#I know this has been done before but I don't care

[lostfracturess]

say it again — satoru gojo x f!reader

you've been married to satoru gojo for so long, but you've kept it quiet, so you can imagine his satisfaction at finally hearing you call him "husband" in public.

You've managed to keep your marriage to Satoru Gojo under wraps for nearly two year now. It isn't that you're ashamed—far from it.

Being married to one of the most powerful sorcerers simply comes with complications, especially given his clan's tendency to meddle in everything.

So you both agreed to keep it quiet. No flashy announcements, no public displays, just you and him. Sure, it means wearing your ring on a chain under your clothes and careful planning for your living arrangements, but it's worth it for the peace and quiet.

That is, until you slip up at the most mundane possible moment.

You're both at an official appointment regarding some property documentation. The clerk has been droning on about paperwork when she asks about your relationship to Satoru for the forms.

"Oh, he's my husband," you reply absently, still scanning the documents in front of you.

The scratching of Satoru's pen stops abruptly. You look up to find him staring at you with the most ridiculous expression—somewhere between absolutely delighted and utterly self-satisfied.

"What was that?" he asks, a grin spreading across his face.

You blink, realizing what you've just said. "I mean—"

"No, no, say it again." His eyes are practically shining now. "What am I to you?"

"Satoru," you warn, very aware of the confused clerk watching your exchange.

"Come on," he says, leaning closer. "One more time. What am I?"

"We're in public," you hiss, but you can feel your cheeks warming under his gaze.

"Please?" He bats his eyelashes at you in that ridiculous way of his. "For your beloved husband?"

"You're impossible," you mutter, but you can't help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Impossibly charming? Impossibly handsome? Impossibly perfect as your husband?"

The clerk clears her throat. "Should I... put down 'married' then?"

"Yes!" Satoru answers before you can. "Put down that I am this wonderful person's husband. Their spouse. Their better half. Their—"

"She gets it," you cut him off.

But Satoru isn't done. For the rest of the appointment, he manages to work the word "husband" into nearly every sentence. "As her husband, I think we should sign here." "My lovely spouse and I would like copies of that." "Do you need both myself and my better half to initial this?"

By the time you leave the office, you're ready to strangle him.

"You're enjoying this way too much," you say as you walk to the car.

"Can you blame me?" He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "It's not every day I get to hear you call me your husband in public. Usually it's all 'this is Satoru' or 'we're together' or my personal favorite, 'yes, I do unfortunately know him.'"

You roll your eyes, but can't help leaning into him. "You know why we keep it quiet."

"I know, I know. The clan would be insufferable." He presses a kiss to your temple. "But maybe we should tell them anyway? Can you imagine their faces when they find out we've been married this whole time?"

"They'll have our heads for this."

"Perhaps. But you have to admit, the thought is tempting. No more sneaking around, no more hiding that ring." He catches your hand, thumb brushing over where your ring should be. "I want everyone to know exactly who you are to me. And what I am to you. What was it again?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Come on," he coaxes, "just say it once more."

You pretend to consider it. "And what do I get out of this?"

"My eternal love and devotion?" He gives you a long look. "And I'll do the dishes for a week."

"You're supposed to do those anyway," you point out, but he's already pulling you closer, that insufferable smirk of his growing wider.

"Say it again, love," he says, and the way he looks at you then—eyes soft and full of adoration—makes your breath catch in your throat.

All your defenses melt away under that gaze, the one he reserves just for you, the one that makes you forget why you ever try to deny him anything.

"Husband," you breathe, and feel him tense slightly against you.

"Just like that," he whispers. "Though I prefer when you add my name to it."

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"That's what I do best," he says. "Besides, my darling wife, I think you secretly love it when I am."

The way he says 'wife' sends a shiver down your spine—something you know he notices from the satisfied look in his eyes. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly yours," he corrects, and despite his playful tone, there's something sincere in his gaze. "What do you say? Ready to scandalize some elders?"

Looking at him now, you can't remember why you ever wanted to keep this secret. "With you? Always."

He doesn't wait for more, just leans in and captures your lips with his, and you think maybe going public isn't such a terrible idea after all.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 5

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

“You want to talk about it?” Her mate asked her flatly and Mor couldn’t help but grimace.

"No," Mor said simply, her tone clipped. She had been hoping to avoid this conversation, but it seemed as though Emerie was not willing to let her off that easily. "There's nothing to talk about."

Her mate just snorted. “Yeah, absolutely nothing,” she said sarcastically. “How about the fact that the male that spend 500 years being in love with you, met his mate 2 years ago and hasn’t said a single thing about it to any member of his family?”

"What do you want me to say, Em?" she asked with a sigh.

At the start…before Nesta had forced her to actually confront what she was feeling…Before she actually thought about the fact, that no…it wasn’t actually funny for Azriel to keep their mate from them…and it also wasn’t normal for him. Of course, Azriel liked his privacy, it was something that he fiercely guarded, but he was also…he wouldn’t have actually hidden away his mate from his family. He would have introduced her, would have invited her to birthdays and Winter Solstice and Starfall…

But he hadn’t. 

He had rather hidden away every trace of that relationship than actually talk to any of them about it. 

“Nesta told me that she laid into you,” Emerie said with a shrug. “You did use Azriel, you know that, Mor.”

Mor's expression hardened at Emerie's words. 

Emerie was right. She had used him. 

Of course, at the time…she had been desperate, afraid of the feelings that she had been having…willing to hide them… but the way she had gone about it hadn’t been…It hadn’t been fair. 

She just didn’t like to reflect on that. 

"It doesn't matter now, Em," she said flatly. "It's in the past."

“Is it?” Emerie asked, sharply. “You never tried to actually talk to Azriel about it. You just expected him to be alright with it. Alright with us,” she continued. “He has never once been anything but polite to me, but quite frankly he would have had every right to be pissed off.”

Mor just so managed not to grimace. 

Not a single word. Not a single gesture. Nothing but politeness and kindness had come from Azriel after her and Emerie’s mating bond had snapped. Nothing. 

"You don't think I know that? You don't think I'm racked with guilt every damn day?" she asked her mate, turning away from from Emerie, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I know that I hurt him, Em. I know that I used him. But what do you want me to do about it now? It's in the past, it's done. I can't change it."

Emerie was silent for a moment, her expression softening slightly. "You can apologize," she said softly. "You can try to mend what you broke. And maybe, just maybe, he'll forgive you."

Mor let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Apologize? For what?" she asked, her voice dripping with self-mockery. "For using him? For making him think he had a chance with me when he never did? For breaking his heart when I knew damn well how he felt about me?"

Emerie's expression hardened again. "Yes," she said firmly. "For all of those things. Because at the end of the day, Mor, you used him. And he deserves better than that."

Mor's shoulders slumped, the fight leaving her all at once. She knew that Emerie was right. She knew that she had been selfish, that she had hurt Azriel in a way that could never be undone. But the thought of facing him, of admitting her mistakes and opening herself up to the pain and rejection that surely awaited her…it was terrifying.

“I imagine he had a few very good reasons to keep Irena a secret from all of us,” Emerie said softly. “Regardless of what feelings he once harboured for you…he was always your friend, Mor. And he kept his mate a secret from you.”

Mor sighed, her shoulders slumped. "I know," she said softly. "I know. I thought it was jsut Az being Az but it’s not, is it?”

Emerie reached out, placing a gentle hand on Mor's arm. "No," she said softly. "It's not. It's him protecting something that he loves. And I don't blame him for that."

***

“Are you hungry?” Azriel asked his mate softly.

Madja had checked on her the evening before…had told her to keep off her leg for a few days and plied her with more potions, bandages the bruises again… given her more sleeping draught. It hasn’t stopped Irena from waking up twice with nightmares.

"No," Irena said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't have much of an appetite." She looked pale, her eyes dull and lacking their usual sparkle. It was clear that she hadn't slept well, and his heart ached at the sight of her discomfort.

Shock had dissipated and left his mate…grieving and sad and Azriel curled himself tighter around her.

He could feel the weight of her sadness and grief, and it broke his heart to see her this way. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close and hoping to offer some comfort and support.

“You need to eat something, love,” he insisted softly. “Whatever you want.” 

He really didn’t care if all she had in her stomach were her favourite cookies, at least that would be something. 

Irena shook her head, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want anything," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. "Just...just stay here with me."

Azriel's heart tugged at her words, and he pulled her even closer, cradling her against him. "Of course," he whispered, his lips brushing the top of her head. "I'm not going anywhere, love,” he promised her fiercely. “But you still need to eat something,” he whispered. “How about the shadows get you one of those blueberry pastries you like?”

Irena sighed, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "Alright," she said softly. "I do love those pastries." She looked up at him, her eyes still dull but a small hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He didn’t even need to order the shadows to do anything, they had one of her favourite blueberry pastries on a plate on the bed side table in a breath. *Please tell me you left the money,* he told them mentally.

The shadows seemed almost indignant. *Of course we left it. Do you think we're thieves?* Azriel smiled at their tone."

"Of course not," he said aloud, reaching for the pastry and offering it to Irena. "You're just very efficient." The shadows swirled around him almost smugly at the praise, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“Thank you,” Irena thanked them softly. The shadows preened.

Azriel chuckled again, watching as the shadows swirled around Irena, as if basking in her gratitude. It was cute how they seemed almost puppy-like in their desire for her attention. 

He was amazed, as always, by how much the shadows adored her.

He had never expected them to warm up to anyone else, especially not as quickly as they had to his mate. 

Suddenly…as soon as he had properly introduced his shadows to her…as soon as it was clear that she wasn’t going to start flinching away from them or from him if they showed up to badger her…as soon as that was clear, they had started to dote on her. Seemingly so pleased that there was another person that wasn’t scared off them. 

The shadows and Irena had formed a bond that defied explanation, and it made Azriel so happy to see the two things he cherished most in the world getting along so well.

(Even if he sometimes got jealous that the shadows never had doted on him like they did on Irena. He got porridge for breakfast but Irena got the ridiculous expensive pastries from the newest high end bakery. Irena got bubble bath, while he only got salt dumped into his bath water and got told that it was good for his muscles.) 

He watched as the shadows swirled around Irena, nuzzling against her like cats seeking affection. Irena laughed softly as they tickled at her ears and played with her hair.

He knew that his shadows were often feared and misunderstood, but with Irena they were playful and affectionate. It was like she had unlocked a whole new side of them, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of them interacting so sweetly with her.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "I never thought I'd see the day when my shadows would be so smitten," he teased, his lips curving into a small smile. "I should be jealous, but I can't help but find it adorable."

Irena laughed, her eyes sparkling for the first time that day. "They're so sweet," she said, reaching up to brush her fingers through the shadows that surrounded her. "It's like they're a different side of you."

Azriel chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "I guess they are a part of me, in a way," he said. "And they seem to have a mind of their own, especially when it comes to you." He watched as the shadows nuzzled against her cheek, almost vying for her attention.

"They're quite taken with you," he said with a grin. "I don't blame them. Still, it's strange to see them so affectionate towards someone else." He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"But it makes me happy to see them like this," he said softly, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "It's like you're bringing out a side of them that I never knew existed. And it's a beautiful thing to witness." He leaned in, pressing another soft kiss to her forehead. "Just like you."

There was a knock at the door.

*The High Lord and the Ancient One,* the shadows offered. *And the healer.*

*I’ll deal with them,* Azriel said with a snort.

“Finish your breakfast, alright?“ he told Irena softly as he slid out of the bed. Irena nodded, a small smile on her face. 

"Thank you," she said softly, watching as he got up to answer the door.

“Madja,” he greeted the healer drily. “Irena just had breakfast. The bruises are already lightening,” he reported.

Madja nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Good," she said. "Keep an eye on her for the next couple of days, make sure she takes it easy. The leg needs to heal properly." He opened the door further, letting Madja slip in, and could just hear, "How are you feeling, my dear?" From Madja and Irena’s soft answer.

Which meant that Azriel turned towards his brother. “What do you want?” He demanded from Rhys, his voice sharp. 

Rhys held his hands up in surrender. "Calm down, Az," he said, his voice low. "I just wanted to check on Irena. Amren looked at the spellbook that Merrill was using,” Rhys explained.

“And?” Azriel asked flatly.

Did it actually matter? Merrill had been stupid and arrogant and a thousand other things. The spell didn’t seem to have done anything to Irena…her injuries had been thanks to the debris that had resulted in the spell going absolutely haywire, killing Merrill and seemingly exploding her office. 

“It was written in a language I do not know, but the best match is ancient Illyrian,” Amren gave back drily. 

Azriel's expression darkened at Amren's words. "Ancient Illyrian?" he repeated, his mind racing. "That can't be good."

Not at all. He didn’t even want to think about what his ancestors had come up with. 

"It seems to be a very old dialect," Rhys explained. "One that hasn't been spoken or written in centuries. It'll take some time to decipher it, but we're working on…”

“It seems to be a healing spell. Probably used in childbirth,” Amren cut him off. “When it didn’t find a pregnant female to latch onto, it redoubled back onto Merrill.”

"So Merrill's own spell backfired on her," Azriel mused. "And Irena got caught in the crossfire." He rubbed a hand over his face. “Has the spell done anything to Irena?” He demanded.

“Madja didn’t think so,” Rhys said carefully. “I wanted to check on Irena if that’s alright with you.”

He crossed his arms, not willing to entertain that even for a moment. 

“No,” he said flatly. 

“Let him in, Azriel,” his mate said softly, and he turned towards her, staring at Irena. 

The shadows were already dragging a fur around her shoulders, fluffing the pillows behind her, as Madja bandaged her leg.

Irena met his gaze, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He didn’t want Rhys anywhere near her, Azriel was certain of that. And still…an still…

“Fine,” Azriel growled, stepping aside to let Rhys through. "Don't overstay your welcome," he warned Rhys. 

Rhys nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips at Azriel's protectiveness. He clapped a hand on Azriel's shoulder reassuringly. "I won't stay long," he reassured his brother. "I just want to make sure she's alright."

Amren rolled her eyes, but for once didn’t say another word as Azriel closed the door. 

“High Lord,” Irena greeted Rhys, every inch the perfect lady even while she was laid up in her bed.

Rhys inclined his head, smiling gently at Irena, while Azriel already crossed the room to sit at her bedside, taking her hand in both of his. She reassuringly squeezed it. 

"How are you feeling?" Rhys asked her. 

Irena gave him a small smile, shrugging her shoulders a little. "I've been better," she admitted. "But I'm healing, I suppose." She gestured to the leg, Madja was bandaging once again.  "Madja says I'll be good as new in a few days. And I’ve had worse,” she added flatly.

Rhys chuckled softly, his eyes softening with concern. "I don't doubt it," he said. "But still, it must have been quite a harrowing experience." He paused for a moment, looking at her intently. "I wanted to speak to you about what happened," he said gently. "If you feel up to it, of course."

Irena nodded, steeling herself for whatever questions Rhys might have. "Go ahead," she said quietly.

"I just wanted to ask you about what you saw when the spell hit you," Rhys said carefully. "Do you remember anything after the initial blast? Could you show me?”

“No.” Azriel snapped. “You are not going read her mind, Rhysand.” Not in a million years. 

He nearly bared his teeth at his High Lord in annoyance, already regretting letting him into their room. 

Irena was healing.

Rhys held up his hands in surrender, his eyes flickering to Azriel for a moment. "I wasn't going to do anything without her permission,  brother," he assured him calmly.

“It’s alright,” Irena agreed with him. “It’s fine, Azriel,” she assured him softly.  Azriel tensed for a moment, torn between wanting to protect her and respecting her wishes. "I want to do this." She turned her attention back to Rhys. "Go ahead."

Rhys nodded, his expression serious. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low. "It might be difficult to recall the memories, but I need you to try."

Irena just inclined her head. "I'm sure," she said firmly. "Just...just go ahead."

Azriel watched, holding her hand tightly. Rhys was well trained at using his daemati abilities, but that didn’t mean that…

A moment later a soft shudder run through his mate, and Azriel growled. 

“Thank you, Irena,” Rhys said quickly, clearly already withdrawing from her mind.

“What kind of spell was it?” Itena asked her voice hoarse. 

Rhys sighed, "The spellbook was written in some kin of ancient language, we think some dialect of Illyrian. The spell itself was healing spell, probably used for childbirth," he explained. "The magic was searching for a pregnant female to latch onto, but when it couldn’t find one, it became more volatile," he said, his expression grave. "And that's when it found you, Irena. It was a complete accident, but the effects were still devastating."

“Did it do…anything to me?” Irena asked Madja quietly.

Madja looked up from the bandages she was applying to Irena's leg, her expression softening as she took in Irena's worried expression.

Madja studied her for a moment, her eyes flickering over the various scrapes and bruises on Irena's body. "Not as far as I can tell,” Madja said finally. "You're healing nicely, and there are no lasting effects to your body that I can see.”

It was something. It was reassuring to know that her physical injuries were being healed, and that there were no lasting effects.

Azriel squeezed Irena's hand, relief flooding through him at Madja's words. 

It was good. Some form of healing being found…

And the last thing Azriel had expected, where Irena’s next words, as she addressed Rhysand. 

“I’ll hand over my duties to Madja, as soon as I can,” Irena said softly. “I am aware that after what happened I am no longer suitable to make any more research involved decisions. I take full responsibility for what happened.“

Her voice was even, measured. Calm. 

Even when he could see the storm in her eyes…even when he could see…

She loved her job. He knew that she loved her job. She adored it in fact. And she excelled in it too. Irena seeme to be made for her job in the House of Wind. And to hear her contemplating giving it all up, just because of an accident that hadn’t been her fault at all…

Azriel opened his mouth to protest but Rhys spoke before he could say anything. "That won't be necessary," Rhys said firmly. "Irena, what happened was a complete accident. You had no control over what happened, and we all know that." He shook his head, his expression serious. "You can't blame yourself for what happened."

Rhys leaned forward slightly, his gaze intent on Irena. "If anyone is to blame, it's Merrill," he said softly. "She was the one who was messing with magic beyond her understanding, she didn’t follow your orders and she was the one who unleashed that spell. You were just an innocent bystander in all of this."

He paused, looking between Azriel and Irena, his expression softening. "We will need to take precautions going forward, so nothing like that can ever happen again." he said carefully. "But we can figure that out together. And you do not need to give up your duties, Irena. We need you."

Irena looked down at the blankets in her lap, her fingers fiddling with a loose thread. "But what if something like this does happen again?" she asked softly.

Rhys shook his head, his expression firm. "It won't," he said, his voice filled with conviction. “None of what happened was your fault,” Rhys repeated firmly.

Azriel nodded in agreement, his grip on Irena's hand tightening. "He's right," he said gruffly. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, love. This is on Merrill, not on you. "

“And you can’t quit because otherwise we’ll all drown under paperwork. Well, more than we already do,” Rhys said with a sigh.

Irena chuckled softly, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Well, I suppose I can't let that happen," she said wryly. "I can’t let the high Lord deal with even more paperwork, can I?“ she said drily.

Rhys moved to stand but then he suddenly froze. “You have been doing this on purpose,” he suddenly said, staring at her.

“Doing what?” Irena asked, cocking the head to the side. “Make sure that the library generates plenty of paperwork that needs the High Lord’s personal attention?”Rhys stared at her for a moment, his expression a mixture of surprise and awe. 

"You really are quite devious, aren’t you?" he said with a small laugh. "I never would have thought you’d be using your job specifically to ensure that I spend even more time doing paperwork."

“I don’t.” Irena said flatly. “It was petty revenge.”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. "Petty revenge?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What on earth did I do to deserve such punishment?"

Irena just stared at him for a moment. “Maybe you should think a bout how you have been treating my mate.”

What? 

Azriel had had no clue that…

Azriel hadn’t known about that. Hadn’t had the faintest inkling. 

Irena had been making sure that Rhys had more paperwork to go through?!

Rhys looked at him for a moment before sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. "I suppose I deserved that one," he admitted. 

Azriel just grunted, his expression flat. "You deserved a lot more than that," he muttered. But there was no real anger in his voice. He was too tired for anger at Rhys. All he cared about right now was Irena. 

“You really are a perfect match,” Rhys said with some amusement. “And I do owe Azriel an apology,” he said simply. "I’ve been harsh on you, Azriel. And I haven’t been fair. I’ve been treating you like a tool, instead of like a brother, and I owe you an apology for that.”

Azriel was taken aback by Rhys's words. He had grown used to the way Rhys treated him - as a weapon first, and a brother second. Hearing Rhys acknowledge his mistakes was…certainly unexpected, and it left him feeling a little off-balance.

He paused for a moment, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how to respond. Finally he looked up at Rhys, his expression serious. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I appreciate the apology."

Rhys nodded, his expression sincere. "I mean it," he said quietly. "I'll do better moving forward."

[vauer]

𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Reader x Jinx

SUMMARY: you are a thief who steals from people who are passing through your town. this time you came across the wrong person. that didn't stop you from fucking her though.

TW: sub!Jinx, fem!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, some kind of plot(?), fastburn

(English isn't my first language, sorry for any mistakes💌)

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰

Jinx moaned softly as she kissed her new friend's thin lips. The edge of the countertop rests uncomfortably against her lower back, forcing her to arch her back and make a dissatisfied mumble, only to hear a quiet chuckle in response. She couldn't believe how quickly this girl had managed to win her over.

A couple of weeks ago, a strange woman came into her small workshop. You were pretty and looked to be no more than twenty, but your piercing gaze was too intently and sharply jumping over various details of the interior, studying the situation. And you were wearing some ugly kind of wig.

“I haven't met you here before. May I know the name of such a charming lady?” your eyes sparkled playfull. Your intonation and body language put Jinx in a stupor. Since she faked her death and fled to the edge of the world, away from Piltover, changing her appearance, she has not yet received any attention from anyone. Jinx wasn't really sure if it was sarcasm, because she didn't look her best right now: crookedly cropped hair had grown back and looked even more untidy, and bright blue hair roots were starting to grow out from under the purple dye. And that's not to mention the oil and dust stains on the clothes.

“Powder," Jinx said after a couple of seconds of reflection. Lately, she's been using her old name to avoid attracting attention.

“Like baby powder or gunpowder?” you grinned annoyingly, leaning slightly on the table.

"Like gunpowder," Jinx replied grimly, rolling her eyes.

"Then you can call me Fuse," you grinned again, winking. Despite your outspoken flirtation, Jinx didn't miss the way your gaze appraisingly scanned her hideout.

"I have a business here, not a dating club," she grumbled, lazily rolling a blue hexteck ball around the table. Jinx chuckled inwardly, noticing how your gaze immediately eagerly darted to the jewel, as she suspected.

A couple of days later, she finally caught you trying to sneak into her workshop late at night.

“Are you looking for this?” Jinx appeared behind you, inserting a blue ball into the gun and pointing it at you.

“Rather for you,” not confused, you took a seductive pose, leaning on the table. “Jinx, right?”

“Well, how did you find out?” She rolled her eyes, pouting and moving closer to use the edge of the gun to push the hood off your head. Well, at least you weren't wearing an ugly burgundy wig right now. "I don't want to kill you. I'm kind of done with it.”

“Who else would have this round blue thing but Jinx? You're almost a legend. Almost,” you shrugged. You didn't seem to care much about the hextek-loaded pistol next to your temple. "You don't have to hide your identity here. No one cares who you are.”

"Except for you, of course," Jinx rolled her eyes.

“I don't care either. But I can say that you are too charming for the inadequate maniac they call you," you grinned flirtatiously again.

The shot cut off the edge of your bangs.

“Shut up!” Jinx said tiredly, going upstairs to sleep. Anyway, there was nothing to steal from her except the blue ball.She earned a couple of coins by repairing all kinds of utensils for the residents of the city, and that was all her money.

You had been coming to her several times a day for the past two weeks, but at least hadn't tried to steal anything. You just stared at Jinx while she worked, fixing something or building custom devices. After a while, you started chatting about little things, you brought her a snack when Jinx sat in the workshop for hours without leaving. She had to admit that she liked such a quiet life much more than the hustle, intrigue and dangers of Piltover.

Day after day, and at some point Jinx found herself pinned against her own desk, whimpering softly in need as your deft hands pulled off her top, tracing the contours of her tattoos with your fingers. You leaned to her neck, leaving weightless kisses on the pale, almost transparent skin.

Jinx's knees were already buckling with impatience and excitement, and a fog of lust filled her head. Squeezing the thin skin of her thighs, you lifted her up, setting her down on the table. You lips gently touched the skin between Jinx's breasts, saying one word.

— Perfect.

Jinx flinched, her eyes widening. Then a purple flash followed and she practically hung on to you, wrapping her legs around your waist and kissing you deeply, simultaneously taking off your top.

Meanwhile, you reached for her pants, pulling them off along with her underwear. Jinx leaned back, supporting her reclining position with her hands. Her stomach was trembling slightly with excitement as your lips dropped a kiss just below her waist.

Finally, you wrapped your arms around her hips, lifting her legs and pressing your lips to her wet and throbbing flesh, making Jinx moan and arch her back.

Your soft tongue explored her folds inside and out, knocking more whimpers and moans out of her and causing her muscles to contract from overexcitation.

"You're doing great for the first time," you purred, pulling back slightly to run a finger over her sensitive clit, lightly teasing her entrance before gently pushing two fingers inside. Jinx tensed slightly, but then relaxed, and feeling pleasantly full, began to move her hips towards your hand. The wet sounds only added to their excitement.

You smiled contentedly at the sight of Jinx’s eyes closed with pleasure and her bitten lower lip. When you curled your fingers upward slightly inside her, Jinx screamed at the unusual sensations, breathing heavily.

“What is it?” She mumbled plaintively as you plugged her with a wet kiss, continuing to move your fingers inside her. You showered Jinx's chin and neck with soothing kisses, feeling her inner muscles begin to contract, bringing orgasm closer.

You accelerated your movements slightly, pressing your fingers against her upper wall and applying pressure to her swollen clit. Jinx didn't have time to figure out what happened when she felt a clear liquid squirting out of her on her thighs and stomach. Blushing, she tilted her head back, allowing the orgasm to swallow her.

***

A few weeks of being alone and talking to herself had loosened Jinx's tongue. She desperately wanted to brag about how brilliantly she had convinced the whole of Piltover and her own sister of her death.

“And then I slipped out through the ventilation and hijacked the airship while they mourned the dead and me,” Jinx enthusiastically talked about her adventures, while you lazily braided her short hair into small pigtails.

“And then where did you put it?” you asked.

“And that's beside the point, as far as I remember," Jinx narrowed her eyes in displeasure. You grinned, pulling her closer to your chest.

[aurumalatus]

two.

a short series in which you share a multitude of kisses with childhood friends to lovers!kinich over your lifetime.

your bedroom feels overwhelmingly hot.

the a/c is on, you know because your curtains are billowing from the cool air pooling from the vent underneath them. summers are always this warm, when the humidity grows high and sweat sticks to your skin in layers.

kinich is laying on your bed, fanning himself with a stray magazine he had plucked from your nightstand. on days like these, it's too hot for you to even make the walk to the park down the street, or to the skatepark. you'd be drowning in sweat before you made it there, you're sure.

"so you've never kissed anyone?"

you don't even really remember how the conversation started. all you know is that the two of you had been talking about things you'd never done before, and you'd arrived at this. the girls in the locker room had been discussing it—their first kiss—including who it was with and what it was like.

the mere thought makes you gnaw at your lip, tension filling the room.

"...have you?" you reply, glancing over to your best friend. he doesn't seem nearly as bothered by the subject matter as you are.

"nope. i don't really care though," he sighs, which is so typical of him, you think. unlike you, kinich cares very little what the other kids in your grade think of him.

but you care, and you're starting to worry that you're falling behind in that...developmental area. you've managed to deflect any questions about the topic from the other girls in your class, but you fear that you won't be able to keep it up for long.

kinich sits up, shuffling forward on your bed to stare at where you sit on the ground. his gaze is inquisitive, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable.

"but let me guess," he starts, tossing his makeshift fan aside, "you care."

as always, he has you all figured out. after a moment of hesitation, you nod.

"i do. i know it's lame, but i feel like the other girls will think i'm..."

"a prude?"

you sigh. "something like that."

another moment passes before kinich is crawling off the bed, sitting cross-legged before you. his proximity makes the heat worse, but you don't hate it.

"alright," he shrugs, scooting closer. "then i'll kiss you, and you can tell everyone it was me."

you flinch in alarm, head knocking against the drawer of your wooden dresser. kinich's eyes widen, hands already outstretched toward you, but you interrupt him with your own spluttering.

"wh-what?! what are you talking about? you can't just do that!"

he tilts his head. "why not? is it because you're embarrassed for it to be me?"

"no!" you defend instantly. you'd never be embarrassed to be around kinich. "but...don't you want it to be with a girl you actually like?"

"i do like you."

you shake your head. you know what he means, but you were implying a different kind of like. still, the thought of sharing your first kiss with kinich isn't...awful. it's a bit comforting to share it with someone you trust, even moreso when you know that he hasn't done it before either.

finally, after thinking on it a bit more, you nod firmly.

"okay."

kinich raises a brow. "okay?"

and then he's leaning in, and you don't know whether to close your eyes or leave them open. you're trying to remember every teen romance movie you've ever watched after your mother went to bed, but your memory fails you. but he's already so close, and you rush forward a little too fast and—

your lips bump together clumsily, and you wince at the feeling. it's weird, certainly, and you're honestly not sure if you're doing it right at all. you can feel kinich's lashes brushing against your skin, and the feeling makes you shiver.

it's chaste, so brief that it's over before it even really registers in your mind that it happened. your mind is racing by the time kinich pulls away, and you find yourself meeting his eyes far too quickly.

his gaze is warm. "that okay?"

you nod, wondering what the blooming feeling in your chest could mean.

"yeah," you reply, swallowing thickly. "it was okay."

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

This part includes the Russian torture scene, so adding a warning for gore/violence just to be safe!

-----

Eddie comes by Scoops, once Steve gets the job there.

The first time, he laughs at the sailor hat for a minute straight until Steve rolls his eyes and calls back, “I'm taking my lunch!”

“Now?” Robin bitches. “Did you actually get a girl to fall for those ridiculous li-” She cuts off as she comes out of the back room and sees Eddie. “Oh. Huh.”

Eddie flashes a sharp toothed smile at her, and Steve rolls his eyes again and elbows him.

“I'll be back before the actual lunch rush hits this way,” he tells Robin, untying his apron and depositing it to the side of the counter.

To Eddie, he says, “Here, since this brought you so much joy,” and drops the sailor hat onto the top of Eddie's head.

Eddie gives a squawk and squirms around like he's trying to bat him off, though Steve notices he doesn't actually push him away as Steve adjusts the hat to his liking.

“There,” Steve says, shooting Eddie a teasing little grin as he steps back. “You keep that on the whole time, and I'll buy you lunch.”

“A small price to pay for a free meal,” Eddie says solemnly, but his eyes are crinkled a little like they do when he smiles, and he doesn't take the hat off the entire time they eat together.

—

He and Eddie sit out back behind Scoops, passing a cigarette back and forth. It's the end of Steve's shift, and technically he doesn't have to stay anymore, but he's not in a hurry to get home.

Dustin's away at camp, after all.

“Why the hell are you working here?” Eddie asks, sounding like he's been mulling it over for a while.

Steve snorts. “Needed to work somewhere.”

“Okay, fine, but haven't you done the lifeguard thing for like three years?”

Steve - didn't actually expect Eddie to know that, and he shoots him a little smile before he rolls his eyes. “Not a real job, according to my dad. It's just hanging out at the pool all day.”

Eddie scoffs. “Would your dad even know a real job if it bit him?”

“My dad's never really had to work for anything,” Steve mutters. “I didn't get into any of the colleges they wanted me to, so I needed to be taught a lesson. Pretty sure he was hoping it'd humiliate me.”

Eddie tips back, looking him over. “You don't look very humiliated.”

Steve shrugs. “Because I'm not. Yeah, sure, the outfit and the hat are stupid, but work is work. Ice cream makes people happy, I make people happy, it could be worse. Besides, he has no idea what I'm even making here. Every paycheck is a little more I can stash away where he can't touch it.”

Eddie's watching him very closely now, in a way that Steve's never seen before.

“How long have you been doing that?” he asks quietly.

“What, saving money that my dad doesn't know about?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

Eddie's face is serious - far more serious than Steve's ever seen him, than he thinks the situation warrants. Steve frowns.

“Since I got my first job, I guess? Anything I ask for from him comes with some kind of string attached, and I got tired of paying for it.”

Eddie's quiet again. “You've gotten in a lot of fights the last couple of years,” he says, slow and careful like he thinks Steve might bolt. “Lot of bruises.”

He clocks on to what Eddie's trying to get at, then, and a rush of relief washes over him as he hurries to set him straight. “Oh, no, my dad's not abusive or anything, just an asshole. He's never hit me.”

Eddie considers that. “Your dad can be an abusive piece of shit without ever hitting you.”

Steve licks his lips, takes his turn watching Eddie a little more closely. “Sounds like you're familiar with it.”

Eddie laughs, sharp and humorless. “Come on, man, you know who my dad is.”

“I know what people say about him,” Steve agrees. “But I've learned not to listen to rumors.”

Eddie flicks the cigarette butt off into the distance.

Steve gets out another one, puts it between his lips to light it. He takes a long drag, then - pulls his heart out of his chest, setting it between them before he passes the cigarette over.

Eddie's eyes drop down to his heart as he takes the cigarette, but this time he doesn't say anything.

Steve still doesn't ask to see his, even though he's tempted.

“You can listen to these ones,” Eddie says after a while. “They're mostly true.”

“You deserve better,” Steve tells him.

He looks over when Eddie doesn't say anything, finding him watching his heart. It's beating strong and steady.

“So do you,” Eddie says without looking up.

They sit in silence for a while longer, until the cigarette is gone.

Then Steve tucks his heart back into his chest and stands up. “Come on, I'll get us lunch.”

Eddie scowls at him. “You bought last time.”

“Yeah, but a conversation like that deserves a burrito bigger than your head, and I've got employee discount,” Steve counters, holding out his hand.

Eddie concedes, accepting his hand up.

—

Steve keeps making up excuses to buy Eddie lunch after that, every time he comes by at the end of an early shift or close to his lunch break on a later shift.

One day he gets them both pizza from Sbarro, and they sit at one of the sticky plastic tables in the food court. It's so small their knees knock together as they devour their slices, but -

But it also means that Steve can tuck his ankle up against Eddie's, hook his foot half around it, and have an excuse if he needs one.

He doesn't need one.

Eddie doesn't move his foot away, but he does shoot wide eyed little looks over at Steve like he's not sure whether this is a joke or not, and -

“Hi,” Steve says, soft and ridiculous and holy shit, he has to have something better than hi.

But apparently hi works, because Eddie ducks his head, looks back up at him with something soft and wary and surprised all at once.

“Hi,” Eddie says back.

And that's -

It's something.

—

Steve gets closer to Robin - their bickering has started to become playful, and even though her teasing's never been mean, now it sounds almost fond. She still gets annoyed when customers watch them work in complete sync and think they're a couple, but now she just rolls her eyes and complains to him later instead of throwing things off by trying to protest it.

It's nice. He thinks he might be winning her over, and it makes the days pass a lot quicker.

—

He doesn't see Eddie for a week after their pizza lunch.

He tries not to think much about it, just tells himself that if he hasn't seen him by the time Dustin comes back from camp, he'll call him.

—

This isn't like any beating he's taken before.

Steve'd thought he was prepared. He was prepared, at least in the beginning. Billy did just as much damage, even if it was in a shorter span of time, and the ache in his ribs and stomach and face is familiar.

He can handle it.

Besides, it doesn't matter how much they hurt him - protecting Robin and Dustin and Erica is more important than anything else.

"Let's take a look at his heart," one of the soldiers says. "See how honest he's really being."

Steve's pretty sure he makes a choked off little guh.

He doesn't want to let them anywhere near his heart.

But on the other hand - he isn't lying as much as they think he is, and maybe that will prove it? They'll have to undo his hands to get him to take it out, and he briefly considers trying to get the drop on them, but he has to concede that probably won't go very well for him.

It's not like they're really asking for his opinion, anyway.

They aren't making any move to untie his hands, either, and Steve's brow scrunches in confusion.

He sees one of them holding what looks like a mix of a gun and a taser. It - honestly, it looks pretty stupid, like a prop in a bad movie, and he wrinkles his nose at it.

They press it up against his ribcage, pull the trigger - and fuck, he jolts back with the force of it.

His chest splits open.

The shock of it makes him numb for a precious few moments, staring down at the gaping hole in his own chest. The pain doesn't hit him until they take his heart out. It feels like it's being carved out of him, ripped from his chest as though he were being mauled by a wild animal, and he has the somewhat hysterical thought that he shouldn't be alive for this.

His heart was torn out of his chest, and somehow it's still beating, erratic and racing.

"Hmm," one of the soldiers says, tilting his heart this way and that. "Feels real."

The soldier squeezes it, and this time Steve screams at the pressure tightening around his heart, making him convulse in his bonds.

The second soldier laughs.

"They're making such good fakes these days," the second soldier says.

The first soldier relaxes his grip, and Steve sucks in ragged gulps of air, too disoriented to really understand what they're saying.

"Much more sophisticated than patches and paint," the first soldier agrees. "What good would a spy be if he showed his real heart?"

"No," Steve protests. "It's real, come on, you can feel it."

There’s no sign of deception from his heart, but it's beating too wildly from the pain to really make a difference.

"We'll see about that," the second soldier says, handing a switchblade to the first.

The first soldier presses the flat of the blade against his heart. "Let's see what's underneath if we shave a little off?"

—

Steve doesn't really remember anything after that. He must have passed out, because the next thing he hears is Robin's voice, and he realizes he's in a different room, tied back to back with her.

His chest aches.

Everything aches, really, but his chest is the worst of it.

Steve looks down, sees himself solid and in one piece again. He might have thought the whole thing was just a pain induced hallucination if it weren't for the unstable beat of his heart. It's pulsing unsteadily, and he feels as though if he even breathes too hard, it might burst into pieces with the next beat.

But he's not alone now.

He's with Robin, and she makes everything better, and even though his heart beats too fast when he thinks of how much he likes her - it's the good kind of too fast, not the kind that makes him think his heart is going to explode.

He is pretty sure that his heart is going to explode, though, that they're probably going to die here. He knows Robin is thinking the same thing - he just knows, like going through Russian secret agent torture together has made them automatically on the same wave length.

They were heading towards being friends before this, he knows, wonders if maybe they could have ever been for real.

It's a shame he doesn't think he'll ever get to find out.

—

Dustin and Erica find them before Steve loses any fingers.

Which is good. He might not be on the basketball team anymore, but he still plays with Lucas sometimes, and he likes all of his fingers attached to his hand and not on the floor of a secret Russian base.

He tells Dustin that as they're escaping from said Russian secret base. Dustin looks a little pale, hugs him tight around the middle, which makes Steve laugh - it should hurt, he thinks, but he doesn't feel a thing.

The only thing he feels is kind of floaty, and the itchy, overheated sensation he always gets when he's had his heart locked inside his chest for too long.

When no one's looking, Steve takes his heart out of his chest.

His stomach turns.

Whatever he's feeling about it seems distant, too far removed for him to be able to react to it, but the physical sensation of his stomach heaving is present and accounted for.

It only barely looks like a heart. The shape of it is hardly visible, more like a double handful of the precut chuck roast he gets to use as stew meat, sluggishly oozing every time it beats.

The thought of putting it back in his chest makes his stomach heave again, but even like this, he knows he can't keep it out in the open.

He rips off the red scarf from his Scoops uniform, wraps it around his heart to hold it together, and ties it off.

There.

Now no one will notice.

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

-----

Part 6

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @samsoble @persnicketysquares @cryptid-system @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse

[jarl-deathwolf]

EXCELLENT!

Ooo that is a lot of FANTASTIC information, I pulled up a document and got to work taking notes. I'll have to spend some time sorting it out into a handy reference sheet but even as-is this will help a lot.

I'm really glad I asked because this includes a lot of details that I wouldn't even know to ask, like the acidic/neutral/alkaline distinctions between forests. Between that and the wet/dry divide, now I can look at a map of around where the characters are and sus out roughly what they're looking at. It really does take away a lot of the stress when

Better yet, it gives me options so I can pick some possible environments to suit what I need in the story. Like choosing a wet forest if I need treacherous terrain, or a Celtic Rainforest to enhance the splendor of a moment.

Best of all, this gives me a vocabulary of things that I can then look up references for, and a bank of plants and animals I can pull up to add life to a scene.

One thing I've really struggled with in this story has been giving the region its own distinct feel compared to other woodlands. Which is doubly important since the entire story revolves around people desperately trying to save it (and their culture) from being destroyed by colonization and conquest.

That section was pretty thorough, so I'll have to digest it for a while before I've got more questions there.

Anyway, getting into more specific comments, as well as the map, below:

(map by @noanieactuallydrawingalot) So this is the continent where the stories take place as a whole. I may or may not have made the Fells (Fantasy Wales) something like five times as large as its real counterpart. Here is more specifically the Fells, with the three big rivers named (I assume there are many more rivers and small lakes, these are just major ones) and the historic realms of the Fells marked out

I've tentatively named some broader regions, but I'm not confident about those just yet. Red dots denote major cities. The yellow line is where the old empire's borders were - those five Fellish realms are still fully under foreign rule, with four more ruled by Marcher Lords, which is just more tenuous foreign rule.

Let me know how I did with the geography and such! I've done a lot of free time studying and took a college course about it, but things like the effects of ocean currents and wind patterns always tripped me up. Anyway, I'm glad I ended up pretty close with Old Man Ash. I think he would be fine with the informal version - the other name he gets called in the story is Grandad, so I get the sense he cares more about people being comfortable in his presence than formality. Although keep me updated on if your inlaws have a different opinion - I'll need to contact my editor to update the PDF, so I'd rather do that just once. With what you said about broadleaves being exclusively what makes up the old growth forests, I wonder if that would mean that all Dagfolk would be based on broadleaves? 🧐 Since I'm sending pictures, here is the (now properly named) Hynafwr Onn:

(art by dinwardo over on twitter)

Before I move onto the next thing, just a quick question: I have another Dagfolk (like Grandad up there). His current placeholder name is the Great Oak, and he's considered the wisest and most powerful of the Dagfolk. A personal friend of King Arthur.

I don't suppose you'd have a suggestion for a name?

I am delighted that you bring up bards because I made the main character a Fellish bard by the name of Llywela ferch Marared. She plays a crwth and I like to have her make subtle references to Welsh songs like Sebona Fi and Yma O Hyd. I gave her uncommonly red hair to imply a connection with Annwyn.

(I realize that's not the usual spelling of Annwn, but I chose it so I wasn't directly cribbing mythology and making it harder for people to learn about those myths) I also have some commissioned art of Llywela, plus the Lady of the Lake and the Merlin analogue, for what it is worth. You mentioned faeries with the peat bogs. I don't think faeries will be making a huge appearance in this story (mostly just one knight), but I'd be glad to hear about Welsh-specific faerie lore if you've got it on hand.

You also said that cheeses were a big Welsh cultural touchstone. Are there Welsh specific varieties that you can tell me about? And what sort of dishes are they made into?

Also on that train of thought, you mentioned a plant that flavors mead - would that be the go-to alcohol of choice, or are there others floating around? Both for a lord's table and what you might find in an inn.

And thanks again for the response, this really has been a treasure trove of great information for me!

Hi hello! I'm writing a story in my original world, set in a Fantasy Wales. A King Arthur Returns type story, if that matters.

I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about Welsh ecology? And possibly also some cultural details?

Thanks ahead of time! And I understand if you decline or don't respond!

YES OH MY GOD YES HELLO

[bambisspeckles]

Trapped ✿ Poly Pirate!141 x Reader -- Part Two

A continuation of Stowaway...

*pics for aesthetics only!

Summary: Your first day aboard the 141 CW: Inaccurate depiction of pirates, poly!141, fem!reader, ghost and price are kinda assholes (for right now), soap is well soap, gaz is an angel sent from heaven, reader is held captive (ish), stockholm syndrome core but like in the way beauty and the beast is, no romance w reader yet (sorry, but don't worry it won't really be a slowburn), implied ghoap (its such a small implication I'm sorry) self-edited! WC: 1.9k

Sleep escapes you through the night. The cellar is small and uncomfortable, at times the ship gets rocked so hard you get tossed around, and the wooden floorboards are hard and splintered. You lay there, curled up into a ball, tears threatening to spill from your waterline. It's cold and you're so hungry you can almost hear your stomach growling over the sound of waves crashing against the ships hull. You feel pathetic and weak, and you only have yourself to blame for the predicament you're in. At the very least you should have been offered some food or a spare blanket, a thought that in retrospect is foolish. These aren't gentlemen, they're pirates. They take and pillage until they can take and pillage no more.

You lay there for hours, staring into the darkness with only the sound of the ocean to keep you company. Your eyes are heavy but you can only sleep for a few minutes before you are, quite literally, jolted into consciousness. You go through this back and forth battle for hours until the door opens and morning light shines through the frame. Gaz steps through, his eyes widening in panic when he sees you on the floor.

"Jesus fuckin'- Are you alright? Are you sick? God n' you're shivering…" He rushes to your side, giving you a once over before attempting to place the back of his hand on your forehead. You flinch away from his touch and he awkwardly scrunches his before moving his hand away.

"I'm… I'm fine." You say, you lie. You know he doesn't believe you but you're not sure you care.

"M' sure you're famished, I can bring you somethin' to eat." At the thought of food your stomach growls and Gaz chuckles, shaking his head at you softly. "I'll bring you something love."

As he stands from the ground and turns back towards the entrance, you reach out to grip his wrist, pulling his attention towards you once more. He tilts his head at you curiously, brows slightly furrowed as he waits for you to speak.

"I… Can I leave here, please? It's not like I can run off anywhere and it's stuffy in here." Gaz bites his bottom lip, chewing on it thoughtfully for a moment.

"I'm not sure, Captain hasn't really been clear on what exactly he wants to do with you. Honestly I think it's best you stay here till we dock tomorrow. That way at least you'll be out Price's line of fire… And out of Soap's paws, and it's definitely in your best interest that we keep you away from Ghost." You wince at the mention of Ghost, you swear you can see his dark hooded eyes everytime your eyes close.

There's a part of you that wants to fight back against Gaz, but you know that he's honestly working in your best interest, which you're both suspicious of and grateful for. Instead you decide to back down, sucking your bottom lip in and nodding obediently.

"Okay… Okay, I'll stay."

Gaz smiles at you pitifully, something you wish he'd stop doing. His sympathetic smiles don't free you from this cellar, or from this ship you've foolishly trapped yourself on.

"I'll bring you something to eat," He pauses, noting the curled up position you're in. "And some blankets. We should have done that last night, sorry." He gives you one last sheepish look before turning on his heels, once again leaving you alone.

You're getting antsy.

Gaz has been gone for, well you're not sure exactly how long, but it feels like it's been quite awhile since he promised you food and blankets. You're getting light headed, and pairing that with the cold just isn't helping. Anxiously, you look back and forth between the cellar door and the splintered wooden floor, the idea of just going above deck and looking for Gaz yourself rolling around like a marble in your head. It's a bad idea, you know it is, but your stomach is so painfully empty that you feel ill, and you don't think there are anymore goosebumps to be raised on your skin. You mull over the options in your head.

One, stay in the cellar and hope Gaz hasn't forgotten about you. Or two, leave the cellar and possibly run into the Captain, or worse, Ghost.

Bumping into Johnny wouldn't be so bad. I mean sure, his stares linger too long and that toothy grin of his is less than inviting, but at least he won't throw you overboard when he sees you. At least you think he won't. After a few more minutes of waiting and suffering, you decide to head up to the deck and look for Gaz. You don't know how much longer you can wait for him to come back before you pass out. So, on very wobbly legs, you push yourself off the ground and make your way to the cellar door.

The sun blinds you as the door opens, the smell of the sea smacking you in the face. Truthfully, the bite of the chilly air is refreshing after be locked in that stuffy cellar, despite how cold you are. You climb the steps all the way to the main deck, quickly taking in your surroundings. No one seems to be out on the deck which is both good and bad news for you. As much as you'd like to find Gaz, you're not too sure how the Captain would feel about you aimlessly wandering about the ship, especially when you're sure he doesn't want you on it to begin with. Your stomach growls and you slowly walk towards the ships railing, gently draping your upper half over it, the mist from the waves hitting your face. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of the ocean. You take a moment to breathe, to process. Your stomach growls in protest at your lack of movement, but you can't bring yourself to care much when this is the first time in hours you've been able to breath the fresh sea air. You're fighting the urge to drift off when suddenly you're yanked backwards by the waist.

You let out a squeal, you're body flailing as you attempt to loosen the grasp of whichever crew member grabbed you.

"Stop bloody movin'." The voice practically barks out.

"Oh." You think wryly, your body going still.

Once again Ghost had been the one to catch you. How cruel, he was the last person you were wanting to run into.

Ghost flips you to face towards him, his body somewhat pining you against the railing. It vaguely crosses your mind that if he wanted to throw you off the ship, now is this most opportune time for him to do so.

"Wha' are ya doin' out your cage." You furrow your brows at the word 'cage'. Sure, there may be a part of you that does agree it feels like a cage, but it's not. Pets go in cages and you're no pet.

"It's not a cage…" You mumble, lip pouted and brows still furrowed. "And I didn't- I was going to stay in the cellar but Gaz never came back."

Ghost cocks his head slightly, the movement voicing his obvious confusion.

"Gaz never came back for wha'?" The way he asks sends shivers down your spine and you have no idea how he can make such a simple question sound so dark and sinister. You swallow thickly, eyes darting away from his.

"He was going to bring me food and some blankets." Your voice is quiet, timid as you speak to him.

Ghost only grunts in response before grabbing your wrist, rather tightly you may add, and dragging you god knows where. He drags you down a short hallway before stopping in front of a door. Behind it, you think you hear voices, and your suspicions are confirmed when Ghost swings the door open and you're greeted by the faces of the three other men.

"Aye, well would ye look at tha'!" Soap is the first to speak, a nasty grin plastered on his face. "Was just wonderin' what ye were up to kitten." You grimace at the pet name, something you know he finds amusing when he chuckles under his breath.

Before you have a chance to speak, Ghost pushes you further into the room before shutting the door behind him. Price gives Ghost an expectant look, before his eyes dart towards you. He takes that as his queue to speak, his grip still tight on your wrist.

"Found er' sniffin' round' on the deck." Ghost states simply, his voice rough and gravelly.

"I was not "sniffing' around anywhere! I told you, I was simply-" Before you have a chance to finish speaking, the Captain interrupts you.

"Stowaways don't speak out of turn." Price's words are laced with something dark and dominating, the aura of them shutting you up with a quiet whimper.

His eyes scan your face, jaw ticking thoughtfully before he sighs, leaning forward on his desk and putting his weight on his elbows.

"Why were you on the deck?" In the short time you've been here, and with the very limited interactions you have had with Captain Price, you have some understanding that when he asks a question, he wants an answer, and he wants it quickly.

"I- I was looking for Gaz." You mumble curtly, your eyes darting around the room to avoid eye contact with Price.

All eyes turn to Gaz, his head cocked to the side in confusion.

"Me? Did you need somethin' love?" You chew on your bottom lip, nodding softly at him.

"I'm hungry, and rather cold… You said you'd be back but you never came." Gaz looks even more confused than before, his brows dipping further down his face.

"Soap didn't bring you some food and blankets?" He asked.

You shake your head at him again.

"Um, no? Was he supposed to?" Gaz rolls his eyes, turning his head towards Soap who's rubbing his neck sheepishly.

"I told you to bring her the stuff I gave you," His voice raised slightly. "You've left the poor girl starving and cold."

Soap chuckles awkwardly, his eyes darting towards Ghost.

"I ken! I ken… Jus' got a bit distracted." Gaz groans at the implication. "Dinnae hate me too much for it." Soap then turns towards you, crowding you against a wall.

"M' sorry kitten, didnae mean tae forget about ye… Can ye forgive me?" And something about the way he asks makes you fidget.

You squirm against him in an attempt to break free from his grasp, but all he does is smirk and press harder. After a moment of your struggle, the Captain clears his throat.

"Alrigh' nough' of that Soap." The scotsman chuckles softly before finally moving away from you. Price stands from his desk, prompting the whole room to look at him, including you. "Dinner is soon. S' Ghost's night for cookin' so you, stowaway, you'll join us for supper."

His eyes scan the room quickly before nodding towards the door.

"Everyone out of my room."

As fast as he gave the order, everyone was out, standing outside his room like lost cattle. You feel a hand on the small of your back, and when you look behind you, you see Gaz.

"Dinner will be ready soon, just hold out a bit longer. I'll grab ya some blankets to keep ya cozy while waiting." He smiles softly at you and to your surprise, you smile back, an involuntary movement that has him giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

He leads you back to the cellar and once you're alone again you have only one thought.

"I hope Ghost doesn't poison my food."

[revelboo]

The reference to "Alcohol Eyes" in the latest "Everything is Alright" yesssss

I love when Rumble is immediately smitten with squishy little humans

Hes probably getting taken good care of Soundwave you don't even have to worry bout it 😈

I feel like Skywarp is going to be much the same as soon as he figures out he can have ‘fun’ with a human. 18+ Content 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 4

IDW Rumble x Reader

• Your little hand is warm against his, pulling him out the door of the club. Not that he needs any urging to follow you out of the noise or anywhere really. All he can think about is how you’d felt under him and getting somewhere private. Or maybe not even waiting that long. Almost reaching to drag you back to him in the middle of the poorly lit sidewalk before a hand touches his shoulder and he turns to find a human glaring up at him, face paint smudged with sweat. That glare immediately sliding to you and Rumble stiffens. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” The man demands, ignoring him to reach for you, to fist his fingers in your hair.

• Heart racing, you cringe away, but he never touches you. Rumble has him by the wrist and your ex makes a high pitched little nose of pain unlike anything you’ve ever heard. “I’d run away,” Rumble says and he’s grinning, lips stretched wide as he releases the man. He’s scared, your ex’s face so pale as he stares up at Rumble and it’s cruel and petty, but that fear delights you. Because now he’s on the receiving end and he’s not liking it at all. Turning back toward you, that manic smile eases as he reaches out a hand and only shaking a little, you take it and tug him along the dark street. You’re not far from the club, the streetlights out here flickering fitfully. “That guy bother you a lot?”

• “My ex,” you say voice soft, a shoulder lifting slightly and his lips thin. Ex? As in he’d touched you? Been inside you and heard those sounds you make? Makes him wish he’d done more than just crush the man’s wrist. Even not knowing a lot about humans, he understands immediately that this isn’t a good neighborhood. All the buildings tired and in need of repair. It’s one of those you pull him toward. “Baby, you deserve a treat for defending my honor,” you add, voice all heat again as you fish around in your little bag. But he’d heard the uncertainty you’re trying to hide. The fear of that other human that makes him feel violent and cold inside.

• Finding your keys, you unlock the door with hurried movements. Wanting to be safely inside in case your ex decides to be particularly stupid, because he’s probably drunk enough to not give up. Hiding the nerves by throwing the door open and pulling Rumble inside. Locking the deadbolt behind him as you begin to strip for him. “Still not taking the costume off?” You ask, not that you’re going to fight him over it. Maybe that’s his kink. Some kind of role player that gets off fucking in a robot costume. There’s enough light coming in from the blinds that you can see enough to not walk into anything, and he doesn’t ask you to turn the lights on. “How about you let me take care of you?”

• Silhouetted by the weak light from the street, you seem to glow at the edges as you reach for him. Pulling him along, and he hooks an arm around you and pulls you back against him. “Who takes care of you?” He asks as his lips brush your throat and you shiver in his arms. You’re the best thing he’s ever had, something he never expected to have and you’d given yourself to him freely. Not realizing that he’s not going to let go.

• “Aren’t you?” You whisper, teasing as his warm mouth moves against your throat, lips trailing behind your ear. His hands roaming over you in possessive touches. “The bed,” you murmur when he cups you, wiggling to get free as that visor glows red. That luminescence nags at you, but he lets you bring him to the bed. Even lays back on it when you push at him. Climbing up to straddle him, you try to wiggle your fingers between the seams of his costume and he groans. He’s warm underneath, but the material under feels strange. Then his hands are gripping your hips, lifting and moving you with a casual strength that should be terrifying. “So impatient.” You’d wanted to play with him, but he has other plans, pulling you down on his length. And you moan at the feel of him stretching you. “No hands, baby.” Swatting at his fingers on you, you splay your own palms on him and begin to move against him.

• Hips lifting slightly as you ride his spike, he watches your eyes close, lips parting. Fascinated with the way you move against him, rolling your hips as you take him deep, lifting up to nearly let him slip free before taking him again. And despite your warning, he runs his servos over your soft skin with a groan. You’re taking care of him as you’d said, though you’d never answered his question. But it’s okay, he already plans on keeping you whether you want him to or not.

Previous

[ashkabbom]

Temporary stresses - Mouthwashing

A/n: I disappeared but I'm back. I finished school and I'm officially on vacation 😋. I had another idea initially, but then I gave up writing to Curly with that one.🎀 Tell me if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language and I use a translator a lot.

I wanted a story with a happy ending, although it wasn't supposed to end 100% like that 😭

•Captain Curly x Fem!Reader

Summary/Synopsis: You hate being emotionally raw and your husband has been acting strange lately.

Notes: I wrote this with a happy ending, but in situations like this stress can actually be very dangerous, so be careful if you are going to do this to someone or if you are the person to receive this one day.

You were uncomfortable, to say the least.

It had been seconds, minutes, HOURS, since he had answered you, he avoided you whenever he could! The worst part is that you don't know the reason for all this, even though you told him to tell you when something was bothering him.

He's been acting kind of strange since yesterday. It seemed like you were the only one who was out of touch with all that nervousness and discomfort.

You had been a bit paranoid for some time now, because of these attitudes you didn't know if you had done something and it was eating you alive.

Searching through all your memories and finding nothing you realize you did wrong. Maybe he just got tired?

"I did everything like I always did..." You were rambling on to yourself. Maybe you said something wrong? You know very well that words, no matter how simple they are sometimes, can hurt.

This was all giving you a huge headache and leaving you a mess of emotions. You were just too exhausted.

You were out of the house now, on your lunch break from work, messing around on your phone for a few minutes, more specifically texting your husband, hoping he would answer you like he always did.

He didn't answer you properly, the messages were short and seemed more direct than ever, your husband didn't write and talk to you like that. God, you just wanted to go home.

"You've got that look on your face again." You hear your co-worker, Linda, say and let out a sigh. "What happened now?"

"This is the fourth time we've seen you with that sad, sullen puppy face in the space of 15 minutes," her other friend, Charlotte, says..

"Do you think I'm old?" You ask suddenly.

"What happened to 'Hi friend, I missed you too'? It doesn't exist anymore?" The first woman says.

"Exactly, calm down. You're not old, you're perfect for your age. And old age comes to everyone! It's inevitable." The second friend explains with a raised eyebrow.

"But now it's so different... When we met I was different, my hair, my body... My age..."

"Girl, seriously, what happened? You haven't had these low self-esteem spikes in months, you were so happy" Charlotte says with a sad tone, sitting down next to you.

"That's the problem, I don't know what happened... Since yesterday Curly has been acting a bit strange, avoiding me and being vague at times, but at the same time he's been very short and direct." You think about what your morning had been like that day.

"Oh my, don't be like that, men are a mess all by themselves. I'm not going to put ideas in your head, but let us know if you need help with that." Linda says, running her hand over your back.

"You're still as beautiful as the day you met, so don't worry. If he's going blind and can't see it, take the trash out of your house before it starts stinking up the whole house" Charlotte says, making it clear what she originally meant.

"I just don't know if something happened and he didn't tell me, if I did something and he was uncomfortable..." You love your husband with all your heart, otherwise you wouldn't have married him.

"Girl, put your cards on the table and that man against the wall, if something is going on he will tell you, he is not a lying man" Charlotte advises you in a lighter way now.

"She's right, you have to talk to him, but really talk to him. Just starting a conversation with him won't make him tell you anything... Ask what's going on and if everything is okay." Linda hugs you affectionately. Honestly, maybe this stress is just in your head? You don't know.

"Okay okay, but I'll do it after work, there's still a few more hours until it's time to leave." Grumbling you and your friends get up, heading towards the door while talking about anything now.

You don't know what you would do without them.

Hours had passed since that conversation, it was already getting dark and you were driving home almost completely peacefully.

Being with your friends relieved you a lot, but you still had a little bit of a nagging feeling, not to mention that you also knew that life is not a strawberry and anything can happen.

You were together for 11 years, dating for 4 years and married for 7 years. There was no reason for it all to go down the drain. At least you told yourself that.

You had texted him earlier, saying you were going home now... He hadn't even seen the message, but that's okay! Sometimes he's just busy with... Anything, you think.

Parking the car, you sigh, You hated feeling as tired as you had been feeling lately, you wish you could enjoy some of your time at home instead of just passing out in bed. On the bright side, you were on vacation from your job in 2 days. Just two more days.

Today you would confront him! You would know what was going on with him lately and everything would be okay! Everything has to be okay.

You open the door to the living room and notice the loud silence, seeping through your entire house. You didn't have a good feeling about this..

"Curly? Love?" You call out as you walk through the door and into the room, feeling a little anxious.

You turn to the kitchen and then–

"SURPRISE!" Some voices say/scream at the same time, scaring you at first, but then you notice the cake on the table, balloons, birthday hats, coxinha and other things on the table.

A wave of relief washes over you.

It was your birthday today.

"Happy birthday my love, you don't know how much- Wow, hey, hey! What happened? Why are you crying?" Your husband's cheerful tone soon fades, quickly replaced by a tone of concern.

You hadn't even realized that the wave of relief had brought you to tears, you were crying.

Did something happen? Is she okay?" Anya, Curly's work friend and maid of honor at your wedding a few years ago, asks worriedly, approaching.

"Honey, is something hurting?! Do you need anything? Anything at all? Do you need to go to the hospital?" He was quick to come closer, putting his arms around you as he checked your body with his tender and concerned gaze. God, this was all you wanted.

You try to explain, through your tears, that you're okay, that everything is okay now.

"I thought-" You stop to sniff a few times "I thought you were mad at me. Acting different and distant."

"I told you you sounded thick, but it's amazing how your head doesn't work sometimes." You hear Swansea's voice and let out a laugh through your tears.

"I'm so happy that everything is okay and that you're not mad at me." You explain as you wipe away your tears, soon feeling Curly's hand on your cheek while the other rests on your waist.

"I'm sorry my love, I would never be mad or upset with you, a thousand apologies darling" He says as he peppers your face with kisses, apologizing several times. "Please, I'm so sorry"

"We told him to hide it and not tell you or give you any hints about your surprise party and such, since last time he ended up telling you... But I think asking him to disguise himself wasn't... the best idea" Daisuke says as he analyzes the situation with a disappointed face.

You laugh a little and soon they join you, then a small silence arises, but it is quickly broken.

"So?" Swansea begins

""Is everything okay in there?" Anya asks, looking at you calmly and with a little concern. "Are you feeling any pain?"

"How are you and she?" Daisuke asks in the most direct way.

You sniff one last time and look down, running your hand over your belly.

"I will never make you cry like that again." He finishes with a peck on the lips and runs his hand over your belly. "I will never worry the two girls in my life again. I promise"

You look at him fondly. "We're fine, we just went through a hurricane today and yesterday." You laugh lightly. "Now let's eat this cake, I'm hungry for two."

The others laugh at your answer and soon everyone gathers around the table to celebrate your birthday.

You really hope you never have to go through that worry again, not even Curly would do it again.

You have the most caring husband and your daughter would have the best dad.

[ninguitar]

୨୧　𝓣AKE A BITE　˒˒　LR

─── ﹙🍎﹚when two lovers can't help but be addicted to one-another's lies.

pairing. lara raj x f!r genre. angst, bittersweet ?? wc. 1.4k+ notes. communication issues, toxic relationship, for @lararajjj 🗣️ italics = past events ( MASTERLIST )

now playing ⋆ take a bite by beabadoobee

LARA RAJ COULDN'T HELP but chastise herself for her sheer idiocy—more specifically, how she fell for you horrendously. with her hand interlocked with yours, an incoherent slur of words escape her breath. you two were sat out on your apartment's fire escape, seeking refuge in one-another—well, more so, as an attempt to mend your guys' relationship.

leaves wave against the trees, the breeze settling on the horizon. barely any words escape the two of your guys' lips, words lying on the tip of your tongue particularly. you two had just been in yet another argument for the month, hissing and huffing out incoherent curse words strung together with useless arguments.

"why- why are you acting this way! it wasn't even that big of an issue!" you hiss out, your words laced in venom, as you sigh, "you're just making it worse!"

"because you can't seem to do the littlest of tasks—i mean, forgetting to do anything i ask of you—how hard it be to do the stuff i ask of you!" lara observes flatly, her voice dreary, as you could practically tell she'd been biting these words back, waiting for the right moment to just explode.

"i've been busy with college, lara. you know that," you tell her, your hand reaching her shoulder, before she dismisses you, pausing in her movements. hastily, she takes your hand off her shoulder, a frown on her lips.

"look, i— i know i've been failing you lately, and you're sick of it, but i promise i'll stop using being busy as an excuse," you try to mend the already wounded and sour relationship between you two, your tone gentle, and your gaze filled with remorse.

the indian girl huffs, meekly shaking her head, anger sewn into her tone. an exasperated sigh escapes her parted lips, "it's not just lately. i- i've tried to ignore it, really, but god, i've done more shit for you than you have for me!" her face darkens, her frustrations towards you seeping through her skin.

"are you serious right now? i took time off of school just to take care of you when you were feeling down! everything i do has been for you. you act like i don't do anything to you at all," you raise your voice to match hers, glaring at the girl.

"it's not even just a matter of that—you always have no time for me, at all! i have not heard you say anything but the same excuse of 'i'm busy'!" her bitter resentment remains, remarking with force.

your expression crumbles at her words, as they settle in your mind, your chest blossoming pain. lara's face dons with an expression that displayed no regret for her words, making you scoff in response. you cross your arms against your chest, "fine then. be that way."

her lips tremble slightly at your words of agreement, her eyes widening, as the shock from your reaction sets in. by then does her anger tame itself, regret and worry washing over her features now. you brush past the indian girl, disappearing into the fire escape.

which, is what led the two of you to now.

"are we okay?" you murmur, turning to face the indian girl, as you swallow a lump down your throat, a look of resignation washing over your features. a sigh drifts from your lips upon waiting for her answer, both your hands resting on the railings.

she whispers, "'course we are, but not now, okay?" before pressing her lips against yours, her voice barely above a whisper and soothing. trying to ease your mind off of any concerns, lara's arms snake around your waist, interrupting any of your protests.

and by then, you were addicted to lara's lies.

guilt runs through your bones, as you meekly oblige, before trying to protest once again, "it just feels like we're always fighting an uphill battle, that we can never fix. it's always the same thing over and over again." worry lines crease your forehead, your stance stiffening, as you watch the smile falter from the red-haired girl's face.

before you could speak up once again, her finger finds your lips, shushing you. her words are laced with desperation, her voice quietly ringing in your head over and over again, "please, not now, pretty." she meekly grumbles under her breath, burying her head against your neck, murmuring nonsense while doing so.

you knew everything wasn't okay—hell, even lara knew that. but, things always go like this between you two. something goes wrong, either you or her confronts one-another, and then an argument follows. but then, it's forgotten almost instantly a few seconds after, and you're back to square one.

her eyes trace over your lips, before pressing her plush ones against yours, trying to melt away your worries. cupping your chin in a haste, she peppers your face with an abundance of kisses, coaxing praises under her breath. her lips trail down to your jaw to your neck, ruthlessly moving against them—a stark contrast to the way her hands entangle themselves in your cold hands.

"fuck—" her breath fans over your neck, making a chain of shivers run through your spine. leaving a trail of kisses down from your jaw to your neck, they leave small, pink-tinted stains, your fingertips dancing along lara's knuckles.

and you know it’s wrong—wrong to be in a relationship like this, where it's endless fighting between the two of you. and of course, two wrongs don't make a right, but how could you resist the temptation?

your breath stutters, unconsciously easing into the indian girl's touch, as she pulls you closer in an urgent manner. with the two of you standing against one-another at your fire escape, by now, the communication issue in your guys' relationship now seems like the last of your concerns. she pulls away from your neck, her head now facing yours.

"you're perfect," the red-haired girl whispers, running her hands down your arm.

a lie.

lara fixates on you, her lips pressing against each and every crevice of your face, wanting to reassure you, "so, so perfect—my gorgeous girl. can't let anybody else have you."

another lie.

and from her soft, tender touch, you can't help but let yourself drift off into her world, letting yourself believe in her lies. every single, small kiss of hers leaves you remembering the moment you knew lara raj was the one. her charming words from that day ring in your head—"i promise to never break your heart; i'll do anything i can to make my girl happy."

also a lie.

for as long as you were in a relationship with lara, you felt like you were high in a daze, feeling as light as a feather whenever you were with her. you thought—no, knew—that even in another lifetime, you two would inevitably find each other. and lara, likewise, knew so too, finding herself irrevocably in love with you—with everything that embodies you.

you were everything she wanted, and she was yours as well. you know how the indian girl looks when she genuinely professes her words to you—when she talks to you with sincerity laced in her words in general.

and your eyes desperately glaze over hers, already knowing she was meekly telling you lies. you mumble, "i love you too, forever." before you could manage to murmur another word out, lara captures your lips in a ruthless attempt, moving against yours fervently. her kisses leave you breathless, her hands running up and down your waist. the cool night breeze whistling only serves to make the red-headed girl kiss you feverishly.

you think that you two are perfect for each other—well, at least in terms of ignoring the underlying issues in your relationship. either one of you could speak up, but you guys don't, or one of you interrupts the other. it's the same cycle, and it ends up like always—the two of you fixing it with a kiss on the lips.

the red-headed girl drags you to the bedroom, not letting you protest with any words, as she sits, letting your head rest on her lap. the deafening silence through the room leaves you tense, your cheeks and ears flushed. her hands find their way to your hair, playing with your hair every few seconds.

thus, you call it yet another night of endlessly moving backwards instead of forward, stuck in reverse, and inevitably fixing it with a kiss on the lips, accompanied by words that mean little to either one of you. it's wrong, but lara's willing to do anything to not let your relationship go south, and vice-versa.

it gets harder to breathe

but i take it and i want it and i love when it bleeds

taglist. ୨ৎ @lararajjj @kisshae @sed7ction @yeetaberry127 @vrtualstar

@jellaaa @artrizzler19 @falling-intoo-deep

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer woke to Adam softly shaking him. He was towards the door.

Lucifer: Mm... Adam? What's wrong?

Adam: ...There's yelling outside.

Lucifer squinted his eyes at the door. After sitting in silence, straining his ears, Lucifer could heat yelling. More specifically, his brothers yelling. He sighed and rubbed his face.

Lucifer: Fuck, I wish he was adopted.

Adam chuckled and settled back into bed. Lucifer got up and threw on a silk robe, tying it around his waist tightly.

Lucifer: Go back to sleep, Adam. I'll deal with him.

Adam smiled and watched Lucifer leave.

Lucifer: What the fuck is with all the yelling?

Lucifer stormed over to his father, who was being yelled at by Michael. His father gave him an apologetic look.

Michael: A group of my best men were found fucking fried a good 5 miles from here! Father, I demand you let me and a group of my best men hunt down whatever beast has done this! You know there's a fucking dragon on the lose terrorizing the country side-!

Theo: Your men should not have been hunting dragons where their bodies were found, Michael. You know this-.

Michael: They weren't hunting dragons! They have families to support, father! They were hunting game, deer and boar! Nothing else.

Lucifer: Oh, please. We know how you and your men operate. They were hunting dragons. And you know it.

Michael glares at him: And you do? I gave them the order myself. That that land was off limits. They wouldn't disobey me!

Lucifer: You're not king, Michael. You have no ground to be barking our orders.

Michael: I wasn't asking you, was I Lucifer? Father. Grant me this one thing. Let me kill it. I can track it easily enough.

Lucifer: Father wouldn't allow you-.

Michael: Why does it sound like you're trying to protect something? You're not keeping secrets are you, king?

Lucifer glares: I'm protecting this kingdom. If you were to anger something-.

Michael: Protect this kingdom!? You married one of the fuckers were trying to eradicate.

Lucifer got in Michael's face: Watch you fucking tone with me, brother. Family or not, you will be punished.

Michael glared at Lucifer before looking at his father, who didn't look like he was going to intervene.

Michael: Fine. I don't need your fucking blessing. Neither of you.

Lucifer glared as Michael began to storm off.

Lucifer: You will not leave this palace, bother!

Michael stopped and turned: Or what!? I'm the one who cares about human lives! My friends lives! I'm the one putting them over some THING sleeping in your damn bed. I will find what dragon did this, and I will skin it, and drain it, and use its bones for weapons and its scales for armor. Mark my fucking words Lucifer-.

Lucifer: Of you leave this castle you will regret it, Michael.

Michael: ...I have nothing to lose. I have nothing. Now, stay out of my way.

Lucifer: My brother wouldn't act like this! This isn't you!

Michael: Then I'm not your brother.

Lucifer was taken a back when Michael said that. He said it like that wasn't the most heartbreaking thing Lucifer could hear. He was so cold, almost no emotion.

Theo: ...I'm sorry, son.

Lucifer: What happened to him, father? He never used to be like this...

Theo: Time changes people. Experiences determine whether they are good or bad changes. Now, let's focus on something else, yes? Your coronation will be happening in a few weeks. Your kingdom deserves to celebrate your new title, and new husband.

Lucifer: Yes, father.

Lucifer smiled as his father pats him on the shoulder and told him to go back to sleep.

What about a dragon prince au?

Adam is part of a family that can turn into dragons, their feared by the humans. So they send Lucifer up as an ambassador to work out a peace agreement.

Sera, the matriarch would like a better relationship with humans, and so would her daughter. But her son, on the other hand is a different story.

He hates humans and thinks their entitled. He's the main reason theres such hostility between them and humans, as he thinks they should worship him and his family.

Adam: I really don't know why he need this fucker here.

Sera rolled her eyes: We need to fix relations between us. I refuse to let there be anymore violence between us. Especially from you, Adam.

Adam: Pft. So I burned down a few villages- who cares!? They were full of uggos anyway.

Lucifer instantly hates Adam, especially when he realizes he's the golden dragon that's been causing the most casualties.

But Sera is determined to change her sons view of humans, so she forces him to show Lucifer around their estate. She's made the threat of cutting his wings off if he doesn't behave and show Lucifer respect.

Of course, Adam manages to slip in some rude comments and jokes at Lucifer's expense. Lucifer is definitely pissed off. He didn't want to be here to start with, and he really doesn't want to deal with this guy.

He really hates how hot Adam is, and he's definitely not checking him out as he shows him around.

I love everything about this!

-

Adam might have a human form but that didn't mean he liked humans and this one in particular was rather annoying. But his mother told him to play nice and show him around, so that's what he's doing.

The only thing that gave away that Adam was a dragon was his eyes, they were bright gold and his pupils weren't perfectly round.

Lucifer walked with his arms crossed as he followed him, the palace was lovely but Adam was an asshole.

A pretty asshole but still.

Adam sighed: And that is the path to the village.

Lucifer: Village?

Adam: Is there an echo in here? Yes, village where everyone lives. Don't get any ideas.

Lucifer: What? What ideas?

Adam kept walking and they passed a garden that he didn't comment on.

Lucifer: What about the garden?

Adam frowned: You're not allowed in there.

Lucifer: Why?

Adam rolled his eyes; You're just not, now come on.

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence

Summary: You confront your husband, the emperor of Rome, of his sickness.

You leaned back in your chair. The bracelets on your arm clanging loudly as you moved, showing off your riches with just such noise.

Your husband was right in front of you, yet his mind miles away. It was always away when the people in the coliseum roared as they saw a persons eye get gutted out of his head. He would howl with them as well.

You did not care so much for this marriage was not out of love but Marcus. Dare not ever call him that, Caracalla has been different these past moons.

So there you were, starring intensely at your husband back trying to figure him out.

…

“More food, my lady?” A servant came up with a tray of grapes, all laid out neatly with additional touches of green that was obviously there for decoration purposes.

You didn’t say anything and put up your hand and shooed him away, you were occupied anyways as Caracalla finally sat back down next to you.

He smacked his chair and gave a chuckle, “did you see that?” “I did.” You said plainly, looking straight ahead. He frowned, “you don’t seem excited by that?” You turned your head to him finally, looking into his eyes. You tried to seem something there but there wasn’t.

“No, I have just seen better battles.”

He scooted back more into his chair, trying to get comfortable in his seat. “You’re right.” He agreed with you, “It has only just begun though, don’t fret my dear.”

Your eyes drew back to the sandy arena floor, dust flying up as people tried to dodge other attacks. The clink of metal on metal and the blood dowsing in the sun, it gave you no entertainment as it did to him. It happened so often, how are they not bored of it?

Your fingers absentmindedly tapped against the armrest, the cold clink of your bracelets and rings brought you back.

“You seem bored.” Caracalla frowned at you. You didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between each other. Shifted in your seat, eyeing him once more, his posture relaxed, yet his eyes gleamed with a hunger you never quite understood.

“I suppose I am.” Playing with your rings as you let out a sigh. “Caracalla's gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he gave a short laugh. "You always were different. I suppose as well.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You don't care for the blood, do you?"

Your head turned as well to meet him again. You two were very close now and his eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, the heat of his breath on your skin.

The crowd went up again and his brother, Geta started to shout ferociously, almost as if he was fighting them down there as well. The sound broke you two apart.

His smile didn’t falter as he straightened in his chair, but there was something in his gaze—something that made the hair on the back of your neck stand. "You don't like the blood," he repeated, quieter now, as if testing something. Noticing him slowly disappearing more and more into his mind.

"You know, it's not the blood," you replied, your voice low and deliberate, "It's what comes after it."

He definitely heard you but decided not to pay attention to you anymore and decided to lean against the railing watching the show below unfold.

———

You did not see your husband, Caracalla until later that night, long after the sun had set and the games were done for the day. The moon shining bright and cooling everyone of the hot day in Rome.

Back in your chamber with the windows open. The wind blowing through your silk gown right in the moonlight’s direction. Looking out into the beautiful streets and hearing bells ring and children laughing. It was the only peaceful part of the day you would get.

Nor did you care when you heard footsteps enter into the room. "Are you still angry?" Caracalla voice was low, tinged with amusement, though you could tell he was testing the waters.

Your head tilted a bit and your eyes lingered on the marble floor. “I never was.” Keeping your voice quiet and steady. For a moment, he said nothing, only watching you. His usual presence was like a shadow, but tonight it felt like he wasn’t even there.

"You always do this," Caracalla’s voice broke the stillness, soft but tinged with something darker. He had moved closer now, though still keeping a careful distance, as if measuring the space between you both. "You retreat into silence like a stranger in your own home. You’ve always been so... aloof. Cold, even."

You wanted to scoff at him. To throw the vase on the table at him. You knew better than this though, you’ve played this game your whole life. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing your emotions. "I don’t retreat, Caracalla," you replied, your voice calm, though it held a trace of something sharper beneath it. “Something seems off with you these days, I fear.” You held your hands close to your chest for some comfort.

He breath became fast and he narrowed his eyebrows for a second. “Is this why you can’t look at me?” He raised his voice higher yet you did not flinch one bit.

“No.” You said.

He stepped closer to you to talk quietly yet anger was still in his body, it has always been there, a whisper in the night air. "Then what is it? What do you see when you look at me?"

You shifted slightly, the silk of your gown rippling with the motion, "I see a man who has everything, yet still wants more," you said softly, the words as sharp as the cold marble beneath your feet.

Caracalla paused, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, the silence between you both growing heavy. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might lash out, the fury in him barely contained. Yet, he remained still, his lips pressed tight together as he absorbed your words.

"You always were good with words," he muttered, you stood unmoving, your back to the open window, the cool night air sweeping through the room as the distant sounds of Rome's nightlife echoed faintly in the background. The weight of his gaze was palpable, as though it was trying to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built between you and him.

"What do you want, Caracalla?" You said those words very loudly. You weren’t afraid speaking out against him. “You are not yourself these days, you are restless in your sleep and crave blood more than ever…”

He looked down at the ground and almost began to shout. “It is my brother! He blames me for everything I’ve ever done!” His voice pleased and aching. You’ve seen him like this before, but never this serious. Yet, you don’t believe he’s telling the full truth, or at least he knows the full truth.

You drop your hands to your side and step close to him, your silhouette leaving the silver moonlight that touched you. You brush your hand into his hair and look at him, holding his head. Your rings felt cold against his skin but he did not mind it.

“You are the emperor.” You spoke softly, trying to calm him down. He had always been out there but you’ve always yet had a soft heart and it aches for him right now.

His eyes were stinging from holding back tears yet he did not shed any. He did not speak for he did not seem weak but he has a sickness of the mind and you knew it, Geta knew it, the senate knew it and damn that monkey probably knew it as well. You just kept denying it and he does not see it.

“It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” He whispered and turned his head to break away from your hands. Leaving the cold air to touch them again. Maybe you should’ve kept that window closed.

[loweffortopinions]

Holy Maker, the dialogue in Veilguard is even worse when you look closer at it. Just look at this:

Rook: "I'm guessing you're the reason we're here." Lucanis: "Who are you? Who sent you?" Rook: "My name is Rook. Caterina sent me." Lucanis: "Caterina… But you're not a Crow." Rook: "I'm breaking you out of here, but… what are you?" Neve: "Rook. He's possessed by a demon. "Lucanis: "It's complicated." Rook: "Caterina promised us a mage killer if we broke you out of here." Lucanis: "I can still work." Rook: "Good. Because I'm pretty sure more Venetori are on their way. We have to get moving." Lucanis: "They have a vial of my blood. They can use it to control me. I cannot leave it in their hands. And… I had a contract when I was captured. One of my targets is here—Calivan. Crows don't break contracts." Rook: "All right, we'll help. But in return, I want help killing some things." Lucanis: "I'll owe you." Rook: "I'm sure we'll owe each other before this is all over. Let's go."

Just a few problems off the top of my head:

Caterina already promised that Lucanis would help us if we break him out. So… he double owes us already I guess?

I honestly didn’t realize he was possessed until Neve beat me over the head with it. At most I figured he was a mage, but with how the classes are designed, there was no guarantee for that since all classes look like mages now. Nothing clueing you in slowly... just BAM: THISMANISPOSSESSEDDIDYOUKNOW?

So you find out he’s buddy-buddy with a demon and no one’s freaking out? Why is everyone acting like this is normal? “Oh, hey, it’s Abomination Tuesday. Moving on.”

And I swear he repeats the whole “Crows don’t break contracts” thing in the very next scene with Calivan. I just… can’t.

There is probably more: Feel free to add your own thoughts. There is more scenes under the cut if anyone is interested in looking at the dialoge with Calivan, and the reunion in Treviso. Feel free to use it however you want (It should be word for word but I might've missed something).

Meeting and fighting Calivan

Calivan (target): "Ugh, this was entirely unnecessary. Zara and her little jests. 'He's already the Demon of Vyrantium! Won't this be ironic?'" (Lucanis smiles bitterly at the comment.)

Calivan: "Hilarious. And now look at the mess you've made of my facility. She always leaves me to clean up."

Rook: "So this is Calivan."

Lucanis: "He is. The target I was sent for a year ago. A Crow never abandons a contract."

(Note: *snort* Did both of them just ignore Calivans entire monloge?)

(Fight ensues. Calivan is cocky at first but grows desperate, talking about not wanting to be a victim or something similar.)

Lucanis: (Exhales) "The Crows send their regards." (He seems pleased that the contract is finished.)

Rook: "So we got your target."

Lucanis: "Yes. The job's done."

Spite: (Inhales) "Smells like blood. Ashes. Not done. Not yet."

Rook: "Lucanis... Are you all right? Lucanis? What are you looking at?"

Spite: "Careful. They know. We're not right."

Lucanis: "You cannot see him. I wondered."

Rook: "We clearly have things to discuss. Somewhere else."

Lucanis: "Agreed. I think... it's time I got some air. Shall we go?"

Rook: "I'm ready to get out of this place."

Lucanis: "Imagine how I feel."

1. The Spite reveal is so goofy, and unimmersive: The player can see Spite, but Rook can't. I just find this to be an extremly lazy way of doing things. Further, the "reveal" was ruined in the previous scene since Neve has already told us exactly what's wrong with Lucanis.

2. So... nobody really gives a shit about Calivan? I thought there might be a bit more... relief, killing the dude that's responsible for the hellhole you've been "living" in for the past year. I mean, the monologue was awful, but to just ignore him entirely...?

3. There are many unneccesary lines like "We got your target". Yes, yes we did. He's lying right there, on the floor. Dead. The pacing suffers.

Reunion in Treviso

You walk into the Diamond, there are dead Crows on the floor.)

Teia: "Maker..."

Viago: "Lucanis?"

Lucanis: "What happened here?"

Illario: (Bangs table) "A message. From Zara Renata."

Illario: "I can't believe it. You're home." (Approaches and touches Lucanis' shoulder.)

Lucanis: "Zara... her people got this close?"

Rook: "The woman who runs the prison?"

Lucanis: "The Venetori witch who captured me."

Rook: "Revenge for the breakout, maybe?"

Lucanis: "Where's Caterina?"

Teia: "She's..."

Viago: (Comforts her) "The Venetori got her in the confusion."

Illario: "I get one of you back, only to lose the other."

Rook: "Lucanis... I'm so sorry."

Lucanis: "I need to work."

Teia: "Are you sure? You should take some time."

Lucanis: "I don't need time. I need a target."

Illario: "You just got here, and already you want to leave again?"

Lucanis: "Caterina gave me a contract. I'm not breaking the last deal she ever made. And I owe Rook. Once that's done... I'll come home."

Rook: "I'll return him in one piece."

Illario: "Thank you. Illlario: Cousin. When you find Zara, I want—I need—to be there."

Viago: "We're under attack. Antaam on one side, and now Venetori on the other? Forget revenge, we need you—"

Teia: "No. Viago. Zara came for us here. In my house. She took Caterina from my house."

Teia: "You find her and cut her heart out, Lucanis. Vi and I will hold down the fort."

Lucanis: "I'll give her your regards, Teia."

Teia: "For Caterina."

This last one is so very... disjointed. It feels like they're talking past each other half the time. And suddenly they remember; right EXPOSITION. It feels very random that they bring up the Antaam here.

Rook could've been silent this entire conversation, and it wouldn't make a difference; nothing they say contribute to the conversation. The only one that really reacts to them is Illario, barley.

So Lucanis is tasked with taking care of two Gods, AND to take care of Zara? The guy who just got out of prison, and is possessed? Fucking hell, the guy doesn't get a break. Sure, he says he wants to work... But just maybe someone else could deal with Zara, considering the contract he just undertook?

[willsimpforanyone]

Hi first of all LOVE YOUR WORK KEEP IT UP!!

Second, could you (pretty) please write soft dom leo x sub reader where she’s had a long day and allows Leo to like, ‘try anything’??

If not that’s okay. Xoxo<33

okay i missed posting yesterday, me and schedules apparently don't work but! i'm gonna try write this fast before my grandma comes round lmao lets goooooo i'm gonna try writing in 2nd person, let me know if yall like it or not

this is smut so mdni! warnings: she/her pronouns for reader, cockwarming, softdom!leo, ig somnophilia? idk this got away from me like a rabid squirrel

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

The sofa has never felt more comfortable. Your body falls limp onto the cushions, head pillowed on Leo's thighs as your eyes close against the low light in the living room.

Leo hums, setting down his phone and carding a warm hand through your hair. "Hey, gorgeous," he smiles down at you, taking in your exhausted appearance. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," you mumble against his jeans, relaxing minutely at the soothing touch. "Do I have to do a job? Like, is it entirely necessary?"

"Nope." Leo grins down at you with a raised eyebrow. "Quit. Be my housewife, just lay around all day and let me love on you when I get home from work and give you presents."

You laugh tiredly, rolling so you're on your back with your face looking up at Leo. "In this economy? I'm just whining, babe, I'm just... tired, y'know? Everything was on my nerves, I felt like I was going insane."

"Well..." Leo begins, a finger delicately tracing the side of your face. "I can think of a few ways to help with that."

The temptation is there, interest simmering low in my gut, but you can just about keep your eyes open. You shake your head softly, apologetic eyes looking up at Leo. "I'm actually exhausted, honey, I don't think-"

"Then don't think." Leo cuts you off, gentle but firm as his finger traces down your neck to the neckline of your top. "Don't think, don't speak, don't worry, okay? Let me take care of my girl."

He says it so sincerely, eyes both wanting and earnest, and warmth starts to pool in your stomach at the idea of not having to do anything, just letting Leo touch you and make you feel good without any effort.

With a small but excited smirk, you bite your lip. "Well, I'd have to be crazy to turn that down."

"You are crazy," Leo teases, gently moving out from under your head to scoop you up off the sofa. "But you're my crazy, now shh, I'm busy."

Holding you in his arms, Leo makes his way to the bedroom and gently places you on the bed. With dexterous fingers, he undoes and pulls off your clothes, leaving you in your underwear on the bed. He ignores your questioning look when he leaves that on, instead finding one of his t-shirts and pulling it over your head.

"How can someone be so cute and hot at the same time, hm?" he murmurs, more to himself than you. He leaves you on the bed and returns from the bathroom with makeup remover, kneeling between your legs as they hang off the bed.

"Close your eyes, baby."

He carefully takes off your makeup, pressing kisses to your bare skin whenever he finishes with an area of your face. "There, now you can go straight to sleep when I'm done with you."

"That is the sweetest way anyone has ever told me they're going to tire me out," you laugh quietly, absently fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt.

Leo frowns, pressing a finger to your lips. "Shh, no talking; my girl has been talking all day, that voice is for moans and telling me if you want to stop, understand?"

You nod meekly, smile on your lips as you press a kiss to the tip of his finger. He smiles proudly, kissing your forehead in return. "Good job, baby."

His hands cup your face, bringing you into a sweet kiss that quicky turns heated. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, groaning softly as you relent under the touch. You're pushed back onto the bed, Leo removing his hands from your face to move you backwards to he can join you on the bed, lips and tongue still moving against yours.

With one hand, he holds both of your wrists above your head, the other hand beginning to roam your body like he's learning it all over again. Leo's thumb finds one of your nipples through the fabric of the t-shirt, teasing lightly at it until it hardens and pokes against the material. He mirrors the action on your other breast, his lips trailing down your jaw just to he can hear the sweet gasps and moans that he was muffling with his mouth.

"So pretty," he breathes against your ear, leaving your hands above your head as both his hands grope and knead at your breasts, a smirk pressed against your jaw as he pinches your nipples lightly and making you gasp in surprise.

"Leo-"

He makes a disappointed sound, and pinches one of your nipples harder. "What did I say about talking, hm? You're not so tired you can't remember simple instructions, are you? I know my baby doesn't want me to spank her, right?"

Closing your mouth promptly, you shake your head quickly. Leo rewards you with another forehead kiss, his hands moving away from your chest to glide over your clothed waist to your hips.

"That's right," he hums, fingers hooking into the elastic of your underwear and dragging it down to throw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Bringing one hand back up, he taps two fingers against your lips. "Open."

Obediently, you part your lips, making a soft noise of surprise as Leo pushes three fingers into your mouth. He ignores it, pressing against your tongue and coating his fingers in spit before he pulls them out.

"Good girl," he whispers, kissing your still-open mouth and licking at the saliva covering your lips. The three spit-slick digits disappear from your sight, but rapidly draw your attention as Leo slips them between your legs.

"So wet for me," he coos, cupping and rubbing your folds and spreading the mix of your spit and arousal around your entrance.

Without warning, he shoves all three fingers inside you. You cry out and grip the sheets above your head, eyes wide as he pumps his hand in and out rapidly. His free hand cups your cheek, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

"Shh, shh, I wanna get you ready quickly, okay? I know it's a lot, but you can take it, can't you? Sweet girl, you look so gorgeous, my little hardworker all turned on and needy."

His fingers press in as deep as they can go, and he just holds them there, keeping them still as he pulls his hand away from your cheek and works on undoing his jeans. With one hand, he undresses his bottom half, cock freed from his underwear and slapping against his top. It leaves a tiny damp spot of precum staining the fabric, and your mouth waters at the sight.

Leo laughs as you lick your lips, curling his fingers inside you to bring your attention back. "You'll get my dick, babe, just not in that pretty little mouth."

He withdraws his fingers from you, and wraps his hand around his cock with a soft hiss. Stroking himself slowly and lazily, Leo manhandles you onto your side, coaxing you to lay your head on the pillows as he settles in behind you. He shifts so your hips are aligned, his free hand lifting your leg a little so he can nudge the head of his cock against your opening.

"Relax for me, gorgeous," he whispers, peppering kisses at the back of your neck as he sinks inside you, pushing his way into your tight, hot pussy with a low, throaty groan.

Your eyes flutter closed with a long, needy moan, pushing your hips back as he fills you up inch by inch until you can feel his hips flush against your ass. He pauses there, burying his face in your hair as he breathes slowly and deeply to get used to the feeling of you around him.

After a minute, Leo sighs, shifting a little to get comfortable. "There we go, baby, now you can sleep." You lay still for a second, mouth opening and closing, your desire to do as you're told and not talk warring with the desire to know what the fuck he's talking about.

Leo, knowing you inside and out, huffs a laugh against your shoulder, kissing it sweetly. "You heard me, sweet girl. You're gonna take a nap, and you're gonna keep my cock nice and warm for me." His arm is slung over your waist, his hand splayed over your stomach to keep you close.

Slowly, you nod. You're still exhausted, despite his actions, and it's... kinda nice, having him so close, warming you inside and out. Leo shushes you gently, arranging your arms and legs so you're comfy, both of you settling into the bed.

It's all too easy to doze off, your eyes fluttering closed again and your breathing evening out to match Leo's steady, rhythmic movements of his chest.

Leo is kind of proud of himself, having lulled you to sleep stuffed full of his dick, cuddling you close as you keep him warm and snug inside you. He can feel himself beginning to fall asleep too, and he buries his face against the nape of your neck with a content sigh.

You wake up slowly, groggily, your body rocking slightly as your surface from sleep. A soft, sleepy and slightly confused moan falls from your lips, and Leo answers with a sharper thrust of his hips.

"There you are," he purrs, his hands now gripping your hips as he fucks in and out of you. "You were pretty deep asleep, baby, laid so nicely for me while I used you."

The words and movements send pleasurable heat curling in your stomach, pussy fluttering around his cock as you surrender to the feeling without a moment's hesitation. Leo kisses and nips gently at your neck, one hand slipping down to gather some of your arousal on his fingers and beginning to circle your clit.

"That's it, just relax," he whispers, voice carrying a shaky edge as he nears his climax. "Let me take care of you, gonna make you feel so good, baby..."

Everything is hot and hazy, your mind only able to pay attention to the way Leo's cock bumps against that particular spot inside you every time he pushes back in, over and over and over. Pressure builds in the depths of your gut, your toes curling as Leo's fingers coax more and more sweet, half-awake noises from you, feeling your walls convulsing around him.

"You gonna come for me?" he pants, a needy, desperate sound that spurs you on. "Gonna come all over my dick, gorgeous? Yeah, I know you are, I can feel how close you are, baby, come for me so I can fill you with my cum."

It only takes a few more seconds before the tension in your body reaches a tipping point, and your lips part in a broken sob as you come around his dick. Leo murmurs praise into your ear, fucking you through it as he chases his own orgasm.

"Did so well for me, sweet girl, fuck, feels so fucking good when you come, looks so pretty- you're gonna let me come in you, yeah? Let me fuck you full of my cum like a good girl?"

You nod languidly, deliciously hazy and spent and wanting nothing more than to feel Leo finish inside you. He cuddles you closer, arms wrapping around your waist as he fucks inside you in a last few disjointed thrusts.

"O-Oh, fuck, yes, feels so good, baby, oh, my sweet girl, I'm coming, I'm coming-!"

Leo presses a guttural moan into your shoulder, his body trembling as he finishes inside you, painting your insides sticky-white. You groan softly, oversensitive but satisfied as you feel him fill you up.

Panting hard, Leo slowly comes down from his high, stroking your soft skin anywhere he can reach. He clears his throat, nose dragging against the back of your head. "How're you feeling, gorgeous?"

Breathing a laugh, you find one of his hands and lace your fingers with his. "Good. Better."

"Mm, good," he mumbles, pressing a smile against your hair as he squeezes your fingers. "...food?"

You grin, even as he gently pulls himself out of you. "Definitely."

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

and with 7 minutes to go before grandma arrives, i'm done! nearly 2 hours and i cannot tell if this is good or bad at this point, it completely got away from me, but i hope you enjoyed!

[crooked-wasteland]

When the fans think their ideas are so genius because they ended up in the show when, really, they are simply stolen from them in the first place and still lack any coherence.

The fire in Oops, for one, completely contradicts the show from Loo Loo Land. When Blitz gets thrown from the tent at the start of the fight, he lands in a crate full of Hellfire torches. Throughout the chaos no one is concerned about the very green fire all around them. Blitz is entirely unharmed and even his clothes don't burn. But I'm supposed to believe the fire killed his mother and that it's all Blitz's fault?

We see different types of fire in the Mammon episode with Fizz using blue fire that we can assume is relatively harmless. So why would candles in Hell use green fire and not blue fire? It just seems like a complete oversight, until you recall that a fire was the fan idea of what happened to Fizzarolli. Literally everyone and their mother was convinced and hyped over the idea of Fizz becoming injured in a fire, despite how insane a thought that would be when he still has his tail, the actual first thing that would have been injured and destroyed in a fire before his limbs. The addition of the explosion may have worked for Fizz's arms being gone, but not his legs.

Fans have ideas and Medrano merely regurgitates them without really thinking it through. So if you came to see Medrano's story, it isn't her story. It's a template of her story with other people's half-baked ideas thrown on top with not a single ounce of effort to flesh them out into a cohesive whole.

So when I'm told how much I should pity Stolas, I also know that comes from a fan seeing Stella throw objects (and servants) at him for cheating on her in her bed and that person not at all seeing such a reaction as the realistic and arguably appropriate reaction to being deeply betrayed. It was a fan who didn't care for the context of female rage or broken trust and felt bad for the waifish gay man who didn't raise his voice and thus must be that perfect little victim.

Which Medrano swan dives into such an interpretation without regard for how sane people would interpret that. Despite seeing the nuance of both sides and genuinely believing both can be terrible while also being sympathetic, I'm the one in the wrong for pointing out how Stolas just perpetuates abuse no differently than what was done to him? People who are actually adults and have experience with abuse, who also don't wallow in self-pitying narcissism have still not let this point go. And we never will.

This is why you don't just listen to your fans when it comes to a story. Because it shows how little creativity you really have when you can't fit it into your already established world.

Despite the unnecessarily long ask sent by the other person about Stolitz, they're not wrong. Anti-Stolitz (and Anti-Stolas as well) are disingenuous and ignore every tiny bit of deeper analysis regarding Stolitz that isn't crammed into "Stolas is an monster boohoo"

There is just so many wrong things that you guys talk that is baffling.

I'll just say to: cut with the whole Stolas mischaracterization, Blitz being used as an empty vessel for you guys project your own feelings into him and how he should react, also mischaracterize Blitz and his views, the twisting of Blitz's words and intentions towards Stolas is ridiculous.

As well as cut with the whole "retcon" talk regarding The Circus, which somehow is very common, this is just stupid.

I have no words anymore

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Pt2

Where did you sleep last night?

The hours pass in a blur after I leave, but I find myself standing outside the apartment again, staring at the door as if I could get the answers I need into existence. The cold night air wraps around me like a shroud, but it feels empty, like everything else around me. The silence between us has become unbearable, and now it feels like a weight I can't shake off, pressing down on my chest with each breath I take.

Maybe I should leave.But something keeps me rooted to this spot. The questions I've been asking, the ones that have gnawed at me for weeks, refuse to let go. Where did you sleep last night, James?

And then, as though the world itself is pushing me toward the final confrontation, I hear footsteps. I turn, and there he is—James, looking lost, his face pale under the streetlights. He's come for me, and I don't know if I'm relieved or terrified.

"Y/n..." His voice cracks like ice, fragile and uncertain. "Please. We need to talk."

I can feel the ache in his words, but it doesn't warm me. It only reminds me of the coldness that has taken root in my heart. I've been here before, standing in this silence, waiting for him to come back to me. But now, maybe I could know the truth.

"Do you want to talk, James? " I reply, my voice quiet but firm. "Now, you're going to tell me everything."

He hesitates, his eyes flickering like he's not sure where to begin. He opens his mouth, but it's the silence between us that speaks louder than any of his words. Finally, he takes a shaky breath and blurts it out, "I've been seeing someone else. For months."

The air around us grows colder, as if the very world is drawing away from us. I can almost feel the chill deep in my bones, a numbness settling over me that isn't just from the cold night. I feel like I'm standing in a place where the sun will never shine, where warmth and comfort are nothing but distant memories.

"You've been seeing someone else," I repeat, the words tasting foreign in my mouth. I've been asking myself this question for so long, and now that I have the answer, it doesn't feel like relief. It feels like a weight too heavy to carry.

"I never meant for it to happen like this," he says, his voice hoarse. "I didn't want to hurt you. But I couldn't stop it. It wasn't just one night. It's been months, and I've been hiding it from you."

I can hear the apology in his voice, but it doesn't matter. The damage is already done. "You didn't think that you could hurt me? You thought you could keep lying to me, keep telling me you were out of town while you were with her?" "I was stupid to wait hours, alone, staying awake waiting for you to arrive!" I yelled, my throat was burning now, that knot of pain inside me was already burning with hurt, but by now, I didn't care anymore.

He flinches, guilt flooding his eyes, but he doesn't answer. He can't. There's nothing left to say.The coldness of the night presses in around us, sharp and biting. And somewhere, deep inside, the words I've been avoiding spill out before I can stop them. "Where did you sleep last night, James?" The question feels like an echo of something deeper, something that's been with me this whole time.

He looks at me, his face pale, a look of regret clouding his features. "I...wasn't out of town, I slept....I slept with her" His words fall away, the air thickening between us. I've been asking the same question over and over in my head—where did he sleep last night?—but now the answer doesn't bring peace. It only makes the emptiness inside me feel deeper. Like I've been walking in the dark, searching for warmth, but all I've found is the cold, a cold that chills me to the bone.

I blink, trying to force my mind to catch up with the reality that's settling into my bones. But my chest feels heavy, like a knot tightening in the pit of my stomach.I swallow hard, the burn in my throat spreading like fire. How could you? The thought rings in my head, louder than anything he's said. But I can't speak it. I can't bring myself to say anything. Not yet.

I stagger back, my legs unsteady, my hands shaking. The taste of betrayal lingers on my tongue, sour and bitter, but it's nothing compared to the physical ache in my chest. "Y/n?" His voice is full of uncertainty, like he's not even sure if I'm still there. But I don't answer him. I can't. The words get stuck in my throat, trapped by that knot that feels like it's going to choke me.

I try to focus on the cold air outside, on the way the wind cuts through me, but even that can't numb the pain inside. I look at him, his face twisted with regret, and something inside me cracks wide open. "How could you do this to me, James," I whisper, my voice trembling, "All this time, I've been waiting for you to come home. But now... now I know. "And you were in her arms, while I, like a fool, waited for you to come home

His eyes widen at my words, but I don't care anymore. The heat in my chest spreads, and the sting of it mixes with the numbness in my limbs. It's as though my body is betraying me, not knowing whether to burn with anger or freeze in shock.

The tears are coming now, but they don't feel like they belong to me. They belong to the girl I once was—before all of this. Before I ever thought I could trust him."I never thought... I never thought this would happen. Not with you, James," I whisper, as if the confession is a quiet exhale, escaping despite myself. "Not with you."

He takes a step forward, but I back away, shaking my head. "Don't come any closer. I can't—I can't—look at you anymore." I step back, the distance between us widening. The world outside feels like a frozen wasteland now, a place where the sun never shines, where I'm left to shiver through the cold night. I don't know where we go from here, or if there's even a way back from this. But the warmth I once felt for him has vanished, replaced by something much colder.

"Y/n...pleas-"

"You don't fool me anymore. Don't say you're sorry or something else because it's not true,you're only a good liar." I say, the words heavy on my tongue.

James stands there,his face a mix of regret and guilt, but the ache in my chest won't let me soften. I know I'll never be able to look at him the same way again. His words falter, but he doesn't reach out to me. The space between us feels like an ocean, vast and impassable. And as I turn away, I can almost hear the echo of those words—Where did he sleep last night?—the ones that have haunted me, the ones I should have asked sooner.

But it's too late now.

The cold wind blew, I turned around and I started walking, knowing that I'm walking away into a place where the sun doesn't shine. The warmth is gone. And I don't know if I'll ever find it again.