#I HATE THIS DRAWING!!!!!!! but i spent so much time on it i might as well post | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

greyskyflowers · 3 months ago

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The idea of hell having a claim on Edwin's soul is such a fun avenue to explore. There's a lot of ways I like to think that could manifest.

Personally, I like the idea of the claim mark being inked around his throat like a tattoo, the whole way around it like a collar. It's why he wears his shirt buttoned up all the way and his bow tie all the time.

Something in another language or comprised of runes or other designs that indicate his soul is claimed, but it just looks wrong. There's no good way to describe it but even someone who didn't know it was a claim from hell would be unsettled by it.

And Charles hates it from the first time he sees it.

Especially the more he gets to know Edwin, the more it really sinks in how wrong the whole thing is.

And because the universe apparently just loves to fuck with Edwin, it also hurts. Ghosts can't bleed but sometimes it just kind of oozes a thick black liquid. It will burn, similar to the way iron burns, and it itches. Edwin will mindlessly scratch at it to the point where he'd be bleeding if he was living.

When he's in hell, it manifests as a actual iron collar. It's the same collar each time he comes back after being killed so it's rusted with old blood and forms jagged edges, ripping into the skin while it burns. When he scratches at it, he digs at the skin until it bleeds and sometimes further.

Edwin did not tell Charles about the physical collar. That might have been a misstep on his part, however in his defense he wasn't planning on ending up back in hell or Charles being in hell with him at any point.

So Charles, who's already burning with worry and rage, finds Edwin and learns what actually happens to him down here and finds out the whole time Edwin is collar like a dog... well. It doesn't go well.

Charles wants it off. The mark was bad enough but now he's got an actual fucking collar?

He wants it off Edwin. He wants it off right now. But there's no seam on the collar, it's like it was welded on. It's not meant to come off and it won't, not while they're still in hell.

It's burning into Edwin's skin when he tells Charles he's in love with him and honestly, Charles can barely focus on anything except getting Edwin out of there and that stupid fucking collar smoking and drawing blood.

But he knows he doesn't want to tell Edwin he loves him back right now. Not when they're still in hell with a monster chasing them, both of them exhausted and Edwin hurt.

He'll say it after they're safe and out of hell, after that collar is gone.

He's going to hit the ground running on figuring out how to break the whole damn claim. He hadn't pushed it as much as he should have. Edwin didn't like to talk about it or call attention to it and Charles respected that. He shouldn't have. He should have pushed it because even if Edwin only had the physical collar in hell, he still had the mark constantly.

Charles had spent many nights glaring at it, nights where it was just them in the office and Edwin actually let himself relax, undoing the buttons on his shirt until the mark was visible. His attention would always end up being drawn back to the mark, Edwin too focused on other things to notice.

If he said anything, or even got caught staring at it, he knew Edwin would snap shut. He wouldn't ever let it show again and he deserves a place to be able to relax and not worry about it. Plus, Charles knows that sometimes the mark is sensitive enough that the clothing rubbing against it makes it raw, being able to expose the mark and let it air out was a relief.

The claim gets pushed to the side with everything else that happens but when Charles gets Edwin off the table Esther had made, to torture him and Charles was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was more than okay being incredibly violent if it means people will leave Edwin and him alone, the mark is dark and black liquid is rolling down his skin in big drips.

He's ready to get Crystal involved by the time they're finally back in the office, even though he knows Edwin has no desire for her to see or know about the curse, but things actually start to go their way.

They're given the okay to stay together and keep solving cases, and Edwin doesn't have to worry about going back to hell.

They're giving the night nurse some shit, welcoming her to the agency with tongue in cheek comments when she mentions something about the cursed claim and both of them straighten up.

It's nothing concrete, but it's worth a shot. Charles feels a little bad for flinging her off the cliff at the lighthouse because there must be something good in her for her to give them this. She could have said nothing and they never would have even thought to ask her.

She can't promise it will work and she doesn't even know if it's the right information but it gives them a place to start and that's more than enough.

Once your soul has been cursed and claimed in such a way, especially by something like hell, it can't ever be completely free again. Something with the makeup of the soul being altered. Ownership of the claim must be transferred to someone else, it isn't broken just shifted.

So, in the end, the only thing that can transfer a claim on a soul like Edwin's is a stronger claim.

Charles is like fucking finally. He's ready to rip Edwin's soul out of everyone else's hands at this point. No one's got a stronger claim on Edwin than him and he'll fight hell to prove it if he needs to.

And honestly, Edwin can't think of anyone else he'd want to have it.

The spell for the transfer works and the mark changes completely. The dark ink lightens to a off grey silver color that's hardly visible unless you look right at it. The edges of the letters/runes/shapes go from jagged and sharp to curved and soft.

The mark doesn't hurt, ooze black, burn, or itch anymore. In fact, Edwin would argue that it's warm, like it's trying to soothe more than anything else.

He would almost say it's pretty.

Charles gets a version of it on his wrist, wrapped around it like a bracelet. It shows more on him with his skin color and Edwin would say it's pretty.

Maybe it's sensitive and touching it on each other feels good. So Charles gets in the habit of brushing his hands over Edwin's throat and petting at the mark. Edwin gets in the habit of grabbing Charles's wrist and holding it, fingers soothing over the mark and the soft skin of Charles's inner wrist.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Idk just fun thoughts 🤷‍♀️

#dead boy detectives #payneland #edwin payne #charles rowland #dbda #fanfiction ideas #solving cases with greyskyflowers

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roosterforme · 7 months ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him.

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it.

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

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You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing.

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject.

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!"

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back.

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment.

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it.

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you.

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her.

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it.

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt.

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email.

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You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind.

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him.

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions.

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight.

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now.

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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slerixx · 3 months ago

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ii. attraction (wbk series)

synopsis. sparks ignite and hearts flutter as a magnetic pull draws two people closer. featuring. sakura haruka, suo hayato, kaji ren, umemiya hajime x f!reader content. fluff, sfw, mutual pining, lots of teasing, brief mention of umemiya’s past notes. thank you all so much for giving this series so much love! and with that, here’s the second part ♡ word count. 3.8k+

series masterlist | i. first meeting | iii. confession

𓍢ִ໋ sakura haruka

a few weeks after the cat incident, you unexpectedly found yourself growing closer to sakura. it wasn't something you had planned, but it seemed like every time you turned around, there he was. whether it was during one of his patrols or just in passing as you went about your day in makochi, the two of you kept bumping into each other more often than you could count.

you also spent time with suo and nirei, but lately, your interactions with sakura seemed more frequent. sometimes you were alone together, and other times, you were with the others.

the fact that you lived just a few feet away from him made it easier to develop a closer relationship—at least, that's what you thought. you weren't sure how sakura felt, as you were still getting to know him. however, you observed him quite a bit, noticing traits that most people might not be aware of.

it amused you that sakura often acted like he hated everyone around him, only to say something unexpectedly inspiring afterward. this left you wondering if he considered you a friend. the only evidence you had was that he still tolerated your company, even when you bribed him with omurice to do you a favor.

hoping to get even closer, you invited him, along with suo and nirei, to the annual festival in makochi. the town was beautifully adorned with lanterns, and various stalls lined the streets. when you met up with the group, sakura was noticeably flustered at the sight of you in a yukata. you couldn't help but smile at his reaction; it was just typical sakura.

as you all wandered through the festival, nirei immediately spotted a food stall and rushed over with suo, leaving you and sakura alone. you smiled sheepishly at sakura, who only glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

"are you hungry?" you asked.

"of course, dumbass. we're at a festival, so the least we could do is enjoy the food."

you laughed at his response before eagerly dragging him along to where nirei and suo were. the four of you engaged in casual conversation, sampling various foods from the stalls until you were all too full to eat any more.

as the evening wore on, you shared moments of laughter and enjoyment. while walking around, you spotted a goldfish scooping stall and excitedly turned to sakura. "sakura, look! we should try catching some goldfish."

sakura looked at the stall, furrowing his brows slightly. "huh? what are you, five? what are you even gonna do with a goldfish?"

"you ask a lot of questions," you pouted. "just admit you're scared you can't catch one."

"what?!" he exclaimed, jumping away from you and pointing an accusing finger. "you're the one who's scared! of course, i can catch a goldfish, not just one!"

"well then," you smirked, successfully goading him into a challenge. "prove it."

with a twitch of his eye, sakura's competitive side took over, and he stepped up to the stall. the two of you began competing to see who could catch the most goldfish, with suo and nirei cheering from the sidelines. however, the paper scoops kept tearing, and the goldfish darted away faster than you could catch them.

despite the initial tension, the competition quickly turned into playful banter. sakura, usually aggressive, (slightly) softened as he watch you laugh and enjoy the game. you didn't notice it, but suo's observant eye caught the shift in sakura's demeanor, making the latter smirk in amusement.

after some struggle, you finally caught a goldfish. in your excitement, you accidentally splashed water on sakura, causing him to jump back in surprise. you immediately apologized, not realizing that he didn’t even got angry. he was too captivated by your smile to care about being wet.

later, the four of you strolled through the festival while soaking in the atmosphere. the night culminated with a fireworks display.

suo and nirei went to get drinks, while you and sakura found a quiet spot away from the crowd to enjoy the show. as the fireworks lit up the sky, you shared a peaceful moment, silently watching the colorful display.

the reflection of the fireworks in your eyes caught sakura's attention. he didn't understand the strange feeling in his chest at that moment. normally, he'd be flustered. but instead, he felt at ease, as if he could forget all the world's problems.

when a particularly large firework illuminated the sky, casting a glow on your awed face, sakura realized something. just like the fireworks, you had brightened the deepest, darkest corners of his heart, revealing emotions he hadn't known existed.

almost missing your gaze turning toward him, sakura quickly looked away, deciding to focus on the fireworks. when you noticed his red ears, you laughed and teased him about it. he immediately got defensive, and the two of you fell into playful banter, forgetting the world around you.

suo and nirei watched from a distance, sharing knowing smiles at the sight of the two of you.

𓍢ִ໋ suo hayato

suo is definitely a mysterious one, but in a good way. there's an air of intrigue about him that draws you in rather than pushes you away.

your first meeting with suo was already quite unique. you didn't expect anyone to know the basics of your native language, but there he was, helping you navigate an order crisis with ease.

grateful for his assistance, you left the encounter and was surprised to receive a text message from him later in the afternoon, saying he was glad to have helped. this simple act of kindness blossomed into frequent text exchanges, and before long, you had become text buddies.

you found yourself messaging suo often, whether you were at school or just out buying groceries. initially, you were hesitant, worried that you might be coming off as too clingy or overly friendly. but suo, with his gentleman-like demeanor, never made you feel that way. he was just as enthusiastic as you were, and you couldn't help but think he was kind of cute (a random passing thought everytime he teaches you new japanese words).

speaking of lessons, you were supposed to meet him right after school at a public library. you had already texted him that you were on your way even though you were still inside a convenience store, picking up snacks for yourself and tea for suo.

after making your purchase, you headed to the library. upon entering the fairly large building, you felt a bit anxious since it was your first time there. you scanned the area, hoping to spot his brown-reddish hair among the sea of people browsing books and occupying tables.

just as you were about to give up, you saw someone waving their arms in your direction. it was suo.

you waved back and made your way over to where he was sitting.

settling into a cozy, quiet corner, suo greeted you with his usual warm smile. he had a small stack of books in front of him, along with a notebook and a few pens. the atmosphere was serene, punctuated only by the soft rustling of pages and occasional whispers.

"hey, glad you could make it," suo said, sliding a chair out for you. "i found some books that i think you'll find interesting."

you returned his smile, feeling a mix of curiosity and excitement. "what did you find?"

after placing your bag and snacks on the chair next to you, suo handed you a beautifully illustrated book. "it's a collection of traditional japanese folktales. i thought it would be a fun way to help you with your language skills. plus, the stories are fascinating."

you opened the book, flipping through pages filled with both japanese text and english translations. "this is amazing, suo! i love folktales, and it'll definitely help me learn."

he chuckled softly. "i figured it would be a good way to blend learning with something enjoyable. we can read them together, and i'll help you with any tricky words or phrases."

as you both delved into the stories, suo patiently guided you through the nuances of the language, explaining the cultural context and meanings behind certain phrases. his explanations were thorough yet never overwhelming, and his passion for the subject was infectious. you found yourself not only learning but also becoming increasingly intrigued by the tales and the language.

as the evening progressed, suo found himself watching you more intently. the way you concentrated on the text, your brow furrowing slightly in thought — all caught his attention. there was something captivating about your genuine interest and enthusiasm for learning.

he leaned back slightly, a small, amused smile playing on his lips as he observed you. it wasn't often that someone could hold his interest so completely, and he found himself curious about the effect you had on him.

suo was usually the one doing the teasing, enjoying the reactions he could elicit. but with you, he felt a quiet admiration that was both new and intriguing.

you looked up when you felt someone’s eyes on you. you then caught the eye of suo thats’s watching you, and instead of looking away, he met your gaze with a playful smirk. "enjoying the stories?" he asked, his tone casual but carrying an undertone of something more.

you smiled, a hint of a challenge in your eyes. "very much. thanks for sharing them."

he chuckled softly, leaning forward slightly. "you're welcome. it's always interesting to see someone so dedicated. makes me wonder what else you're passionate about."

the subtle implication in his words made your heart skip a beat, but you kept your composure. "you'll just have to keep finding things to teach me, and maybe you'll find out," you replied, matching his playful tone.

suo's smile widened, clearly enjoying the exchange. there was a palpable tension in the air between you, a mutual recognition of a growing connection. he was intrigued by your confidence and the way you met his teasing without hesitation.

as the evening drew to a close and you both began packing up, suo felt a subtle but undeniable attraction toward you. it wasn't a feeling that flustered him; instead, it intrigued him. he enjoyed the challenge you presented and appreciated the way you didn't back down from his teasing. it was refreshing, and he couldn't help but wonder what other layers there were to you.

walking you to the library entrance, suo couldn't resist one last playful remark. "you know, you make studying a lot more interesting. maybe next time, i'll teach you something even more challenging."

you laughed, nodding. "i'll hold you to that."

as you both went your separate ways, suo felt a thrill at the thought of getting to know you better. it wasn't just about the lessons or the teasing; it was about the unexpected spark that had ignited between you. for someone who usually kept his emotions guarded, suo found himself looking forward to exploring this newfound attraction.

𓍢ִ໋ kaji ren

after the chance encounter at the music store, where kaji gave you the last copy of the album, you found yourself intrigued by the quiet, straightforward boy with the headphones and his favorite suckers. that simple gesture of kindness sparked the beginning of a growing friendship.

over the next few weeks, you often ran into kaji around town. whether you were at a local store, a food market, or just strolling through makochi, friendly greetings became a regular part of your interactions. you kept expressing your gratitude for the album, despite his insistence that it was no big deal.

after knowing kaji, you could also tell that the suckers and his headphones were important to him, even though he never explicitly mentioned it. you assumed they helped him keep his temper in check, and this little detail added to your curiosity about him.

as time went on, you noticed that each meeting seemed to chip away at kaji’s tough exterior, revealing a more considerate side of him.

one particularly busy afternoon, while you were running errands amidst the crowded streets of makochi, you saw kaji patrolling with enomoto and kusumi. kaji looked visibly tense, his frustration palpable amidst the chaos. deciding to check in, you approached him.

"hey, kaji! how's it going?" you called out, waving. you realized that he did not hear you. however, enomoto and kusumi noticed you first.

but just as kusumi was about to tap kaji on the shoulder to get his attention, kaji had already pulled his headphones down and around his neck the moment he saw a glimpse of your hair.

his usual scowl softened a bit once you were in front of him. "oh, hey," he said, trying to mask his irritation. "just dealing with the usual mess. it's been a rough day."

you smiled sympathetically. "yeah, i can imagine. but hey, at least you’ve got your trusty suckers to keep you going, right?" you teased gently, nodding toward the red candy in his hand.

kaji’s lips twitched, and he tried to suppress a smile. “yeah, these suckers are my lifesavers,” he said, placing one in his mouth. “keeps me from losing my patience.”

as you continued chatting, you noticed kaji’s usual irritation seemed to lessen. he remained straightforward and honest, but there was a new softness in his demeanor that you hadn't seen before. it was almost as if your presence had a calming effect on him.

just then, a group of rowdy teens caused a commotion nearby, blocking the path. you glanced at kaji, expecting him to react with his usual frustration. but instead, he only looked at the teens and then at his vice-captains before nodding. enomoto and kusumi immediately took action, approaching the teens.

kaji, meanwhile, turned back to you, his gaze noticeably softened.

"need some help with anything?" you asked, sensing his unusual calm. you were surprised that he did not lash out at all. "or maybe just a break from all the noise?"

kaji hesitated, then shook his head. “no, it’s fine,” he said, his voice devoid of its usual edge. “just… thanks for stopping by. it was… nice.”

you smiled warmly. “no problem. it was nice seeing you, too.” you added with a friendly tone, “if you ever need to talk or just hang out, i’m around. we can also check out the album store again. i heard your favorite artist has released a new track."

kaji looked a bit taken aback and then gave a small nod, his eyes still on you. “yeah, maybe… i’ll take you up on that sometime.”

you waved cheerfully as you left. “see you around, kaji!”

as you walk away, kaji watches as you disappear into the crowd. he felt an unfamiliar sense of tranquility whenever you are near. he was surprised by how your presence had eased his frustration which is a stark contrast to his usual irritation.

moments later, enomoto and kusumi caught up with him. enomoto, who saw the last interaction between you and kaji, grinned mischievously. “hey, captain! what was that all about? you seemed prrretty soft back therrre.”

kusumi, barely containing his amusement, eagerly sent a message in their group chat.

yeah, captain. your gentler side is coming out whenever y/n-chan's around.

kaji, visibly flustered, glared at them, his cheeks flushed. “shut up, you two,” he muttered, trying to regain his composure. “it’s nothing.”

enomoto chuckled. “looks like someone’s got a little crush.”

kaji’s face turned even redder, and he grumbled, “i don’t have a crush. i was just being… polite.”

kusumi nudged enomoto before showing what was written on his phone screen again.

i bet you’re looking forward to seeing her again

ദ്ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

kaji glared at his two vice-captain, his irritation clear with a mix of embarrassment. he wears his headphones once again before turning away. “just drop it. let’s get back to patrol.”

as enomoto and kusumi continued to tease him, kaji’s irritation was evident, but there was also a clear hint of embarrassment. despite his usual straightforwardness, it was clear that your presence had affected him more than he cared to admit. he found himself unexpectedly looking forward to the next time he would see you, feeling a curious blend of anticipation and nervousness.

𓍢ִ໋ umemiya hajime

it didn't take long for you and umemiya to become close friends. with his naturally friendly and reliable nature, it was no surprise that once umemiya made a promise, he’s determined to keep it. one such promise was the tour around town he offered you after your memorable meeting when you got lost — though you still insist that you weren't truly lost!

as the time approached for you to leave makochi and return to your hometown, umemiya made it a point to visit your grandparents' plant store regularly. his visits were always purposeful — whether its inviting you out to explore the town, helping out in the store, or simply spending time with you. through these frequent interactions, you grew closer, enjoying introducing him to some of your favorite plants.

when the day came for you to say goodbye, both of you felt a deep sadness. umemiya reassured you with a heartfelt promise: no matter how long it took, you would see each other again whenever you visit makochi. the both of you promised to keep in touch, and each time you returned to makochi, umemiya was there to welcome you. you even met some of his other friends, whom he had mentioned in a letter sent during a period when communication was limited.

over the years, your friendship with umemiya deepened significantly. you shared countless secrets, personal stories, and learned about his difficult past. despite his outward strength and resilience, you saw the scars and vulnerabilities beneath. there was a moment when you offered the exact words of comfort he needed, leading him to open up and show his vulnerable side to you for the very first time.

now, as the leader of bofurin, umemiya has grown into a significant role. yet, despite his responsibilities and the weight of his position, he remains the same kind, caring, and hardworking person you met when you were just thirteen.

as time went on, your feelings for umemiya began to shift. initially, you dismissed these feelings as simply brotherly or sisterly affection. however, you recently realized that your feelings ran deeper. despite his tendency to treat nearly everyone like a sibling, there was something special about your connection with him. but for now, you like the relationship you have with him. you decided to keep your feelings at bay since you don't want to ruin your friendship if he doesn't share the same affection.

you are once again in makochi. and with the help of umemiya and your frequent visits, you have finally familiarized yourself with your surroundings.

as you make your way towards furin high, you can't help but feel excited about visiting umemiya and his plants on the rooftop. he already knew you were in town, but he hasn't seen you yet because he had to attend to an urgent matter since yesterday.

upon entering the premises, every first- and second-year student you pass by greets you with warm smiles and friendly faces.

of course, you are a familiar face. they know you as their leader's most valued friend.

yep, a friend.

but they all think otherwise.

not with the way umemiya acts around you. they doubt you're just a friend because their leader gets all mushy and clingy once you're in his line of sight.

speaking of that, once you've entered the rooftop, umemiya is already all over you.

"y/n!" he exclaims, his tall frame bending down in order to rub his cheek against yours affectionately. "i've missed you so much!"

you chuckle at his enthusiasm and pat his chest. "i've missed you too, ume. how have you been?"

he pulls back slightly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "busy, but good. the usual chaos, you know? but let's talk about you! it's been too long since you've been here."

you smile, feeling warmth spread through you at his genuine happiness to see you. "it has been a while, hasn't it? but i'm back now, and i brought some new ideas for your plants."

with that, you both move toward the small garden on the rooftop — a project that umemiya had started in order to create a peaceful space amidst the school's hectic environment.

(you actually teased him before that the real reason he made this garden might be because of you but he only laughed)

the two of you work side by side, tending to the various plants. you find yourself focusing on the tomatoes, gently pruning the leaves and checking the soil's moisture.

"your tomatoes are looking great," you remark, glancing at umemiya. "but i think they could use a bit more support. have you considered using stakes to help them grow straighter?"

umemiya watches you intently, a soft smile playing on his lips. he nods, leaning closer to see your handiwork. "you always have the best advice. i don't know what i'd do without you."

you laugh lightly. "oh, i'm sure you'd manage, ume. but i'm glad to help."

as you continue working, umemiya's gaze lingers on you. he can't help but admire the way you move with such care and attention. it reminds him of the first time he saw you at thirteen, lost but determined, and how he felt a pull towards you even then. there was something about your spirit that intrigued him, and over the years, that intrigue blossomed into something deeper.

he watches as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so familiar yet endearing. he knows he's supposed to be the strong leader, the one everyone looks up to, but around you, he feels like just another guy, nervous and hopeful. he wonders if you can hear his heart pounding in his chest or if you notice the way his breath catches whenever you smile at him.

"hey, y/n," he begins, his voice softer than usual. "do you remember when we first met? you were wandering around, insisting you weren't lost."

you pause, glancing at him with a knowing smile before rolling your eyes. "of course, i remember. you were the one who found me and offered to give me a tour of the town. it was one of the best days i've had."

umemiya chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "yeah, i guess it was. i never told you this, but that day... it meant a lot to me. more than you probably know."

you stare at ume as he tends to the other plants. a mysterious smile playing on his face. there's a moment of silence as the weight of his words settles between you. you suddenly felt a flutter in your chest, a mix of curiosity and hope. but before you can respond, hiragi and tsubaki, along with their vice-captains, burst onto the rooftop, laughing and chattering amongst themselves.

umemiya sighs, shaking his head with a grin. "looks like our quiet time is over. come on, let's go see what they're up to."

as you both head towards your other friends, you can't shake the feeling that something unspoken still lingers in the air. you glance at umemiya, wondering what exactly he meant by those words and if perhaps, just perhaps, he feels the same way you do.

reblogs are deeply appreciated !

␥ banner design inspo: link

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 month ago

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Kinktober day 5

Kurt Wagner + Uniform Kink

Priest Kurt :3 Also talks of religious trauma.I know religious imagery hates to see me comin. Readers a visible mutant, inspired somewhat by Killer croc. Readers 8ft tall.

I know very little about catholic priests, the area I grew up was Lutheran. This also takes place at some point on Krakoa. This ended up being more story driven honestly, but I had fun writing it anyways. Not proofread, because I cant be bothered.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

You had a strained relationship with religion, even if your entire family had been true to the faith. You may have been too, years ago, before your mutation manifested. Back when you had been nothing but their darling son, their gift from whatever god they worshipped, after so many years of trying. The gift just seemed giving, as your parents had more kids after you, giving you siblings.

You didn’t have many good memories with them. You got to hold the first two that were born, even play with them, but then your mutation started. It started out as patches of dry skin, something that could be treated with thick ointments and long baths. They’d thought it was a skin disease back then, and it had been winter, so it was all blamed on the dry weather.

It was harder to deny when the scales started appearing, and when you woke up to your gums bleeding from your new teeth growing in. your sobbing had awoken your mother, who had screamed bloody murder when she saw you. There weren’t many memories of that night, or the next couple of years at that. The human mind worked in strange ways, and yours decided to supress that part of your childhood.

All you remembered were flashes of coldness, of being locked away in what could only have been the basement. Of the churches priests and whoever else they thought might “cure” you of your “disease”. You remembered your father yelling about what he must have done wrong to gain a demon like you as his child. You remembered the quiet whispers in the kitchen at night, that you only were able to hear because of your enchanted senses.

You remember how your mother whispered to your aunt, that this was her fault. That you were the result of an affair, so this had to be God punishing her for her sins. You heard how more siblings were born, how they were told to stay away from the basement no matter what, and punished hard if they even went near it. There wasn’t much entertainment down there, your so-called parents only leaving you with religious texts and whatever else they thought might “save” you.

There was no want inside you to get out, even after what must have been years. Your mutation meant you barely needed to eat, to drink, or sleep. Most of your time was simply spent, listening to your family. Because of that, you learned the same things your siblings did because they needed help with homework, or you got to keep up with the news on the radio. You had accepted it.

It was only when one of your youngest siblings discovered you that it all crumbled. She was young, as small as you had been the day your dry skin started appearing. You knew her name, having heard your mother sing her praises because she had always wanted a daughter. And she wasn’t afraid of you. She spoke to you, sitting with her knees tucked under her chin, telling you about mass, about how God would love you anyways, even if you looked different, because he loved everyone.

But the good never lasts, and she was discovered by your not so shared father, and she was punished. Her screaming awoke something deep and feral inside you, a hatred you had never tapped into. Something that had you tearing your chains like they were made of sugar, your claws drawing deep gouges in the walls as you wrenched your way upstairs. The door split like paper under your giant clawed, scaley hand, the hand of a monster, a demon.

The noise you let out was like that of the demons of hell, something deep, snarling and terrifying. Your mother and fathers’ eyes widened in terror, your brothers, the two you got to hold, were terrified. The siblings that never knew you existed wet themselves or started crying in terror. And your sister. Your sweet. kind sister, was a curled-up bleeding ball on the floor, and yet she still smiled at you.

None of the family dared move as you picked her up, she was so small she fit in one of your giant clawed hands. You had never realized how big you were, but as you stared down at your parents with such hatred, it truly sank in. your father who had always seemed so big, as if he were God himself, trembled like a leaf because of you.

They didn’t stop you as you left, tearing the front door of its hinges with nothing but a small nudge, leaving it split in two in the front yard. It was night, and it was one of those white picket fence neighbourhoods, where you preached Gods love, but ignored how the neighbour beat their children bloody.

Having your sister die in your arms was what broke you, for a long time. You weren’t older than 20 at the time, you at least thought that was your age. And yet, you stood taller than any human man, broader and strong enough to tear buildings apart. And still you couldn’t save her. you wanted to rampage, to kill and destroy everyone and everything. But you knew your sister loved this place, even after they mistreated her so. So in the end you buried her somewhere nice, and left.

The brotherhood of mutants wasn’t a choice you thought much about taking. You were no hero, and by the time you learned about the x-men, there was already way too much blood on your hands and in your teeth. That was where you met Kurt, on the battlefield. At that point he was just an enemy, someone you could turn that deep burning rage against. Feed that blood thirsty demon in your chest, to make it quiet for a little while once more.

It took you years to learn more than that they were enemies, the x-men. Your pain must have been written on your face from the very start, even The Wolverine seemed to have a semblance of worry for you. But you didn’t care, you just needed to hurt somebody, and it was easy to run in the direction you were given and lose yourself to your demons.

There were times you would pray, times when you were alone and hurting more than normal. But it never felt like God answered. And why would he. You were a monster put on this earth to punish your mother for her sins, her very sins woven deep into your very being and fuelling you.

At some point you left the brotherhood. Even that wasn’t enough anymore to quiet your demons and pain. It had been years at that point, and Nightcrawler was still just an enemy who’d grown from a small annoying pipsqueak to a slightly bigger but even more annoying pipsqueak. That very furry blue elf had a knack for finding you, wherever you went.

Most of the time you assumed he wanted to fight, but Nightcrawler, Kurt, would just sit by you in his own contemplating silence. At times he talked, other times he was silent. Sometimes he sat close beside you, sometimes meters away. Him talking about his faith made your heart race, but knowing he too experienced pain because of his appearance helped, somewhat.

Time still passed, you still weren’t a good person. The x-men and mutant-kind settled down on Krakoa. You did not, at least not for a long time. You had settled down far away from everything, somewhere with a nice deep lake where you could sink to the bottom, and imagine you were in purgatory because you never thought you would go to heaven.

Of all people to drag you to Krakoa, you had never imagined it would be The Wolverine, Logan. He gave some big spiel about hating yourself ruining it all for you, trust him, he knew. At that point in your life, you didn’t care much, nothing mattered and everything was just a blur, the demon in your chest dormant and worthless.

Krakoa was nice, people even treated you kindly even after your time with the brotherhood. Your suffering must have been so obvious for them to just accept you with such open arms, thinking about it made you cringe. Kurt was still nice. He was older, had the starts of a moustache, and the garb of a priest.

Seeing the outfit made your pupils sharpen and your heart lurch, some deeply ingrained animal reaction. Hearing about the faith he ran, smoothed down some of your sharp scales, something that yes, had its roots in Catholicism, but was so much more accepting and kinder. The thought of being part of it made your mouth sour, but there was also no pressure from anywhere to join.

You and Kurt grew closer, over time. It was a slow and careful path, all your relationships on this island were. But Kurt was special, in the way he smiled, the way he smelled, the way you became so comfortable in his presence that he could sit on your shoulders. And the way you both grew so close, that it didn’t even fell like sin when he kissed you.

Kissing Kurt must have been what Adam and Eve felt when biting the apple, tempted by the snake to break the one rule they were given to follow. And yet, like Adam and Eve, you broke that rule anyways. Kurts’s fur wasn’t long, but it was soft to the touch, some areas longer than others and carrying a natural curl. The scent of sulphur and the incense he would use in his thurible, became what put the demon inside you to rest, for good.

And maybe Kurt was pavloving you a little. It wasn’t on purpose, you think. He would simply regularly wear his priest outfit, his alb, his chasuble, his stole and amice. And he would kiss you and taste like ambrosia, like something worth sinning for. Kurt would smell and taste so divine, and would touch you so lovingly. At times you were scared to touch, fearing you would hurt him too, but even then, Kurt taught you to trust yourself.

So, who could you truly blame for getting heated, whenever you got to watch Kurt dress himself. You didn’t have a tail like he did, but you did bury yourself in your giant shared bed and rumble deep in your chest like the reptile you shared features with. It seemed so sinful and sensual, even if it truly wasn’t his intention. To see how carefully Kurt draped fabric over his body, or how his tail would flick and make the light fabrics flutter. It made a whole never demon inside you yearn.

You didn’t want to dirty his outfit, shaming yourself for even thinking it. How sinful, how evil, how demonic. But it was yet another thing you sucked at hiding, to the point where the other x-men, your friends now, started making jokes that you churred whenever Kurt would flutter by in it.

You denied it, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. And that didn’t mean Kurt hadn’t planned out how to give you what you both wanted. Which was how you found yourself laying back against your many pillows, Kurt in nothing but his alb and prayer beads in your lap, his three fingered hands against your chest.

It still felt so terrifying to indulge in those wants, even as you dug your claws into the bed as Kurt so slowly rode you, his hips moving at a pace that had your toes curling. Anything he did would have most likely had that reaction, but his soft accented voice cooing loving words at you, only served to leave you feeling more melted on the insides.

It was embarrassing how fast you finished. But who could blame you. You never had much experience, hell, you could count on two hands how many times you had ever touched yourself. It was no surprise you would cum so quickly, Kurts’s tail thrashing from side to side as he was filled more than he imagined possible.

His kisses were still just as sweet, as he worked himself over the edge too, dirtying his alb and your scaley stomach. This moment, Kurts’s act of dirtying his uniform himself, seemed to have been the only sign you needed, after that it was free game. He was the apple and the snake at the same time, packaged in blue fur and yellow eyes, his tail curling in coy ways only you knew how to read.

Kurt could never hate it, instead almost preening with pride as you finally let yourself indulge. Fucking him on the altar was a fantasy he had carried for a while, and when you finally did it the blue furred mutant almost passed out from how hard he finished, having to dig his fangs into his stole to keep from wailing at the intensity.

You would never step foot back into religion again, never to the extent where you could call yourself someone of faith, and Kurt would never force you. But you did end up going to Kurts services, on rare occasions, but that was more because you were excited for what would happen afterwards, after everyone else left. There was a demon in your chest, born from your family’s sins, fed by your own and nurtured to destroy. But Kurt tamed it, brushed its fur and held it close. There was a demon, and it was his.

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haikyu-mp4 · 6 months ago

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Classroom duty

word count; 1317 – f!reader

Iwaizumi was on classroom duty this week and he used to hate that. It meant that he got to volleyball practice late and didn’t even have time for a healthy snack. In addition, he had to make some kind of small talk with whoever he was paired with. It goes by the pairs in which the desks are placed and he was never the best at socialising outside of the athletic world.

However, classroom duty wasn’t so bad this time around, because ever since last break, he was paired up with you. Iwa didn’t notice you that much before, he just knew you were bright and kind. And of course, he couldn’t deny to the universe that you were nice to look at, but he would still keep trying to deny it to his friends.

He knew he was fond of you. You with the cartoonish drawings of the teacher on the sides of your notes so you could make him smile in class. You with the lipgloss that looked like it might not taste good, despite how it made your lips look so biteable. You with the evil little laugh every time your paper ball would hit the trash and his didn’t. Yeah, Hajime Iwaizumi was very fond of you.

“Iwa?”

“Sorry,” he shook his head and chuckled awkwardly, glancing around at the pristine classroom. “What did you say?”

You snorted a laugh and turned around pointing to the garbage bags collected by the door and ready to be thrown away. “I said, let’s go?” Hajime spurred into action, happily finishing up here and putting those muscles to good use.

Usually, there was this thing where the people on classroom duty did rock paper scissors for who took the trash, letting the other off. No one knows who started it, but it stuck. Oikawa seemed to believe you and Hajime were the only ones who didn’t follow tradition.

“Why does she even go with you when all she does is hold up the lid on the trash can while you do all the heavy lifting?” Oikawa complained now that his best friend was finally back in his volleyball uniform. Some might say he was jealous.

Iwaizumi shrugged, about to answer when someone else did from behind him, making him turn around and causing Oikawa to lift a brow at the interruption.

“Sounds like she likes you.”

“Mad dog?” Oikawa exclaimed dramatically with a gasp. Kyotani glared at the setter.

“No, we just do it that way, you know?“ Iwaizumi said, sounding a bit like he was fishing to hear it again. Hear that you might like him.

“Okay, whatever,” Kyotani grumbled. Charming as ever. His two per cent of extra respect for Iwaizumi went into that effort and now it was spent.

They went back to practice, and Oikawa forgot about the interrupted gossip as soon as the practice game started, leaving Iwaizumi to mull this over himself. When this week was over, would you stop talking to him so much?

The next morning, you’re both there early to prepare the classroom, and Iwaizumi greeted you with a shy nod. “Last day!” you cheered. Iwaizumi’s eyes followed you for a few seconds as you skipped over to the teacher’s desk, where you picked up the note left by the teacher and then walked over to the chalkboard to prepare it. He liked how you were always so bright, even as you had to be there earlier than everyone else. And then he was happy to see you weren’t invincible, when you looked a little more tired in the evening while walking out with the trash, stubborn smile still directed at him like you refused to give up.

But for now, it’s still morning. “You sound excited, any plans this weekend?” he asked, leaving the mop in the corner after mopping the floors. Then he strolled up beside you, picking up the sponge to go wet it. You turned to glance at him exactly when he turned away. Maybe he’ll ask me out if I say no?

“Not much. Just happy it’s the last day we have to do these chores,” you said, seemingly carefree in adding little hearts and stars around what the teacher wanted. It made Iwa smile as he placed the wet sponge on the little edge beneath the chalkboard.

Wait, she’s happy we’re done? Maybe Kyotani is totally clueless. “Oh,” he said, not meaning to. “Me too.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” you teased, putting the chalk down and turning to him. “You like taking the trash out?”

“Maybe…” he said defensively, clenching his fists and then unclenching them again. “I like hanging out with you.” There, at least he said something.

“Iwaizumi…” He looked at you hopefully but glanced away quickly when he realised his face was burning. “You know we still sit beside each other when the week is finished, right? It’s not like I’ll stop talking to you.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, embarrassment sinking into every nerve of his body because he hadn’t much thought about that. “Of course,” he said first like it was instinctual. I just like hanging out with you alone. That’s what he should have said. Instead, he stuttered out meaningless sounds for a second before the bell rang and students started rushing to their seats, meaning you had to move too.

Oikawa sighed from the entrance to the classroom, in absolute disbelief at how his best friend, the ace of all aces, in his opinion, could fumble so badly for a girl.

“Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi closed his eyes at the agitating, grating voice that interrupted his peaceful lunch on a bench outside in the sun.

“Shittykawa.”

“Hey! I’m here to help you.” He sat down beside his best friend, opening his bento and stuffing some food in his mouth. Iwaizumi was chewing slowly and waiting to hear more with a disinterested look on his face.

“With?”

“Your love life.”

Oikawa went on a rant about grand gestures, making some very grand gestures himself while explaining, and Iwa could just not figure out why the girls swooned for him when he looked so stupidly invested in his stupid plan for his stupid love life.

“Are you even listening?” Oikawa asked, angrily stuffing another spoonful of food into his mouth.

“Absolutely not. I will not be renting a horse and armour.” And even though that was evidence he had in fact listened, Oikawa was not pleased that his best friend didn’t seem to understand what an expert in love he was. “She’s probably not even interested.”

“Iwa!” Another voice said, making him turn around and almost knock over the water bottle beside his bento.

“That you listen to.” Oikawa mocked from his side, but anything he said went in one ear and out the other once again, when his eyes fell on you.

“Hey,” Hajime greeted you, somewhat awkwardly as you hadn’t chatted much outside the classroom or on the way to the trash containers. “What’s up?”

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” you asked, your words sharing space with a sigh as you had jogged over.

“He’s not,” Oikawa answered, and while that would normally make him annoyed, he just repeated it while still looking at you.

“I’m not.”

“Maybe we can go out for some ice cream? Or a coffee?” you asked further, and it was obvious that you were nervous despite trying to seem confident, not smiling like you usually did. He didn’t answer right away, so you involuntarily went into a word vomit. “I was waiting for you to ask, but then you didn’t and if you’re not interested then we can just forget this, but…” You stopped and looked at him hopefully, one hand on either hip.

“Take him, please.”

Iwaizumi didn’t even need to look to plant his hand over Oikawa’s face before giving you an endearing smile. “I’m interested. Coffee sounds perfect.”

masterlist

/a special thanks to @cottonlemonade for helping me with my writer's block for this one

#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #hq x reader #fanfiction #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyu fluff #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi fluff #oikawa tooru #aoba johsai #oikawa

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rogueddie · 11 months ago

Text

It takes Steve an embarassingly long moment to realise that the spray isn't doing anything. He tries shaking it… nothing. He even checks by spraying it on his hand, shaking it again. Nothing.

He tries listening as he shakes it again and, though he's sure there's some product still left inside, nothing will come out.

He reluctantly throws it in the little trash can, just next to the toilet door. He doesn't bother rooting through the draws or cabinets either; he'd used the last of his emergency powder kit yesterday. There's nothing left.

He huffs, folding his arms, glaring at his reflection. Specifically at the very overgrown, bright blond roots of his hair.

It brings up the same anxiety he's been having for the past month. It's taken him a long time to save up for his usual hairdressers. He hadn't thought it would take so long but, with the kids and now Robin and Eddie, it shouldn't be that surprising.

Robin often pays a good chunk for things too, often paying him gas money, but it's usually him paying for everything. And now that he's paying rent in his own little appartment? He's not often left with that much at the end of the month.

He's starting to think it's not worth the trip. But he isn't going to start using box dye or anything cheap. He's spent a long time taking care of his hair, spent just as long struggling to find the right products too.

He doesn't even care that the kids and Robin mock him for it, he has great hair and, screw it, he's proud. He's not going to damage it by getting bad hair dye.

He's already booked his next hairdresser appointment for the next day, already saved up gas money too. He might as well ask for bleach instead, go back to his natural color and save himself from anymore days with overgrown roots.

He almost regrets the idea when he gets to work.

"Holy shit, you're a natural blond?" Robins grin looks almost painful with how wide it is. She's a little too excited for his comfort. "I don't know how I didn't guess before. This explains so much. How have you kept this hidden for so long? It's so light!"

"Don't you have work to do?" He bats her hand away when she, again, reaches for his hair.

"Not anymore. Why do you dye it? How did it grow out so much? When did you start hiding it? Did someone pressure you into it? They didn't make fun of you, did they? Because I will hunt them down and-"

"No one made me dye it or bullied me into it," he huffs. He can feel his attempt at a cool demeaner soften with how quickly she jumps to his defense. "I just... I never liked it. I don't think it suits me. Brunettes are cute."

"Are you dyeing it again?"

"Probably not. The hairdresser I go to isn't exactly cheap."

"You can get box dye at-"

"I'm not using box dye."

"It's not that bad, and if you really hate the blond-"

Steve swats at her when she reaches for his hair again. With a heavy sigh, he braces himself for the shift full of questions and jokes of 'betrayal'.

Like he suspected, they don't get much work done.

When Eddie comes in, towards the end of their shift, Steve is almost relieved.

"Stop bullying him without me," Eddie complains.

"Thank you," Steve says, whilst Robin boos. "What is it tonight? Movie night with Wayne or some of the kids?"

But Eddie is frozen, staring at his hair.

"I think he's broken," Robin says after a pause.

"You're blond?" Eddie blinks. "When did you go blond?"

"Always have been," Steve shrugs. "Just... not dyeing it anymore."

"Oh."

Steve and Robin stare at him. They share a glance after a moment.

"You here for a movie?" Steve asks.

"What? Me? No, I- just stopping by. And you're... yeah. I'm gonna- I've got to go. Wayne is waiting and... you know. Bye."

He turns around and practically runs out the store. His wheels squeal a little as he drives out, most likely breaking the speed limit.

"Did he just..." Robin starts, trailing off with a frown.

"Unbelievable," Steve shakes his head. "Just when I give up, he realizes that he likes me too! What the hell, Bob. Is he only into blonds or something?"

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #alittlelaughtime

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dizscreams · 1 year ago

Note

Hobie x fem reader where he gets a little jealous that’s shes been hanging out with another guy and she reassures him

NO NEED TO BE JEALOUS

— Hobie Brown ★

PAIRING: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

A/N: The Hobie brainrot is crazy

You crawled out of bed in a rush since you were already late to your hangout with Miles, accidentally waking up your boyfriend in the process. “Where you off to?” He asked groggily watching as you quickly grabbed a shirt and shimmied into your pants. “Hanging out with Miles!”

“Miles Morales?”

“Yeah, I told you this last night.”

You smirked at his muttered “Of course its Miles” but carried on getting ready like you didn’t hear it.

You put on mascara quickly and checked the time again. “What do you do when you’re with him?” He asked curiously. You looked at him as he propped his elbow on the bed and looked at you tiredly. “Not much,” you chuckled, “He’s been helping me with my drawings recently, giving me tips and all of that boring stuff.”

He nodded and opened his mouth to say something before you cut him off, “Shit I gotta go. I’ll see you later, I love you!” You kissed his head and grabbed one of Hobie’s jackets before running off. He groaned and rolled over to put his head into his pillow. He trusted you, he really did, but he didn’t know Miles too well.

He was a good kid it seemed but you had been spending a lot more time with Miles than you were with Hobie. But Hobie wasn’t jealous, of course not! He didn’t get jealous. He just wished you spent more time with your actual boyfriend than with a kid you just met.

That was it.

That night Hobie waited in your room for you to come home. You ended up coming home at 9 o’clock at night. You stepped through the portal and immediately greeted your boyfriend. “Oh hey, you’re still here?” You asked as you sat on the bed next to him. “Yeah, you were out late.” You looked at the clock and grimaced, “Were you waiting this whole time?”

Hobie nodded in reply and you kissed his cheek, “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Miles and I were spray painting all the spider people we’re friends with and it’s super cool. You should come see it sometime!” You ranted as you got up from your position on the bed and changed into more comfy clothes, that being an oversized t-shirt of Hobies and some sweatpants.

“You spent the whole day with him?”

“Yeah,” you replied nonchalantly as you laid down on the bed, sighing as your back his the comfy mattress.

You patted the spot next to you and Hobie moved to sit upright against the headboard. “Are you okay?” You asked looking up at him. “Fine, just fine,” he responded in a way that told you he was definitely not just fine. You put a hand on his arm and moved to prop yourself up so that you were now sitting upright against the headboard as well.

“What’s wrong?”

You would be lying if you said his crossed arms and slight pout didn’t amuse you. You knew exactly what was wrong, you just wanted to mess with him a bit. This was about Miles. Everytime you mentioned his name you saw Hobie roll his eyes or you heard a small annoyed groan. It was funny to you, but you couldn’t tell him that.

“You’re spending a lot of time with this Miles fella, don’t you think?”

You hid your smile and shrugged, “Guess so. He’s just a good friend is all.”

“A good friend?” He repeated, “You’ve known him three days tops.”

“Hobie?”

“What?”

“Do you think you might be jealous of Miles?”

He made a weird face and you laughed. “It’s okay to admit it you know,” you gave him a teasing smile and put your chin on his shoulder. “You’re kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

He rolled his eyes and gently pushed your head off his shoulder, “Shut up. Ain’t jealous.” Your smile turned into a grin, “Right, is that why you can’t even look at me when you say it?” He turned his head to look at you and gave you a glare. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you aren’t jealous,” you said with a small laugh.

“You serious?”

“Extremely.”

He hated how much fun you were getting out of this but couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips. "M' not jealous of some 15 year old.” You hummed, “Thought you hated labels.” He shook his head and out of no where grabbed your waist and put you on his lap. He laughed at the yelp you let out and you hit his shoulder. “You could’ve given me a warning!”

“You didn’t deserve it.”

You scoffed, “You are unbelievable, Hobie.”

“What? You don’t like me teasing you, after all you’ve said to me?” You stayed silent with a pout on your lips and he kissed your forehead, “Cmon now, ’s just fun and games, love.” “Jus fun and games, love.” You mimicked with your familiar smile returning back to your face. You laughed at his reaction before leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder and put your arms around him.

“Back to the main point, you are jealous.”

He let out a breath and nodded, “Suppose so.”

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Ay! Just a bit. Lets not forget that you were jealous of Gwen one time.”

“Okay, shut up.”

He laughed and you smiled, “I just want you to know you’re the only guy I want. You’re cooler than Miles, but don’t tell him I said that,” you warned as you observed the dumb smirk on his face. “I wont.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He put his arms around your torso and you both stayed like that until you fell asleep.

Maybe he was stupid to be jealous of Miles but the outcome was completely worth it.

#dizzy writes?! 😵‍💫#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk #spider man across the spider verse

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drgnmnts · 4 months ago

Text

knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC

Title: knuckles bruised (like violets)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!OC (Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower)

Summary: There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, especially for those caught in between, longing only for peace as they're met with fire and blood.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 1 - Child's Play

Word count: 1.7K

Born during a warm summer storm, Daenys Targaryen came into the world only one year after her brother Aemond, unaware that her arrival would be met with her father’s painful indifference and an ever-present frown on her mother’s brow. Daenys spent the first years of her life wondering what it could be that made her parents treat her so. The possibility of being an unwanted child quickly dissipated after Daeron was welcomed with warm caresses and kind smiles. She considered that her gender might be the reason for such treatment, but her mother doted on Helaena, and every one of her peculiarities was watched endearingly by the rest. Daenys even proved herself extraordinary when, at the age of nine, she claimed Silverwing, one of the largest dragons in the history of Westeros. This achievement earned her the praise of her uncle Daemon and the jealousy of Aemond, but to her mother, it was just another source of worry rather than a remarkable feat.

The answer came to her one morning as the maids made her and Helaena’s beds, unaware that she was still in the room, looking for a book: she resembled Rhaenyra too closely in her youth. Unfortunately, there was nothing Daenys could do to fix the issue her parents saw in her, for it was intrinsic to her very being. To her father, she was a disappointment, a feeble attempt at replacing the realm’s former delight; to her mother, a constant reminder of the girl she grew up with, a friend turned adversary she both despised and deeply missed in equal measure.

It was oddly liberating for Daenys to realize that it wasn’t something she had caused or could change, making any blame directed towards her utterly senseless. With time, Daenys learned to ignore their judgmental gazes, cutting remarks, and outright indifference. It hurt, yes, but Daenys was a dragon, and dragons had thick skin—thicker even than the armor of Aegon the Conqueror.

She was now eleven, still a girl, but one who carried herself with regal composure and a dignity beyond her years. Daenys had long lost interest in her sibling’s squabbles or her nephew’s frolics: she only found true enjoyment in riding Silverwing. Her dragon was a magnificent beast, doing justice to her name with her silver scales that covered the entirety of her body, surpassed in size only by the old and mighty Vhagar. Unlike Laena Velaryon’s dragon, Silverwing was an affable and docile creature, considered friendly by the Dragonkeepers, which made sense given that her previous rider had been Good Queen Alysanne. Claiming Silverwing had given her a sense of belonging she had yearned for in her early childhood, reminding her that it did not matter what others saw in her: she was a Targaryen princess in her own right, a unique dragonrider with her own life and her own story. She might resemble her half-sister, but she was not her.

Despite her obvious inability to treat Daenys as she deserved, Queen Alicent found comfort in her daughter’s disregard for the Velaryon boys. This indifference was, of course, a result of the poison Alicent had been dripping into Daenys’ ear all her life, perhaps in an attempt to draw her girl away from Rhaenyra as much as possible. The Queen was fearful that her daughter would discover she had more in common with the King’s firstborn than just appearance, and her sons were the first tie she made sure to cut before it could bind them together. Thus, while Helaena played with little Lucerys and Aegon bickered with Jacaerys, Daenys simply ignored them, regarding the bastard boys as unworthy of her attention.

As Silverwing landed in the Dragonpit, her song alerting the Dragonkeepers that the Princess had returned from her morning ride, Daenys was met with her brother Aemond already there, watching. The egg placed in his cradle at birth had never hatched, and the boy still hadn’t found the courage in him to claim one of the wild ones. Daenys often thought about how unfair it was, since Aemond was more than eager to be a dragonrider, yet he might never know what it feels like to bond with one.

“Mother is cross with you,” he informed his sister as she patted Silverwing’s head, the dragon answering with a contented murmur.

“I wonder why,” Daenys replied, showing no sign of concern over her brother’s words.

“You didn’t break your fast with us. You know she does not like it.”

“Ah, yes… I didn’t want to listen to them fighting about Rhaenyra’s baby,” she said, “has she had it yet?”

Aemond nodded and walked with his sister through the dark corridors connecting the Dragonpit to the Red Keep, his back straight, always trying to make himself look taller than he actually was.

“Yes. Another boy. Healthy and strong.”

At her brother’s comment, Daenys snorted. It was an ongoing joke between her and her brothers how Rahenyra’s offspring looked nothing like Laenor Velaryon and way too much like Ser Harwin Strong, the Commander of the City Watch. It was an insult to the realm, something Daenys condemned greatly, often using her mother’s words when discussing the issue with her siblings.

“I’ll apologize to mother, then. She must be upset enough as it is,” the girl stated, stopping at the door to her chambers. She was in urgent need of a bath, especially if she was planning to visit her mother. “I’ll be studying with Helaena in the afternoon, if you’d like to join.”

Aemond shook his head, his eyes kind when he looked at his sister.

“Aegon’s asked me to accompany him to see how they feed Vermax. I don’t want to, but…”

“It’s alright, Aemond. Your moment will come, I’m sure of it,” she comforted him. “I wish mother would let us sail to Dragonstone… you could try to claim Vermithor. He coils with Silverwing when we fly to the Dragonmont, but never lets me get close.”

The idea had crossed Aemond’s mind more times than he cared to admit: their great-grandfather, Jahaerys I, had ridden Vermithor, just as his sister-wife Alysanne had ridden Silverwing. Their reign had been a peaceful and prosperous one, and the pair had loved each other dearly. It was a nice thought, one that Aemond indulged in whenever he pictured himself as a man: riding one of the largest dragons in the world, with his sister by his side.

A beautiful dream, but a childish one.

The door opened suddenly, a maid letting the Princess know that her bath was ready. With a squeeze on his arm, Daenys said goodbye to her brother and disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors.

_______________________________________________

Queen Alicent was too busy feeling outraged by Princess Rhaenyra’s indecency, so Daenys avoided her mother’s scolding without much effort. Daenys was sitting next to Helaena, who was lost in her thoughts, explaining the various facts she knew about the bug she was examining. It was obvious that Alicent found her daughter’s explanations odd and perhaps a bit disturbing, but Daenys appreciated that at least her mother was making an effort to understand her, something that most people chose not to do. Listening to her sister’s voice, Daenys paid little attention to the book resting on her legs, a story about Valyrian customs. Helaena was a good sister, despite her distant mind and how little they had in common: where Daenys was daring and audacious, Helaena was calmer and gentler, both in speech and action. Sometimes, Daenys wished she could be a bit more like her sister; perhaps that way her mother would love her a little more.

“It has eyes, though… I don’t believe it can see,” Helaena explained, the centipede walking freely through her hands.

“And why do you think that is?” their mother asked.

“It is beyond our understanding,” she replied.

“Perhaps to cry for its own ugliness,” Daenys joked, and she could have sworn she saw the ghost of a laugh cross her mother’s features.

The door burst open, and a guard stepped inside the room, carrying Aemond by the arm. He was crying and covered in ash.

“After how many times you’ve been warned, must I confine you to your chambers?!” their mother scolded him, grabbing him by the arms to ensure he was unharmed.

“I just-,” he tried, but was quickly cut off by Alicent.

“What were you doing down there alone?”

Aemond’s eyes darted towards Daenys, which was enough for Alicent to draw her own conclusions.

“Again?!” she roared, letting go of Aemond and speeding toward Daenys. She grabbed her arm and pulled her up by the sleeve of her dress. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop filling your brother’s head with fantasies about those beasts?!”

“I didn’t! I just told him he would claim a dragon someday, it’s not-”

“As if he needed more encouragement!”

The grip Alicent had on her daughter’s arm started to hurt, and tears began to prickle at the corners of Daenys’ eyes.

“Mother, it wasn’t Daenys,” Aemond tried to defend his sister. “She encouraged me to claim a dragon, yes, but I wouldn’t have gone down to the Dragonpit had it not been for their teasing…”

“Whose?” the Queen inquired.

“Aegon,” Helaena chimed in, her eyes still observing her bugs, but somehow able to pinpoint the culprit right away.

“Yes, and… those bastards…” Aemond added, his voice barely a whisper when he pronounced the word. “They made fun of me, tricked me into believing they had found me a dragon and it… it was a pig,” he explained, visibly embarrassed.

It was only after realizing that it had been the boys who had pushed Aemond to act so recklessly that Alicent became aware of the strength she was using to hold her daughter’s arm. She immediately let go. Daenys’ face was red and her eyes watery, but the girl hadn’t uttered a word of protest to her mother’s abuse.

Alicent sighed, and for a moment she looked older than she was.

“Go wash, Aemond,” the Queen commanded her son, who turned on his heel immediately, making his way to his quarters. “We shall finish later, yes?” she proposed to Helaena, who had been a mere witness to the whole spectacle. She bent down to kiss her eldest daughter’s head and, without sparing Daenys a single look, left the girls’ chambers. It was only in Helaena’s solitary company that Daenys allowed herself to cry. Her arm hurt, but what hurt the most was that not a single day went by without her mother scolding her for something she had done or said.

“Don’t cry, Daenys,” she heard Helaena say after some time, her gentle fingers combing through her little sister's hair. “None of this will matter soon.”

_______________________________________________

No Jace in this chapter, but he's coming! I just wanted to set the tone a bit and introduce our lovely Daenys.

If you liked this, let me know in any way! :)

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x oc #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd #knuckles bruised (like violets)

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darkestspring · 8 months ago

Note

So Aegon cuts his hair short so he doesnt look like a Targaryen, he hated being a Targaryen. So imagine Jaces twin sister, long dark curls and dark brown eyes.

Even as children Aegon thought she was pretty, he loved that she didn't look like a traditional Targaryen.

As they grew older Aegon became obsessed with her. If he has to marry he wants to marry her and hard dark haired babies, and that what he tells his mother, right before she slaps him.

Aegon managing to push hos wedding to Helaena off for years, but when Rheanyra and her kids comes back to Kings Landing and Aegon sees Jaces twin again.

Aegon won't let her slip through his fingers again.

You'd always look so.... unlike a targaryen. Unlike how he and his siblings looked. with Brown hair and dark eyes, you were everything his mother hated, a targaryen that didn't look like one.

But... you were so pretty.

Aegon once again snuck away from his lessons to watch you with your dragon, you looked so happy. Dark eyes alive with mischief and happiness as you whispered something to your dragon and he roared in return, eliciting a laugh from you.

He'd never heard you laugh before then, it was like a forgotten song, a melody he could never escape from.

He's also never seen you as angry as you were that night, glaring with teary eyes as you held onto your younger brothers. His attraction to you hadn't ceased even in that moment. when you were brimming with happiness and when you were seething with anger, both expressions made him want to kiss you senseless.

But then you were gone. As soon as that. He wished he could have more time. More time to see you, to follow you, to find a common interest or even feign interest in what you liked if only to hear your voice say his name.

It wasn't until he saw you again, still unmarried despite his mother's ire and nagging. He'd never marry anyone but you. He hoped that the children he had with you would be dark haired babies.

You turned, feeling eyes on you and your lips curled into an almost snarl at seeing Aegon staring at you before you turned away. "He's staring at me." You hissed to your mother and step-father.

"I can collect another head." Daemon suggested, hand already on his sword.

Much to your disappointment, your mother shook her head. "Not yet."

He won't marry Helaena, Aegon decided. Anyone else can have her but you. You were his.

"Let me marry her." His words were spoken boldly to Rhaenyra and Daemon after basically forcing an audience with them. "I'll fight for your claim, I won't challenge it. I don't care about ruling. I just want her." Aegon stared at them with fierce eyes.

Daemon looked like he wanted to draw his sword until Rhaenyra stopped him, hand on his chest.

"I'll think about it." Rhaenyra answered coolly, dismissing him.

That wasn't good enough. Aegon couldn't stand it anymore. he has spent years yearning for you, craving to hear you say his name at the very least.

"You've always been the pretties girl I've ever seen." His words made you stomach clench and you didn't want to think about it. "Pretty brown hair and dark eyes, you look like a dream." He might be a bit drunk and babbling word vomit but it was all true.

You stared at him for a moment, almost stunned before reaching over and taking another drink of you wine. "And your mother? What does she think of this?"

"I don't care. I don't care what she thinks or what she wants. I just want you. I don't want glory or power. I just want to sleep on your thighs for the rest of my life." Aegon couldn't stop talking

A laugh slipped from your throat and an amused look filled your eyes at his words. "Is that so?" You mused softly. Taking pity on him, you leaned forward and kissed him. "Once you're sober, come find me and tell me again that you want to sleep on my thighs for all eternity. Maybe i'll let you."

With those last words, you were gone from his view and Aegon barely stopped himself from scrambling after you like a lost puppy.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #the darkest night; asks

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cursedhaglette · 9 months ago

Text

Colleagues

You're been nothing but helpful to Magistrate Ancunin, working to advance your career by supporting his cases. Your crush on him has lasted almost as long as your time spent working together.

And then he decides he wants to show you just how grateful he is for all your thorough help.

Rating: E Word Count: 2.5k Content: 18+, oral sex, PIV sex, squirting, cum swallowing, pre-canon

[ao3 link]

A/N: I don't know what magistrates do and not sure if I really care, but if fantasy judge/lawyer combo doesn't work for you then sorry!

“Madam, I have Magistrate Ancunin here to see you,” the voice of the office assistant reaches your ears before the door opens and the heavy hinges creak in that way you hate. The older human woman who assists with your paperwork and appointments allows in the familiar, handsome face. You nod your thanks and Vilna closes the door promptly, as she always does.

“Magistrate,” you say in greeting, and he smirks as he approaches.

“You always say that like it’s not your title as well,” he argues, the same comment the two of you make every time you have this exchange.

You’ve been smitten with him for an almost pathetic amount of time, but while you’re still unsure whether his flirtations were just for fun or genuine, you held off on making any real move. Being rejected by one of your fellow magistrates, one of your senior colleagues that you’re so often tasked with assisting, would be far more humiliating than you’re willing to risk.

“Do you have those case notes ready?” He asks, and the deep caress of his voice scatters your mind as you fumble for the information you’d collected for him. You remember you’d filed it away just last night, wanting to be sure it wasn’t mixed in with the other handful of cases you were either overseeing or assisting on.

“Sorry, yeah - it’s over here. I was working on it until late last night, but I think it should be more than enough to present your case.”

He doesn’t respond, so you move around your desk to where you filed the documents the evening prior.

“You really ought to make me work harder for this,” he smirks, and you watch every movement of his clever mouth as you turn to meet his gaze. “So much done, all for me? None of the other junior magistrates are quite as helpful and thorough as you are, darling.”

“I’m far too generous, I’m wholly aware,” you turn, noticing how much closer he’s gotten. How his body is nearly against yours, your back meeting the edge of your filing cabinet as you adjust, watching as he takes another step closer.

“You ought to be careful,” he whispers, and you think you might be able to smell cigar smoke and brandy on his clothing, his breath a puff of warm air against your skin as he draws ever closer, “associating with the ‘hanging judge’ might earn you a reputation an innocent thing like you might not like.”

“Maybe I’m not so innocent. I can handle myself,” you murmur, and mean it. You weren’t scared of his reputation, not when you wanted to make your own. Assisting him, making a name for yourself as you grew your career, it was all part of a plan. Falling for him was the only piece you hadn’t accounted for. “And maybe I like working with you.”

“I’m glad, because I like it as well,” he grins, “so tell me you’ll let me show you my thanks.”

“Astarion…” you whisper again, and your eyes can only focus on his lips. The way his tongue flicks to wet them, so full and perfect. Gods, you wish he would just break this tension so you could finally feel his hands around your body.

“Let me show you how grateful I am,” he says again and leans against you, dipping his head to whisper a gentle kiss along your neck, then another below your ear. “Let me show you how much I like working with you, Tav.”

“Is this a good idea?” You hate the question, hate that it could end the delicious warmth seeping into your core as his lips move lightly against your skin. But you have to know, have to be sure…

“Probably not,” he grunts but pulls away for long enough to look you in the eyes as he says, “but if you want this, then I don’t give a damn how good or bad an idea it is. Do you want this?”

“Yes,” you moan, and then his mouth is on yours and it’s like your prayers are finally answered. His mouth is warm and perfect, his tongue dancing against the seam of your lips until you open, eagerly, to welcome him in. He pushes you against the cabinet, your back digging into a drawer pull, but you don’t care as his hands move to cup your ass and lift you slightly, enough to angle your core against his.

You can feel his hardness and it draws a desperate, gasping moan from you that he swallows with his kiss. He holds you firm, his grip likely strong enough to bruise. Have you noticed how strong he was before? You knew he was fit, but Gods, the way he holds you shows off how easy this is for him. He’s experienced, and you are too…but not like this. Not with someone you’ve wanted for ages, dreamt of kissing or laying with as you sign off on each individual document you’ve prepared for him over the last year.

“I’ve wanted you,” he growls as he shifts and gently sucks on your sensitive earlobe, “since I first laid eyes on you. Since you first walked into this office.”

“Really?” you gasp, and Astarion’s hands move to the buttons of your blouse, his mouth kissing along your collarbones. He pulls away for a moment, eyes scanning yours and you watch in delight as his gaze flickers to your flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Then, he takes your hand, and moves it to the hardness pressed against you - guiding you to feel the full length of him, still taught and held within his fine, leather trousers but begging for release.

“Do you feel this?” He asks, smiling as your blush deepens. You bite your lip and nod. “This is how desperately I’ve wanted you. How hard I’ve been trying to hold back from doing this every time I see you. But I can’t hold back any longer, not if you want me too.”

“I do,” you moan, and he’s on you again, his kisses somehow more desperate than before. But then he’s kneeling and -

“May I?” He looks up at you, both hands warming your thighs and you know what he wants, even if you’re shocked this is happening at all. You nod and his hands move to your waistband, tugging off your work trousers and undergarments in a single movement.

You’re bare for him for a moment before he nudges your legs apart and finally his fingers find your clit, gently pressing against your pleasure. Astarion looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, as you whimper at the touch - simultaneously feeling overwhelmed by the sudden caress and desperately needing more from him.

“Put your foot on my shoulder,” he instructs, and you do without thought. The heat at your core, the way your want feels like a thrumming ache that grows with each second that goes by drives away any second guessing or nervousness you might feel. All you can think of is the way his hands caress your hips, your thighs, as he looks at you laid bare. “Gods, look at you. Soaked for me and so fucking beautiful.”

“Please,” you gasp, and he smirks but finally obliges you. His hands move to grip your ass and stars burst behind your eyes when he finally drags the flat of his tongue from your hole to clit. His mouth latches around her, sucking and licking in alteration as soaked, sloppy sounds begin to fill her small office. You’re being feasted on, and each groan with pleasure vibrates through you and adds to the building release he’s bringing you toward.

Astarion moves one hand from your ass and shifts his mouth only slightly, his tongue never leaving your swollen bud as he slides two fingers into your heat, immediately finding the soft spot inside you that has everything going white behind your eyes.

“A-Astari-uhhhnnn,” your knees buckle as you cry his name, reaching for his hair and holding his mouth to you as the dam of your arousal bursts.

Pleasure floods you, and you soak him in the process, grinding against his face and coming around his fingers as your body thrashes in release. His ministrations continue, licking and fingering through the final clenches of your orgasm before he finally pulls away, his face slick with your arousal and release.

“You taste fucking delicious,” he growls and stands, pulling you into another deep kiss so you can taste yourself on his lips. You moan into his mouth again and finally feel him tug free his cock, stiff and dripping with his own excitement.

“Can I taste you?”

“Not now, darling,” he growls and pulls you off the cabinet, his hands rough. “I’ve got to be inside you now, or I may go mad.”

He guides you to your desk, papers and files scattering in the wake of your desperate movements, banging your way around the office without letting his lips leave yours, his hands lingering at your sides, your hips, your breasts.

Your ass meets the edge of the desk at the same moment his fingers find a nipple, pinching and twisting viciously, enough to have him groaning at the sound of your gasping cry. He kisses his way down your body again, his lips meeting your breasts and sucking gently before he moves lower, kissing down the planes of your stomach.

Propping yourself on your elbows, you watch as he finally pulls away and lines his cock up with your slit. He rubs his head against your sensitive clit, wetting himself on your still soaking cunt and each rubbing slide feels better than the last. He’s so hard, the head of his beautiful, thick cock so soft, and it’s all for you. After so long, after so many late nights spent wishing you could have him all to yourself.

Your head hangs back as he begins to slide into you, the feeling overwhelming as your body stretches to accommodate him. He takes his time, his own eyes closing slowly as he adjusts in his own way, the feeling of your heat and slick enough to have him biting his lip in concentration.

“Astarion,” you whine and your back arches as he moves forward another inch, “I can take it, I want it all, please - I need more, please, pleee-aahh -”

He fills you to the hilt, giving all of himself to you in one movement and you can only muster a deep, primal groan as he begins to set a steady rhythm, rolling his hips against yours. Each movement is practiced and perfect, managing to hit every spot inside you that begs for pressure.

“So ti-ight, mmmm,” he groans, picking up speed. He reaches between your legs, his thumb rubbing circles in time with each thrust. “Can you come for me again? Around me?”

You clench around him, feeling the tug behind your navel and the added moisture between your legs and then you’re coming, coming around him like your body knew to obey his ask with words alone. Your second undoing under his hands is somehow stronger than the first, your body convulsing like a woman possessed as you shatter again and again.

“Good girl,” he grunts and sputters, “such a good…mmmmph…good girl, coming for me.”

You milk him with every slowing contraction of your body, tugging him deeper into you, and he stammers your name like the chants of monks in a chapel. You listen as he repeats it, over and over, as his breath hitches and his movements grow erratic, desperate and his own pleasure begins to build toward climax.

He’s close, so close and you don’t have a tonic so you lean up and kiss him, his body slowing as his focus shifts to your mouth. This time his moan fills the space shared between you and the sound would buckle your knees were you standing.

When you tug away, both of your breaths still ragged with pleasure, you whisper what you want, no - what you need. “Come in my mouth. Let me taste you that way.”

“Are you sure?” He grunts the question, leaning in for another languid kiss as he continues each deep, slow movement within you. You nod through the kiss, then move off the desk, to your knees.

He’s coated in your slick, and flush with pleasure, each vein in his gorgeous length thrumming with need you can’t wait to slake. You roll him in with your hand, luxuriating in this hiss it earns you.

You swirl your tongue around his head before sucking it into your mouth, groaning as you realize that you’re about to know how you taste in combination with him.

“Gods,” he pants, “don’t stop, y-you feel…unbelievable.”

You smile and take him deeper, adjusting to his length for a few moments and then letting him fuck into your throat at the pace he needs to finally reach his peak. He bucks quickly, his eyes close as yours water, his length hitting the back of your throat.

You swallow as he quivers through his end, and then bob up and down once more before pulling away from him, your mouth popping as you release his head from your mouth. You lick him clean, any release you hadn’t caught already you wipe away with a warm tongue, feeling his eyes on you as you do.

“Fucking hells,” he whispers, a hand reaching to stroke your cheek as you finally sit up, “that was…”

“Okay?”

“You delicious fool, that was the best head I can ever remember receiving,” and he folds himself over to reach where you still kneel before him, kissing you deeply and slipping his tongue into your mouth - tasting himself on your tongue. It’s salty and perfect, the taste a lingering reminder of the ecstasy you shared.

Astarion moves to dress quickly, as though suddenly reminded that it was the middle of the workday and you were both in an office, and you follow his lead.

He straightens his coat, rubbing his palms down his shirt to even out the wrinkles left over from their earlier collision. He looks almost nervous, watching as you finish lacing up your shoes, then looking at the utter chaos left behind on the desk.

“This won’t make things…uncomfortable between us? Will it?” You ask the question carefully, aware that it very well could change everything. Could ruin all that hard work. But Gods, it sure as hell felt worth it in the moment.

“Oh lovely girl,” he smiled, finally meeting your eye again with that perfect smile, “if anything, this just got a lot better. In fact, I could imagine you and I will be very, very good colleagues.”

“Well then,” you stand and walk toward him, taking his coat in both hands and tugging the handsome elf flush against you once more, “I suppose the cases we work on together are going to be a lot more fun from here on out.”

“Oh my dear,” he kisses you quickly, a gorgeous, devious grin lighting his face as he pulls away, “I couldn’t agree more.”

#bg3 fanfic #astarion fic #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #hagfics

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