing ever-closer.

“It is just your nature, isn’t it? I should’ve known as much the night last when you encouraged me to…to dishonor my betrothed.”

Your jaw falls slightly open. 

“You can’t help yourself. A wanton woman who can think only with that which is between her le—”

You slap him.

Slowly, he turns back in your direction, watching silently as tears slip down your cheeks and your chin wobbles.

“I am not the only one to blame,” you say between sobs.

His face falls slightly at the state of you. Of his own causing, no less.

“He was my friend. He was like me: lowborn. I’d found someone to talk to, and you took him away from me. Leaving me left with only the likes of you. If you wish for someone to blame for what we did, you should first take a look in the mirror, and remember whom it was who summoned whom to sup with them.”

He remains silent, only breathing steadily as he continues to stare at you.

“Jealousy and pride is no excuse to treat people as you do: disposable, lesser than, inconsequential.”

You step closer, jutting your chin upward as you stare into his brown eyes. “We are many. It is all of you who is few. You should remember that for when you are one day king, and inevitably go a step too far.”

You turn, heading for the door, slamming it behind you.

You find a quiet spot on the beach where you turn your back to your new guard and cry. 

You refuse to even speak to him. Not because you do not wish to, but because you are afraid of what may happen to him if you try.

No place is safe here.

You are filled with immeasurable guilt. For Myles—losing his position here is all your fault. Had the two of you never met, he would still be in his position. And for Baela. 

You could see it yesterday when she looked at the two of you, could hear it in her tone—the worry that Jacaerys looks upon you in a way he should not. 

She deserves better than someone like him, you’re sure. Then again, she, too, is highborn. Most like, she sees you just as he does.

As they all do.

You hate it here.

You don’t bother coming in, even when you begin to shiver from being cold. You merely sit and stare at the endless expanse of sea that lies before you.

You know your guard must be growing tired, but when you had tried telling him that if he would like to go inside he may, he’d merely told you his post was protecting you.

So you drift away in your thoughts, returning to your small abode in King's Landing, pretending you are sat upon a rocking chair, your little girl in your lap as she snacks on pastries you've made for her as you tell her stories.

Mayhaps you should instead steal away on Silverwing, as opposed to remaining here. Offer yourself to the Greens. At least that way, you will be closer to home.

You cannot support a family such as this. Neither of them deserve that which they fight for.

You wrap your arms round yourself, debating.

Jacaerys had given you a bit of time after your morning tiff in hopes that you would cool down.

He, himself, has felt in a daze in the hours since—your heated words going round and round within his mind.

And the heartbroken look he had instilled upon your face... His own had deserved to sting in return when you repaid him for his offensive accusations.

And now he treads the beach in search of you.

He is unsure what he means to do when he finds you.

More lessons in High Valyrian? Gods know you need further tutoring.

Another flying lesson upon Silverwing? He is sure you do not wish to be so close to him again.

Not today, at the very least.

Just as he begins to consider turning round and going back inside, he spots you sitting atop a small boulder, your guard at your back as you stare at the sea that lies before you with a solemn, blank expression.

You look...pale. And you shiver from the cold.

Now he has driven you even from feeling welcome in the castle where you should instead be, finding warmth.

Not that he's sure you ever did feel welcome to begin with.

All his fault...

When he meets your guard's eyes, he motions for him to return to the castle, and the man bows his head in return before turning round to leave.

You do not even notice his sudden absence.

Nor do you notice as Jacaerys stalks ever-closer.

Not until he is draping a warm cloak round your shoulders do you realize his presence.

Your head shoots up, and you quickly scowl, promptly standing.

You throw off his metaphorical olive branch, quickly marching in the other direction.

"Stop," he calls to you, retrieving his cloak, jogging to catch up to you.

You keep your mouth clamped firmly shut, refusing to speak to him.

"Please stop. I only wish to—"

You skip ahead a few steps, nearly tripping over your skirts you're so eager to create distance between you and he.

He lets out a low curse, spots an opportunity off to the side, then swiftly reaches forward, taking your hand in an iron-tight grip as he pulls you alongside him into a familiar alcove.

"Let go of me!" You shout, trying desperately to yank yourself free of him.

He holds firm, refusing to let you escape him as he hides the two of you away round a corner.

He pushes you back against a stone wall, desperate to make you listen, until you slap his face again, tears running down your own.

"I hate you! I cannot stand the sight of you! Being near you is unbearable! You royal arse!"

You begin pounding tiny fists against his chest, trying to push him away, until he has reached his limit, and he pins your arms to the wall behind you, just the same as before.

"I'm sorry!" He shouts.

You quiet then, staring up at him with vehemence.

"For all of it. My beastly behavior since we met. It has been..." He shakes his head. "Un-princely of me. I just..."

He cannot say it—that he both envies your looks, while they are also simultaneously the reason he lusts after you. And that you have figured him out with ease time and again. His insecurities over someone like you claiming a dragon, which he had thought made him special to have. And someone like you somehow being more worldly than he—a royal prince.

You know more than him, and it had stoked his ire time and again with how...mature you seem. Making him feel a child in return.

But that same maturity... Gods, how he longs to see you exemplify it again and again.

"You just what?" You spit, pushing back against him, though it does you little good.

There is a brief silence which hangs between you, until he comes closer, the familiar feel of his erection becoming present as he presses it to your abdomen.

"I want you."

You roll your eyes. "As I am well-aware. The feeling is not returned, I assure you. Now, let me—"

"Gods, you're fucking impossible, aren't you?"

"Me?! You've no idea what you want. Me, or Baela, or—"

He crushes his lips to yours while you squeal and squirm against him. And then you clamp down on his lower lip, drawing blood.

He wrenches himself away, but still holds firm to you.

"You just...you just bit me!" He cries in shock.

"Try that again and I'll do it again," you seethe.

He sneers, squeezing your wrists impossibly tighter.

"Fine. Then I shall..." He pauses.

Is he truly about to do this?

He glances to the side—the direction of where the alcove's entrance lies—then back to you.

He releases you, kneeling.

"What're you—"

"Teach me," he says, blinking up at you.

And you stare down at him, taken aback, quickly cooling.

"Teach..."

He reaches beneath your skirts, sliding a warm hand up your calf.

"Teach me how to please you. Allow me to show you how truly sorry I am in this...other way," he says with a slight smirk.

"I have taught you much these last few days. It is time, mayhaps, you return the favor."

He slides his hand higher. "It will, after all, be for your own benefit, at least."

He presses a soft kiss to your stomach, over your dress. "Allow me to please you."

You swallow nervously. "Jace..."

His face slowly falls and he glances away, softly shaking his head. "Foolish," he whispers. "Forgive me—"

You shakes your head, not wishing to humiliate him. Not when it comes to this. Even if he mayhaps deserves to be hurt in return for how he did the same just this morn.

"No, it's just... How am I to trust that I...consent, and you do not, once again, throw it back in my face, just as you did with what occurred between us last night?"

He slides his hand up the back of your thigh. "You have me on my knees. Begging you to allow me to pleasure you. You need more reassurance that you have me at your mercy now?"

Your lip twitches. Oh, Gods, this is so very strange.

"What do you... I mean, there are many things..." You stumble over your words, searching for that which you mean to ask.

His eyes trail down your body before settling on that which is directly before him—hidden beneath skirts of his own selection.

"I would use my mouth, Y/N, if it please you."

"What of...Baela? Or... If this is your first experience, are you sure you—"

"I know what I want. And I know that it is you. Here. Now. Will you not allow me this most singular indulgence?"

Your heart pounds between your breasts and all sensations of cold have fled your body, instead replaced by a blooming warmth spreading across your electrified skin.

Finally, you nod.

And he smiles.

He reaches to the hem of your skirt, pushing it upwards, and you take it from him, holding it above your waist as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your smallclothes, easing them down your thighs until they're pooled round your shoes.

You step out of them and he tucks them into his pocket before taking your bare hips in either of his hands, staring at your glistening cunt with wide eyes.

He licks his lips, swallowing thickly.

He gazes up at you once again. "How do I... What do I do, exactly?"

You nearly burst into a fit of nervous giggles, but use all your strength to fight the feeling down.

"Do you see...um...that small, fleshy hood—so to speak?"

He reaches forward, pulling it upwards, nodding, revealing a small pink pearl beneath.

"That—what you've just...revealed is what gives a woman her...pleasure."

He grins. "I believe I know all I need for the moment being."

And with that, he dives between your thighs, planting his full mouth openly against your sex, beginning to suck and run his tongue between your hot folds.

You throw your head back, sucking in a sharp gasp as your eyes flutter closed.

You quickly thread your fingers tightly in his dark curls, tugging his face impossibly closer to your sex.

You release a shuddering breath, sighing his name. "Jace..."

He reaches up, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before he bends his neck to the side, diving ever-deeper with his tongue, desperate to fuck you with it.

He spreads your lips with his fingers, running his tongue along your dripping entrance, moaning against your heat.

"Gods, Jace, just like that."

His lip twitches, glad for your approval.

He kisses you sloppily, making loud, wet, smacking noises against your cunt—his cock straining painfully against his breeches all the while.

Palming himself over them only serves to makes the pain all the worse.

He breaks from you, staring up at you from under hooded lids—his face now slick from your arousal.

"May I untie my breeches, My Lady?"

Your brow twitches? He...he wants your permission to give himself relief?

"Y-yes, of course."

He nods, just once. "Thank you."

Your brows shoot up at his reply, watching as he tugs desperately against black leather strings. Finally, he reveals himself: long and hard, and the pink tip weeping with seed.

He does not stroke himself even once before he returns his full attentions, instead, to you.

And it is with fervor that he does.

He slurps and gasps and moans loudly in the back of his throat as he dines upon the most delectable part of you.

"Gods," he mutters against your mound. "You're so beautiful. Mm, and delicious."

He spreads your labia again, kneeling even lower as he flicks his tongue repeatedly against your pulsating entrance—dragging his speared tip back and forth, back and forth...

You gasp, clenching his curls tightly in both of your fists before pushing his face back against where you most want his mouth to be: against your clit.

"My clit—that...part I—"

He finds it instantly.

"Oh, Gods, good boy, Jace!"

He growls against you, his ministrations turning animalistic as he sucks and sucks against it, flicking his tongue, doing his utmost to please and tease.

You release his hair, tugging down the top of your gown, revealing your naked breasts before gathering your skirts again just as they've begun to slip over his head.

You want to see him.

Want to watch what he's doing to you.

Or, mayhaps, you are doing to him.

"Your fingers...slip two of them inside of me."

He does as instructed, easing them between your tight walls. The sensation he finds to be most unexpected: they are hot as fire, warm and wet and squishy, and utterly delightful.

Now he sees what all the fuss is about.

"Curl them upwards," you say between sighs.

He does.

"Now massage."

Slowly, he makes a beckoning motion with them and you gasp loudly, your eyes popping open.

"Yes, just like that. Good, you're doing so well!"

He pushes his face against your stomach—his nose pressed so hard into it that he can hardly breathe. So, he instead gasps for breath between your legs between long sucks and pleasant licks.

You bite your lower lip and Jace assumes he's most-certainly doing something right when those velvet walls begin to clench quickly around his soaked digits—your arousal so much that it's now running down his palm.

"Yes, yes, Jace, just like—oh, Gods, good boy—yes!"

He hums in contentment, glad to know he is doing right—is pleasing you so well in this way.

Your fingers tremble against his scalp, your breaths cause your body to shudder, and your thighs shake, but you do all you can to remain upright as you grow ever-closer.

He continually flicks his tongue against your too-sensitive bundle and you begin to whine in response.

"So close. You're doing so well... Gods, just a bit—just a bit more, My Prince"

He eases a third finger inside you, continuing to gently coax, and you gasp loudly.

"Yes! Yes! Nearly—"

He swirls his tongue round and round, on both his knees still, one of his hands tightly gripping your ankle for balance as he works fervently in your favor.

"Jace, oh Gods, I can't—I—Yes! Yes! Good boy! Yes!"

You finish against his face—against his tongue—giggling and gasping and whimpering all the while as your orgasm overtakes you.

You could swear you hear dragons roaring in the distance, but cannot know in your current state.

Eventually, you calm and when you look down, Jace is nearly on all fours, staring up at you with such a look as you have never before seen: lustful and wanton and overtaken with desire.

His face and hairline is slick, as well as his right hand.

Finally, he stands on wobbly legs, and it's then that you notice his cock is absolutely covered in his thick, white seed.

"Did...did you...?"

He crushes his lips to yours—his wet erection pressing against your bare stomach, leaving its own kiss in its wake as he pulls back after allowing you to taste yourself.

"I did not need even touch myself to finish at your hand," he mumbles with a pleased smirk, returning his lips to your own.

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld @cecestea @daisyhxsh

@burningwitchobject @zizouu23 @baybaybear1 @sugyomama @dracaryxzs

@hayloftxxo @gentlejoy @darlingcharling-blog @s0urw00lf @usaguisenpaisblog

@kqlopsia @marvel-at-stucky

[whamss]

Rose would be a shitty girlfriend but people really miss the flavor with exploring that when they take it as Rose not liking Kanaya as much as vice versa as opposed to her being painfully into Kanaya but not knowing how to like. Empathize with other people properly and being too self-absorbed to attend to any of Kanaya's needs, or even really notice when her own behavior is hurting her.

I think it's pretty well-established that Rose is super into her. Girl who drank her ass off before their first date bc she was nervous and constantly turmoiled over whether or not Kanaya was going to break up w her and wanting to make things better between them even leading up to her death, only people to say that she doesn't like Kanaya. If Kanaya broke up with Rose she would perish. Lines like "I never even got to tell her I love her" tell us nothing if not that Rose was painfully in love with Kanaya, but could never find it in herself to tell her. Whether this is because she was trying to protect herself on the chance that Kanaya got sick of her shit and decided to break up or because Rose was so out of it constantly she just could never get it out is up to interpretation. But Rose being a shitty girlfriend and her relationship with Kanaya being extremely important to her aren't concepts that are mutually exclusive. If anything I think they play hand in hand.

I also just think people need to give Kanaya more autonomy than they do. Don't get me wrong the power dynamic IS inbalanced. Rose is insane and constantly making mistakes and impulsive decisions and Kanaya is always left picking up the pieces when she does something crazy. Rose hurts Kanaya to an incomparable degree. Kanaya has far more patience for Rose than she probably should, but she isn't a doormat. The entire interaction Kanaya and Rose had on the meteor, where Kanaya flipped out on Rose for drinking right before they were due for a big fight, tells us so much about what their dynamic was leading up to this imo. This is a conversation they've had countless times before, Kanaya's anger is always followed up with some fearful suggestion from Rose that Kanaya is going to break up with her. Kanaya is a girl dealing with a partner deep in the throes of alcoholism, she's painfully compliant, but their interactions both leading up to them getting together and once they do both on the meteor and off of it show that the relationship anxiety is very one-sided. Rose is the only one worried about them breaking up, because she sucks and she knows that. Kanaya cares deeply for Rose but if either of them are going to be cooly cutting things off between them it's her, not Rose.

I love giving rosemary divorce particles, I can never be convinced that two girls who got together That Young could make it work between them without a ton of bumps in the road. I love that Rose is fucked up and self-centered and I like when people acknowledge this, but she DOES love Kanaya. To her own detriment. Kanaya is the one constantly disillusioned by Rose's behavior, the one who's commitment is constantly tested, not the other way around. Wish more people could acknowledge this... Rose loves Kanaya! And Kanaya loves Rose too, I think. But people really wooby her when they try to frame even the likes of pre-retcon rosemary like Kanaya is a nothing but a victim of Rose's vices, and that Rose somehow doesn't actually want to be in a relationship with her.

Pre-retcon rosemary was definitely on track to an untimely break up though. Rose wasn't going to be the one to pull that trigger though

[mraprilfools]

Summary: As Vox's personal Physician it's always been a challenge to get him to take care of himself. Your motives originally may have been professional, but the line started to blend somewhere along the way. Now you're determined to get him to listen.

Pairing: GN!Reader x Vox

Contents: Mostly self-indulgent fluff. Bashful Vox, Doctor Reader, Assertive Reader, Reader has Glasses, Kissing, Lots of Flirting and Banter, Vox is a dork, Vox has freckles he hides

Word Count: 8k

A/N: Dedicated to @6esiree for her Follower contest! Please accept my humble Vox fluff. As for my followers, keep an eye out for tomorrow's Imagine for a very special message from The Heart of a Machine's Vox!

“You need to cut down on your caffeine consumption. Not only are you hopelessly addicted, but your quality of sleep is suffering as a result.” The tests had been taken again, and again, and again at your boss’ request. As a professional, you had standards. You weren’t going to let something as stubborn masculine machismo bother you. But the results on your medical chart had been almost completely static. The metallic nub of your pen rapped against the clipboard over the offending results that kept staring you back in the face.

Vox was hunched over on the examination table, refusing to face you. Already slipping on the buttons of his dress shirt.

“I didn’t say that the examination was over sir.” You reminded him, pressing up the glasses hanging on the bridge of your nose.

The artificial glow of that screen finally turned to greet you. The artificial smile he had was so kind to constantly parade in your presence, as obnoxious as always. “I am well aware, but I am saying it’s over. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

A challenge to your ability. A bold one too. There were few doctors knowledgeable enough in both machinery and biology. Fewer fanatical enough to learn the harmonious weaving inside your employer so you found the accusation funny. All but a single, “Ha” came out in a scoff.

Sparks of electricity crackled from Vox’s antennae, and the large crimson pools narrowed into squints. “And what’s so funny Doc?”

“You are Darling. If you wanted to get rid of me, we both know you would have long ago.” You curled your lips in a smirk, a clear defiance of your boss. With only half of his buttons slipped through, he gave up on the rest and rose to his feet. Long legs made quick strides over to you to make a direct challenge. Even when he stood nearly a foot over you, you didn’t feel intimidated in the least. You dropped the clipboard over to the counter, meeting his gaze defiantly, but cooly.

A foot stepped between your legs, and his body came close. You took a step back only for the sake of your balance, then another until he had your back against a wall. His hands pinned you in place while the eerie glow of his screen only grew more intense. There was a false cheer in Vox’s voice even as his smile never dropped.

“You’re cute, Doc. You’ve made yourself valuable, so you’re right. I give you a lot more slack than I would tolerate from anyone else in this worthless shit heap. However…” He pried one hand free to clap around your jaw. Holding you in place when the bladed end of his thumb pressed against your cheek, drawing a bead of blood from the pinpoint. A directed threat, no doubt to remind you that he could kill you at any time.

But he hasn’t.

“More people are falling to hell every day, you won’t be so unique forever.”

“So you admit that I’m one of the few who do know what they’re doing. So, can I count on you cutting down your coffee consumption down to three cups a day?”

His chest rose and fell as the energy left him. Vox pulled his hand away and returned to fixing up the buttons on his shirt. Turning his back to you to fetch the sweater vest thrown over the table, slipping it on next. A zipper on the side turned out to be the secret around putting on clothes when your head was a large television. Having a tailor right in the tower must be quite useful. “I can do the coffee. However, I don’t have time to sleep the full six hours you are recommending.”

“Daily.” You remind him.

He spun back around, uttering a scoff as his hands slipped through each sleeve of his blazer. The pointed cyan claws slid across the lapels. “Daily?! Now you’re just being ridiculous Doc.”

“Have I been known to tell you jokes, Vox?” You lifted a brow.

“Yes, actually. You make jokes about how stupid half of my employees are all the time. The other half you have creative insults about how brutish, boring, or pathetic they are. I’m starting to think you don’t like anyone in the tower...” Vox raised both his brows, sporting that smarmy little grin.

“Because I don’t, save a few exceptions.” You answered. “I’m not paid to like people. I’m paid to keep you healthy.” You pushed off the wall, seating yourself in the single office chair that had been afforded for the office. The leather squeaked with the new weight, wheels shifting from the sudden weight that had you barreling toward your coffee cup. You draped one leg over the other, pressing your back against the chair while you gave your boss your undivided attention.

The cyan eyes rolled within the crimson pools. At last, his bow tie was tied around his neck perfecting the image of the business CEO. Almost a shame how quick he always was to put his clothes back on. The technological and biological nature of his body was a near obsession of yours; even if you never admitted it.

“Is the friendship-making package extra?”

You raised your shoulders in answer. You hooked your fingers around the mug on the desk with your cup of coffee. The irony of it after telling him to cut his consumption didn’t bother you. “Do you want me to make friends Vox? I don’t see how that would benefit you at all.”

“It won’t.” He admitted as he walked by. The chair was sent backward as his claws laid hands on it, forcing you to make eye contact when he lingered from behind. “Only wondering how much I pay you goes into pretending to like me.”

You couldn’t help but break out into more laughter. The sight of which earned a sultry frown and a retraction of the hand that had come so close to him. You caught your glasses, preventing them from careening off your face. “You don’t pay me anything for that sir, you’re one of the few people in hell I do like.”

“You have a weird way of showing it… telling me to take care of myself.” He chuffed, shooting a nasty glare at the coffee in your hands. Unaffected, you took a sip. He could cope.

“I know, I’m a trailblazer. Do you need me to prescribe you sleeping pills or do you think you can handle it?”

Vox laughed, “Doctor, please! I can do something as simple as fall asleep! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” Even if you couldn’t see it, you could almost feel that eye roll looking at the back of his head. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with that curt goodbye.

Vox, however, never listened to his doctor. Even IF you were always right. It was a hunch as you were finishing up writing up samples for the night. But the thought came to mind to check on your boss to see if he was heeding your well-intentioned advice. Your employee keycard gave you generous access, only beneath the Vee’s who could go everywhere. So it wasn’t any trouble stopping by that ridiculous office of his.

He was seated before a mural of monitors depicting snapshots of the lives all across Pentagram City. Wires were currently plugged into the back of Vox’s head, absorbed in his… information-gathering activities. Vox was completely unaware of your presence. You breathed a heavy sigh, resigning to the fact that you once again had to get this man to take care of himself. You passed through the bridge without fear, where the circling shark tanks beneath spoke of a deadly fall several floors down. Such a waste of space for an aesthetic. Your polished shoes smacked into the back of the chair, startling the Overlord within.

Arcs of electricity shot out from all angles. Coating the chair and his body as the wires all unplugged from their ports one by one and the frantic man spun around with an intense swirl in his right eye. The claws extended, drawing gouges in the rests beside him. All the fight in him sputtered out the instant he caught sight of you, painted over with annoyance.

“Doc! I did not call for you. What are you doing here?”

With your arms folded across your chest, you answered. “Coming to catch you red-handed. You should be sleeping.”

“Shouldn’t you?” He fired back, hunching low.

Touche, but you wouldn’t admit it. You pushed up the frame of your glasses before you answered.

“It’s not my fault the help I have in the lab is so incompetent. I can’t trust them to do something as simple as label specimens. It would be a terrible safety risk if I left it to them. If anything, I am a hero of Voxtek.”

Vox laughed, leaning back into his chair. It was genuine laughter, unlike that dorky evil cackle he thought nobody ever heard when he was alone. A palm smacked his thigh, with a crooked grin sliding heavy to the right of his screen. “Sounds like we’re both guilty, Doctor. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Tell who exactly?” You asked, striding up to the man. You sat on one of his thighs spread so wide it was practically an invitation. The overlord stiffened, digging his claws back into the plastic armrest, staring a hole at you. “What darling? There aren’t any other chairs and you wouldn’t have me stand the whole time would you?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to try and seduce me.” He answered.

“Ah? And why do you think I am trying to seduce you?” You sent the question back to him, easing until your back pressed against the rest. You threw one leg over the other, balancing yourself by clutching the armrest. Your fingers only brushed against the cyan claws and he instantly yanked them out of reach.

“Oh, do you sit in any man’s lap then? And here I thought I was special.”

“I don’t like most people, Vox. You are special.”

Unexpectedly, the words brought a strange light blue glow to Vox’s face. He was just as shocked as you were, throwing an arm to cover the strange color in his face. There was an attempt to hide it as his face turned away, but he didn’t throw you off so you took that as a victory.

“What do you want?”

“For you to go to bed darling, that should be obvious.”

When he lowered the arm, you could see a deep frown on his display. The technicolor eyes bore into yours, locking you in eye contact trying to force the truth from you. A common tactic as most couldn’t lie while maintaining eye contact. But you were telling the truth so you made yourself comfortable admiring the view until the silence made him give up. With a sigh, he put his hand on your back and forced you back to your feet.

“Alright, I’ll go to bed, Doctor.” Vox shoved you off, forcing you back to your feet. He refused to even touch you, only lurching forward until you were forced to either catch yourself or fall. With a low grumble, you fixed your coat, keeping well away from the ledge.

Vox took two steps toward the bridge when he stopped and turned to look at you. “Do you flirt with all your patients?”

“Well darling, considering that you are my only patient? Yes.”

Vox chuffed, hooking a thumb forcefully into his pocket. The back of the TV greeted you, shoulders rolling as he weighed your answer. “And before I hired you, how many of your patients did you hit on?”

A single digit tapped your chin, which meant thinking back to something that hardly mattered. How often you satisfy your urges shouldn’t matter to your boss. But for the sake of this flirting to keep going you obliged. “Only the hot ones darling. I jump the bones of the ones I want nothing to do with besides their dick. But I take my time with the ones I really like.”

More electricity danced from his antennae. To busy his hands, Vox tugged and pulled at his bowtie. There was a joyful lilt in his tone as he answered, “Interesting. Good night Doctor.”

“Good night, Vox.” You followed right behind him, smiling with satisfaction. You felt happy that you finally got him to see reason, even if it meant flirting a little.

Or so you thought.

The next day, you decided to make another visit to his office to check if he went to bed on time. He was still plugged into the system, in the early hours of the morning. A little more flirting and back and forth was just as effective.

And the next day. There he was far more cold, not passing the buck back to you. But when you tried to excuse yourself, he’d find some excuse to make you stay for a minute or two longer.

And the next day too! Each time conning you into spending a little extra time with him. At first, it was only fifteen minutes. Then half an hour, and then you ended up lingering for a WHOLE hour. That was when you realized that if this got any worse, YOUR work would suffer.

Now that? That was unforgivable.

At this point, you suspected he was doing this on purpose. When you came charging down the bridge that evening, he was already spinning in place to greet you. You were expected. The bastard. The plugs in the back of his head popped free. Vox spun around in time to greet you with a wide smirk on his screen that faltered when his chair ended up swerving a little too far to the right. A heel smacked against the floor, giving him friction to push him back.

“You saw nothing,” Vox said.

“Pretty sure I did, you are up late. Again.”

“I slept yesterday. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Vox bent forward in his chair, looking smug. He was intentionally trying to rile you up now. You didn’t even attempt to hide your sigh. You glanced over to the monitors, still the same old surveillance for the most part. But there was one screen that stood out. The man was on Veddit. You adjusted your glasses to get a better look. Upon closer look, it was some subveddit asking advice about how to tell when somebody has a crush on you.

He was so pathetic it was endearing sometimes. His eyes followed yours, doing a double take when he noticed what you were looking at and smacked the console turning all the monitors off. Vox’s voice came out filtered as he attempted to sound assertive. “That’s classified company information. Nothing you are meant to be privy to Doctor. I’ll have to fire you if you keep looking.”

“I didn’t know relationship advice was sensitive company data. Are you having trouble with men, Vox?”

A faint blue light covered Vox’s screen beneath his eyes, his cyan pupils unable to meet you. Teeth clenched, his fingers rapped loudly against the armrests of his chair. You kept silent, watching him stew under the uncomfortable silence. His knee began to bounce, his fingertips clacking against the hard plastic until at last he groaned and rolled his eyes. “No! I could have anyone I wanted in Pentagram City in my bed by the end of tomorrow night if I wanted.”

Laughter spilled before you could help it. The sound inspired a swirl from his right eye, and another tense clutch of his claws gouging his chair. “What’s so funny?”

“You darling. You’re adorable.”

The color on his face grew more intense, as did his frown. He made some incoherent mumbling you couldn’t quite understand, but you were pretty sure at least one of those was an insult.

“How about a bet then, Darling? Whoever can bring a new partner into their bed first wins? If I win, you promise to go to bed no later than 1 AM. And if you win…” You sucked through your teeth, watching as his screen grew even more pale. A cyan claw nervously wove around the bow tie on his neck.

“If I win, you’re all mine for an evening,” Vox interjected.

Now there was a surprise, so he could take the lead. The man was already pushing himself up to his feet, stretching his back as he rose to his full height. “It’s about time I remind you who you work for.” Now he was compensating, with that blustering smile and the way he pulled on his lapels.

“Then it is settled! You can have an entire evening to see if you can make me as obedient as the rest of your employees.” You agreed. Unknown to Vox, you already had a plan that secured your victory. But you let him stew in the joy of his deal a little longer. The way his smile took up half his screen was endearing.

A pointed end met your chin as he forced you to look at him, the harsh artificial light shining a little too close for comfort. “I’ll make you sing for me, Doc. Though you are right… I’d almost miss your backbone. Almost.”

The screen was coming in close, dangerously so. With nowhere to go with that claw currently suck in your chin, you brushed away the mood with a question. “Would my magnanimous boss be willing to walk me home? Things have been rather dangerous in my neighborhood lately.”

Suspicion immediately colored his expression, with arcs of lightning dancing along his frame. Vox whipped his hand away, standing ramrod straight. “Didn’t you want me to go to bed? Trying to get a head start on me Doc?”

You coyly tilted your head. “No? If you’re that worried about that I can get somebody else to walk me. I’m pretty sure I could easily get Papermint to--”

A metallic claw smacked your shoulder, pointed ends digging into your flesh as a strained smile greeted you. Vox’s laughter came out deeply filtered. “That won’t be necessary! That man couldn’t defend you from a paper bag. I’ll be winning our little wager before the night ends, as I said. So I’ll gladly see you home and asleep while I take my victory.”

The pinprick stung, but it was a kind of pain that sent a shiver down your spine. Your hand laid over his, feeling the cool skin beneath for only a second before he yanked it away.

That was now the second time he yanked his hand from yours. Curious.

“Not if you are sleep-deprived, Vox. Come on then, it’s a bit of a walk through a bad neighborhood so I hope you aren’t too fond of your shoes.” You spun around first, taking the lead down the bridge. The larger overlord quickly strode over to catch up to you, refusing to let you guide him. Hands behind his back, he continued to stare at you from the corner of his screen, and he was terribly obvious.

“What is it darling?” You asked.

“...Can you stop calling me that?”

“What, darling?”

There was an uneasy shifting as he pushed out his pockets. The electronic door hissed open when the two of you approached by the proximity of the Overlord alone. The two of you took a turn down the hallways, empty and feeling almost haunted at these early hours.

“Yes.”

By how short the answer was, you suspected he wasn’t going to give you a reason why. As confident and blustering the man could be, there were always these little nuggets of insecurity that oozed. He was overcompensating. For most people, they wouldn’t bother to look any deeper. People were far more inclined to see what they wanted to see or to ignore anything that would be far too bothersome to address. A fact Vox relied on far too much.

Because you took an undeniable interest in this man. You knew his body better than anyone as his doctor. Knew how his heart was nothing but to ease his body dysmorphia. How he regulated his heat, how viruses affected his body, and how a simple cold could still lay him low. Initially, you wanted nothing more than to tear him open and learn everything but lately… you wanted to solve the riddle behind the little things. Such as why he wouldn’t let you touch his hand. Or why his screen always got a little brighter when you entered the room.

But if you pushed somebody too hard who didn’t want to be known, you risked pushing them away. This would require a delicate touch.

“Very well, I will have to call you something special then.”

There was another flash of static as Vox pushed the call elevator button. The repeated shifting of his cyan irises was so obvious you had to hide your smile underneath your palm pretending to hide a cough.

“Like what? Voxxy?”

“Voxxy is cute...” You admitted with a shrug, “But that’s not special. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of exes call you that.”

Fragmentation flashed over this screen at that moment, the crimson pools almost comically large in his screen. The ding of the elevator was his saving grace, striding in quickly to save face. “I’ll let you know if you pick something unique then.”

Unique. Most people would likely pick something with his name or his head. Picture Box, Plasma, Sparky. In the silence of the elevator, you leaned against the wall and considered it. A nickname for you alone to call him. Vox joined you. Leaning against the wall almost close enough to touch but you knew better than to reach out and chance him pulling his hand away a third time.

“Dove.”You suggested.

“That’s… uh--” Vox let out a breathy chuckle. “Quite an old-fashioned nickname don’t you think? I think people stopped using that decades ago.”

“Do you dislike it…?”

Claws settled on the rail behind him, clicking against the bare metal. Each metallic noise sent shivers up your spine, seeing them so close but out of reach.

“I don’t dislike it, no. I’m not quite so nostalgic as half of Hell seems to be, but I can appreciate the effort.” The rare gentle smile on his screen was a sort you’d never seen before. Not the fabricated nonsense to disarm viewers or the manic joy when he was doing something comically evil.

Ping

The elevator came to a sudden halt as it hit the first floor. You stepped out first, with your boss lagging shortly behind. Thanks to how early in the morning it was, the two of you weren’t especially bothered by employees or gawking pedestrians. Hell in the early evenings was often when you could find the worst of it. Drunkards, people stabbed in the middle of the streets, demons locked in heat fucking in any half-discreet location they could find. It was a place of sin and debauchery and everyone happily indulged. Vox was a wary individual you learned from watching him.

Despite being one of the most powerful men in the Pride Ring he constantly watched the streets looking for threats. Occasionally he would catch you looking at him, blush, and look away. After the third or fourth time, he scoffed and tugged on his collar.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that? Actually- WHY are you flirting with me so blatantly? Are you trying to get a promotion?”

“Can I be promoted from your personal physician?”

“No.”

“Then the only reason is because I like you.”

There was a question of why, obvious by the way he looked at you full of confusion. “I… wasn’t expecting such an honest answer.”

You laughed. “This is hell Dove, there’s nothing to be gained by being shy. Somebody else might try to sink their claws into you first and I don’t like to lose.”

“Your wager seems counter-intuitive to your goal.” Vox rolled his eyes. Yet at the same time, he was reaching out to you. His claws bumped against your fingertips for only a fraction of a second. They were cold and sharp to the touch, but having conquered the wall put a pep in your step.

“On the contrary, I believe it’s proven quite effective. You are taking me home so another man doesn’t.”

“I-Wait, were you manipulating me?!”

You laughed again, hiding your great smile behind your hand. “I was! But you manipulate all of hell daily so I think you’ve lost all right to hold that against me.”

Vox stopped, narrowing his great big eyes. “I could leave right now, or did you account for that in your plan too?”

“Mmn, no I had planned to drag you into my bed tonight.”

A bright blue blush flashed over the man’s screen, his arm rising to try and hide it. Sparks and electricity danced between each prong. “I--! That’s not what we bet on!”

“No? The bed was to drag a new partner into our beds tonight. I’ve never been with you, so you count Dove.”

Still masking his face, Vox was now wavering, looking behind him as he tried to determine whether to foil your plot now or fall prey to it. Even this game of indecision was fun to watch. He sucked through his teeth, tapping his foot against the concrete.

“Doesn’t telling me your plan ruin your chances?”

“No, to my experience telling a man point blank you want them is far more effective than being shy about it. Am I wrong?” You flashed a smile full of teeth. “Of course, it also has a chance to backfire and make them so nervous they run. But I don’t believe you aren’t quite that timid.”

“Tch, hardly. Fine.” His claw clamped around your wrist. Cold, awkward, and grating against your bone it wasn’t quite what you imagined. You had a strong suspicion it was that exact reason that made him so hesitant to touch you before. He dragged you forward, but after you reached the end of the street he realized that he had no idea where he was taking you. When he looked at you for help, you laughed. As predicted, he sulked.

“Sorry, sorry! You are just so cute! We’re almost there. It’s that apartment over there.” You pointed straight ahead to a sleek modern apartment. It was one of the nicer buildings in the Entertainment district, one of Voxtek’s provided housing. The familiar V on the building clued Vox in.

The walk became closer to a power walk as he took you into your apartment. Having to at least concede to let you lead to take him to your apartment on the third floor, fourth door down the hall. He was deathly silent watching you unlock the door, following behind you as quietly as a mouse inside. That same nervous jitters returned to the usually powerful and confident CEO as he found himself in a strange apartment that wasn’t his own. Perhaps he expected you to jump his bones immediately but you instead took off your shoes, and lab coat, and made your way inside.

“Would you like tea, Dove? Sleepy-time tea ought to help you fall asleep.”

“Fall… asleep?” Vox asked. All the wind in his sails had fluttered out, baffled by the turn of events.

“Yes darling, what did you think I was taking you to my bed for? You are up past your bedtime.” You didn’t even attempt to hide the smug smile on your face, so instead you focused on filling a kettle and setting it on the stove.

“I--- You tricked me!”

“Indeed I did. Are you upset?”

To your surprise, he wasn't. He was deathly silent, standing in the hallway lost, unsure of what was going on. A claw hooked around his bow tie, untying it to make himself comfortable. Next came off the blazer, and then the top hat left on the coat rack by the door. Normally meant only to contain your coat, it added a touch of domesticity to see your coat have a partner. The blue and white looked nice. Could only hope the two of you would meld just as harmoniously. Vox sat down at your dining room table, taking a look around your abode.

“I’ve never been dragged into somebody's place to only sleep with them before. You’re… an odd one Doc.”

“I’ve been told.” You answered in a sing-song tone, preparing the tea cups. A packet of sleepy-time tea tucked into each porcelain cup with saucers meant to carry a touch of your personality. “I like you too much to bed you this early.”

“I-- don’t get that. If you like me, doesn’t that mean I’d already be inside you, fucking you on your kitchen counter?” Vox scoffed, rapping his nails against the table. The kettle hissed with steam when the water was ready. After laying down the teacups and saucers you popped the kettle off the stove and poured into each cup. Joining your boss from the chair directly across from him.

“Come now, isn’t that how courtship used to work? A man would get to know a woman, and show her that he really liked her for her and not just her body. It’s like that Dove. Now, I would love to unwrap you but I’m more curious to know the man you are. Like-- why don’t you like it when I touch your hand?”

Vox twitched, pulling his hand immediately off the table, suddenly self-conscious. “Who said I don’t like you touching my hand sweetheart?” He forced that fake smile of his, taking a friendly artificial tone.

“Because you keep pulling it away whenever I touch it.”

The smile fell, and his eyes fell toward the amber liquid in the cup. He lifted the cup, testing to see if it had enough time to steep. It had not even been a minute, so all he tasted was hot water. He set the cup down, feeling bitter. “What if I don’t want to talk about it?”

“Then you don’t have to. But I want to know.”

The chair skid back, with your boss leaning forward. “Let’s… forget this getting-to-know-me bullshit Sweetheart. It’s stupid, this is hell. I can fuck you until your eyes roll into the back of your head and forget this whimsy of yours Doc. You're my employee. Nothing more.”

You set your chin on the nest of your overlaid hands, matching his eyes. You pushed a little too hard. “No, you’re getting your sleep whether you like it or not. If we have to sit here in silence, I’m making sure you get the sleep you need, Vox.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Vox’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. Waiting three minutes for tea to steep felt like an eternity to him. “A secret for a secret Doc. I’ll tell you why, but in return, you need to tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.” An accusatory finger jut your way.

“Do you want to get to know me too, Dove?” Unafraid, you coyly tilted your head. Vox opened his mouth to respond, shut it, and turned his screen.

“...Yes. I’ve never had somebody care this much for my health or try to get to know me. You’re weird, but not in a… bad way I guess. I’m not saying-- you’ll ever be more to me than an employee-- don’t get the wrong idea.” He quickly interjected his point. But the shuffling in his chair and the way he weighed his words so heavily you were liking your chances. “But I like talking to you Doc.”

“Well...” You began, skidding your foot against the floor. “I was once madly and deeply in love with a man before. I was utterly, completely besotted in a way I bet you never would have expected. I wrote and sang him poetry. Spent many evenings dancing with him by candlelight, and had disgustingly kinky sex in public spaces. But my favorites were always the nights when he’d be gentle with me like I was the most precious thing in all worlds.”

Vox’s mouth hung open and then shut. A fresh shade of color danced across his screen at the bold confession “You’re… right. I have a hard time believing that. You’re the last person I imagined being a romantic.”

You sputtered a laugh. “Right? I was surprised too. Have you ever been in love like that before?”

“I’m not answering that question.” He immediately shut you down. “I don’t like you touching my hands because… most people are scared of them. They hurt, they’re cold, they aren’t nice to hold at all. They’re great, don’t get me wrong! When I need to get people in line they’re a fantastic tool for intimidation. But well, we’re demons. I’m not… built for intimacy. Inside or out.” Voxmotioned over his body with the aforementioned hands.

“They’re beautiful hands though, Vox. When you grabbed my wrist it hurt a little but it wasn’t a bad pain. They’re more than worth it for you.”

The familiar blush returned, coming with such a vengeance you swore you saw some white pixels mixed in within the blush. Like a nebula reflected on his screen, little imperfections that made him look endlessly beautiful. “Noted. So, what happened to that guy? You wouldn’t be bothering with me if he was still in your life.”

“We were… incompatible. There’s a piece of me that’s broken beyond repair inside that made me fundamentally wrong for him. It wasn’t his fault or mine. Closer to mine I suppose, since I cannot quiet the demon inside me that threatens to tear my guts out raw from envy.” The memory came bitterly, mostly because it came with a realization that even for the man you loved most you couldn’t be fixed.

A cyan claw hooked through the handle, with Vox sipping his tea. He had grown deathly silent, draining the cup until it was down to its dregs all in one. It hit the saucer with a clatter. “You should drink your tea doctor.”

Silently you obliged, taking more reserved sips. Truthfully you didn’t need it as much as he did. Habit and a circadian rhythm did wonders in getting your body trained for sleep. But for the sake of calming your nerves, taking this man to your bed where you would not take his clothes off felt oddly more intimate than taking them off. The heel of his shoes clicked multiple times against the floor, Vox was completely incapable of sitting still. At one point he even got up, walking around your apartment.

“Doc? Where’s your bathroom?”

“Back near the entrance Dove. To your right.”

“Thank you.” He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You could hear the faucet running shortly after. While he took care of his business you finished your tea and washed the dishes. He was already out by the time you put the kettle in the sink.

“So, do you have anything for me to sleep in?”

“Mmm, I have a shirt of my exes if that works that should fit you. But I don’t have any bottoms. You’ll be fine in your underwear won’t you?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I’m fine to sleep naked. As long as that shirt doesn’t have you know whose face on it.”

“Of course not Dove, I would not tolerate merchandise of anyone who believes technology should have stopped in the thirties. That goes against everything I believe in.” You flippantly waved your hand as if you could hardly entertain the idea. To your surprise, Vox’s screen illuminated with light, with a big genuine toothy smile on his face.

“I changed my mind, I might be able to make an exception for you.”

“Of course Vox, it was only a matter of time before you saw my charm! Now… come on.”

Even if you were a Doctor who didn’t need a man or woman, you loved having a large bed to lounge in taking up nearly your entire room. You had your knick-knacks and other decorative items. A bookshelf of medical textbooks lined against the back of the bed for those late nights reading. Laundry piled up a little higher than you would have liked when you were bringing a boy over. A disturbing little skeleton you named Mr. Bones sitting on your computer desk. Diagrams and telltale signs of countless nights hunched over a desk. Signs of the passion of whatever gripped your mind and forced quill to meet paper.

Vox was obvious in the way he took in the various objects in your bedroom. His interest in getting to know you seemed genuine. You fished out the old shirt from your ex, which was a harmless plain white buccaneer shirt. You could see the confusion on his face when he was handed it, but you said nothing.

You grabbed your pajamas and disappeared into the master bathroom to change. Leaving Vox the whole bedroom to change. When you saw yourself in the bathroom mirror, you could spy a faint color present on your cheeks. Sure, maybe you could act cool and confident. But the truth was, you did like this man. Otherwise, why else would you go to all this trouble for him?

All your feigned confidence but you took care that your hair looked nice when you brushed it. You picked out your favorite pair of pajamas. You brushed your teeth and put on only a little spritz of perfume, as your heart beat with anticipation and hope.

Vox was already laid out on top of the bed, waiting for you. His monitor raised to look at you when you opened the door, propping his body halfway up with his elbows. “Huh, you did simply change into your pajamas. Was half expecting you to change your mind and pick out something sexy.”

“We can save that for after you’ve taken me to dinner, Dove.” A laughter followed after your statement, a friendly one. You stepped over to your nightstand to hit the switch next to a strange black and white orb. Vox did arch a brow, but his gentle smile remained.

“I’ll think about it.” The overlord fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. That was perfect timing!

After you hit the light switch, the room was submerged in darkness. The purpose of the strange device on your nightstand became obvious when Vox spied the star system being projected over the ceiling. Creating a fabrication of the starry night sky that had been robbed from the two of you when death came. Vox’s right claw stretched out, reaching his hand out as if he could grasp the slowly rotating stars. The illumination of his screen slowly died until it became a dim pale blue light.

You crawled into bed opposite of him. Laying on your side with your arm tucked under the pillow to act as extra leverage while you watch the man beside you enjoy the sight above.

“You REALLY are a romantic. I’m expecting roses when you take me to dinner.” Vox joked.

“I’ll consider it. So, what makes you say that?”

“I may have had my hints when you told me you wanted to wait for sex. And oh I don’t know, The night light and nickname? You are aware of what Dove means right?”

Vox rolled onto his side, using the pillow as a gentle cushion for his screen. Normally looking right into a bright blue light wasn’t the best idea when you were trying to sleep. But the sight of that gentle smile on his face felt like it was going to lead you to some nice dreams. “Of course I do. And you were intentionally staying up late so I’d come and see you. I think you’re secretly a romantic too, Vox.”

The familiar blue flush dazzled his screen, something even pulling the blanket over to try and hide it couldn’t help with. The way his face glowed made the proof even more apparent when he only tried to mask it in darkness. “Nonsense. I’m just a machine.”

The statement came out in a half-whisper. By the way, his eyes widened at that moment, you suspected he had not meant to be that honest. A scowl took the place of his smile, and he fell back onto his back to hide his face from you. You didn’t let him run. You pushed yourself up and sat beside him, staring down at the screen that tried its best to watch the wavering astral movements above.

“You’re not a machine, Dove. And I would know that more than anyone, save yourself. Machines aren’t lonely for one.”

“I’m not lonely...” Vox bitterly retorted.

You stretched your hands out for his screen. He leaned back into the pillow, setting his cyan irises on you immediately. With your fingertips only inches apart, you met those eyes without moving an inch more.

“Do you not want me to touch you?”

“What good is touching me there? I can’t even feel it, you know.”

“Because it always makes me happy when somebody simply touches me without expectation of sex. Makes me feel beautiful.”

A complicated expression flashed over the screen. Alternating between vulnerability, a scowl, the widened sclera, and at last acceptance. His hand laid over yours and guided it to brush and trace over the hard plastic that housed his screen. The cool hand lingered on top of your palm, guiding your hand up toward where his prongs stuck out on top of his head. Following his lead your fingertips brushed along the metal prongs, then circled the receivers on the top.

“Maybe… I’m a little lonely.” He begrudgingly confessed.

Something cold suddenly brushed against your cheek, intense thanks to the heat that made a home there. The back of Vox’s claws brushed over your face, and you leaned into it. His palm filled the swell of your cheek, the harsh points nestled into the hair to cushion their prick. The thumb stretched out to tap your bottom lip, tracing the shape.

Slowly the two dark silhouettes you both cast on the wall came together melting into one. Vox guided you forward as his own body bent forward to meet you halfway. Shortly after you closed your eyes, the gentle sensation of his lips finally met yours. The edged fingers slid along the nape of your neck, sending chills down your spine while he held you. Entangling his fingers within your hair to hold you in place. Chaste and sweet, it was only a light brushing as he whispered to you.

“Your right doc… this is nice. I want to touch you more, may I?” Each little new syllable brought that ticklish feeling back, tingling with the natural static on his face. You sealed your lips against him, drinking deep from what he’d been teasing you with all this time.

“As long as the clothes stay on Dove.”

“Of course. This is nice… I don’t want it to end.” The confession came with the feel of his palm now brushing over your shoulder. Tracing down your arm until his fingers circled the wrist that had kept you supported all this time. He tugged you forward until your body fell on top of his. It was harder than the average man’s body and less cushy. The heat of your body was sapped even through the two layers of clothing, but it only gave him an excuse to wrap that blanket around the two of you.

You righted yourself until you laid flat across his body, with his arms coming around to circle your back. You buried your head into his chest, taking in his scent, wrapping your arms around his torso as you surrendered to his touch. The pointed end of one claw ran up and down your back, sending shivers down your body each time it came to meet the nape of your neck. It wasn’t a sexually thrilling sensation, but it was pleasant enough to eke out a moan. Instead of excitement, the man underneath you chuckled. Vox ran his claws through your hair instead, scratching your scalp.

“Why don’t you like to be called Darling?” You dared the question, feeling closer than ever now that the two of you were touching. The sound of his artificial heart beating against his chest and into your ear felt nothing like the machine he purported himself as. Nor was the careful way he touched you. You could feel its absence far more when his hands froze. You dared to look up, and you could see the heartbreak reflected in his eyes alone.

“It reminds me of somebody else, a man I’d rather not think of when I’m with you Doc.”

“I’d never want you to look like that when you think of me… so I will endeavor to be nothing like him, Dove.”

Vox smiled, curling a claw around a lock of your hair to brush out of your face. “And even if you are broken, I will make you feel whole one day Doc.”

Now that was unfair. How dare the vulnerability you share with him be used against you! You fought back the emotions that welled up, the brush of his hands bringing you back down against his chest made you feel like it’d be alright.

“We should get some sleep. But I want to keep holding you if that’s O.K.”

You leaned forward, kissing him goodnight. Vox kept you there for a moment longer, squeezing your shoulder. The other hand pressed against the arch of your back to press your body against his. Each little brush of those lips against yours felt addicting. Making you want to keep diving in back for more. Sometimes it was crooked, other times he’d steal your breath and keep you there. It was only the need for air that forced you two to part. A flushed face stared back at you with the beautiful nebula of freckles returned in full force.

You didn’t want to part, much as the sirens call for sleep called for you. You pressed your fingertips against his screen right beneath his eyes. Tracing each little freckle to make constellations with them. Vox closed his eyes, accepting your touch this time. The gentle wavering of his cyan irises watching you stole your breath. If only you could stay up all night and kiss each little star on his face.

But all good things had to come to an end. Vox pressed against your shoulders to force you to lie down. His own body came hovering over yours for a brief few beautiful moments, the starry sky above him framing behind him.

“You’re blushing so hard right now, Doc.”

A squeak escaped you, pressing a hand against your now hot cheeks. Gentle laughter broke out from the man above.

“You’re so cute… I can’t wait to see how red you get when I bed you for real.” The whisper of that promise came with a claw tracing along your jawline.

“When…? You sound so certain.” The blood rushing to your head made it hard to come up with a snappier comeback than that.

“Because I have already decided. I intend to win you over with everything I have. Goodnight, Doc.”

He fell back back onto the bed, lying on his side. Immediately wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer until your back was held flush against his front. Vox locked you tight so you couldn’t escape, the warm screen pressed into the back of your head.

“Goodnight Vox...”

Cursed with those beautiful thoughts Vox put in your head, your cheeks burned. The bittersweet pain in your heart gave you such contentment you were quickly pulled down past the point of no return. The gentle whir of Vox’s white noise banished the chaos of hell, pulling you into a world where only the two of you existed.

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ Surprise Sire — Soundwave x Masc!Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || he/him pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: 'Sire' and 'Oppi' are gonna be used interchangeably cause all the sources I have say they both mean father, sorry if that's confusing!

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

As a mech working for the Decepticons, you often didn't have much of a sense of connection to your coworkers. You didn't really see the need, either. Most were loud, prideful, or seeking to betray each other later anyhow. You were known for being reserved because of this, which was fine by you, it meant being left alone. Soundwave found this in common with you, the solidarity of preferring silence making him drawn to you. He was one of the more sane members of the faction anyhow (you still didn't understand his apparent fondness for Shockwave). The two of you ended up talking whenever you weren't particularly busy, slowly gaining mutual trust and a close connection.

Being around Soundwave lead to you meeting his Cassettebots quite frequently, many of them being a refreshing conversational break from the others you often encountered. Ravage and Laserbeak visited you rather often, they were few who were allowed in your office any time they wanted. Ones who weren't were Rumble and Frenzy. You liked the little bots just fine, but they tended to accidentally break things. You got used to their sorrowful little awkward apologies, depsite your initial reservations. They did have some endearance to them, you supposed.

Rumble and Frenzy tended to zoom into your office whenever they were hiding from Soundwave. You were a bit more prone to letting them get away with little things. As much as it might be a bit immature, it was admittedly a little funny to see Soundwave get exasperated trying to catch up to them. As such, the little 'cons tended to ask you for almost everything, like they were doing today.

"Come ooonnnn" Rumble complained, hanging off of your shoulder "Soundwave won't know! And if he does, who gives a scrap? Pleeaaasseee" the little bot begged. Frenzy was on the other side, tugging insistently on your arm. "We'll just be gone for a second! Please, big guy? You know we're good for it!" He said, nearly whinging. You worked around their insistence, documenting information into a datapad. "Sorry," You began cooly "Soundwave's gotten on my aft enough about it, I've gotta keep you two in line for once". Dramatic disappointment was heard through groans on both sides of you, which nearly made you snicker.

As the two kept begging you, you heard pedesteps coming up the hall. You smirked softly as Soundwave entered the room. "Rumble. Frenzy" his monotone voice rang out "Return" he said, opening up his chassisplate for them. Rumble dramatically flopped onto his back, Frenzy clinging to you tighter "We don't gotta! Tell him we don't, big guy, come on!" He said, shaking you as much as he could. You glanced to Soundwave, sensing the frustration even with the visor and battlemask covering his faceplates. You couldn't help but chuckle as you heard the bot let out a deep vent of a sigh. "Negative. Correction: you were ordered to return" he said firmly.

Frenzy grumbled, pressing his helm to your shoulder "Uughhh. Oppi, can't you tell him no?". Soundwave visibly tensed, and Rumble looked up. He sat up, trotting closer to you "Yeah, oppi! Come on, we don't wanna be cooped up all day!". Soundwave tilted his helm to the side a bit. Even with his face covered, it was obvious he was beginning to get visibly flustered. You felt a little surprised yourself, looking between the small bots clinging to you once again. "I- you two, uh- you know I can't-"

"Enough," Soundwave cut in, picking up Rumble and Frenzy simultaneously. The little mechs wriggled and whined as Soundwave held them close to his sides like disobedient sparklings "New objective: recharge" he said, quickly ushering them out of your office. He placed them on the ground and nudged them in the right direction of his berthroom, watching as they went with many aggravated huffs and mumbles following. Soundwave nervously glanced back to you. "...Apologies" he mumbled. You stood, walking closer and regarding him with a firm pat on the shoulder and a soft grin. "Don't worry about it, Sound, they're just being annoying little glitches. It's what they do best"

Soundwave huffed, this time out of amusement "Affirmative. I will... correct them". "Well, you don't have to," You began slyly "I wouldn't mind being a sire to them". Soundwave nearly choked on his own vents, looking at you with bewilderment. You chuckled, pecking the side of his helm "Think on it". With that, you went back to your work station, leaving a very flush Soundwave to quickly make his departure

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 6

If You Told Me To

Azriel Eris x Reader

Eris has a little chat with Azriel. As Y/N braces herself to face her mate for the first time since leaving him - she calls in reinforcements. Eris calls in one of his own.

A/n: This is the second to last chapter of the series. Chapter 7 will be the final chapter followed by an epilogue. I have been excited to share this chapter as, lyrically, the song it’s titled after is one of my favorites. Enjoy!

Part 5 Part 7

Warnings: Language

The Shadowsinger sat chained in a cell beneath the Autumn Keep. Comfortably lit, temperature regulated, nothing egregious. There was a dark, selfish part of Eris that would not have minded a bit of suffering to befall the male, a little seemed fair given the hell he’d put Y/N through. But Eris couldn’t do that to her. Certainly there was a small part of the mating instinct that would have left her in pain to see her mate - a title he didn’t deserve - hurting.

Eris begrudgingly placed a glamour over her scent that clung to his skin like fine perfume, such a waste to cover it with his own autumnal blend. It was not his place to explain or unveil anything regarding the relationship between them, Eris would have to tread carefully in his questioning.

He almost, almost said “fuck the glamour” and let that intoxicating-as-hell summer storm scent of hers fill the air and marched straight to the dungeons in his sweats and a linen tee, let him see exactly what Eris had been up to all morning. The look on the Shadowsinger’s face would have been so damned satisfying.

Alas, he chose to play the part of pompous High Lord, dressing in the most lordly of attire.

“Well, well, well, what brings you to my humble abode, Shadowsinger? You could have just knocked.”

Azriel snarled through his gag, nose flaring. To put it lightly, he looked rough. His once golden skin paled, dark circles prominent beneath his eyes, and multiple large purple bruises littered his skin.

“Ah, right.” Eris cleared his throat, giving the tattered male before him a disapproving stare. With a quick flick of his wrist the gag disappeared.

“Just let me fucking talk to her.” Azriel growled, his shadows darkening the cell.

Eris inspected his cuticles, refusing to drop the air of irreverence he’d intentionally given off. “Who would you like to speak with, Shadowsinger?”

“You fucking know.” He growled, rage limning each word.

“Say her name.” Eris replied cooly. Needing to make a point to himself.

“Y/N.”

And in that moment Eris realized just how far gone he was in his desire for Y/N. It was dangerous, the fiery rage that burned through his chest at the sacrilege of her sacred name falling from his desecrated lips.

Though Eris refrained from any external display of that inferno blazing inside of him, the slight tick in his jaw must have given him away to the awaiting Spymaster.

Azriel pulled and jerked with all of his might against the chains and Eris was well aware of his power, the entire Autumn Court was. Eris had backup measures in place that - even with his contempt toward the male - he did not wish to use.

“Stop pulling on the chains, Azriel.” Eris commanded.

The use of his given name instead of Eris’ typical “Shadowsinger” caught Azriel’s attention and the look alone on the his face could have killed a lesser male as Azriel’s furious gaze met Eris’

“If you fucking hurt her, I will rip you apart limb by limb. I will make it slow-“

Eris cut him off. “Was it those theatrics that won her heart, Shadowsinger? Truly, you bore me.” Eris returned to examining his nails.

“Fuck you.” Azriel growled.

Eris would ask Y/N’s forgiveness later for what he was about to say. At least he’d made an honest effort to keep his feelings for her separate from the situation at hand.

Without missing a beat, the High Lord goaded, “Funny you should say that. Was it not your fucking around that put you in this position in the first place?”

Azriel lost it. Eris couldn’t recall a time in his centuries of living that he’d seen such display of rage. He yanked at the chains with all of his might, his centuries of strength training apparent as the sounds of the rage and the grinding of stone on metal filled the cell. His efforts nearly successful in ripping free from the wall.

“I’ve asked you once to quit pulling, Shadowsinger. You are in here with just cause and will answer as such. You can behave like a civil being or continue the brute act and I will be forced to take matters into my own hands.” With that, fire sparked and was contained within his palm.

Azriel banked slightly at the display and for a moment Eris felt a twinge of remorse as his eyes landed on those scarred hands.

“Spare me your pity, High Lord.” Azriel spat the title with venom.

Eris shook his head, pacing alongside the cell. “Oh but I do pity you, Shadowsinger. Not in the way I hold back my fire given your past circumstances, that is basic decency on my part.”

With a mock bow, he continued,

“What I pity is how you wage such concern over Y/N’s well-being within my palace walls while blatantly disregarding the fact that you are the one who broke her with your own two hands. And now that she has built herself back up shard by fractured shard into something far stronger, even more rare than the shining gem she already was, you appear like a thief in the night. What is your plan, Azriel? Are you here to break her again?

Eris stepped closer to the cell. Flame igniting those amber eyes as he crouched down face to face with the bound Shadowsinger, grounding out in a low, predatory tone. “Because you won’t this time. Diamonds don’t crush under pressure.”

And with that, Eris stood back up, placed his hands in his pockets, that casual irreverence once again masking his features. “And I find diamonds to be quite precious, so I’ll be sure to cherish mine with the tender, loving care that she deserves.”

Azriel seethed, shadows raging violently within the cell. And Eris wasn’t certain but he could have sworn that anger was directed at their master himself.

Eris waited for more violence, for the filth that would spill from his mouth but the Shadowsinger only hung his head low, and to Eris’ surprise, large, salty tears began falling from his face.

Eris said nothing as Azriel sobbed. Why kick the male when he’d already downed himself? So Eris stood and waited. Eventually Azriel looked up again, “Please, just let me talk to her.”

Eris paused, taking stock of the broken male before him.

Just when it appeared to Azriel that he’d deny him, Eris replied. “You are fortunate that your mate is far more benevolent than I, she has agreed to speak with you.”

Azriel let out a large, broken sigh of relief.

Eris only smirked. “But she has conditions.”

—————————

I don’t want to look back on these days, knowing all the things you’d never know if I never said a word and let you go.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N.” Eris spoke softly.

“I do, Eris. What he did, it’s too much. Too far. If you weren’t the ruler that you are, this might have been treated as an act of war.”

Eris shook his head. “You’re right. What he did is not acceptable by any means. But you, you shouldn’t have to deal with this after all you’ve been through.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” She spoke firmly.

He pulled her in closely, resting his chin on her head, those warm arms wrapped tightly around her easing the bitter cold threatening to frost her heart. “He never deserved you.”

Eris knew a mask when he saw one. Knew them far too well. Beneath the strong exterior she was presenting, his brave girl was nervous as hell.

I don't want to steal you away or make you change the things that you believe.

Eris escorted Y/N to a large meeting space by a roaring fire, sitting her at the head of the table, he to her right. One with a lesser sense of hearing might have missed the increase of her heart rate. That mask beginning to slip.

“Look at me, minx.”

Her glassy eyes met his as he reached forward, his hands enveloping hers. “You owe nothing to anyone. Nobody. Not to the Night Court, to my Court, or even to the Summer Court beyond what Tarquin has contracted you to do, and you especially owe nothing to the Shadowsinger.”

Her lip quivered and he spared her the discomfort of replying right away by continuing, “If it is your choice to hear him out, I commend you. You are far more brave and strong than you realize, and the fact that you are giving him your time today is an act of kindness in itself. Do not feel that you are obligated to comfort him or give your forgiveness.”

Eris lightly placed a broad palm on her chest. “What’s in there points true. Follow your heart, little fox. Do not do or say anything for anyone’s benefit but your own.”

Eris gave her the time she needed to collect her thoughts. His thumb brushed soothing strokes over the back of her hand as she composed herself.

Her voice cracked only slightly when she asked, “Is what I’m doing wrong? Are my conditions too harsh?”

Eris took a moment. Her heart racing like the best of a hummingbird’s wings as she awaited his response. He didn’t want to steer her any particular direction. Obviously, he wanted her by his side. Hell, he needed her by his side, she was as essential as water to him at this point. But her happiness and well-being mattered more than his needs.

He didn’t want her to go back to the Night Court as he knew Azriel would try convincing her to do. A selfish part of him begged to take her hand and bow on his knees before her. He was at her will and would serve her for the rest of his days should she only ask. But she needed to make this choice for herself. She was a summer storm, his little fox, who was he to stop her from flowing whatever direction she willed its winds to take her.

So, he wouldn’t ask her to stay or think of him at all during this meeting with her mate. However, he would emphasize what she likely already knew, that he had already fallen in love with her. That he fell in love with her spirit the moment that filthy string of curses fell from her pretty mouth when they met that first day. He wouldn’t pressure her by speaking those words aloud just yet, but he could show her in the best way he knew how given the circumstances, by empowering her.

“Y/N,” he broke the silence. “I meant what I told you. What you are doing today is brave. You are strong. To face a male who has not earned your time or presence in front of his own family to hear out his side of things, or whatever it is he wishes to say - you are so much stronger than you realize. Do not worry about what he or anyone at this table will think or feel. You hear him out and you choose what is right for you. The only person owed anything today is you and what you’re owed is peace. You deserve the world, fox.”

Those shining eyes of hers welled up. He lifted her chin with a long finger, “No tears, little one. You go in there and you take your power back. I will be out there.” He nodded toward a corridor to the eastern wing of the keep. “If you need anything at all, I’ll be waiting for you.”

She placed a delicate hand on Eris’ muscled bicep. “Eris…”

“Yes, fox?”

“I don’t want to do this alone.”

I want to drink from the words you say and be everything you need.

The creak of an oak door captured their attention. A sentry entered the room, his steps echoing throughout. “High Lord, Lady, the guests are arriving.” The sentry looked to Eris, “along with the guest you personally requested.”

Y/N turned toward Eris, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Bring her in.” He replied to the sentry, turning to face Y/N. “I thought you may want someone in your corner for this meeting.”

————-

Camila, Y/N’s sister, burst through the door, all bronze skin, bouncing black curls, and smiles. “Sister!!!” She squealed.

Y/N looked to Eris. Immense gratitude radiating from her lovely face. He nodded toward Camila, gesturing to go to her. The sisters ran to eachother, nearly tackling one another to the floor.

Camila giggled, gasping as she fought to catch her breath. “I saw a red-headed male outside with long hair, gorgeous tan skin, a wicked smile, and-“ she whispered not-so-subtly in her sisters ear “worship worthy thighs, handcrafted by the gods themselves.” She dropped the whisper act, continuing, “Oh my gods, Y/N, and a scar over his eye! Giving him that sexy mysterious look that you only ever read about in smutty novels.”

Eris choked as he realized who she was talking about, capturing the attention of Camila. “If I’d known what you were hiding here, High Lord, I’d have ventured over from the Summer Court much sooner.”

“I hate to disappoint you, Camila, but Lucien lives in the Day Court when he’s not at his apartment in Velaris.”

Camila’s mouth dropped into an “O” as she realized who the male was. “Well, onto the next one then. Who else are you hiding around here for me to fall in love with?”

The laughter was broken when the Oak Door opened again, a sentry announcing the next guests. “the High Lord of the Night Court and his general.”

Darkness suddenly overtook the room, and an instinctual part of Y/N caused her to pale. She’d very rarely seen Rhysand’s darkness so adamant, and it was never a good thing. Cassian kept a straight, stoic face, warrior’s stance on full display. This male, this was the Lord of Bloodshed and not the lovable giant she’d known for decades.

She remained frozen, Camila gasping in horror before deciding that she’d rather stare daggers at the brothers of the male who cheated on her little sister. Rhysand took in the room, paying no mind to Camila’s violent glare. When he realized Azriel was not in the room, his eyes landed on Y/N and the darkness immediately faded away. Rhys’ expression softened as he directed his footsteps toward her, opening his mouth to speak, but it was Cassian who yelled, “Y/N babygirl! Look at you!”

The giant male bound right past Rhys, running to her. Leaving no time for Y/N to brace herself as he whisked her up into a bone crushing hug, spinning her in circles. “Fuck, I’ve missed you. Never leave without saying goodbye again.”

As soon as Cassian said it, he faltered, gently setting her back down with his eyes downcast. “I had no idea, Y/N. We only found out the real reason why you left yesterday.”

Eris gave distance to the trio so she could speak with the males, Camila coming to his side. Eris couldn’t help smirking at the glare she gave to the Night Court’s High Lord and Cassian. He leaned in to her ear, his low voice barely a rumble, “I’d never admit this to them but while they are brutes, they’re not so bad.”

Camila only scoffed, waiving a dismissive hand in his direction.

It was true. Rhysand had given her space to heal but regularly sent check-in’s to the Summer and Autumn Court High Lords to ensure her well-being. Both Tarquin and Eris had to swear not to tell her, but Rhysand had contributed significantly to Y/N’s extremely generous salary as emissary between the courts. She didn’t know what emissary’s typically made so she never thought about it, but it certainly was not the substantial amount that she was being paid.

Once Cassian was finished fawning over his “favorite little ass-kicker” Rhys stepped forward.

“Y/N” he said. Eyes roaming up and down her body. She was more filled in and fit than she had been when he last saw her, the radiance had returned to her skin, the light in her eyes shone bright as the stars of Velaris. Gods, he’d forgotten the way his brother’s mate rivaled even the most vibrant of summer sunsets.

She held her chin high, meeting her former High Lord’s violet gaze. Rhys pulled her close and she melted into his arms. Not just her former High Lord but her friend. She knew this. And the warmth of his strong arms embracing her reminded her of exactly that.

That stinging rejection of Azriel’s betrayal had somewhat tainted her view of the Inner Circle’s love for her. They had accepted her into their little family immediately when she and Azriel mated and she thought they’d dismiss her just as quickly when she left.

His breaking of what they had did not change that the inner circle cared for her. Rhys held her close for nearly a minute, burying his face into the top of her head, whispering how sorry he was for not realizing just how awry things had gone with Azriel and Elain. She felt guilty for leaving them.

“Don’t you for one moment regret this, Y/N. You will always have a place in my home but there are bigger things in this world for you.” He nodded toward Eris briefly with a cheeky expression that felt a lot like understanding, approval even.

She swatted at him. “Get out of my head, busybody.”

“It was written all over your face, darling.” He shrugged.

Cassian cut in. “We wanted to come in first to assess the situation. Everyone else is in the entry hall. Are you sure about this, Y/N? You don’t have to see him if you’re not ready.”

Darkness flared around Rhys again as he nodded in agreement.

She stepped to Eris’ side with renewed confidence. “I’m ready.”

Eris commanded his sentries. “Go ahead and bring them in.”

Resisting the urge to press a parting kiss to her forehead, he gave a reassuring brush of his hand against hers and began to step away.

She grabbed his wrist. “Please, stay.”

Her pleading eyes spoke what she couldn’t “I can’t do this without you.”

So, he stayed by her side as they waited for the impending shit show to unfold.

I could be so good at loving you, but only if you told me to.

————————————————-

Tags: @going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study @chessebookgirl @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @crazylokonugget @mysticalfuncollectorus @starsinyourseyes @b0xerdancer-writes @inloveallthetime @thegirlinshadows101 @viistrength @grunchwench @starryhiraeth @macimads @feiwelinchen @acourtofbatboydreams @nebarious @haechansleafblower @melsunshine @thegirlintheshadows101 @plsfckmern

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Did you think that I forgot about the 500 follower celebration? Tehe

Here's a snippet of the Sugar Mommy!Wanda special:

"Mommy didn't give you permission to touch yourself, now did I?" she asks cooly, walking around the bed and sitting beside you. You attempt to sit up, but she places a hand on your chest and pushes you back down. "Well?"

A look of shame appears on your face and you're unable to meet her eye. "I couldn't help myself, mommy. I-I needed to relieve myself, and you said no-"

"Exactly," she said, cutting you clean off. Her playful expression melts away and she's stern, her fingers thrumming against your flushed chest. "I told you no, to wait for me, and what did you do?"

Pure hot shame burns into your cheeks now, words dying on the tip of your tongue. You stutter our your words and curse silently to yourself, hating that you're unable to speak. You're hoping she'll drop the question, except she places two fingers beneath your chin and forces you to meet her gaze, a brow raised. She's not going to repeat herself. She'll stare long enough until you break, and break you do.

"Mommy, I was so horny, I couldn't help it!" you defend yourself, and you're able to hear how pathetic you sound. "You were out at work and I needed to feel good and-"

"Baby, I didn't ask for excuses," she chides, standing up. She places her hands on her hips, eyeing your naked body. Her intense gaze sends goosebumps up your arms and you whimper involuntarily, pussy letting out a gush of fluids. Her silky curly hair brushes against the sides of her face while she shakes her head, clicking her fingers and a flash of red appears, her suit gone; leaving her standing naked in front of you.

She sighs, eyes half lidded and on your awed expression. She grabs your ankle and pulls you down to the edge of the bed, caressing your inner thigh. "Remind me of what'll happen if you broke the most important rule." The most important rule was no touching yourself without permission, of course.

You shudder out a breath, body exploding in tingles and heat. "Punishment," you whisper, jumping when she lightly slaps your thigh. "I-I receive a punishment from mommy."

Wanda grins, nodding her head in confirmation. "That's right, baby, because you've been a naughty girl for mommy and mommy needs to punish you."

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Danny desperately wants to find the explosion guy. Tim is really good at covering his tracks... he didn't account for ghosts.

The explosions make it onto TV as purported terror activity and most people haven't heard of that part of the world much less ever given a second thought to care about it. The only real reason it gets reported on has something to do with the Justice League and... Danny knows too much.

He's been in training for Clockwork's court (which he's suspicious of- feels like kingly duty bullshit- but Danny is playing along out of curiosity for now) and he's learned a lot about how the living and non-living worlds collide. That means learning about CW's usual suspects- one of which just happened to have a ton of bases around the area Danny was seeing on the news.

It didn't take long for Danny to try to piece together that whoever blew up Nanda Parbat was trying to fuck with the League of Shadows, and was doing it successfully. Less green portals in the world the better, same goes for assassins. But it gets Danny thinking... Maybe he can employ similar tactics on the GIW Bases that keep spawning on the edges of Amity Park. It would at least set them back while he and his friends navigated the help line desk to request Justice League intervention. None of them can leave Amity Park, so outreach is going to have to be creative.

So Danny figures he'll just find the guy. Call up some ghosts who were there, or er, came from there and get a profile and track him down. But the ghosts keep saying it was The Detective. Annoying!

Danny goes full conspiracy theory, gets Tucker and Sam involved, and begrudgingly asks Wes Weston his thoughts.

He hadn't expected Wes to garble out a thirty minute presentation (that had 100 more slides left to go before he cut it off) about how Batman totally trained with a cult and so did his kids. Danny kind of rolled his eyes but... hey, new avenue of searching in the Infinite Realms at least.

The ghosts confirm that Bombs is for sure not Batman's MO- But maybe his second kid would know? The second kid was already brought back to life though, so no way to easily reach him... Danny starts to realize that this might be the work of a Robin now. Wasn't the red one known for solving cold cases? (Sam provides this information- its a social faux pas to not know hero gossip at Gotham Galas- everything she's learned is against her will).

It all comes to a head when Danny goes about the hard task of opening a portal for the guy to come through at just the right time, explain the infinite realms so he doesn't panic and then describe what the fuck was going on with the GIW. It takes months, just over a full year, of random (educated guesses) portal generating- Finally, Red Robin drops into the land of the dead.

"So, you're the guy I've got to talk to about explosions right?" Danny enthusiastically asks.

Tim thinks he's died and landed in the after life following 56 hours of being awake and plummeting off the side of a building into a Lazarus pool. Nothing makes sense about the kid in front of him.

"Yeah, I got a guy for munitions." Tim answers cooly.

"How do you feel about secretly sanctioned government operations that violate protected rights?"

"Gotta get rid of 'em some how. Need me to point you in the right direction?" This might as well be happening.

[sheyfu]

"i love you."

"what do you want? a massage? food? money? orrrr do you have a fever right now, dan heng?" you place a hand on his forehead, trying to find out if he actually does have a fever or just really sleep deprived.

it's not everyday dan heng acts like this. heck, it's even weirder as you two haven't even gotten to that kind of relationship.

"your skin is cool, and you don't seem to need anything other than, uhm.. sleep?" scratching your head, you look at him dumbfoundedly, trying to find out what the hell was happening to dan heng.

"i love you." cold dragon young says with more conviction as he stakes a step closer to you.

now that's suspicious.

"uhmmmm.. are you really sure you're okay?" worriedly, you place your hand on his forehead again, double checking to see if he was actually okay. "dan heng, please tell me if you're not feeling well-"

"i love you. i love you so much i can't even take it. every time i see you, my heart skips a beat, my breath gets caught in my throat, my hands start shaking like some fucking washing machine. you're so beautiful. too beautiful to the point that i want to throw myself out of the express because my brain goes into overdrive like 'bazinga'. i love you so much. i love you so very much to the point where i want to give everything up just to take care of you. i want to give you flowers, i want to hug you, kiss you, dance in the rain with you-"

"okay, cut! what the hell was that, dan heng? i thought we were supposed to film an introductory video for the belobog music festival and not a confession video??" a confused march 7th asks in the distance---a deep, scarlet blush coating her cheeks as she processes what the fuck just happened.

"hmm. how romantic." welt yang nods his head in approval. clearly proud of his (son) friend.

"i never knew you could be this sappy, dan heng~" himeko lets out a giggle, clearly amused with his spontaneous confession.

"sigh" a tired pom-pom expresses, head low as they walk back to the conductor’s carriage.

"did pom-pom just say 'sigh' and then actually sighed?"

"not a word, trash bomb man!"

"damn pom-pom. what did i do to you?!" caelus drops to his knees as he bangs on the floor. crocodile tears flowing from his eyes as he takes in the "betrayal" of their dear conductor.

"a- anyways.. let's do this again, shall we? by again, i mean introducing yourselves and.. a- and not.. confessing?" letting out a nervous chuckle, march sets up her camera, preparing to take another shot.

meanwhile, both of you and dan heng are left to bask in each other's embarrassment.

"soooooo" you let out a nervous chuckle. "was that, you know, uhh, part of the script? did march give you the wrong script to mess with you?" looking at his face for answers, you're left disappointed as the same, uninterested expression stays on his face.

after a few moments of awkward silence, march finally calls out your attention.

thank god, march! if it weren't for you, i would've already called [omi] to swallow me whole!

"get ready! remember, an introduction video. have some decorum! we can't let the whole of jarilo-vi catch us lacking~ anyways, on the count of three. one, two-"

"i mean it by the way." dan heng cooly says as he returns back to his original position.

"three!"

"WHAT?!"

"hey! i thought i said decorum!"

well, having no decorum is better than accidentally confessing to your crush in front of your (parents) coworkers anyway. right, dan heng?

[omi] - part of mother yn's kit; a void she can summon to eat her enemies up (kinda looks like ix and is very cutesy pie mhm)

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Beating Heart

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): None!

Notes: I was listening to "Beating Heart" by Ellie Goulding and "Breathe" by Michelle Branch on repeat while writing this. Feel free to consider this in the same universe as 'Knightmare In Toronto'.

Masterlist

The Fierce Deity's hair was long–almost too long than what you'd originally expected–and not nearly the unkept mess you thought it would be. The night was still young when he removed his long grey cap, stark strands flowing down his shoulders like a cooly-molten waterfall. The whole situation felt strangely intimate as you ran a hand through your own hair.

It is said hair holds memories, so what truths did his hold? Were they of battle? Of pain? Of love?

"You look surprised," the deity rumbled. His pupil less gaze offered a sort of gentle curiosity that you had become startlingly familiar with after the deer fiasco. "Why?"

"I thought your hair would be shorter," you answered honestly. "Not that there's anything bad about longer hair--"

"It is atypical," Fierce finished, eyeing you steadily from across the island, laden with ingredients. Baking had always been a comfort when sleep would not take you, though this was the first time you weren't alone with your thoughts in the silent kitchen, save for the grating scrapes as you mixed the dough with a fork. "I am in no need of coddling."

"I wasn't trying to," you dumped the chocolate chips in with more force than necessary. "Is long hair common where you come from?"

"It is neither common nor uncommon," the Fierce Deity's expression grew contemplative. "What of your world?"

"It's..." you hesitated before remember that he likely couldn't care less. "more common for men to have longer hair than it used to be, but most cut it."

"I see," your arm ached from all the mixing, but it was welcome. "Does it bother you?"

Your brow's furrowed. "That men cut their hair?" he nodded and you felt distinctly disappointed that he believed you cared of something so trivial. "Why would it? If I'm allowed to have my hair long, why shouldn't everyone else?"

The Fierce Deity inclined his head, gaze dropping to the bowl on the counter. You opened your mouth to ask if he liked chocolate, but the oven beeped shrilly and you rushed to scoop the cookies into the pan. As soon as the first batch was in, you yawned and slumped against the refrigerator. "I never did ask why you decided to come down, if you're in a sharing mood."

It was an honest question. He "slept" with the other boys in the guest room, yet somehow always knew when you scurried down to the kitchen to cook away the dark. You had nearly screamed the first time he walked in to inquire on whether the woods outside were your property (then disappeared for a worrying amount of time when you informed that yes, you owned more than fifty feet of fenced yard) but with habit brought comfort, and now it was hardly an inconvenience when he appeared behind you to... watch the cooking process? Daydream of war? You doubted you would ever figure out what was going on in that head of his, which was only mildly infuriating when he seemed to anticipate your every reaction.

"I do not know," was his honest answer to your honest question. "I am merely curious."

"...Of?"

Silence fell as the deity's eyes burned gentle, curious holes in you. You pushed yourself up and loaded the next tray with dough; it wouldn't do you any good to push this budding... whatever it was. Seconds later, the oven dinged in completion, and you laid the piping hot tray on the stove to cool. A delicious scent drifted forth from your creations, and it was surprising that nine more men weren't banging down the hallway for some. Though the cookies were still hot, you scooped up one with a spatula and offered it to him with a grin. "Want one?"

The Fierce Deity, forsaker of worlds and morals alike, took the offering with more delicacy than you thought him capable of, as if he was cradling a precious being rather than a misshapen blob of dough and chocolate. You took a cookie for yourself and began tucking in. Fierce, however, was motionless, staring intently at his hands.

"I do not understand you," he said, and you were inclined to say the same.

"You don't have to," you said through a mouthful of cookie. "You know what I don't understand? Why everything has to be understood."

"Knowledge is life," intoned the deity, though his tone held an air of hesitation. The cookie must have weighed a thousand pounds from how his hands seemed to tremble. "Without understanding, how are we to live?"

"You can live without understanding," you shot back. "I'm sure I'll never understand how you all ended up here, and don't you dare tell me this–" you gestured around you, expression firm and tone biting. "–isn't living."

The deity was silent, and your relief was more palpable than the chocolate on your tongue. You had no idea how or why you kept having these world-shattering conversations with Fierce, but it was a welcome break from the monotony of your life. Which is why you sighed, pinched your temples, and allowed your eyes to meet. "Listen, you don't have to have everything figured out, yanno? That's what Google is for."

It was a testament to the Fierce Deity's patience that you had made it this far with him, but maybe he didn't mind as much as your brain screamed he did. With bated breath, you watched him draw himself to full height, expression neutral. "Why do you defend ignorance?"

You snorted and helped yourself to another cookie. The others could kiss your ass. "I'm not defending it, I'm just saying that some knowledge is just as good as all knowledge. Aren't there things you wish you didn't know?"

"Every day," admitted the Fierce Deity, softening some. "I am a deity, I am born to discover."

"Then go discover," you shot him a small smile through a bite of cookie. "What are you waiting for?"

"I..." it was as if a switch had been flipped, and his expression grew despondent. For someone with no pupils, his eyes sure were expressive. "I do not know."

"Do you want to?"

"Excuse me?" He asked, unfounded and unbelieving.

"Do you want to discover?"

A beat passed.

"Yes."

Maybe it was the fact that it was two in the morning, or perhaps you were simply sick of surprises in life, but you grinned and gestured to the uneaten cookie in his large, battle-scarred hands. "Then I'd hope you find my baking worth discovering."

And the Fierce Deity did just that. You would forever remember the way his expression froze with the first bite he took; the cookie was gone before you managed to squeeze out another word, and it was just fine with you.

Wordlessly, you scraped another morsel from the pan and offered it forth. There was no hesitation from Fierce the second time around, and your hard work disappeared in two large bites.

It felt good to be right, you realized, but it felt even better to help.

"Better than deer, right?" You joked, already knowing the answer.

The deity nodded, looking just short of licking his fingers. You wouldn't have judged him either way. "You have skill," he said, and you almost fell over at the fact that an actual god had given you a direct compliment. "I have use for this skill."

You... had an idea of where this was going, so you shrugged and grabbed your cookbook, the pages stained from years of use and even more of love. "I was thinking... brownies next," you mused slowly, flipping to the correct page, the corners dotted with old batter, then turned your gaze to Fierce. "How about it?"

Though his face was no less stiff–an old habit, you presumed–you were quick to catch the upwards quirk of his pursed lips. With steps that seemed to shake the floor, he drew closer, practically caging you against the counter, expression going contemplative before shifting into something you could only describe as calculated mirth.

"I would like nothing more," the deity intoned softly, gaze fixed to yours. Though the air was thick with tension, you had never felt safer. It was strange, and it was expected; you had always known he wasn't the monster his looks portrayed him to be.

So, with a racing heart and flushed cheeks, you reached up to boop the tip of his nose. The deity blinked, and you could have laughed how quickly his face changed to one of surprise, never mind the fact that you were probably playing with fire at this point. "I'll teach you, but you're on high shelf duty!"

It was perfectly fair, he was over six and a half feet. With a chuckle, you ducked away to get more flour, throwing a cheeky grin over your shoulder at the starstruck deity. "Would you be a dear and grab some cacao powder?" He had seen you get it before, so you didn't bother telling him where it was.

It was almost funny how he seemed to scramble to get when you requested, but you held yourself back for fear of bruising his ego.

Sure, your kitchen looked like a terrible replica of the show Nailed It by the time dawn rolled around, and you discovered exactly why Fierce was a god of war, not gentle grip on bags of flour, but you had a feeling the journey would, and had already been, worth it.

I consumed an entire batch of chocolate chip cookies and wrote this, so please be gentle!