#and for the last one i just missed my wife.

[cheeseatlantic]

i want his meat (double meaning)

THE BUTCHER’S WIFE

!butchersimon x fem reader

Simon Riley’s butcher shop is a staple in town. Small, cozy, always smelling like freshly cut meats and slow-cooked broth. Everyone knows him, trusts him—the man behind the counter with rough, skilled hands and sharp eyes that miss nothing. He’s quiet, polite in his own gruff way, but he doesn’t waste words on unnecessary chatter.

Yet, despite the intimidating build and the sharp cleaver always within reach, every local knows one thing—Simon Riley is a devoted family man.

The proof? The way he locks up early to make it home for dinner. The way he handpicks the best cuts of meat to bring home to you—his wife, the love of his life, the one woman who has him utterly tamed in ways no one would believe if they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes.

Your home is just a little outside of town, nestled in the countryside, where the air is fresh and the kitchen always smells like something rich and hearty. Two little ones keep you busy—your children, his pride and joy. They’ve got his stubbornness, your wit, and an endless supply of energy.

But tonight? Tonight is different. The kids are asleep, the house is quiet, and Simon’s just gotten home—his broad frame filling the doorway as he steps inside, carrying a small paper-wrapped bundle.

“Brought you somethin’, love.” His voice is deep, warm, edged with something unreadable as he places the package on the counter. You unwrap it, revealing the finest cut of steak, perfectly marbled—something expensive, something he wouldn’t just sell to anyone.

You raise an eyebrow. “Special occasion?”

Simon hums, stepping behind you, hands settling low on your waist as he presses against your back. He smells like cedarwood, steel, and the faintest hint of smoked meat.

“Felt like treatin’ my girl,” he murmurs, lips grazing your neck.

Heat prickles down your spine.

Because that’s the thing about Simon—he’s soft for you, gentle with the kids, but when the night stretches long and the world outside fades away, he is anything but tame.

“Mm. So you’re buttering me up first?” you tease, arching into him.

His chuckle is low, dark. “That depends. Is it working?”

You don’t answer, just tilt your head to give him better access as his hands start to wander, rough palms pressing over the curve of your hips, gripping, claiming.

“You worked hard today,” you murmur, a slow smirk tugging at your lips.

Simon hums against your skin. “Oh, I did. Choppin’ all that meat, swinging that cleaver all day.” His voice drops, thick and heavy. “Reckon I still got some energy left, though.”

Your breath catches.

The thing is—Simon may have left behind the battlefield, but he never lost that raw, dangerous edge. It lingers in the way he handles a knife, the way he moves, the way he takes. And right now, it’s flashing in his gaze, hunger written in every line of his body as his hands tighten around you.

“You’re insatiable,” you whisper, half-laughing, half-breathless.

Simon grins, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Only for you, love.”

And as he lifts you onto the counter, pushing between your thighs with the ease of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, dinner is long forgotten.

(But don’t worry—he’ll still cook that steak later. After all, his girl needs to eat.)

slurping up that sausage like its my last meal ty

[maeintree]

for the children | l. laufeyson

Summary: In a cold, distant marriage of duty, you long for connection, but Loki remains emotionally absent. When you ask why he stays, his answer—"For the children"—shatters the last of your hope. Pairing: husband!Loki Laufeyson x wife!fem!Reader Word Count: -800 Author's Note: yippie! my first loki fic, sorry this is really short; plus this is my first time writing for him! hope you enjoy. might make a series out of this.

The halls of the palace were quiet at this hour, bathed in the golden glow of lanterns. You stood by the window, staring out at the vast city below, your fingers lightly tracing the cool glass. The bed behind you remained untouched. Sleep rarely found you these nights.

Loki was out—again. You had stopped asking where he went long ago.

The door creaked open behind you, and your heart leapt in foolish hope before your mind reminded you not to be so naive.

"You should be asleep," Loki's voice was smooth, unreadable as always.

You turned, taking in the sight of him. His black and gold attire was slightly disheveled, as though he had just returned from a long night. He looked at you, eyes flickering with something unreadable before he sighed and stepped further into the room.

"I could say the same to you," you replied, trying to keep your voice light.

He didn’t answer, only pulling off his leather gloves before setting them aside.

There was a time when you would have asked him where he had been. A time when you still believed you could close the distance between you. But those days had passed.

Instead, you turned back to the window. "The children asked for you tonight."

Loki paused mid-motion, just for a second. Then he resumed unfastening his cloak. "I saw them before they went to bed."

"That was hours ago. They miss you, you know."

"They are children. They will always long for their parents." His tone was even, as if discussing a simple fact.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile. "Yes, I suppose they do."

A silence stretched between you, thick with words unsaid. Loki moved past you, reaching for a book on the desk.

"Why do you stay?" The question escaped before you could stop it.

He didn't look at you, fingers tightening slightly around the book’s spine. "For the children."

The words cut deeper than any blade.

You had known the answer, of course. But hearing it aloud—cold, final—made it so much worse.

You turned away fully this time, as if he could not see the pain written across your face if you simply refused to face him. "Right. Of course."

You told yourself you would not cry. Not again.

Behind you, Loki let out a slow breath. "You knew what this was."

"Did I?" you whispered.

Another silence. Then, softer, "Go to sleep."

He would not touch you. He never did.

You nodded absently and walked toward the bed. Not to sleep, but to pretend, just as you always had.

And Loki? He simply stayed in his chair, reading his book, never once looking your way.

Days passed in the same rhythm—nights spent in silence, mornings spent plastering on a smile for your children. They were your solace, the only true warmth in your life.

Loki was present in their lives, but only just. He played the role of father well enough, appearing when necessary, offering them fleeting moments of affection. But between you and him? There was nothing.

One evening, after dinner, the children had retired to bed, leaving you and Loki alone once more. You stood in the doorway of his study, watching him as he poured over a book.

"Do you ever regret this?" The words came before you could stop them.

Loki looked up, brow arching. "Regret what?"

"This. Us. The marriage. Everything."

A long silence stretched between you. Then, he set his book down and sighed. "Regret is a useless emotion."

"That’s not an answer."

He stood, walking toward you, his expression unreadable. "You want me to say I regret marrying you? That if given the choice, I would have walked away?"

Your heart clenched. "Would you have?"

His silence was answer enough.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand tall. "I see."

Loki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. "It was never your destiny to love me, nor was it ever expected."

"That’s the thing, Loki," you whispered, voice trembling. "I do. I love you. I have loved you for years. And it’s the cruelest thing in the world."

For once, he had nothing to say.

You turned to leave, but just as you reached the door, his voice—softer, almost pained—reached you. "I wish I could love you."

The door shut behind you before he could see the tears spilling down your cheeks.

And somewhere, deep in the shadows of his study, Loki stood alone, staring at the place where you had been, wondering why it hurt.

comments/likes/reposts are appreciatedd! hope youu enjoyed :)

[octuscle]

Cosechadora

Gregory Miller had been warned. The mood in his constituency was tipping. The lack of harvest workers had hit some of the farmers hard. The MP had therefore deliberately decided against wearing a suit and opted for a casual outfit. And so he stood somewhere in the middle of nowhere on a farm and tried to withstand the farmer's tirades with a smile.

“Listen,” he tried to interrupt the abuse. “If there's anything we can do to help you, we'll help them!” The farmer shouted at him that he had only been waiting for this offer and threw his pitchfork at Gregory. “Then why don't you start right away and muck out my stable!” Gregory looked around for help. His assistant just shrugged his shoulders disconcertedly and discreetly. “One day” Gregory thought to himself. “It's just one day.”

Gregory picked up the pitchfork and went into the stable. He had no idea what to do. His assistant took a few pictures for Instagram. Gregory filled a wheelbarrow with straw from the ground. “You bloody politicians are really good for nothing,” the farmer scolded and showed Gregory what to do and how to do it. After half an hour, Gregory's assistant said goodbye because he had to get to the office urgently. He would pick Gregory up tomorrow around noon. Gregory was sweating and cursing inwardly. But he smiled a slightly pained smile and said that he would have a lot of fun until then.

Lunch was plentiful. But Greg was also hungry. The farmer's wife said that he had to wash up first, he stank like a pig. “Yes, Mam,” Greg replied politely and went to the washing trough behind the house. The cold water did him good. The food was delicious. “What's on the agenda for this afternoon, boss?” he asked with his mouth full. The farmer listed Greg's chores. Shit, this was going to be exhausting again. And why he had to be in the cornfield at sunset was obvious. The farmer would want to blow him again. But the boss decided. And the wages on the farm weren't bad either, so an open-air blow job was okay.

It was 10 p.m. when Greg finally fell asleep. It had been a hard day. But he liked the job here. Ever since the farmer's son had left for the big city, this place had been missing a helping hand. And he had been the right man at the right time. And the farmer had nothing to worry about. He would never run away to the big city. He was a country boy after all.

They were wild dreams in the night. Washington DC came to mind, Idaho and Tijuana. He tossed and turned from right to left. He was drenched in sweat. It was 4:30 a.m. when the alarm clock rang. Jorge was the first one awake on the farm. Until recently, there had been five of them. Three had been picked up by the immigration authorities, one had left. Jorge was the last one here. And it was only a matter of time before they found him too. Until then, he had to try to earn as much money as possible. He now had to work for five. He was still only paid for one.

Jorge looked after the cows, mucked out the pigsty and made breakfast. He himself ate a sandwich on the way out to the fields. He had to check the corn. It was actually still too early for the harvest. But firstly, it looked like a storm. And secondly, if he wasn't here tomorrow, who would support the boss?

As he was about to make his way back to the farm at midday, he saw a car approaching. Shit, he knew that guy, he worked for the county deputy. Jorge ducked down. Before the guy drove back, Jorge had better not show his face on the farm. The farmer was already constantly complaining about the new government… Everything looked even worse to Jorge. But he didn't complain. After all, he wasn't a gringo who couldn't stand anything and only complained. He was a proud Mexican. And if his cock was good enough to be sucked by the farmer, Mexicans couldn't be that bad.

Just to be clear, I would never call anyone “wetback”. But the idea of turning a xenophobic Republican into what he himself would disparagingly call a wetback is the core idea of this story.

[slytherinshua]

༄　A FLAME'S OCEAN　( 최지웅 )

genre avatar the last airbender au , fluff/comfort , established marriage , fire lord!jiung x water tribe princess!reader   cw war between nations , kissing , not proofread   wc 1328   request for my baby @blue-jisungs who wanted a jiung fic in return for a tae fic 🤲🤲🤲 i have delivered   note idk why i always fall back to atla aus BUT I AM NOT COMPLAINING i could fr write these forever i just love the atla world so much it's so nice for fics. also writing this was super nostalgic all the feels from writing my old wonwoo fic coming back cause i was listening to the same playlist i did back then <//3   net @kstrucknet

Fire and water. Constantly in disagreement with each other. Constantly fighting with each other. Yet, they still possessed components vital for the other’s survival. The oxygen in water fed a fire’s flame. The heat produced from that flame could change the structure of the water, from ice to boiling. Fire and water, despite their differences, were able to work together. 

Jiung was your fire. Burning with a passion hotter than any you had ever seen. Jiung lived for perfection, for ambition, for achievements. He could do anything, warming even the coldest of places and people with his blaze. The people looked up to him, adored him, but also asked too much of him. With a broken Fire Nation stricken from a hundred year war, there was much to rebuild, and countless problems to face along the way. 

Jiung was strong, but you could tell when the pressure started to get to him. As a Water tribe princess, your very existence as his wife defied the rules of the old world. It marked the change, the unity, the peace that Jiung hoped to bring to the entire country. You were both still young, but it was exactly the hope the people needed and craved for that only the youth possessed. Innovative minds, creative thinking, new ideas; from them, the heart of the nation was coming back to life.

Fighting alongside Jiung was quite different from calling yourself his wife. It was a title you still had to get used to. There was a humility you were used to in the Water Tribe. Because of the close-knit community, your role as princess wasn’t very different from the neighbouring market vendor. Everyone knew you, and you knew everyone. The Tribe was just that small.

The Fire Nation seemed almost endless to you. Vast, overpopulated, busy. You knew on the day of your wedding that you’d have to rule in quite a different way than you were used to. A nation afflicted with mistrust and grief needed to be carefully sewn back together at the seams. Trust and community had to be built before prosperity could blossom. 

Jiung focused on the communities directly affected by the war. The families that had lost their men. The homes that had been destroyed. Immense guilt filled his body at the sight of them, and he hoped to rebuild everything better than it was before the war. 

You focused on connections with the other nations. It was easy for union between the Fire Nation and Water Tribe given your marriage. You were a beacon of light for the Earth Kingdom. Seeing someone of such background work in harmony with the Fire Lord was inspiring. It wasn’t easy to persuade people, but through your hard work, they were slowly starting to see the possibilities of an era of peace. 

It was late at night and the warm Summer air was carried by the breeze through the open curtains of the terrace decorating your bedchambers. Dressed in light silk robes, taking down your hair from the day, you sighed. You had just gotten back from the Earth Kingdom after weeks of stay. You had missed Jiung, who continued to be one of the only people who understood your hard work and struggle. You had missed the Fire Nation, which you had just started to feel was your home. You had missed the warmth and the hope that the air of the Fire Nation carried. Although you were making progress with the Earth Kingdom, you still had a long way to go. 

Jiung wasn’t back yet. He had been working on the outskirts of the city the last time you heard from him. Handling the impoverished, the broken, the injured. You knew it was going to be the hardest area to build back up. Not only were the people the most affected by the war— they never had much. You were worried Jiung’s gestures would be viewed as insincere. You trusted your husband nonetheless. If there was anyone who could build back a nation from destruction, it was him.

You fell down onto the soft pillows, immediately nuzzling your face closer to Jiung’s side, missing his scent, his warmth, his smile. A smile crept onto your face before you knew it as soon as you heard familiar footsteps outside the door. You lifted your head as the door swung open, and your handsome, albeit tired, husband stepped through. You noticed how he visibly relaxed at the sight of you. It had been lonely without you for almost a month.

“Welcome home, my love,” he sighed, a smile on his face. He produced a small flame in his palm, sending it to light the lamps in the corners of the room, washing away the darkness.

“How was it? I hope you had more success than I did,” you beckoned him over to the bed, hand joining with yours as he sat down. He was quiet for a moment, staring at the wall decorated by a wedding portrait of you and him.

“Their homes are being rebuilt and necessary resources are being supplied… but the people are angry. And they have every right to be. I just don’t know what else I can do to help them,” Jiung frowned, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed in an attempt to fix his dry throat. You ran your thumb over his knuckles soothingly. 

“Jiung, you’re doing everything you can right now. It’s going to take time— a lot of time— and constant effort, but it will pay off in the end. The people will see how hard you worked to restore everything that was lost.”

He nodded along tiredly to your words. You always knew what he needed to hear. Having you back was what he desperately needed. He pulled you into his arms, warm body meeting your cool one. 

“I won’t give up on them. I just wish I could relax for a moment. There’s always more to do, always more problems to fix. Sometimes it feels like too much,” he whispered sadly. You hugged him tighter. 

“You can relax for a moment,” you proposed. Jiung pulled back slightly, questioning you with a look in his eyes. You cupped his cheek and smiled, adoring his every feature even when he looked exhausted. 

You brought your lips to his in a kiss that was both passionate and soothing, warm and cool. Jiung submitted to it, just as you wanted, relaxing his body completely and pulling you in closer, longing for more. His lips were soft and his skin was warm, inviting you in further. Jiung pushed you gently, one hand holding the back of your head while the other laid at your waist. You leant back until you hit the soft pillows, still kissing Jiung tenderly. He held up his weight with a supporting arm, not wanting to crush you, but still not ready to stop kissing you. His free hand fell to your hip, circling the small dip there, one of the many features he adored about you.  

When you were both teenagers navigating your newfound feeling of love for each other in the middle of a wartorn time, you would have never anticipated a future together like this. Your two nations weren’t exactly amicable with each other. Even falling into the complicated feelings of affection and care for the other defied a century-long history of fighting. 

As opposite as you two were, you also fit together like pieces of a puzzle. You had chosen to be with him despite all odds, customs, and circumstances. It was never meant to be easy, but together you built a strong team with balance and drive. Fire and water. Warmth and coolness. Passion and gentleness. Forever intertwined.

Just as Jiung’s lips melded with yours and his hands traced the lines of your body with a touch gentler than the sweetest words, so too did your hearts race in sync with the other, souls and bodies responding in consonance. 

p1harmony taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @amara-mars,, @nyukyusnz,, @blossominghunnie,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,, @forever-atiny,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows,, @nicholasluvbot

[takuma-talkz]

Can you make kang dae ho x female police officer! Reader

So the reader is Ali Abdul's cousin and he died. Since then the reader is diagnosed with alexithymia(that means that they are emotionless)

Until dae ho comes to their life and they decided to become good friends

But Dae ho started having a crush on them

And they started dating. But in the mingle game they died

A/N: SIGHHHHHHH THE WAY I IMMEDIATELY HAD IDEAS!!! I searched up where Ali Abdul was from and the wiki said he’s from Pakistan so yeah

Like Him?

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Death, Hurt/Very little Comfort

The reader’s last name is also be Abdul

So, this is what happened to your cousin.

Ali Abdul. Your cousin had been missing for three years. His poor wife came to your door crying.

She had swearing up and down that he left her and ran off but you knew better. Your dear cousin loved his wife dearly, the last thing he would do is leave her or their child.

A year after you lost your job as a policewoman due to your medication. You were diagnosed with Alexithymia. You lost touch with your emotions because you lost Ali.

The medication you take for it makes you very tired and makes your muscles very sore. So, when you called out again they told you to never come back to work.

So the last two years you buried yourself in debt to keep yourself, your cousin-in-law and your nephew from starvation.

Then when you stumbled upon a card in your cousin’s belongings.

That card led you here.

Here. In these games, playing for money where an elimination means death. You sat on your bunk, eating the slop you were served.

You look up when a voice calls out your number.

“199.”

It was player 456. The man who played these games before. Three years ago, this man survived when your cousin doesn’t.

“Yes, sir?” You addressed him politely.

“Wow, you sound just like him.” Player 456 had a sad look on his face.

“I am his cousin, sir.” You stood up to bow. “[Name] Abdul.”

You joined player 456’s group. It was nice to make acquaintances while you were in this hellhole.

“So you were a cop? That’s so cool!” You turned to the voice of Player 388.

“I was, sir.” You smiled, but he could tell that emotions never reached your face.

“Hey, what’s Pakistan like?” He scooted closer to you. It made you feel a little warmer. No one ever seemed interested about you and your country before.

You spoke with him about everything and anything. Unbeknownst to you, Dae-ho was admiring your beauty. You were unlike what he has usually seen.

One, you had a natural beauty to you that most destroyed with the use of surgeries just to be perceived as more beautiful. Two, you’re strong. Like crazy, crazy strong. In Red Light, Green Light you saved Dae-ho from being eliminated by Thanos. The purple-haired fuck had pushed Dae-ho down in hopes of eliminating him but you managed grab the back of his jacket and remain stoically still.

He admired you. He just met you and he’s already in love with you.

“Groups of five? Well, looks like we have five right here.” Player 001 addressed your small group while he puts a hand on your and Player 390’s shoulders.

“Are you sure, sirs? If you have another person in mind, I can—“ You didn’t want to make it seem like they had to accept you.

“No, you have to!” Dae-ho shouted frantically.

Dae-ho realized how desperate he was for you showed in his words, he scrambled to over explain himself.

Meanwhile, Jung-bae, Gi-hun and Young-il give each other knowing looks.

Soon, the team selection ends and your team must deliberate who plays what?

“Ms. 199. Which game do you want?” Gi-hun asks you.

“In my country, we have a similar kind of game to the stone one. It’s called Gilli Danda. But instead of stones, we used sticks.”

Ddakji - 390

Flying Stones - 199

Gonggi - 388

Spinning Top - 001

Jegi - 456

Your team was the last to go up and play. You were in between Dae-ho and Jung-bae. The race starts, it took a couple of pace before making it to the first mini game. Jung-bae takes the blue Ddakji and throws it down. It took him two tries before he managed to get the red one to flip.

Again, you all begin the ‘one, two’ and continue to the second game.

The guard hands you the stone, you take a deep breath.

You feel like a kid again. You remember the times you and your cousin, Ali would play Gilli Danda. Times when American soldiers were patrolling around your school and you both played.

“Chacha-zaad Ali, the Americans are staring again.” You would complain.

“Don’t worry, they will not hurt us.” He would remind you that the soldiers are there to patrol, not to attack.

“It’s embarrassing because I keep losing.” You pout.

Ali laughs. “Then I will show you a trick, then you will win every time.”

“Breath.”

You clear your mind and took a long, steady breath.

“Make it look like an underhand throw. Don’t underhand it.”

You tilt your wrist slightly, shifting your weight towards Dae-ho.

“Aim and fire.”

You flick your wrist and watch in a dazing haze as the stone flies and hits right on the mark.

The team cheered, and you hear Dae-ho cheer the loudest.

He cheered for you.

You found yourself internally sulking. The vast majority chose another game.

Your cousin’s wife needs you. You need to get back home.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Dae-ho wraps his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into his chest, you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Dae-ho. I want to go home.” You whispered.

Dae-ho took your face into his hands. He kissed you. He don’t know where this bounty of confidence came from but it’s happening.

He tilts his head to deepen it, you matched his energy. Kissing him back with the same amount of passion and force.

He pulled away. “Tomorrow, we’ll make it out. We’ll go back to society. And hopefully I can be by your side in your life.”

“I would like that a lot.” You smiled, but this time he can see the emotion clear as day.

“Two.”

Players scrambled to find just one other person. Dae-ho reaches for your hand, but gripes the air. He sees Young-il run off to a light blue room with you.

“Dae-ho, come on!” Gi-hun grabbed Dae-ho’s arm and ran off to a yellow room.

Once in the room, he looked out the peephole to make sure you were okay.

He saw you standing outside the light blue room. Just as he was about open the door and run to you, the timer went off and the door locked.

Gi-hun watched in remorse as Dae-ho banged and rattled the door.

“No!” The boy was desperate. He promised to get you home. You both talked about buying a house and filling that home with pets maybe some children one day.

Dae-ho saw how a guard corner you, gun cocked and ready to fire.

You spared Dae-ho a glance and your signature smile. You mouthed the words ‘I love you’ before the guard shot you in the chest.

The last thing on your mind was the sadistic look on Young-il’s face as he shoved you out of the room.

Your cousin died the same way.

Betrayal.

[holyhadesimweird]

stop flirting with my wife

masterlist

pairing : kisuke urahara x wife!reader & platonic!yoruichi shihouin x reader

summary : kisuke gets jealous of yoruichi play flirting with his wife~

word count : 0.6k

requested by : @laweona150

request/prompt : "OK HEAR ME OUT, Wife!Reader and yoruichi are like besties they're talking they haven't seen each other and stuff and kisuke being kisuke...he's jealous but hes like: me? Jealous? no waaaay! what are you sayiiiing (he totally is) And just yoruichi teasing him over it I dont know u think it will be funny (its 1am help)"

warnings : she's a short one

notes : i hope you like this! i laughed when i read the request and i loved it. i hope you enjoy

༶┈⋇⊶⊰✿⊱⊷⋇┈⋇⊶⊰✿⊱⊷⋇┈୨♡୧┈⋇⊶⊰✿⊱⊷⋇┈⋇⊶⊰✿⊱⊷⋇┈༶

"(Y/N)!!!!" he heard yoruichi yell.

“YORUICHI!!!” kisuke heard his wife yell.

wondering what the two women were yelling about, kisuke made his way down the stairs and into the shop. he saw his wife behind the counter and luckily there were no customers to watch this commotion. his lovely wife was leaning over the counter, waving her hands at his long time friend who was sauntering over to her.

"mrs. urahara! i've missed you so much! you look so lovely in that dress of yours~" yoruichi said teasingly. or maybe she was flirting with you. kisuke knew she loved doing that to get under his skin.

"why thank you miss shihouin, you look as lovely as ever." you replied, an adorable grin on your face. he wished you were looking at him with that smile.

"now tell me, how have you been since i last saw you?" yoruichi asked, leaning against the counter to get closer to you.

"i've been good. y'know, putting up with the kids coming in and out of this place as kisuke helps them. and we've got jinta and ururu and tessai. there's never a boring day here at the urahara shop. but you know that!" you laugh.

"you still cooking those lovely meals? i'm craving some (y/n)." yoruichi was definitely flirting.

kisuke decided this was now the time to get between you two.

"yoruichi! stop flirting with my wife." kisuke said as he opened up his fan and hid his face with it.

"but kisuke~ there aren't any customers, you're just jealous~" yoruichi teased her friend.

"why would i be jealous of you?" kisuke asked, fanning himself.

"because i'm making your wife blush and you're not." she continued.

"i have other ways to make her blush."

"i have other ways to make her blush too~"

the distinct sound of the bell that was attached to door sounded, cutting them off.

"ah! hear that? we have a lucky customer!" kisuke said, looking over at the door only to see ichigo standing in the doorway.

"yoruichi! i have a question for you." the young man said, prompting his friend to walk over to him to talk.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"you were jealous weren't you?" kisuke heard you ask, but it did not register.

you were getting ready for bed, looking into the mirror in the bathroom as you did... something to your face, kisuke wasn't quite sure. he was just admiring.

"hmm?" he hummed, hoping you would repeat.

"i asked if you were jealous earlier." you repeated, turning the light off and walking towards your husband.

you stood in front of where he was lying down, looking down at him with your hands on your hips, and a smile gracing your lips.

"what? me? of course not!" he laughed, waving his hand at you.

"i'm sure you weren't, is that why you were trying to shoo yoruichi away earlier?" you asked, a teasing tone in your voice.

"i wasn't trying to shoo her away! she was distracting you!" he tried to justify.

"oh yeah? from what? the zero customers we had in the store, even after ichigo came in looking for her?"

"what? no of course not. there's always work to be done. of course i wasn't jealous. why would i be jealous?" kisuke tried to argue, but it wasn't working.

"you're just a jealous old man~ my little old jealous shopkeeper of a husband~" you were teasing him now.

he took this opportunity to grab your hips and pull you into the bed, causing you to let out a squeal and laugh.

"i'll show you jealous!"

[saturnville]

Superstar (A Playback Interlude) | David Cliff

Pairing: David Cliff (The High Note) x Black Fem OC (Sybelle Selene Jackson) Summary: A wife yearns deeply for her husband in a way she'd never done before. Warnings: Painful yearning. WC: 943 AN: Love the High Note. Love Kelvin's face. Love Weruche's face. Voila. This is one of my new favorite pieces. I truly hope you enjoyed. Please let me know your thoughts! Remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged!

Tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax @kumkaniudaku

Quiet. It was disturbingly quiet. The type of silence that was so disruptive that it would hinder her sleep. The kind that made her hyperaware of his absence. No heavy footsteps to detect what room he walked out of, and the next he entered. 

The bedroom felt hollow. Empty. The bed was too big, the windows were too small, and the atmosphere was like a gloomy February morning where hovering nimbus clouds signified an impending doom of their home being attacked by heavy droplets of rain. Her body shifted as if making space for him on the king-sized mattress that seemed to swallow her whole. 

A strong and unwavering frown settled upon her lips. Her long arms stretched across the bed as she ran her fingertips over the crinkles and wrinkles of the white cotton, rough and empty beneath her touch. With a soft grunt, she fell backward and turned her head to the right, her nose buried in his pillow. She inhaled deeply, relishing the last traces of his faded cologne. 

It was husky and warm, like him. The perfect balance of musk and sweetness made her eyes roll every time the delicious scent passed her nose. She exhaled sharply, trying to return to center after orbiting the universe with her lover who had skyrocketed to another galaxy. 

His voice, low and full of kindness, replayed in her mind like a broken record. Her body shuddered as she felt the ghost of his lips against the shell of her ear, his tongue tracing the inner lobe as he whispered “I love you” as they made love into the early hours of the morning. 

She missed him. The weight of her yearning sat deep in her chest—unrelenting. She didn’t think she was capable of feeling it. She didn't know her heart was wired to produce such a deep desire to be at one with someone else.

Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to keep the growing tears tucked behind an eyeliner-clad waterline.

Everywhere she turned, he was there—the journal on the nightstand, an intention gift from him. It was wrapped in a beautiful satin bow, with her initials pressed into the leather in strong gold lettering. SSJC. A new era deserves a fresh start, baby, he told her when she looked at him with glassy eyes, questioning what the gift was for. So intentional, he was, having incorporated a pack of stainless steel pens in gold to match. A songwriter needs the right tools, and these felt like you. Her fingertip traced the notebook, flipping it open to see the small note he left on the inside. Write without fear, beloved.

Her fingers twisted her—his—shirt. She brought the collar to her nose and inhaled. She fell asleep in it without thinking, swaddled in the presence of him. Music played softly in the background, but with every riff and cry of the guitar string, it was him—the soft hum of his voice and rumble of his tenor. 

Her body remembered him; his warmth pressed into her back as he pressed her into the mattress. The slow, lazy way he’d brush his lips along her shoulder to wake her up in the morning before pulling her closer. 

Again, her hands clawed at the bed to grab cold sheets. He wasn’t here. The loneliness was palpable, suffocating. She felt like she was stuck in an elevator with inoperable doors. Stuck by herself with no one around. 

She wanted to call. She needed to hear his voice, even if it was just for a moment. But if she did, she might break. Go into a frenzy of packing a bag and hopping on the earliest red eye she could catch. But she knew she shouldn’t. It was his moment. He deserved to experience it fully. She’d be at home waiting. At home. Waiting. 

The dam burst. Tears rushed down her face like a waterfall. Frustration filled her body like a disease—frustration for becoming so used to being in his presence that becoming independent of him was an overwhelming experience. A longing so deep that it threatened to pull her under. Pull her deep into an abyss she was willing to drown in. Drown in him, she’d do it, she indeed would. 

She sang under her breath, an old song. Their song. The same way he used to hum when he thought she wasn’t listening. The same hum that lulled her to sleep during the longest of nights and most treacherous days. The same hum that captured her attention all that time ago in the studio. The same hum that stilled her mind and silenced the storm inside of her soul. 

She grabbed her phone, hands shaking, thumbs hovering over his content. She didn’t press call. Her thumbs rushed to type I miss you. She stared at it. Deleted it. Rewrote it. Deleted it again. Smaestro with a pen, an expert at her craft—yet, words had escaped her like a bandit feeling the scene. 

Only one message seemed fitting. His name. David. 

When he responded immediately—“I know, baby. I miss you too.”—she felt the first bit of air return to her lungs after having been breathless for what seemed to be a lifetime. 

She aggressively wiped her tears away, almost angry with herself for feeling his absence so profoundly. But, wasn’t that love? The kind that made you ache, even when you knew they’d come back? Her husband, lover, and friend wouldn’t return for six weeks. Her heart yearned to be with him again. 

He sent another message. Smile, Sybelle. I’ll be home soon. I love you forever, baby.

[jjslvt]

BOSS ── .✦ nsfw, mdni, 18+ .ᐟ.ᐟ

[ actor!jj maybank x fem photographer!reader] 2.7k wc.

(includes v fingering, p in v sex, no anal but being bent over a wooden chair at some point, unprotected sex, rough ish? creampie, back scratching, hair pulling, use of the word “slut” & dirty talk)

notes: THIS IS THE SAME FIC; just the name has been changed to jj maybank because i felt bad using rudy’s name asdfghjkl. listen, i’m from eastern culture. to me, it was a mistake. i wanna respect him y’all plus i was thinking of jj when i wrote it as idk the actor personally. to everyone who reblogged the original, can you pls undo it

(and be safe when having sex btw!)

imagine jj maybank in his mid 20s, who somehow ended up being an actor and you’re his photographer for photoshoots. he had a sponsorship with boss clothing brand and you were immediately asked upon to take the photographs. the only problem was… you could barely fucking focus at times.

there he was in the photo studio, leaning on a wooden chair. dressed in a black wife beater and blue jeans slightly pulled down to show the boss brand underwear. he had his usual silver rings, few silver necklaces on too and a bracelet. he looked like a five course meal but you did your best to keep calm & collected since this was an important shoot.

it didn’t help that jj would be a bit flirty. he’d thrown you glances after you would snap a photo; glances that seemed to be quite teasing, cocky even, like he just knew what this was doing to you — you didn’t know if you wanted to punch him or fuck him. both?

now you two had a friendship outside of work and you did find him highly attractive though you never told him. it wasn’t always this way — you didn’t become his photographer for selfish reasons (you needed money & he loved your work. simple) but over the course of the few years you have been photographing him, you got to know him personally and that friendship easily came.

however lately, you’ve been feeling a lot more than just friendship.

you didn’t know if he already suspected it since he really was giving you some looks and comments over the last few months. even when you first walked in for this shoot, he greeted you with an ‘ah, there’s my pretty photographer, are you doing a photoshoot or am i?’ which was slightly cheeky. you brushed it off as jj being jj but you wondered a bit.

it was time to snap the final photo and what does he do? he lifts up that shirt and your eyes instantly land on that happy trail of his. you gulped, feeling your professionalism want to vanish. you had done a damn good job keeping it together externally, only zoning out maybe twice for a few seconds but you felt your heart rate pump up so much and his gaze was intensely on you. he was watching where your eyes landed and smirked a bit to himself.

your eyes couldn’t help but start roaming up to every place of his exposed upper half, your hands almost trembled holding your camera.

‘why the fuck did he have to be that hot?! SHIT, focus.’

he was totally your type, there was no more denying it.

jj cleared his throat with a slight smug expression like a sexy bastard, “you gonna snap the photo, sweetheart?”

‘he did not just call me…’ you took a sharp inhale, wryly smiling and nodding.

“of course, relax jay.” you couldn’t help but be a tad snarky because internally you were a mess — your mind was all over the place. but he only let out a chuckle at it, finding it amusing.

“ready? pose for me in three, two, one…”

and man, did he give you a damn good pose but you also took that shot well. his fans will be eating these photos up. his lips parted slightly as he gave the camera a sexy gaze while holding his pulled up shirt between his hands, a nipple showing — you could see the some chest hair on him and his biceps, which you wanted to take a bite of, being shown off. you lowered the camera now that it was over and his hands went to his sides, shirt pulled back down. you already missed the exposure of his upper body. you were officially down bad.

‘oh, fuck me.’

“if that’s what you really want… took ya long enough to say it.” he bit his lip slightly, wearing a shit-eating grin and you froze up.

had you just said that out-loud rather than in your head? oh, the panic was real.

your eyes must have widened so much because he laughed and understood.

“yeah, my pretty photographer, you said ‘oh, fuck me’ out-loud…” he was still smug and he walked over to you, meanwhile you could feel your legs shaking a little as he approached and your face going red.

‘he keeps saying MY!’ your brain screamed. but it was just like jj to speak that way.

he stood right in front of you then took the camera, setting it away before returning. tilting his head as he suddenly grabbed your chin — forcing you to look directly at him, nowhere else.

“and did you not hear my reply back?” his tone was so serious, your jaw wanted to drop.

you were lucky, it was just you two in the studio. you let out a heavy breath you didn’t even know you held as the tension was heavy enough to slice through with a knife.

“hey, did you mean it?” he asked, almost with a pleading look in his eyes while he still had a hold of your chin. he softened up, almost like needing reassurance.

you decided to just give in because you were already wet and pulsing for this — and trust, he was aching too. he didn’t seem to mind either so you bit the bullet.

“yes.” you whispered and he let out a pleasant sound of approval.

“finally y/n. fuck, c’mere.” his hand at your chin dropped to grab your side and his other free hand doing the same as he tugged you as close as possible — you leaned towards him, grasping onto that shirt and he crashed his lips against yours in a desperately, searing kiss.

your body shuddered against his as you held onto him, a pleasant noise escaping your mouth fast as you opened it a bit and he took that opportunity to plunge his tongue right in — he groaned at the taste of you as your tongues started wrestling together.

he gripped your waist so tightly and started backing you to the wall, lips never latching off yours. once he had you backed up, he started moving his face down, kissing your jawline then your neck and sucking slowly while murmuring in between, “you don’t know how long i’ve actually wanted this… all i can think about is ruining you.”

you let out gasps and pants at that, your hand going into his messy hair to tug lightly and he responded but biting into your neck eliciting a moan out of you as he started sucking a hickey to your skin.

“seriously y/n… every photoshoot with you has driven me wild. you don’t see how gorgeous you look…” he whispered hoarsely now, still working on your neck but also starting to slowly roll his hips into yours.

“sometimes i wanna be behind the camera, taking photos of you instead…. you’re a fine work of art, y’know?”

“ah, ah…” you whimpered, feeling your underwear get so damp by this point. his words only making you feel more hot & bothered. he’s looking like that and hyping you up right now? what a man.

“jj…” you let out another sweet and sinful whimper, letting your hips buck into his teasing rolls, making him gasp harshly.

“god, my name never sounded better than now. i’ve wanted to ruin you for a while, fuuuuck.”

he got off you but stayed close, taking his rings off & shoving them into his pocket — just as you were about to protest, confused, his one hand quickly slid into your pants and underwear, his middle finger sliding up your slick folds.

he stared at you so hungrily, leaning his forehead onto yours, “you’ve been this drenched for me, babe? holy shit…” he muttered.

his arousal growing tenfolds like yours — you literally felt a huge ache in your pussy, even your heartbeat reaching down there and when he pushed that finger in, you let out wanton moan right in his face.

“ohhhh!” you couldn’t help but rub yourself more into his finger.

“you know what… i’m not that surprised…” he whispered with desire, curling his finger inside you making your legs tremble more. he began his ministrations, quickly adding another finger to which you gladly took. you always imagined those hands doing something to you.

you could barely listen to him but he kept speaking in that delicious voice, “you were eyeing me up like i was a feast today… don’t think i didn’t notice.”

your core was squeezing his digits so hard, tensing already for release. his confidence was just so sexy right now — everything was making you go crazy.

“ah, ah…” you ground into his fingering even more.

“such a pretty thing… i can imagine how many filthy thoughts you’ve had about me now.” he started moving his fingers faster. he also used his thumb to start rubbing your clit.

“don’t worry, i’m filthy too… wanna cum already, sweets? all over my fingers?” he egged you on and you nodded.

“then cum, let me feel it.”

and you definitely reached your release because as he said that, he found the perfect spot to work the circular motions of his fingers. you opened your mouth but he covered it with his lips, swallowing up all the lovely sounds you produced from your first orgasm.

when you finished, he pulled away with pride and took out his hand — licking off his fingers, tasting your cum and you knew, more was coming. hell, you needed more because the sexual energy was still alive & skyrocketing.

“you taste just like how i knew you would, fuckin’ divine… like the forbidden fruit meant to be stolen by me.”

‘when did he get poetic!? what, jesus christ.’

your heart racing from the words and breaths coming rapid from the experience. those perfect hands were coated in your cum and he was tasting it. this felt like a fever dream. your need for this man coming back, increasing heavily.

you just wanted him inside of you already.

“say it, y/n.” he read you like an open book again.

“… i want you to fuck me.”

“there’s my dirty girl.” his smugness seeping back. “and i’ll fuck you. i’ll make sure this perfect photographer knows who she belongs to now.”

─────────────────────

that’s how you ended up, sitting on that wooden chair, straddling his lap with his cock thrusting up into your pussy. your arms around his neck as you held onto him, letting him control it all.

he felt frantic, gripping your waist with those strong hands and bouncing you down onto his thick cock while he would rut upwards sharply making you cry out in pleasure. he needed this so badly.

he took it slow at first but intensely, slamming so well that you saw stars almost then he couldn’t take it after a while. your cunt clenching tightly so he went faster, feeling the veins on his dick protruding and throbbing.

you were also letting him fuck you raw so you can feel every inch of that perfect manhood. your velvet walls feeling like a wet and warm haven to him.

“god, i knew you… hngh, knew you could be a slut for me…” his voice was thick with lust and strained from this pleasant feeling.

“uh, uh… a-ah!” you couldn’t speak coherently as the tip of his dick just kept kissing your womb. he was pulling you down so hard with each thrust upwards.

“letting me fuck you raw… squeezing my cock like a vice,” he panted.

“always the sweet ones… with the innocent looking faces, right baby?” he continued, feeling your hands suddenly touch his back, nails starting to dig into his skin a little.

he let out a rough chuckle, not letting up on his fast pace. “oh, you wanna mark me now? am i talkin’ too much?”

“y-yes…”

“but you love it… can feel that greedy pussy tighten up with every comment i make.”

you let out a croak because he was correct — you had no problem being his slut and letting this beautiful man do whatever the fuck he wanted right now. your body certainly took him in well, stretching for him and with much greed, engulfing him. with your blood rushing through your body feeling ablaze — your face buried into his shoulder, nipping while your nails gently grazed his back. holding back force and he noticed.

“go on, make me your artwork… mark me up, beautiful… haa.” his thrusts upwards punctuated every single word there, commanding you and your nails dug in, scratching him up.

he felt the slight pain mixed with pleasure and let out a guttural groan, “that’s it… show how much you want me too.”

you felt your walls tensing up, your second orgasm approaching and he was right there with you but he pulled out, holding your hips above his dick as you cried out, squirming.

“jj!!” ‘what the fuck?!’

he bit his lip so hard that it went red, struggling himself from that action but moved with swift precision. in no time, he had you bent over that little wooden chair (that magically held you both this whole time without breaking) and buried his cock right back into your pulsating walls. his head thrown back as the sensations were welcomed again.

“NGHH…!” your eyes squeezed shut as he was buried to the hilt again — every line on his cock rubbing against your tight walls.

he grabbed your hair as he started pounding into you fast, making the chair screech and squeak. the sound of his balls hitting your flesh echoed along with the groans and moans.

your head pulled back from his pull as he leaned his body onto your back while fucking you. you two felt the buildup rising again quickly.

his face going to the side of your neck and his tongue licking a part of it before he mumbled with a wrecked voice, “w-where… do you want me to cum?”

you had been so worked up that your lips just let out the true desire, “i-inside… please…”

he let out a low moan, dick pumping faster at the suggestion as he tugged on your hair a bit harder — his body tensing up so much as he was getting a bit sloppy and needy.

“fuck. really are my slut… gonna let me fill this pussy up, huh? even begging, what a lucky man i am… hngh.”

you were shouting out at this point because he was hitting your g-spot with those powerful, chaotic strokes. you completely submitted to him and it made him feel great, knowing someone with some fire as yours finally let every wall down.

“god, yes… i am! please, ah…!! i want i-it.”

that last plea of yours was his final straw as he let go of your hair and collapsed onto you, spilling his cum so deep into you as you also came with him. your walls had fluttered and your eyes rolled back. his dick twitched with every spurt that was painting your insides white. he let out your name in a long, deep groan.

and… well, that chair couldn’t handle it anymore as it finally broke causing you two to crash to the ground but the fall was small and not too bad. making you both somehow laugh deliriously because you two were totally in a massive daze, heads spinning from the sex.

“damn… we just did that, huh?” he roughly spoke, coming off the high and rolling off you — a grin was plastered on his face as sweat was glistening from the studio lights off you both.

“we did… haa…” you were catching your breath, barely able to move.

as he rolled to the side and slowly got up, he reached down to pull you up and keep you steady. your mixed fluids pouring out of you, dribbling down your thighs and he sighed in contentment, licking his lips at the sight. if he wasn’t so spent right now, he’d wanna do it again because that sight was a turn on.

“was that… okay?” he genuinely asked, hoping nothing went too far. “you feelin’ okay baby?”

you smiled, though still a little hazed but the high was calming for you too, “it was more than okay. it felt great… we were both into it.”

he sighed in relief then before he could say something, you made a joke, “though i can’t say the same for that chair… poor thing put up a fight.”

he snorted, pulling you in for a hug; burying his face into your hair as he murmured, “the chair is a fuckin’ legend…” he teased.

“but next time, we can break my bed, mama.”

[twist-shout-and-shells]

So, here's a little peek at that odydio fic I've been talking about here. Is this anything? I'm kind of uncertain about the characterisation.

Content warning: blood, nsfw

Context: year three, after a battle

Sthenelus lets him in with a suspicious glare. The ox skin that serves as door to Diomedes’ tent falls closed behind him, trapping him in the stifled room. The whole place rinks of post–battle rush.

“What do you want?” Diomedes asks without looking at him. 

Odysseus stops in his tracks. He’s seen Diomedes naked before. He’s seen Diomedes covered in blood before. Both at the same time—that’s new.

“I…” He clears his throat. “Someone mentioned you got hurt. I just wanted to…”

To see how you were. To make sure you’re alright. 

He could brush it off as a cordiality between commanders if they didn’t have a past—short as it is. But as he stands there, faced with Diomedes’ temperate indifference and his marble-sculptured, blood-soaked back side, he realises it looks a bit too much as if he cares.

“I’m not. It was just a scratch,” Diomedes says, shrugging one shoulder to show off a shallow, diagonal cut. A stray arrow, probably. 

The rest of the blood is obviously not his. The Argive scrubs at his chest with a wet rag, accomplishing little. There’s dried blood on his thighs, his arms, even on his face, sticking to his stubble, which is longer than he usually allows it to grow. 

Diomedes wrings out the rag and dampens it again. The water on the basin is stained pink.

Odysseus, like a suicidal lamb walking straight into the mouth of a hungry lion, steps close to him. Diomedes’ turns with a frown, and he deftly takes the cloth from the Argive’s fingers.

“You missed a spot,” he drawls, eyes fixed on Diomedes’, and rubs the cloth down his chest. 

He wants to clean him up with his tongue, press his face to his pulse point, and smell the number of casualties on him, feel the strong beating of his heart against his skin.

Diomedes watches him. His coal eyes darken when Odysseus’ hand travels to his back, leaving his skin damp on its wake, and then lower.

“Tired of keeping yourself company, Laertiades?” He asks, giving him that snarl-like smirk of his.

He brushes his nose to Diomedes’ dagger-sharp collarbone.

“Leave my father out of this.” 

Before he can dip his hand between Diomedes’ thighs, the Argive seizes his wrist.

“We tried this, Odysseus. It didn’t work.”

He turns his best smirk up to Diomedes, the one that usually makes people tremble in anticipation of whatever disastrously clever schemes he has in mind. Diomedes meets it with a stern eyebrow.

“Well…” His free hand cradles the nape of Diomedes’ neck, fingers brushing his blond-soaked curls. “I hear mistakes are better the second time you make them.”

Diomedes shakes his head slightly, moving Odysseus’ hand to his thigh to rub at the blood on it. Odysseus pictures what happened by the shape of the stain—a Trojan soldier on Diomedes’ arms, a knife to his stomach, his guts spilling out and soaking through Diomedes’ tunic where his pterygia didn’t cover it.

“I’m not your wife,” the Argive says, more softly than the last time, but by no means sweetly. “I won’t be nice to you.”

“That’s good.” He drops the rag. “‘Cause I don’t need you to be nice to me.”

Diomedes pulls him in by the waist. Their mouths clash like two beasts in the wild—untamed and hungry and far too keen on devouring each other. Diomedes tastes like dried sweat and rusted copper. His skin is a furnace under Odysseus’ hand, and his grip on Odysseus’ waist is bruising.

There’s a rather fine bed in the tent, but they end up on the leather hides on the floor beside Odysseus’ ruined tunic. 

For a moment, he thinks Diomedes will have his way with him, and it makes him dizzy with want as his blood flows south too fast. But the Argive straddles his hips, and Odysseus holds onto his thighs and stares up at him—glorious and wild and covered in the blood of the innocents they travelled all this way to slaughter over someone else’s wife. If Diomedes wanted to strangle him to death right now, he wouldn’t be opposed. At least he’d be free of the war. 

Diomedes’ teeth graze his neck. He bucks his hips up, desperate for friction, and moans when those canines dig into his skin. It’s harsh, and it’s mean, and Odysseus tilts his head to the side to give him more room to bite and lick and suck to his heart’s desire.

There’s an utter lack of control in it all that he’s never seen in the young man before. Diomedes is their most experienced commander, and while he is a terrifying sight on the plains, he fights with god-like discipline, with the confidence of someone who has trained his whole life to yield a sword and throw a spear. Like a perfectly contained flame. 

As he pins Odysseus’ shoulders to the floor of his tent and rides his hips until pink rivulets of sweat roll down his back, it’s like a torch dropped onto an endless, dry field. It spreads, and it spreads, and it spreads, and all Odysseus can do is let the flames lap him up. He holds onto Diomedes’ waist and lets him take what he wants from him. 

For once in his life, Odysseus has no clever words to say. Diomedes grunts out his pleasure, framed above him by the dim light of the tent like a divine vision. There’s blood on Odysseus' skin, blood that doesn’t belong to either of them. They’re not hurt, not yet. An arrow scrape to Diomedes’ shoulder is nothing compared to how much they could hurt each other.

[miniwheat77]

Target. (Gaz x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), female reader, Gaz gets hurt. Proceed with caution, NO MINORS!

This is a short lil fic of Gaz :)

“I’m not dead nik, I’m hanging from a bloody rope!” The sheer panic in Gaz’s voice is what makes you look back. You see him still shooting at cars as they pass by him, not losing sight of the mission despite the situation he’s in. You smile.

“Using him as bait, ah nik?” You smile into the radio. “Not the time Y/N!” Gaz yelps into the radio as he unclasps himself and lands in the bed of a cargo truck. You laugh. He can see from where he’s at the smile on your face. He doesn’t know what it is with you, but you always harass him. Sometimes it really gets under his skin. You jump vehicle to vehicle to get to him, finally landing in the truck he’s driving, crawling in through the passenger window as he’s driving. Something dangerous and unnecessary that you shouldn’t be doing but you don’t care. “You alright?” You ask. He nods. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He snorts. You keep shooting at other vehicles, leaning out to keep them off of the trucks. He shakes his head. You’re one to harass him but also always first to ask if he’s okay.

It’s the start of many times something happens to Gaz, and something always happens to him for some reason. He’s always a near miss. One step away from death, but somehow always misses it.

Gaz doesn’t quite understand why you’re always picking on him, until one mission. He gets hurt pretty bad. Of course when you know he’s okay, you’re back to giving him shit again. The last thing you say to him, he rolls his eyes and limps off. You give him a few minutes to cool down before going after him, clearly having overstepped.

You knock on his door and he doesn’t respond, assuming it’s you. So you walk in. You have a sly smile on your face and he can see it the moment you walk in. “Y/N, if you’ve got more stuff to say, just don’t.” He groans. “I’m not going to- Jesus. Relax.” You roll your eyes. He's in the middle of changing the bandage on his leg, clearly struggling. “Let me help you out.” You nod. He sighs.

You walk near him, dropping to your knees in front of him. His breath hitches in his throat, eyes widening. You don’t pay much mind to it, resting on your calves. He swallows hard. You remove his old bandage the rest of the way, using the first aid kit he had open. You clean out the wound he has, making sure there’s no more shrapnel in it before drying it and applying another bandage. It takes a few minutes to wrap it, making sure not to put too much pressure on it. You need a bandage not a tourniquet.

“You know I’m just giving you shit right?” You smile up at him and suddenly you realize the position you’re in. Swallowing hard and looking back down. “Yeah… I know. I’m sorry.” He sighs. “Gaz.” You smile up at him again. Inching closer. You can visibly see him stiffen up. “If you ever want me to stop, you can just tell me to lay off and I will. You know?” You smile.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He asks. You roll your eyes. “Just because I give you shit doesn’t mean I’m not nice to you. When have you ever done your own laundry on this base with me?”

He looks over at his empty dirty clothes basket. “I.. thought that it was someone’s job.”

“No.” You laugh. “So.. you do my laundry… just because?” He asks. You shrug. You’re rolling his cargo pants back down around his ankle. “Do you do anyone else’s?” He asks. “Sometimes.” You mumble.

No.

“Look at you, wife material and you don’t even have a ring on.” He smirks, leaning back into the palms of his hands on the bed. You roll your eyes.

“You look good like that.” He smirks. You narrow your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean, Garrick?” You narrow your eyes. “I think it means exactly what you think it means.” He smiles. “Yeah. Thanks for the feedback, want to give me a review too?” You smirk up at him, seeing his eyes widen. He did not think he’d get this far.

Right now he’s realizing why you always give him shit and tease him. He swallows hard, running a hand over his cock to try to ease the tension. You move closer, wedging yourself between his legs and he takes in a sharp breath as you reach for his waistband.

He looks up at the door, worried about it being unlocked when he realizes it’s not.

You knew what you were going to do.

“Cheeky thing, aren’t you.” He breathes. Seeing you smile up at him. Eyes full of lust. You unzip his cargo pants, tugging his waistband down passed his cock. A gasp gets caught in his throat as you tongue the tip of his dick, feeling him shiver slightly. When your lips are on him, he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s been touched like this. You suck at his tip, not wanting to come on too strong and make him too sensitive. When he’s used to you, you take him down further. Hollowing your cheeks and sucking, he grits his teeth, hissing through them. “Fuck-“ he whines. His thighs shiver slightly.

You draw back. “Move up the bed.” You nod your head. Surprised at how quickly he obeys. He scoots back and you move up on top of him, straddling one of his knees and taking him back into your mouth. You bob your head, pumping the rest of his shaft that you can’t fit in your mouth and keeping a rhythm. He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly, barely containing his moans. You draw away from him with a smile. “Kyle, look at me.” You smirk. “You’re going to overwhelm yourself if you don’t relax. Just calm down and let me take care of you.”

He takes in a deep breath, nodding and playing it off like it isn’t the sexiest thing someone has ever said to him.

He does. He relaxes all of his muscles in his stomach and lets you take full control of him. He’s breathing hard still, feeling you rut into his leg. He feels selfish. “Ah- fuck. I’m getting close baby.” He pants. He expects you to stop but you don’t. He’s going to cum pathetically fast but it’s not like you care. He clutches the bedsheets and bucks his hips, clamping a hand over his mouth. You take him down as far as you can take him and swallow around his shaft, it’s what sends him over the edge. Filling your throat with his cum and bucking his hips. You try not to react, holding back as he thrusts into the back of your throat, holding your head on him. He hisses as you draw back, swallowing every bit of him as you do. You wipe your mouth and stand up.

You smile down at him. “Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you, Garrick.” You smirk, turning your back to him and disappearing through the door before he can say anything else. He gulps. Sitting there alone in his room. Bandages clean and feeling satisfied.

———

He dreams of you, for the next couple weeks while he’s off healing, his laundry is still done despite the fact that he always seems to miss you. He'll step out for what seems like just a second and there's clean clothes on his bed, the basket empty once again. You're quick.

When he’s back on missions, he notices that you seem the same. Still giving him just as much shit, if not more. Although anymore he hates fucking up in front of you. He hates that you give him so much shit, the voice in the back of his head saying that he should prove to you that he's not some accident-prone idiot. He tries to be more serious when it comes to missions so that you don't have as much to give him shit about but it seems like it doesn't matter. It's what you like to do. He hates it.

You're passing by his room with clean clothes and he's waiting in the shadows for you, finally catching you.

You step inside for just a second to set them down and hurry off but he doesn't give you the chance, the moment you're inside, he's following you in and closing the door behind you. Locking it. You turn around, smiling when you see him. You cross your arms over your chest. "Something the matter Gaz?" You ask. "Yeah, I think it's time for some payback, don't you think?" He smiles. "What do you mean?" You look confused. Amusement hides behind your smile. It's fake confusion and he knows it. He laughs, shaking his head. "I mean.. payback. For everything. For always giving me shit, and now I owe you for sucking me off." He smirks. You roll your eyes. "Jesus Christ Gaz, I don't think that you owe me for that." You mumble. Demeanor faltering under his gaze. You avoid his eyes. You were already embarrassed. You had expected him to seek you out afterward but he never did. It made you feel like he didn't like you back so you avoided him even further.

"Well. We'll call it even. Get on the bed." His smile fades. You swallow hard. "I.. what?" You laugh. "Not asking Y/N." He closes the gap between the both of you. You shake your head. "You don't owe me anything alright?" You mumble. He scoffs. "Now that's not the Y/N I know. Don't tell me I'm making you nervous." He smirks. You roll your eyes. "I'm not nervous. Just a little put off by the fact that-" You hesitate. He doesn't owe you anything and you feel bad for feeling upset with him. If he didn't want you, he just didn't.

He looks confused. "What?" He crosses his arms. "Nothing. It's nothing." You shake your head. "We done here?" You ask. He shakes his head. "No. Definitely not." He laughs. "Look uh.. I was nervous." He laughs. "That's why you're put off right? Cause I waited so long." He takes a step toward you, seeing you step back. Had this really changed this much? You already don't like him? "I try so hard on missions to not look like jackass. I feel like whenever you're around is when I choke the most and than you harass me and make fun of me. No matter what I do I can't not fuck up." He laughs. You avoid his gaze. “You can leave if you really want to. Or you can stay. Your choice.” He shrugs.

“And if I stay?” You finally draw your eyes up from the floor, looking at him. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

You swallow hard. Shrugging your shoulders before crossing your arms over your chest. Standing your ground. “Stubborn girl. You’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” You can barely hear him say it. It’s barely above a whisper. He moves closer to you, kicking his boots off as he makes his way toward you.

A gasp leaves your lips when he grasps your arm, shoving you down onto his bed. You bounce up from the force that he’d pushed you down with, moving himself between your legs. His jeans are still on.

“You do not look that strong.” You pant. Eyes still wide. He smirks. “Course not darling.” He forces your hands above your head, rocking his hips into you. He presses his lips to yours, muffling the gasp you nearly let out. “All that talk about me being the weakest link, we’ll see how it holds up when I’m done with you.” He laughs. You take in a sharp breath as he pushes your shirt up over your chest, exposing you to him. “No bra, hm?” He mumbles it.

Leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Sucking at it. You arch your back into him, and he takes the opportunity. He pushes his hand down the waistband of your jeans, fingertips meeting with your clit. Another mewl leaves your lips as he starts to circle it. “That’s a good girl. Stay quiet for me. Don’t want us getting into trouble do you?” You shake your head.

He pushes your shirt off of you the rest of the way, removing his hand to work at your jeans. Unbuttoning them and tugging them down your legs. Once he’s got you completely exposed to him, he’s unbuttoning his own cargo pants. He spits in his hand and draws it up the tip of his cock. He doesn’t waste any time sliding into you. Muffling your mouth with his hand. “Deep breath.” He smiles. “Gonna need it.”

He barely lets you get used to him before he’s fucking into you. Luckily his bed doesn’t creak like the rest of them, or the entire base could hear how hard he’s fucking you. He keeps a hand over your mouth as he hammers his hips into you, feeling your tears run from your eyes into his hand. If there’s one thing Gaz knows not to fuck up, it’s sex. He knows exactly where to touch you.

He keeps his bruising pace, he’s relentless. Doesn’t matter how much you cry or how hard your legs shake. He’s going to get you addicted to him and than he’ll be the one making fun of you.

Despite his hand being over your mouth, he can still hear you. Crying into it. He was rough. "You might be able to make fun of me. But I will always make a mess out of you with my cock. Every time you want to say something slick to me I want you to think about this. About what a disaster you become when I fuck you."

He leans down lower into you. "Every time you do it, I will fuck you until you cry." He whispers into your ear, hearing you whine into his hand. You didn't think that Gaz could be so brutal. "Actions have consequences darling. It's time for you to pay up."

He holds your hips down into the mattress, sliding nearly completely out of you before driving himself back into you.

"Here." He grasps your hand, laying it flat over your belly, he pushes it into you slightly. Your eyes widen when he thrusts in and you can feel your stomach bulge slightly. He's deep.

You look up at him, eyes glossy. You're looking at him like you want eat him alive. He's never seen you like this before.

"Shit.. Can't look at me like that darling. I may never get off of you." He smirks. You give him a small smile. You're more quiet than he thought you'd be. It makes him wonder if you're enjoying yourself but you're still reacting to him. Closing your eyes and clutching at his sheets with your hands.

He rests more of his weight on you, his thrusts are getting a little sloppy.

You push back on his hips and he draws back. You force him back and swap places with him, climbing on top of him. He licks his lips, watching you slide back onto him. He can't help it, thrusting his cock up into you. He can see that you're getting close, you feel even more wet than before. Pants getting unsteady as you rock into him. "Look so fucking good on top of me." He shakes his head. "Almost can't take it baby." He gasps. You didn't know that he'd be such a talker. You close your eyes and tilt your head back. He can see the muscles in your neck tense slightly.

He closes his eyes tight. Trying not to cum just from the sight of your bare skin. He was already pathetic enough around you, he didn't need this too.

You rock into him faster, not raising up as high. You're grinding into him and he can tell you're about to cum, pulling you into him and holding you still as he fucks up into you. He's fast and rough, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes you into your orgasm, feeling you moan into his lips. He hisses when he cums, hips halting as he throbs into his release. He kisses you hard even after he's cum, pushing his tongue against yours.

When he finally pulls away, you smirk down at him.

"What?" He asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Kinkier than I thought you'd be Garrick."

He shakes his head. "Remember what I told you. You talk down on me and I'm gonna fucking ruin you, doll."

You smirk, raising up slow and lowering back onto his sensitive cock.

"Promise?"

[marvelstars]

Anakin´s humanity

I recently saw the first Robocop trilogy, after many years and it just got me thinking and impacted me and made me understood why Palpatine and especially Obi-Wan simply could not bring themselves to look at Vader the same way they did Anakin, just like Murphy just wasn´t the same for his wife and his friends even if they missed and loved him.

In Darth Vader´s case, he is Anakin after almost dying on Mustafar, a person who the Emperor had to keep alive long enough to get to Coruscant, acording to ROTS novel, using his own darkside energies and his sheer force of will. For Palpatine Anakin died on Mustafar and Vader is a newborn creature made by his technology and his darkside power.

Obi-Wan is disgusted by Anakin´s actions at the Jedi temple, actions that fundamentally killed Anakin´s spirit in his eyes even before Mustafar but seeing Vader for him was like seeing Palpatine´s creature(similar to Frankestein´s) a thing of the darkside brought to life by the will of it´s master who needs to be mercy killed as a favor for the person Anakin used to be.

On all this Anakin/Vader alone is left with the pieces of himself, trying to put himself back together, something I always loved in the first trilogy is the fact Vader never rejects the fact he is/was Anakin, Palpatine and Obi-Wan do it but Vader doesn´t, he always talk about Luke as HIS Son, not "Skywalker´s" and he recognized Obi-Wan as HIS old master, he didn´t even rejected the idea of him being part of the Jedi Order or refered as the last one of them by Tarkin and other high level imperials.

Vader just believes he is beyond saving, he has found counsel in his imperial duties and self appointed mission of "keep order in the galaxy" but when Luke comes into the picture his main strategy is to look towards a way of keeping Luke safe and alive from the Emperor, not abandon his imperial duties or even his place as the Emperor´s Second in command, even if he is quite aware he´s also his slave, the Emperor literally brought him back to life he "owns him" in a way no one has ever done.

Vader still loves Palpatine because Anakin loved Palpatine, Vader loves Luke because Anakin loved his children even before they were born and Vader remembers and respects Obi-Wan because he was Anakin´s master/father figure/brother. At no point does Vader disrespect Yoda even if he knows he is alive somewhere, Palpatine does in the novel version of ROTJ but Vader never does this, because he respects him as the Jedi Order´s grandmaster which Anakin belonged and hero worshipped when he was a kid.

But Vader is also aware no one will ever see him as human again, as just Anakin and even if they did he can´t let go of his past actions and deserves his suffering so when Luke recognizes his humanity and forces him to remember who he was and tries to get him somewhere safe away from the Empire and the Rebellion, just like Padme did in ROTS, Vader only answers:

"It´s too late for ME my SON"

Star Wars OT is Luke´s (and Leia) coming of age story but it´s also the story of how Vader/Anakin got his humanity back and how the love between father and Son saved a whole galaxy.

I wish current disney SW stories remembered those simple narrative parts of star wars because without them the story is just not the same.

"I like the idea that the person you thought was the villain is actually the victim, and that the story is really about the villain trying to regain his humanity".

- George Lucas

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Reflection of Desire: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: Women are being kidnapped and are being posed as Hollywood Starlets after the unsub kills them. Washington DC police have called in your team for help.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

Knowing this press conference is going to bring the unsub out of his hole, you have to be driving around town in hopes you'll spot him. You and Spencer are in one car, Rossi and Hotch are in one, and Emily and Detective Croft are in another. The radio is on so you can hear the press conference instead of watching it.

"Penny Hanley went missing two days ago. We have received over three thousand calls. Her family is obviously deeply worried and is looking forward to her prompt and safe return," Pen starts.

"Isn't Penny Hanley yet another victim of the Hill Ripper?" A female reporter asks.

"Right now, all we know is that Penny is missing."

"Who sent that photo in just like the Kelly Landis case?" another asks.

"We'd like to take this opportunity to reach out to the public. Penny was last seen here, leaving Union Station--"

"You mean she was taken by the Hill Ripper?"

"Rumors are that Kelly Landis was found with her lips cut off."

Reporters keep cutting Penelope off, and she's trying her best to keep the focus on Penny.

"We are not prepared to discuss the details of Kelly's case."

"Isn't the mutilation, in fact, what you call a signature?"

Even through the radio, you can feel Penelope's panic. Come on, Pen, you can do this.

"Penny Hanley's name has captured the attention of not only the nation but also the entire world." She holds up the black-and-white picture of Penny. "This photo is the most recent image of Penny. We believe it was taken and sent by the person who took her."

"I want to say something." You recognize the voice of Penny's father. "I want to say something to the sick son of a bitch that has my daughter."

Mr. Hanley, we all want to find your daughter, but you really need to calm down. Mr. Hanley, don't do this," you hear Derek say in the background.

"If I say something, she dies. If I plead for her life, she dies. I don't have any money and my wife passed away two years ago. She is all I have, and if this sick bastard gets away with this--just let me say something."

"What would you like to say to the man who has your daughter? If the Hill Ripper is watching, what would you tell him?" a female reporter asks.

"My little girl right now is in your hands. Maybe she's already with God. Either way, your life will be in my hands."

They pause to process his words.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have just received this." Deek must have handed her the paper Hotch wanted him to hand to her. "The police request that the general public reduce their movements around M street and Georgetown, for the next few hours."

"Do you have a lead in the Hill Ripper case? Agent Garcia, do you have a lead in the ripper case?"

"No, we don't. We have an address."

Just like that, the press conference is over. You're connected to the other agents through the earpieces so you can talk to them while you drive.

"If he's moving, he's moving now," Rossi says.

"Reid, Y/N, where are you?"

"We're headed south down Jackson Street. There's hardly anything moving," Specner answers.

"Except cop cars. We've seen five in the last ten minutes. Hotch, if he's out here, he's got nowhere to go," you say.

You continue driving through the city, looking for anything suspicious. You pull up to a red light and wait for it to turn green. While waiting, you feel something prick at the back of your neck. The unsub is near. Spencer sees the alert look on your face and sits up straighter.

"What is it?"

"I feel him." You take off as soon as the light turns green, and you head to the darker parts of town. You're driving fast because you're following the energy leading right to the unsub. "Hold on." You shove your arm across Spencer's chest as you slam on the brakes right in front of an alley. "He's in there right now with her."

"Call Hotch."

You turn the car around and drive into the alley, shining the headlights onto the car. The unsub panics and hops out of the car before he can finish killing Penny. You put the car into park and jump out, already racing after the unsub.

"Stay with her and get help!" you yell at Spencer.

You can hear Spencer's voice over comms but you're not paying attention to his words. You aim your gun at the unsub and shoot twice, hitting him once in the leg. He nearly trips but he doesn't stop running. Not only is he faster than you, but he had a head start. There is no use in chasing after him. You pant and lightly jog over to Spencer and Penny who are surrounded by paramedics.

"Hotch, he's headed your way. I tried to chase him. I shot him in the leg. He won't be as fast."

"Copy."

Penny is already being loaded into the ambulance by the time you reach her and Spencer.

"Penny, your dad's going to meet you at the hospital," Spencer says.

Just then, Hotch and Rossi show up and get out.

"He got away but you hit him good. We found traces of blood down the alley. K-9 units are on the way."

"Agent Reid?" Penny asks.

"Yes?"

"Please don't leave me," she whimpers.

"Go, Spencer. We've got this," you encourage.

Spencer gets into the ambulance and stays with Penny the whole time. The unsub was forced to leave his car behind which is good for you since you'll be able to ID him from that. You walk to the front and notice a disabled permit hanging from the rearview mirror.

"This car has a disabled permit."

"Registered to who?" Rossi asks.

You take out your phone and call Penelope who is back behind a computer screen. You give her the license plate number and the make and model of the car, and she does her magic.

"The car belongs to May Walden. The unsub is Rhett Walden, her son. I have an address. 1503 Hope Street." She pauses. "Oh, my God."

"What is it?" you ask and look at the others who are staring at you. You put her on speakerphone. "You're on speakerphone."

"May's black-and-white photo looks exactly like Kelly and Penny."

"When was it taken?" Derek asks.

"1956. It's a set photo from a movie called Reflection of Desire. May was nineteen when this was taken."

"She's got to be over seventy by now."

"Yeah. M Street and Rykers Alley are the locations of this film. It was the only movie she ever made, and she was four months pregnant when this picture was taken which ended her career."

"What about the father?" you ask.

"Her co-star. Do you think she made her son do all of this?"

"Penelope, I think she made her son do a lot more than this," Derek answers.

The team heads over to Rhett's house and surrounds it with agents, police officers, and a SWAT team. Detective Croft stands behind one of the police cars and uses a megaphone to talk to Rhett who he knows is inside the house. It's the only place he'd go.

"Rhett Walden, this is the police! We know you're in there. Come out with your hands up!" He repeats it. "This is the police. We know you're in there. Come out with your hands up."

The front door opens and Rhett steps outside with a bloody leg from where you shot him and someone in his arms. The person is frail and small but her hair is covering her face so you're unsure of who it is.

However, you know she's dead.

You gasp when you see the skeleton in his arms and lower your gun in shock. That must be his mother.

"Get down on the ground!" Derek yells.

He does immediately but you think it's because his injured leg can't hold him up any longer.

"I need a medic!" the detective orders.

His mother's hair moves away from her face, and you gasp a second time when you see what's been glued to her face.

"Is that...?"

"Lips," Emily says. "They're Kelly's."

Rhett is taken away probably to a mental health facility because you know he is not sane if he kept his dead mother in his house long enough to play dress up with her. With this case over and done with, you and the team head to the theater to see Penelope in her play. She was apprehensive when you told her that you would be going but you encouraged her to give it her all.

Even JJ decided to come with you.

The play is about a crime that a woman has committed. She was kidnapped, attacked, and raped so she decides to enact revenge on the man by kidnapping him and killing him. She found the man responsible for her trauma and is using his past against him.

She's not the first woman he's beaten and raped.

Penelope is on one side of the stage under a spotlight wearing a black wig. She is staring at herself in the mirror and recites a monologue.

"I believe humanity was born from conflict. Maybe that's why there lives a dark side in all of us. Some of us choose to embrace it. Some have no choice. The rest of us fight it. In the end, it's as natural as the air we breathe. At some point, all of us are forced to face the truth. Ourselves. For me, that day has come. I was eighteen when I faced a man who chose to embrace his dark side, and by doing so, he took my humanity. Every day since I have put on a mask to hide what now suffocates me. The truth. And nothing speaks louder than the truth."

She gets up and faces the man... her revenge.

"Melissa Crane?"

"Get out," he sneers.

"Alison Gardner?"

"Get out before I call the police."

"I called them, and they'll be here but not before I'm done."

"Done? Done with what?"

Penelope raises a prop gun at the man and shoots him once in the chest. He gasps and falls backward on stage. She walks over to him, kneels by his dying body, and makes him look at her.

"Nine girls you raped and you butchered. You took from them what you took from me, but I survived. You should have killed me, Clarence."

The stage goes dark, and everyone stands up to clap for them. Penelope is good. She was born for this sort of thing. The lights turn on and both she and her male costar bow for the audience. She looks at her team, locking eyes with you. You give her two thumbs up, extremely proud of her.

"I believe humanity was born from conflict. Maybe that's why in all of us lives a dark side. Some of us embrace it. Some have no choice. The rest of us fight it. And in the end, it's as natural as the air we breathe. Some point, we're forced to face the truth... ourselves. – Penelope Garcia

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[annionebutme]

Since ao3 is down i gift society this snippet I have.

Potter, I need your help."    

"Bloody hell, Malfoy. You can't just barge into my office whenever you need something."   

"Someone stole my dick."  

Harry stood shocked for a moment, mid indignation, before gathering his wits again. 

"Piss off!" He said flippantly, going back to his book. 

"I'm serious. They stole my fucking dick." 

"You are a fucking dick." 

"Potter!" He squeeked. Malfoy was never this good an actor. Covering up emotions, pretending to be a friend, being "drunk" while he slipped important info, yes. Acting terrified... never. Harry looked at him again. 

He looked like he was about to cry, his hands were gripping his robes with white knuckles, pulling them across himself. Malfoy would rather die than have someone see him like this. 

"Someone stole your dick?" 

"Yes." 

Harry let his Auror traing take over. He was investigating a theft. He just needed to ask the theft questions. 

"Stole?"  

"Yes, Potter." 

"Your dick." 

"Yes! Can we just get on with it?" 

Those were not the theft questions. He needed to ask the theft questions and write down the answers on his nice detective notepad. 

"How?" He asked, it was also not a theft question. Where was his notepad? 

"I don't bloody know, do I? It's gone! I woke up and it was gone!" 

"Your dick."   

"Are you an auror or not?" 

"I-. Sorry, Malfoy. I just- This is... a lot. Hold on." He shoved a few piles of papers aside, finding his notebook. Quill in hand, he felt much better. 

"When did you first notice the... item was missing?" Harry asked. 

"When I woke up at half past six this morning." 

"And when did you see it last?" 

Last night when I went to bed, at around nine. 

"Nine?" 

"We can't all be party animals, Potter." 

"I know but nine? We're not grandparents yet." 

Malfoy rolled his eyes and leant against the door in a false show of youth. 

"Alright so sometime between 9:00 and 6:30. I already know your place is warded up about as tightly as possible, I'm going to need a list of everyone who may have access, and I'll need a description of the item. In the meantime, may I investigate the crime scene?" 

"Item." Malfoy huffed. 

"Yes, well, it's more professional." 

"To ask for a detailed description of my junk." 

"Doesn't have to be detailed. Approximate measurements and any identifying features is plenty." 

"Ten inches." 

"Real 10 or bloke 10?" 

"Real ten, Potter. What am I going to do? Lie on a police report?" 

"You'd be very unsurprised, I'm sure, to hear that people lie to me and my notebook all the time. Has anyone had access to your item?" 

"My wife was just as shocked as I was." 

"There's no one else?" 

"No, I'm not unfaithful to my wife." Malfoy said, standing up straight and puffing his chest. 

"No healers, drunken runs around the Leaky, or being caught in a changeroom at the same time as someone else?" 

"No" Malfoy deflated a bit. 

"I'd ask for anyone with a motive, but I've met you. Anyone in particular you suspect?" 

"No." 

"Right. We'll investigate the scene then. Is now good?" 

Please feel free to take the idea as I'm unlikely to actually do anything with it. I made these idea notes

They are 43. Its 2023  

Kind of auror potter. Gets to work on whatever cases he feels like. He's a war hero let him have fun energy. 

Malfoy a Lord. Someone stole draco dick and balls hes "like that stupid doll the muggles keep prattling about"  down there. He can feel it being messed with they were helicoptering it around earlier. It was stole by a harry potter look alike escort who takes the genitals of their regular clients to blackmail them so they can have enough money for the spells that nake them look just like Harry  at various ages  

[batshikns]

some hetalia sketches i did during school today <3333

[celifin]

Silly kavetham stuff I never posted

[novelconcepts]

As gently and politely as I can put this: that post I made about outliving him is meant to be an anti-suicide affirmation. It is not meant to be a blinders-on assessment of reality, of the future boiling down to whether one man lives or dies. It is meant to reassure myself and everyone else that the horrors come, and the horrors go, that nothing is permanent, that hope persists with split knuckles and blood on its teeth. Things are rough. Things will likely get rougher. My eyes are open to that, but in the end, the first thing they want from us is to roll over, surrender, die. And I will not be granting that wish. I deserve to be here. You deserve to be here. We deserve to see the sun rise. And it will. I promise.