#better than you did. and what if all of him and who he was slowly seeps into this new person and you are forced to

[pearlymel]

Sylus remembers clearly the day he found out you were both having twins. Twins, as in two babies as yours and his first children.

How you almost passed out when the doctor delivered the news, but he was quick to tell you that everything would be okay.

He's going to be the best husband for you, and for the twins..?

they sure were going to be a handful.

“Sylus!” Sylus' head snapped towards the kitchen, where your voice had come from, “come get your son before i cook him!”

He knew that you were joking. Probably.

the kitchen, one hand holding his little girl's hand guiding her along. "Now, now," he called out as he entered the kitchen, "No cooking the children, sweetie.”

You let out a sigh when you watch the boy run away while letting out giggles, his face and hands full of white flour.

Seeing this, Sylus let out an exasperated sigh as well, his gaze shifting from his running figure to the mess of flour on the floor. "Sorry about the mess he made," he muttered before looking over at you, a sheepish smile on his face. "Go to your brother,” he urges the girl next to him, she nods slowly before running off to him.

“I'll feed him to the ducks one day.” You say with determination, still focused on trying to make this dinner a success after the mess.

But Sylus chuckled at your threat, knowing all too well that you were only half-serious. He could see the twitching in your eyes, but he also knew that you loved both of your children dearly, even if they could be a handful sometimes.

”Though I suspect he would probably find a way to befriend them and make a mess with them.”

“.. why are you right?”

“because i know my children,” he says proudly, then makes slow steps from behind you to not alert you so suddenly, his arms snaking around your waste with his chin resting on your shoulder, “what are you making?”

You smile, “dinner.”

"Smartass," he teased, "I meant what kind of dinner are you making?” he whispers calmly, a soft conversation between you two, with his thumb rubbing ideally on you.

“hm, i could be dinner… but oh well.” you sigh dramatically and he laughs quietly.

You couldn't even continue because you hear a faint “ewwww.” Coming from the corner.

You both glance back at the two heads peeking out from the wall, and you roll your eyes.

"and here I was, having a moment with your mother," he said to them, his voice still low yet amused. "You two really have a knack for interrupting, don't you?”

Your little girl was the first to speak, “it was his idea.” She started quietly, her fingers fidgeting together, but her brother only gasped, “she's lying!”

"Oh, really now?" he’s skeptical, and he approaches both of them with his arms crossed, “Hmm, it's always the innocent ones who lie, isn't it?”

“but I'm not—”

“liar.” The little one huffs and looks away with annoyance, but the minute he could hear his sister im the verge of tears, he knew he messed up.

Sylus was quick to notice her distraught demeanor, his heart clenching slightly at the sight of her on the verge of tears.

"you," Sylus pointed out at the other twin, his voice firmer and authoritative, "did you cause the mess?”

…

Sylus let out a deep sigh, his stern expression softening slightly. He knew he was just being a mischievous little boy, but he also had to nip such behavior in the bud.

"You know better than to blame others for your pranks,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Apologize to your sister.”

The girl sniffled, the threat of tears subsiding as she accepted her brother's apology. She wiped away her stray tears with the back of her hand, a small smile forming on her face.

Sylus nodded approvingly, he patted both of them on their head gently. "There we go, now go back and play together.”

This whole time you were watching the scene with the biggest smile on your face, and Sylus was already prepared for your upcoming teasing words.

��and the father of the year goes to.. you.” ... except he didn't expect this rare sweet statement of yours. He's reminded of why he put a ring on it in the beginning.

"What can I say?" he replied, his voice filled with pride. "I have a talent for handling troublemakers." He placed both of his arms on the counter to your sides, boxing you in, "though, to be fair, they get their mischievous streaks from their mother," he added, and you gasp before turning around. burnt dinner it is.

[foolishaetherguardian]

“… and be sure to report any further unusual tectonic activity. Dismissed.” Bats finally finished the report. Why was he here? Right the first five minutes had been about the possibility of magic having been used. This really should have been an email he just ignored or left Zatanna to deal with. Bunny girl was better at feigning interest than he was after all. “John, Zatanna if you would both remain.”

Damn the brat. Why did the inter dimensional brat decide today to bug him? John knew he could pop up at literally any point in time like it was normal. It was revenge. For what offense he didn’t know. Or maybe he hadn’t even done it yet. Stupid fifth dimensional traveling.

“… stantine. CONSTANTINE.” “Bugger off.”

“John.”

Shit. Okay first names were bad with the cape. Like find a new existence and disappear off the face of the planet bad.

“Right sorry mate just, distracted.”

“The fact that an eldritch horror from who knows where was hanging off you like a scarf actually had some effect on you? You must be getting sentimental in your old age.”

“Love we both know that if it was weighing on me I wouldn’t be around to talk. You wouldn’t be either.” John had some respect for Zatanna. She was a good mage. Understood the proper importance of a cigarette and a blokes need to keep up appearances. Usually at least. “Got a cig?”

“Those will kill you someday.” The disapproval and sarcasm rolled off her tongue as smooth as the honeyed lies the lass would use with magic. John wanted to quip back but settled for a death glare as the big bad bat threatened to perfect his own death glare on him. Why did the bat have to be such a stickler? Rules rules rules. Rules don’t save lives when they shackle you from good. Damnit. Why were all the big dogs so damn… good?

“Hrm.”

Right the bat. The bat that right now probably wanted to string him up by his ankles and let the archdemons sort out how to cut him into nice even thirds if his damned rules didn’t stop him. Why did he have a cigarette?

“Uh bats?”

“Hrm.”

Just as loquacious as always that cape. Keep that thought inside. Definitely keep the thought inside. Especially as you take that stupidly expensive cigarette.

“Thanks. I could really…” The cig was hard. It was candy. The bat almost had an actual expression under the cowl, there was the slightest tightness of the lips. A smirk. He was smirking. ”You know what? Fuck you.” The fake cig crunched in his mouth. It actually tasted pretty good. Not that he was going to ever let anyone know that. “I’m going home. Hopefully to eat my leftovers. The brat isn’t a threat. If you want to know just ask the lass about the between or the Infinite. Or better yet go ask Grundy about The Protector.”

God he needed a drink. And a smoke. And maybe another drink. John was pretty sure that his food was gone too.

“How old is he?”

Dammit lass. Why did you always know just what to say? “14…. I think.” John replied stopping at the door to the stupid tech magic tubes that Supes had insisted on. “He’s some other world’s hero.”

The lass had to think on that one. Not every day you meet an alternate. “Is he… okay?”

“He’s doing alright. Insists his parents couldn’t understand though, so he always carries it alone. Protects people that way, or so he says.” John finally let himself laugh. It was a fitting description of most of the capes who worked with the league. And himself. If he was generous. Pity he couldn’t afford to be generous with himself anymore. “I’m just his fallback. And debit card.”

“It would do him some good to meet others. If you can invite him to the next picnic.”

John blinked slowly. Then turned. The Bat had a smile. A proper smile. Soft and understanding. How? The man was almost certainly just a mass inhuman muscle and brains with the bare minimum speech capability bundled into a bat suit. “I’ll make sure to offer it. But he’s still weird about his… abilities.”

“I’ll get him added to the budget.”

“Budget?” Now this was sounding promising. While the league did pay it wasn’t much more than rent for the closet he used to access the house.

“For young heroes or metas under league guidance. One of the points Bruce Wayne insisted on when he decided to find us officially. So they have a safe place.”

“I’m a safe place?” John’s incredulity was finally outweighing his paranoia. A hefty feat considering even he considered himself to be 90% paranoia by volume.

“Sure sounds like it mate.” Only the lass could say something so damning like it was a good thing.

“{Guess so}” Why did he understand the grunt? Are the grunts some secret dad cape speak? Why was he suddenly qualified for…. Nope. Nope. He’s going home. Sleep liquor and maybe a bit of tele. No he wasn’t tearing up. And no one could see his face to tell you otherwise.

Danny has met Constantine.

Constantine has a coat.

Danny regularly pops out of it to say hi or when Constantine calls him for something.

Nobody in the JL knew this, so when Danny popped right on out in the middle of a meeting.

Well.

[cvnntagious]

:: virgin!chris only wants you to touch him

chris was quick to slide his pants off for you as soon as his brothers had left for the store, both his mom and dad at work. the two of you were completely alone, chris' face reddened at how embarrassingly hard he was in his boxers. "what d'you want, chris?" you asked softly, hand sliding up his shirt to caress his toned abdomen.

he caught your hand in his tender grasp, pulling it down from his shirt as he looked at you beside him. there was a surprising innocence in his eyes for someone who was aching so intensely for you. "touch me," he replied softly, running your hand over his bulge.

"anything else?"

he shook his head, a few of his brown curls falling in front of his eyes with it. "not yet— no," he answered, eyes searching yours for disappointment. "if that's okay..."

you weren't disappointed, though. you were perfectly content with allowing him to ease up into being comfortable in such a vulnerable state with you. for now, you were just happy to be making him feel good.

his breath hitched when you shoved your hand in his boxers, feeling the warmth of it taking ahold of his length. head instantly throwing back when your thumb brushed over his leaking tip, he shivered at your touch. he was so sensitive—you liked it.

maybe it was the intense reaction from such soft touches, or the small pants escaping his parted, pouty lips, but you couldn't help that sense of pride from washing over you. it urged you to make him feel good; better than he already did, really.

you freed his length from the confines of his boxers, taking a good look at it in all its glory. the slight pause made chris want to tell you to stop so he could cover himself up, probably even kick you out and act like nothing ever happened - like you didn't see his dick. he didn't though. as much as he wanted to, he wanted you more. needed you.

when your hand finally started pumping his length, completely unaware of all the anxious thoughts running through chris' mind, they all dissipated immediately. all he could think about now was how good your soft hands felt, body tensing when you made eye contact with him.

his heart started pounding when you opened your mouth slightly, allowing the saliva you'd collected in your mouth to slowly drip onto his already wet cockhead. "a- oh fuck," he breathed, body tensing at the warm fluid being spread and stroked up and down his length.

the pleasure he felt was palpable, and he found his movements becoming more and more involuntary with each slow glide of your hand up and down his length. the agony was almost unbearable, feeling his high so out of reach. "please," he began, hips now starting to jerk up for friction he wasn't able to get with your languid movements.

you smiled at him, causing him to shift uncomfortably under your gaze. "faster, hm?" you asked, picking up the pace with each stroke.

chris nodded, lips pursing as sweet hums of pleasure filled his room. "need- need to... fuck, gonna cum," he warned, abdomen flexing and legs tensing as he moaned louder than intended.

when he felt your soft thumb brush over his now aggravated tip, it sent him over the edge. his head flew back, mouth making an 'o' shape as he fucked your hand, orgasm crashing over him. groans escaped his lips, and he felt his face flush red with embarrassment, allowing you to milk him dry of his sticky fluids.

his head lifted again as soon as your strokes on his length slowed, gaining the courage to look at your cocky grin again. that was, until he was met with your tongue hoovering over his cum-covered cockhead. it practically begged you to leave it alone, judging by the way it was almost red in color under all his white semen.

"wha-" he started, only to be cut off by his body spasming when your tongue met his sensitive tip, a long whine following it.

w/c : ?? a/n : gonna be taking a small break from writing soon, but i'll still answer asks, so send em on in. divider by issysh3ll

[4acoffee]

You can't breathe.

Your mouth burns.

Your body won't stop shaking.

You can barely see through the tears in your eyes (when did you start crying?)

You're on the floor, in the kitchen.

You look over, Katsuki is next to you, hunched over himself so you can't see his face, his shoulders shaking violently.

He stills, and looks up slowly to meet your blurry vision.

You both pause, and for a moment you know nothing but the crimson of his eyes, still bright and piercing.

Then you cough, a mistake because you immediately feel the burn of spice going down your throat sending you into a coughing fit and bringing more tears to your eyes.

It makes him break into hoarse laughter and watching him makes you laugh brokenly through your coughing with him.

The empty packs of Extra Spicy Curry Masala Maggi noodles lay abandoned between you on the floor after your competition of who could eat the most spicy noodles.

You think all the spice may have had some sort of effect on your brain chemistry the way you and Katsuki couldn't stop the breathy laughs from escaping even in such a pathetic state.

You're not exactly complaining, it's not often you get to see him look so content and carefree. It fills you with a sense of self-satisfaction that he feels comfortable enough around you to lose the ginormous stick up his ass personality he generally keeps up around most people.

You know you're also laughing way to hard right now, but you've also made a mess on the floor and Katsuki in between cackles comes to your side to help wipe up the sauce that was spilled from your poor attempts at wielding chopsticks.

"It's ok, you can admit I won now."

Katsuki tells you with a smug grin.

You look at him incredulously.

"What are you talking about, this was obviously a tie, — both of us finished the same amount of noodles" you correct.

"Yea but obviously, I'm handling it way better than you are, nerd." He objected with an appraising look at the heaving breaths you took and your flushed nose from rubbing it so much.

You snicker a little because for all his talk, he's honestly not faring much better, with his cheeks all flushed and the constant sniffing.

You reach out and gently wipe a bit of sauce staining the corner of his mouth. He playfully sticks his tongue out and licks your thumb before you have a chance to retreat, laughing when you gasp scandalously and smiling boyishly at you in a way that makes your heart feel like it's filling with soda bubbles.

He uses the moment to really take in your appearance.

Your lips are swollen and a dark red from all the spice.

Eyes shiny from the tears and sparkling under the dim kitchen lights.

You're grinning a little too wide in a way that would absolutely make yourself cringe if you could see yourself.

And Katsuki really thinks you've never looked prettier in his life.

In some sort of fit, he suddenly reaches forwards and tangles his fingers into your hair and pulls your towards him.

the burn of his mouth on yours is almost more potent than the still lingering taste of the spicy noodles on your tongue.

You make a quiet noise of surprise and brace yourself with a hand on his thigh and on the cabinet next to you.

He pulls away just enough to watch you, your chests heaving, the brief kiss more than enough to steal the breath from both your lungs.

Once again that familiar scarlet consumed all your attention and you couldn't help but fall into him as he pulls you closer.

You meet him half way this time and you shiver when he groans into your mouth.

He wastes no time slipping his tongue past your lips and you can taste the way he feels and the way he licks into you has you reeling.

You're still a little lightheaded from the laughing and the spice and it's too much for you to stop your body from trembling when he holds you.

The realization crosses your mind, that you're sitting on the floor of your kitchen, making out with one of your closest friends, and you wonder when the line between friendship and something more had started to blur because it obviously had if you're in the position you're in now.

This time you pull away, a little embarrassed that your first kiss with Katsuki was when you tasted like Extra Spicy Masala Maggi noodles, but in a way it was perfect and you knew you were never going to be able to forget it.

Still, you can't look at him, turning your face to the side and closing your eyes when he dips his head low to catch your gaze.

He snickers lowly at your reaction and that only heightens your embarrassment, feeling the tips of your ears go hot.

You feel his lips meet your cheek, not gently at all, smushing up into your face with aggressive affection.

"Now will you admit I win?"

Masterlist

[softevie]

explicit content under the cut, mdni

divider by: @cafekitsune

Mr. Kim’s house is far warmer than the stables near it, but it doesn’t help the chill that runs up your back when you hear the stairs creak and his boots hit the wooden floor behind you as you’re bent over his bed, hands tied to the bedpost and knees on the floor.

You hold your breath when the steps come to a halt right behind you. The leather tongue of the crop in his hand touches your knee gently, before tracing your thigh all the way up to the swell of your bare ass, over it and rests on the small of your back. You release your breath slowly, squirming a little in anticipation.

“Why don’t you ever listen to what I tell you?” comes his stern voice from somewhere above you. What are you even supposed to reply to that? When he doesn’t get an answer, the leather smacks your right ass cheek and the sound of it rings through the bedroom, together with your gasp. “I told you to treat Buttercup carefully, didn’t I?” Another smack.

“Y-yes”, you choke out. “You did.”

The crop caresses the sensitive skin of your ass, and you can’t help the way your breath hitches.

“And what did you do? You went too fast to mount her and agitated her. She could’ve hurt you, herself, or me. Did you even think about that?” The next slap is way harsher than the last two, and you drop your face on the expensive embroidered bedspread, your whines muffled.

“Sorry,” you mumble into the fabric.

You cry out and curl your toes when the shaft of the crop collides with your ass instead of the soft leather.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

You lift your head, already needing to catch your breath.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. “Sorry for not listening to you, sir.”

“That’s more like it, little miss.”

Despite the pleased tone in his voice, the shaft smacks both of your ass cheeks again, the dull sound of it filling your ears. It stings, and you practically feel the heat radiating from the sensitive place on your skin he just smacked. It’s probably bleeding a little. Goddamn to hell the day you decided that asking the family’s friend who owns a ranch to teach you horse riding was a better idea than hiring a teacher.

In hopes to appease him, you arch your back a little, like an offering. The leather mouth moves up your thigh to trace your wet folds back and forth, the feeling of it so unexpected and good that you moan and try to press back into it. But he won’t give you the satisfaction yet. The leather moves away momentarily, you don’t even have time to realize you miss it before it comes back with a light wet slap to your folds. You drop your face down again and sob into the bedspread.

“Sir, please…”

“‘Please’ what?”

You don’t really know what you’re asking for at this point. You just need him to not be mad at you and forgive you. Haven’t you deserved that?

“You’re hopeless,” he scoffs at you condescendingly.

You hear a soft plop beside you and realize he threw the crop on the bed. There’s shuffling behind you before you feel his gloved hands grip your waist. You breathe faster when his hands trace up your back, before he grabs your shoulders for leverage and presses himself flush to your ass. You whine when his leather pants make contact with your bare body, and you feel just how hard he is underneath them.

“I guess you’re only good for riding one thing, huh?”

[darlingdaisyfarm]

👁️⃤ evil!Ford x reader

author note: okay im sorry for post spamming but this idea been sitting in my mind for too long and I had to write smth about it, would be glad to read your opinion on that Ford x reader dynamic!^^

so this is a bit of an au situation where evil!Ford is working with Bill now. in this version, reader is Ford’s former ex partner, someone who used to be close enough to him to know his work better than anyone else, including the equation Bill wanted from Ford in canon. Although here Ford doesn’t know the equation anymore, but you do

You’re trapped.

The chair beneath you creaks when you try to move, your wrists aching from the coldness of the handcuffs that keep your hands pinned behind your back. Your breathing is shallow from fighting, your throat feels dry from screaming, but you keep your head high. Defiance in your eyes, even as Stanford’s gaze burns holes through you.

He sits across from you with his legs spread wide and his elbows resting on his thighs, watching you. You squint, noticing a little glow of that infernal symbol on his wrist. Bill’s mark, his new goddamn religion. 

“You’re only making this harder for yourself, darling.”

You don’t answer, you won’t give him the satisfaction.

Ford leans back in his chair, tilting his head as his eyes drag slowly over you. “Still playing the martyr, i see,” he drawls, unable to hold sarcastic laugh. “you always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you spit.

“Oh, but, sweetheart,” he says, standing now. “you don’t get it, do you? you can’t win this.”

“You think you’re protecting them,” Stanford continues. “Stanley, the twins. You think they’ll thank you for this? For your stubbornness?”

“You won’t touch them.” you answer through clenched teeth. 

Ford crosses the room in a few strides, towering over you now and it feels like his shadow is swallowing you whole. His hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing your face upward to look at him and you don’t recognise him, instead of your Ford, it’s a shadow of a man who’s sold his soul, body and mind, to something far worse than the nightmares you’re used to. Ford digs his fingers into your skin.

“Just tell me the equation, that’s all i want. you give me what i need, and this—” his eyes flick down to the cuffs, to the bruises blooming on your wrists, “—this ends.”

“Go to hell.”

His grip only tightens, and his jaw clenches. For a moment, you think he might snap, might lose that careful control he prides himself on. But to your surprise, he lets out a low, bitter laugh, releasing your chin and pacing a step away.

“Always so stubborn, it’s admirable, in a way. Stupid as fuck, but admirable. But we both know i can make you talk.”

Before you can react, his hand is in your hair, yanking your head back sharply. You gasp, your neck arching painfully as his face appears damn close you feel his breath against your lips. God, this is not how you imagined kissing Ford. Not after he joined Bill Cipher.

“What’s with that fear in your pretty eyes? I won’t bite, not unless you ask.” 

“Fuck. . . you,” you say again, but the words sound weaker this time and you hate the fact that even after Ford Pines isn’t the man you remember, you still feel attached to him.

Noticing your hesitation, Stanford’s lips curl into a smirk, and then he’s kissing you, if you can even call it that. Ford is forceful, rough, demanding, his kiss is nothing gentle, his other hand grips your jaw to keep you in place he takes what he wants, biting your lips, his tongue sweeping into your mouth and he groans when you make a pathetic muffled sound.

When he pulls back, your lips are swollen and you swear you can taste the metal, your skin burns from how hard he squeezed it.

“I can do this all night,” Ford trails his long fingers down the side of your neck, brushing the pulse that races beneath your skin. “You’ll give in eventually. . . they always do.”

“I hate you.” but you don’t believe your own words.

That truly makes Ford laugh, the way you say it so dead serious, with that cute glare when you both know it’s not like that. 

“Hate me?” he repeats in mockery, as if the very idea is absurd. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your head back to force your eyes to meet his. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, sweetheart?”

You glare up at him, biting down on the words that threaten to spill from your mouth.

“Funny. That’s not what my muse showed me. Not in your little head, darling.” he talks, savouring every word, enjoying your reaction as you already have panic written all over your face. “let me tell you, in there, you’re begging for it, desperate for me to fuck you.”

Your heart slams against your ribs and the air seems to vanish from your lungs. 

“All those filthy little thoughts you try so hard to hide. I had no idea my ex-lab partner was such a slut?”

You feel mad and humiliated at same time, your face burns, but you clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart, we both know exactly where it’s gonna get you.”

[missaengg]

Who Are You?

Pairing: Rafayel x f!reader Tags: nsfw, mdni, smut, some fluff and humor if you squint, kitchen sex, nipple play, p in v sex, creampie, pouty Rafayel Word Count: 2526 “Who are you?” Oh god, not this game again. Rafayel was pouting because of some unknown transgression you had committed against him, and he demanded restitution for your offense. A sinfully, delightful repayment. One you were only happy to oblige. ao3 link here.

“Who are you?”

Oh god, not this game again. You glanced at Rafayel, clocking his over exaggerated pout. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was staring you down like you were an absolute god damn stranger in his kitchen. You could feel your blood pressure rising. As much as you loved this man in front of you, it was no secret he could also very much be a child. A fact Thomas would only be too happy to confirm.

“How did you get into my house?”

A frustrating, annoying child.

“Rafayel, will you please—“ 

“I don’t listen to people I don’t know.”

You groaned. “Will you please stop acting like a five year old and—“

“Lalala, I can’t hear you.” Rafayel plugged his ears with his fingers and sang obnoxiously at the top of his lungs.

You let out a slow, agitated sigh. The last time he played this game, it had taken an hour of coaxing and a bribery of kisses to get him to stop, all because you had forgotten to send him a ‘good morning’ text that day.

“Oh my god, what have I done now?”

Rafayel stopped. He stared at you with those gorgeous blue and pink eyes of his as if you were an absolute dunce for not knowing the transgression you committed against him. “You really don’t know?”

“No!”

Rafayel’s eyes deeply bore into yours, and after a long pause, he asked, “Who are you again?”

Ugh. This… This bitch! A deep, aggravated growl exploded from your throat. Sometimes… sometimes you really wanted to slap him silly. He was driving you absolutely fucking insane! Why couldn’t he just tell you what was upsetting him?

“Rafayel, I swear to god I’m going to kill you if you don’t tell me what I’ve done to upset you.”

“How the fuck do you not know?” Rafayel petulantly asked. “It’s so obvious.”

“Clearly it’s not because I don’t know!” You fought off the urge to shout a string of expletives. If you could read his mind, you would in a heartbeat, but unfortunately, because you were only human, you needed him to tell you in words why he was so upset.

Rafayel crossed his arms again, his pout deepening on his face to the point you wondered just how much farther his bottom lip could jut out. He scowled at you from across the kitchen island. A stalemate, one where the first to break would lose.

You played his game back, crossing your arms, raising an eyebrow. Your steely eyes drilled into his, daring him to continue.

The clock on the wall ticked away.

Tick… 

Tick… 

Tick…

You raised an eyebrow at the man standing in front of you as if to ask, ‘Well, you going to tell me or not?’

Tick…

Rafayel’s eye twitched.

Tick…

He scrunched his nose into that childish expression you adored — most of the time.

Tick.

“You didn’t come see me last night!”

There it was. Victory. You suppressed the urge to smirk in celebration.

“I see,” you drawled.

Rafayel’s pout grew deeper, his bottom lip indeed jutting out even further than you thought possible.  A furious blush spread across his cheeks and up his ears, a consequence of breaking his composure. “I demand restitution for your offense.”

You slunk towards him, keeping your brows furrowed in mock concern. “What did you have in mind?”

Rafayel opened his mouth and closed it, his pouty lips puckering as he deliberated on what would be the most appropriate form of repayment.  Approaching him, you placed your palms on his chest, slowly sliding them up until they were locked around his neck.

“What can I do to make it better?” you purred into his ear, now a dark beet red from how flush your body was with his. “Hm?”

Rafayel faltered, especially as you nibbled on his earlobe. You could feel him tense each time your teeth lightly pulled on the soft flesh of his ear, his resolve chipping with each caress of your tongue.

“Fuck, cutie.” Rafayel’s ragged breaths tickled your neck. His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, his fingernails digging into the skin underneath.

“Is this restitution enough for you?” You tongued Rafayel’s neck where you could feel his heart beating rapidly, grazing your teeth right above his artery. 

“No,” he forcefully groaned, a shudder running through him when you suddenly nipped him. Rafayel ground his hip against you, his arousal demanding stimulation.

“No? How about if I do this?” You trailed your hands down his back to his ass grabbing both cheeks and jerking his hips into you.

“No…”

You slowly undulated your pelvis against his painfully hard erection eliciting choked groans from the stupefied man. Grinning wickedly, you sensually pressed your lips to his, biting his bottom lip and then caressing it with your tongue, all while your hips moved against his arousal. Rafayel shivered, his breath catching in his throat, delicious little breathy moans spilling from his lips.

“Is this enough for you?”

A guttural choked groan escaped Rafayel when you slipped your hand into his pants, stroking his twitching member. A dark heat smoldered in his hazy eyes. He looked alluringly erotic.

“Stop— stop teasin’ me,” Rafayel husked, burying his head in the crook of your neck. His hands roamed up and down your back, fingernails burrowing in your flesh with every squeeze you gave his shaft. “Hah…”

The hot puffs of air from his breaths wisping on your neck sent tingles tickling down your spine. Your own arousal began to pool, a needy throbbing growing between your legs. Closing your eyes, you subconsciously rubbed your pelvis against his trying to find some relief from the swelling tension.

“I’m not teasing,” you fired back, “I’m making up for my… my transgression.”

Rafayel whined when you removed your hand from inside his pants, but quickly realized you stopped to unbutton them instead. ”Want more… more than this.” 

He wasted no time kicking off both his pants and his underwear discarding them haphazardly off to the side. Your eyes darkened at the sight of him standing at attention, swollen to the point of bursting. You licked your lips. His tip glistened with his obvious desire.

Rafayel roughly spun you around against the island, bunching your skirt up around your waist and yanking down your damp underwear.

“Rafayel,” you squeaked in surprise. “We cook here.”

Rafayel ran his length through your folds, coating himself with your slick. “Don’t care. S’my repayment,” he mumbled, lining himself up with your entrance. In one swift go, he plunged in, sinking in until he was fully buried.

You let out a sharp gasp, a flash of white overtaking your vision. You were practically dripping, but it didn’t matter how ready you were for him, he somehow always managed to stretch you out to the point you felt as if you’d split in two.

Rafayel gripped the sides of your hips, hissing at how readily you sucked him in. “Fuck, cutie, you feel so… so good,” he choked, his greedy hands kneading your breasts, fingers pinching with no regard as to whether he caused you any pain.

Each hard pinch sent a spark shooting through you, the pain only adding to the pleasure blooming within your lower abdomen. You snapped your head back, gasping at a particularly rough pinch.

Rafayel lowered his mouth to your neck, sucking hard, no doubt leaving a dark bruise. His mark.

“Raf, not where people can see,” you weakly objected.

He thrust into you slowly, taking his time to pull out and sink in his entire length. “But then” –he swirled his tongue against the darkening bruise– “how’re people” –he moved up higher on your neck– “going to know” –he sucked down hard again– “y’were a naughty girl?”

He bit down and pinched your nipple simultaneously, and you keened, the combination of pain and pleasure Rafayel provided you too much. You trembled in his hands, so hard you had to brace yourself against the counter if only to prevent your shaking legs from crumpling beneath you.

“How else am I going to hear you” –he snapped his hips– “make that lewd sound?”

You moaned. Rafayel entered you so deeply, you swore you could feel the tip of his cock in your throat.

“Besides, s’my repayment, right? Can do… can do whatever I want.” Rafayel rolled against you in a slow, steady pace, and his bulbous tip dragged sinfully along your walls, teasing that sensitive patch of gummy flesh that left you writhing in his hands.

“Raf, harder,” you whined, pushing your hips back, desperate to hear the slap of your skin hitting his. 

“Fuck,” Rafayel rasped under his breath.

He pulled out, and before you could even begin to process how empty you felt without his presence inside you, he whirled you around and grabbed you by the waist, hoisting you onto the kitchen island. He moved so quickly you didn’t have time to yelp or note how cold the granite felt on your ass.

Rafayel’s lips came crashing down on yours. His tongue flicked your bottom lip. Your head spun trying to keep up. You parted your mouth, allowing him to dart in and twine your tongues while your heavy breaths mingled together. You curled your fingers into his hair, raking your fingernails against his scalp.

“Y’drive me… crazy,” he breathed.

“Should… be saying… the same thing… about… you,” you quipped in between kisses.

You tugged on the hem of his shirt. You wanted to feel him, all of him, against you. Breaking away, Rafayel ripped the damn thing off of him and tossed it somewhere you couldn’t see because he immediately attacked your own right after, pulling your shirt over head and capturing your nipple between his teeth.

You arched your back, tugging his hair a little harder than you intended. You heard him mutter something you couldn’t quite catch under his breath, too absorbed in the delectable way his mouth ravaged your inflamed peaks. 

“Raf, would you just… just fuck me already,” you demanded, the unbearable ache between your legs now too agonizing to ignore. 

Your plea seemed to light a fire within Rafayel, and he gripped you firmly by your thighs, hauling you towards him until your ass hung precariously off the edge of the counter. Holding you in place, he dove in, and without waiting, he bucked his hips. You gasped. Your arms instinctively rose to his shoulders in a futile attempt to brace yourself from his assault.

Your cunt sang, avariciously clenching around his shaft with no intention of letting go. Unlike the slow, methodical thrusts from before, Rafayel pounded into you without abandon in a dizzying speed. 

He was bullying your cervix, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. 

You hooked your legs around him driving him in as deep as he could go. “Deeper, Raf,” you pleaded, catching his eyes. “Need you… need you deeper.”

Rafayel gazed into your eyes, and then abruptly rammed your hips.

“Fuck!” you screamed, reeling from the sudden sting of pressure radiating through your lower stomach.

“That deep enough… for you?” he growled.

Stars dotted your vision, and all you could do was mewl as you clutched his shoulders with all the strength you had left in your fingers. You heard Rafayel snicker, but his moment of triumph was short-lived when your legs locked around him even tighter.

Shit, cutie,” he rasped.

Your clit brushed the jut of his pelvis every time Rafayel even shifted. Your head flopped back, your eyes closed. “Feels… fuck… feels so… good,” you whimpered.

Your bodies rocked together. The coil within you grew taut, a bundle of energy ready to burst and fling free with the slightest provocation.

“Raf…” you whispered hoarsely.

“Shit, cutie, I’m–” Rafayel took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m–”

His body tensed, and then he spilled into you, jerking with every spurt of his hot cum. You enveloped his head in your arms, stroking the back of his head as he helplessly clung to you.

“I love you… so… so much… so… fuck, cutie… don’t even… know,” Rafayel babbled, his voice a strangled, hopeless mess.

His sweet, earnest cries set your heart aflame, the tipping point for your own release, and the coil within you snapped. You felt yourself clamp down around his pulsating length, and your body roiled with ecstasy, shattering into a million pieces.

“God, Raf…”

Your body was on fire. Your blood roared in your ears, and you captured his lips with your own, falling deeper into your shared intoxication. The two of you shared kiss after dizzying kiss, riding out the blissed-out haze of your releases together.

You planted one last kiss on his swollen lips before pulling back. “So, was that enough of a repayment for you?”

Rafayel nodded blankly, and you tittered at the blank glaze in his eyes. 

“Good.” You brushed your lips on the tip of his nose. “Next time, can you please just tell me why you’re upset instead of being difficult about it?”

You watched as clarity returned to Rafayel and he wrinkled his nose.

“Baby, I’ve waited 800 years for you. The least you can do is let me pout about petty things.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re still holding that over my head, are we?”

“Yep,” Rafayel drawled, smirking at you. “For as looooooong as I waited for you.” He exaggerated the ‘o’ in the word ‘long’ as if to make his point.

You sighed and shook your head, but a smile danced on your lips. “Fine,” you conceded. “If it means I get a good dicking like this in the process, I guess it can’t be helped.”

You cackled with glee as Rafayel sputtered, another blush coloring his cheeks. You held his burning cheeks in your hands and tenderly pressed your lips to his.

“I love you,” you murmured, peering into his eyes. “Even when you’re being a child.”

This time, it was Rafayel who rolled his eyes, but he pounced, bombarding your face with wet kisses.

“Rafayel, stop,” you squealed and made a fruitless effort to push him away.

“No,” he protested.  “I waited 800 years for you. Least you can do is let me love you as much as I want.”

You melted, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into him with your full body, a wicked thought occurring to you. “You know,” you whispered suggestively into his ear. “We still haven’t christened the grand piano sitting in your living room.”

You snickered when Rafayel choked, but yelped when he swept you into a princess carry. 

“Should probably fix that, shouldn’t we?” He devilishly grinned and strode out of the kitchen with you kicking delightfully in his arms.

“Raf, put me down,” you cried as you swatted at his shoulder.

“No, we’re going to go christen the piano.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you hummed, snuggling into his hold. As much as Rafayel drove you insane, you couldn’t stay mad at him, not when he warmed your heart just as much. 

Maybe the childish nature of your boyfriend wasn’t so bad after all.

[livbedum]

i would love to learn more about maybank!reader being kidnapped by rafe like what happened? why’d he do it? when did it happen? how did his family react? did they know? how did jj and the pogues react?

GIVE ME A MINUTE

WE ARE SO FUCKING OVER!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ summary requested!

warnings 18+ minors dni , profanity , kidnapping / drugging , violence

rafe had the fucking cross. after all that you had gone through in the day with pope nearly dying , crashing kie’s dad’s truck , john b fighting a gator , finding out jj ran into your dad , you were tired. but the night wasn’t over until you got the cross back for pope.

your eyes stayed on sarah and john b , who were clearly having a moment after their somewhat breakup. “you seriously think now is the time to talk about this?” sarah whisper yelled at him , giving him a look that called him stupid.

before jj could stop you , you headed in her direction and yanked her with you. “we have things to do. come on,” you grunted , heading towards tannyhill. when the two of you were far enough away from the boys you looked at sarah with a small smile. “he really does love you. enough to make him stupid,” you chuckled , making your way to the truck.

“i know,” she sighed , peeking into the driver’s seat, “we gotta find the keys though,” she added , getting back to business.

you nodded , not seeing them in the truck like you were hoping. “looks like we have to go inside,” you grimaced , knowing rafe was in there , knowing he would not be happy to see you like he usually was.

sarah looked over her shoulder to the boys quickly updating them that, “we’re going inside! we’ll be right back!” before ushering you into the house with her close behind. you both kept a lookout before moving too far into the foyer. “okay , i have to go find wheezie really quick— she’ll help us distract rafe. you find the keys , okay?”

you watched sarah plot for a moment on the situation before nodding in agreement. “just be safe. don’t want rafe flipping out on you again,” you warned her , holding her hand before letting go and rushing away.

the first obvious place to check was rafe’s room. you had been there so many times , it was easy to avoid the creaks in the floor on the way to his bedroom door. you had been lucky not to see anyone yet. so , quietly your hand twisted at the golden knob before cracking the door open as slow as possible.

after the copious amount of times you snuck into tannyhill , you knew better than to let rafe’s old door creak when you opened it. as soon as the opening was wide enough for you to slip in , you did , closing the door softly behind you , shutting yourself inside.

and that’s when you heard the shower stop running , making you blood run cold. now was not the time to bump into rafe. not when the boys were outside , not when sarah was upstairs , and not while he had the cross you were absolutely trying to steal back from him. that wasn’t an option.

your eyes darted around the room you were so familiar with , catching a glimpse of the nightstand that had the keychain sitting on top of it. you could still hear rafe in his en suite bathroom , so you rushed to grab the keys. they clanked against the wooden stand , causing you to cringe at the disturbance of quiet. “shit,” you cursed as they slipped out of your hand and into the floor , making even more of a ruckus as the bathroom door opened wide.

there was nothing else to do in that moment other than freeze. caught like a deer in headlights , you looked up and saw rafe standing in the doorway , towel around his hips , chest heaving and already looking down at you. you were crouched down , actively reaching for the keys again.

“what are you doing here?” oh. he’s playing it safe. he raised his eyebrows at you as he bent over , slowly grabbing the keys from the floor. he stayed low , looking into your eyes for a moment before rising completely and taking the keys with him to his dresser.

you took a deep breath and stood up , trying to gauge how this was going to go. “sarah was complaining about missing something the other day , so i thought i could come by and grab it,” you lied , watching him as he got dressed, “heard you in the shower and stopped in while i could. missed you,” you added , stepping closer to rafe before reaching out and touching his damp back.

his skin twitched under the contact. “yeah?” he chuckled , turning around with a smile, “came in here just for me?”

“what else?” you asked , matching his smile as you leaned up to press a kiss into his cheek before retreating back a few feet.

“you’re not here because you know i have the cross?” rafe questioned , stepping forward , effectively forcing you back toward his bed, “not here to steal my fucking keys? and take off with the cross that i found!” he shouted , trapping you where you were pressed against the edge of his bed frame.

your eyes betrayed you , flashing a vulnerable fear in them when he yelled. “no , baby,” you shook your head quickly just like your voice, “no , of course not.”

“stop lying to me!” again , rafe’s voice practically rattled the window panes, “you shouldn’t have fucking come here , y/n! you’re so fucking stupid. should’ve just minded your business! constantly forcing my hand to do things i don’t want to do!” he continued getting dressed , throwing a jacket on.

“rafe , you’re scaring me,” you admitted , sinking into the mattress in an attempt to get away from him.

a low chuckle came from his throat as he turned and looked at you. “this isn’t my fault,” he started, “you—“

“rafe! can you come help me pack my bag?”

wheezie.

your chest deflated , finally able to catch a breath when rafe moved his eyes to the door where wheezie was bound to walk through in a moment. “here , baby. you can have the keys to the truck,” rafe smiled , tossing the keys at you before going to the door and stepping into the hallway before wheezie got to you both.

you caught the keys , pushing yourself up off the bed and rushing to the door. the knob giggled in your hand as you tried to open it , but the locked clicked into place on the other side. “have to do everything for you people,” rafe grumbled to his little sister before you could hear his footsteps getting quieter.

“fuck! fuck , fuck , fuck,” you grumbled , hand hitting at the door, “rafe , let me the fuck out right now!” you yelled , banging against the door even harder , keys still jingling in your hand.

“y/n?” sarah’s voice came out worried and rushed through the door, “y/n/n , are you in there?” her hand tapped against the wood on the other side of yours.

“sare? sarah , i can’t get out. you have to pick the lock or something,” you explained , turning to look for something on your side of the door to help.

“okay , it’s okay,” sarah assured you, “i got you.”

you could here some sort of rattling on her end , assuming she found something to jam inside the lock to get you out. “i got the keys!” you smiled with a sniffle , trying to look at the bright side , but you knew it wasn’t long until rafe returned to his room and caught sarah this time.

the lock clicked , sliding out of place before sarah pushed it open. “oh , my god!” she breathed out , yanking you in for a hug before you both ran out of the room, “gimme the keys , and let’s go.”

you tossed her the key chain , following her out of the house and back to the truck. “what’re you doing?” you whispered when sarah kept moving to the back.

“i wanna make sure it’s still in here,” sarah explained , fumbling with the keys before finding one that fit into the lock on the back door.

“okay , well hurry it up before rafe finds both of us,” you urged her , checking over your shoulder for any sign of him. as if your words triggered the reaction , the lock undid itself , and sarah pulled the door open before stopping. “what is it?”

you moved to take a look yourself only to freeze just like sarah did , keeping eye contact with the man you saw in the truck with rafe earlier. he laid lifeless on the ground next to the cross , eyes boring into your own. “what did he do?” you sighed , assuming rafe was the one who killed the man. who else would’ve?

“you guys really shouldn’t have done that.” it was rafe’s voice that came from behind you just before you felt his arms wrap around you and a sharp pinch in the side of your neck. his hands released you , letting you stumble away as your hand reached up to you neck.

“rafe?”

he didn’t bother looking at you , only dropping the now empty syringe to the ground and grabbing sarah. you could only watch as sarah struggled against her brother’s grip , feeling time slow and your heart beat much harder than it was before. “rafe , what are you doing?” she kicked at him , but it wasn’t a fair match.

the last thing you saw was rafe dragging sarah back inside before you stumbled back and tripped. your arms flew back , trying to catch your fall , but there you laid on the ground almost as lifeless as the man in the truck.

you don’t remember anything as you wake up , but the moment your eyes open , you know where you were. the way the mattress sank beneath and around you , the feel of the silk pillow case under your head. you were in rafe’s room. again.

you sat up quickly , looking around to see if sarah was locked in with you , but you were alone. throwing the comforter off of your body , you swung your legs off the edge of the bed. “rafe?” you spoke quietly but loud enough to where he would hear you if he was in the area, “babe? what’s going on?” you called out a little louder but sweeter when you didn’t get a response.

“rafe!” your voice was louder this time , a little angrier when you realized he had left you in the room alone. “rafe cameron , let me out of this room! help! wheezie? rose!” you roared , running to the door to try and open it. you shoved your body against the wood , trying to break it down as if that would ever happen. “rafe!” you called out again far weaker than before.

catching your breath , you moved back to the bed to stabilize yourself. your head was still fuzzy with whatever rafe shot you up with. you sat down , head hanging low as you tried to think everything through.

rafe gave you a shot.

he took sarah inside.

you woke up in his room.

you were alone.

sarah wasn’t with you.

you steadied yourself again before standing up from the bed , moving to the door the bang on it more. “sarah! sarah , where are you?” you shouted , the door muffling your cries, “sare?”

there wasn’t a response. only the quiet hum of the air conditioning filling the heavy space around you. you slid down against the door , falling to the floor in defeat. you couldn’t get out of rafe’s room by yourself last time ; sarah helped you , and where did that get her?

your eyes scanned the room , catching sight of the flowers you had brought rafe not that long ago as an apology for your last fight. you apologized to him , and this is what he does next?

pushing yourself up , you move to the fireplace and grab the vase before launching it at the bedroom door. that would cause concern if your yelling hadn’t already. “rafe , let me out of here before i keep going!” you screamed , grabbing the next thing you could grab and throwing it the same direction as the broken vase and flowers. “we are so fucking over!”

by the time rafe was ushered away from sarah in the basement , you had already destroyed half of his valuables. the laptop he had on his desk , photo frames of his family and even some of you , his cologne bottles in the bathroom , and all of his watches had been thrown across the room as well.

“what the fuck!” rafe barged into the room , slamming the door behind him as he took in the sight of the floor and you, “what the fuck are you doing?” he yelled , grabbing you by the shoulders, “what the actual fuck , y/n?”

“you drugged me!” you argued , shoving at his chest, “you drugged me , rafe! and locked me in your room!” you kept shoving , hitting at him before he had enough and grabbed you. his grip forced you into the bed face down as he held you in place.

“stop fucking yelling , and stop fucking shoving me,” he grunted in your ear , pushing your body down again to get his point across, “calm the fuck down and we’ll talk.”

“get off of me!” you cried , trying to fight him , but his weight alone was enough to keep you down.

“not until you calm down , baby,” he replied, “you keep making me do shit i don’t wanna do. how is this my fault?” he asked you , lifting up enough to let you take a completely breath.

you looked up at him from the bed , eyes wide and tear filled. “you— you killed that guy,” you muttered, “you killed that guy , and you’re going to kill me and sarah , right?” you couldn’t help but let the absolute worst thoughts bubble to the surface.

rafe heard the words you spoke despite being coughed out through your tears , and he softened entirely. “what?” he moved , letting you go and sitting down next to you , but your body couldn’t move. you were frozen on the bed , terrified of what would happen if you tried to run. the only movement you could make was flinching away when rafe’s hand came up to gently move the hair out of your face.

“i didn’t kill anyone.” he said it like a fact , when you knew it wasn’t. peterkin. he killed peterkin , but you knew better than to bring that up ever again. “well , at least not that guy,” he added with a soft laugh, “and i wouldn’t do that to you , y/n. i love you ; don’t you see? i’m doing this all for you!” your eyes followed his movements as he got on his knees by the bed and laid his head by yours to look you in the eye. “we’re going away. i got the cross and sarah and you. okay , we’re leaving tonight. i just gotta take care of some things , but in the meantime you and sarah are going to go with rose and wheezie to the wharf.”

you felt his hand crawl up your back , stopping on your neck and holding you down without any force— just a precaution. “i love you , and i’m sorry , but you gotta come with. cuz i gotta go , and i can’t leave without you,” he continued , and you nodded , going along with whatever he was saying , none of which you understood.

“okay,” you croaked , nodding again.

“just need you to go back to sleep for a bit , ‘kay?” he had tears in his own eyes. he hated seeing you look so afraid of him. that’s the last thing he wanted. he was doing this all for you. he convinced his dad to let you come with because he loved you so much he couldn’t live without you. and you looked at him with fear. “love you , princess,” he whispered , kissing your forehead before standing up and grabbing something from the nightstand you hadn’t seen before.

“wait , rafe. no , no , no. please—“ your pleas were cut off by rafe covering your mouth and inserting another needle into your skin.

“okay , john b , you need to get sarah. me and pope will just y/n/n,” jj planned , huddling up with his boys before they stormed the cameron castle. only before they could break , rafe came waltzing out of the house and into the truck once again before taking off.

pope didn’t hesitate to run after the truck , hiding in the blind spot to hop on the back. jj and john b scrambled in place , not knowing to go after pope or the girls in the house , but the brake lights disappearing made their decision for them. pope could handle his own.

“wait— b , look,” jj hit john b’s arm , pointing at the scene happening in the cameron’s driveway.

rose was busying herself with shoving you in the backseat of the car , not understanding why on earth you were tagging along , but not wanting to push rafe even further tonight. wheezie followed behind , struggling to move sarah’s drugged up body by herself.

as soon as you were properly buckled and locked away in the back , rose moved to help wheezie , lying about how you and sarah wasn’t feeling too good.

“okay , well we gotta get them,” john b stated , already running after the car that had started to pull out of the driveway.

the boys banged on the windows , begging wheezie to unlock the door or for one of you to wake up and do it yourself. Rose just sped off , leaving the boys behind.

“twinkie! get the twinkie! we gotta go!” jj shouted , sprinting off towards the van so they could follow rose’s car across the island.

if you didn’t feel like shit waking up in rafe’s room , you definitely did now. your entire body was sore , head spinning , and for some reason you felt like you were swaying even as you laid down. despite not knowing where you were exactly at this time , you could figure it out if you took a moment to.

the bobbing , the salt air , the horn in the distance.

you were on a fucking boat , but you didn’t get much time to stress about it before you heard people outside your door arguing.

“rafe , you drugged her. that is kidnapping! and you made me an accomplice! for a pogue? who even is this girl?!” rose , if you assumed correctly , was clearly on your side of the kidnapping , not so much for you but for her.

you could practically see rafe roll his eyes from this side of the door. “dad , you said she could come. she’s here. she’s coming.” if the circumstances had been different , your heart would’ve swelled with pride at the fact that rafe was standing up to ward , especially when it came to you.

“not like this , son!” ward’s voice powerful as ever argued.

wait— ward?

you pushed yourself up from the couch you were laid on and moved to the door , stumbling with the waves beneath the ship. cautiously , you turned the handle and surprisingly pushed through. “rafe?”

your voice was softer than the three that continued arguing , but it still pulled them out of their conversation. all eyes were on you instantly. rose was the first to speak up. “y/n , sweetie , why don’t you go lie back down? rafe said you hit your head earlier. you must need rest.” it all sounded sweet in theory , but you knew it was all a story and fake concern.

“my head feels fine,” you snipped quickly , looking to rafe again before moving your eyes to the undead, “was hoping you were actually blown up by that boat , ward.” as much as you hated rafe for what he had done to you in the past however many hours , your blood boiled at the sight of ward. you were there for rafe when he died ; you picked up the pieces ; you encouraged him to keep going. even before his fake death , you had to be there for rafe when ward flipped out on him. every. single. time.

ward only spared you a glance before pointing at rafe and muttering a “clean this shit up , boy,” before walking away with rose.

“why the fuck did you wake up with an attitude?” rafe cursed , ushering you back into the room you were just in.

you crossed your arms and stared at him indifferently. “maybe because you drugged me , rafe. again,” you stated like he was an idiot for asking , despite knowing he hated when people spoke to him like that. you didn’t exactly care about his feelings in the moment. “you have done a lot of things to me that are awful , rafe , but this— wow , this takes the cake.”

“i did what i had to do to get you here,” rafe groaned , stepping towards you with open hands. you backed away , instinctively. “oh , my fucking god! you’re so dramatic , y/n!”

“and you’re psychotic!” you quickly yelled back , hugging yourself with your arms as you kept your distance from him, “where’s sarah? i want sarah.”

rafe sighed , running a hand down is face. “she’s with our family right now. she doesn’t feel good.”

“i want to see her.”

“she’s busy,” rafe simply denied your request, “do you want a water , baby?” you flinched as tried to step closer to you again. “y/n , seriously , knock it off,” he grunted , getting more irritated by your lack of willingness to just fucking comply with what’s going on, “everything’s going to be fine. i have it all handled. i just needed to get you here.”

you shook your head , slowly crossing the room. “no. i don’t want to be here. i want to go home , rafe. i want to call jj. please,” you asked him , tears filling your eyes at the beginning of accepting that you were in a situation you most likely weren’t getting out of, “rafe , look at what you’ve done,” you started, “look what you did to me.”

rafe didn’t listen though. he turned his head , not wanting to see the truth. he got you here. that’s what mattered. “you can call jj when we dock,” he muttered , trying to reach his hand out to you again before dropping it to his side, “but you’re not leaving until then.”

“we are so fucking over , rafe.” it was said definitively.

and it was like you were living in a loop when rafe slipped out the door and closed it behind him , when you heard the sound of a lock being put in place , holding you in the room you woke up in. your eyes stared blankly at the red , painted metal before you fell back into the couch. “i’m so fucked.”

at least that’s what it felt like.

a/n holy shit this took a minute and it isn’t proofed or anything so ignore any typos

taglist @maybankslover @annatartastic @maroonz @ravenmedows @yootvi @icaqttt @inlovewithmorales @spoiledbratspostsblog @heartsforandrewgarfield @stoned-writer

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Jock AU!

Welp here we are, and I’ve been listening to a lotttttt of (Set it Off) songs so-!!!

Here’s my take of how toxic it would be like with them once they finally got you roped into their relationship

Masterlist here! to my other works and link the OG idea behind the AU here!

Edit#1: added more content! Felt like it was too short (i got more thoughts to add MWHAJAHAJSHJ)

My inspo for this hehe:

MDNI - TW: 18+ Suggestive Content | Toxicity | Degradation

Look, it wasn’t like you were a perfect little princess either, alright?

You ended up here at this problematic school for a reason, y’know?

Despite the fancy reputation it had on the inside— the students knew better

The students knew that all of it was just a farce for these four students who were controlling everything from behind the scenes

And you just happened to cross bridges with said four mansplain manipulators (they aren’t malewives yet)

Gaz, being the first one to welcome you, the hunger already being seen behind his iris, was all ready and eager to show you off to the rest of the guys

But he takes it slow, playing with his food, and letting you “get used to the new school”

Ha! Bullshit— they got you used to them.

Day in, day out- you’d experience their teases, probing pokes, provocations, and just temp you ever so sweetly to be their personal little bitch toy

You deny- keep denying and denying until they show you whats in store for you

Until, at one of their parties, they showed you that you could be that girl in the middle of all four of them on their bed

You lied and ran- as fast as you could

But you couldn’t lie to how you reacted down there

And when that reaction happened again at another party but with just the four of them just slobbering all over each other

‘Disgusting..’

You tell yourself, but somehow- you always stood in front of the dreaded master bedroom door

Tempting you ever so slowly, cracking the walls you’ve built ever so carefully

With a knock, you sealed your fate

From then on, there was no one who didn’t know that you were branded theirs

It was a rough adjustment at the start

Johnny always greeted you first thing in the morning, spamming your phone with all sorts of…questionable memes (that you found quite distasteful and you just?? Didnt?? Understand it all and when you asked him to explain, he’d just send another reaction pic basically answering “what the fuck? You dont know?”)

Sometimes, you’d get a surprised dick pic or a drive link to their last night escapades

Teasing you and moaning your name- hoping you would join them soon enough (they cant get enough of you and want it everyday)

And when you send one it return with one of the toys Simon gave you?

You can’t bet your ass you wouldn’t be leaving the door of your dingy apartment

Though on days that you’re able to actually go out and attend classes, Gaz would be right outside waiting with his daddy’s car

Something all the boys flaunted with really, except Simon who seemed too lazy to drive himself, so he finds himself hitching a ride with Johnny or Price more often than not

Gaz would guide (force) you into the car, before taking you either to their place or the school

Sometimes, he would kidnap you for himself and sends those pictures and videos to the rest of the heavily fuming and horny three

And when you got back?

Well, you could already see yourself besides a kneeling Gaz— tears of frustration and wanton pleasure coating his cheek bones, his mouth gagged and limbs bounded

Before they were done with him, they promised that you would be next

And they never forget their promises— they go above and beyond

Aside from those escapades, school was no different from being attached to your side

Got a group project? Forget about the work you did already with your current group- you’re with them now

Eating lunch alone? Nope, they’re by your classroom door to pick you up (so you can’t deny them when they’ve put in the effort to escort you)

Got detention? They are walking themselves there willingly just to accompany you

Got a class any one of them? They’re skipping theirs and going to attend yours from now on

Having a hard time in gym class? Sure, they’ll watch you struggle at first in those too short-shorts but if you begged prettily enough, they’ll come swooping in immediately

You have to repay them back in the locker rooms after their practice though

Gotta make sure they’re all clean and well-rested after the coach ran them rugged y’know?

Need a ride home? They are personally escorting you back, as long as you provide compensation on the way there of course

All this made you addicted

Starting off from being too much to needing it more like its Johnny’s daily dose

Wanting to be even closer with them— you indulge in their vices as well

You start smoking with John, kissing with the cig butts and inhaling each other’s smoke

You start taking Johnny’s drugs and sharing joints with him, going to class high and sobering it with a shared tumbler of whiskey between you two

You start to join Gaz in his projects, growing the craving satisfaction of seeing people being broken beneath his feet and manipulation

You start to have more play scenarios with Ghost, even bringing it outside of the bedroom

And the boys can’t help but join in as well

This then continues on and on until…

Until you realize…

Externally, they’ve gave you everything

Everything you’ve wanted and more

And you’ve let them take, and take, and take—-

But in the post nut clarity you found yourself in from another fivesome with them—

You stare at a stranger that is supposed to be you

And it scares you how far gone you’ve had

So you ran… as fast as you could

Even if you would see them again tomorrow

But what scares you more was how easily you fell back in to their pace if you leave for too long

So you try, you try ending it all

That as soon as you came home, your plan of “burning bridges” begins

Taglist!✨ (for more crumbs on the au LMAO)

@cod-z

[nowimjustastranger]

I don't know if this has already been asked before but has Stcmo Ford ever had to intervene in a world where Stanley took the journel(where that world's Ford wasn't sent through the portal) and planned for it to be the last thing he'd ever do before dying?

As he was trudging through the snow back to his car, Stan couldn't help but hear Ford's words play on an endless loop in his head, drowning out everything else. Stan had wanted so badly to shove the journal back at Ford after his brother had branded him, but he couldn't. Ford was right, he was always right.

So he kept the fucking diary and stormed out.

Ford didn't follow, so Stan must've said something about giving in to his brother's will before leaving, but he couldn't remember what had come out of his mouth. His head was swimming in a nauseating way as his shoulder screamed at him, his body shook violently with every gust of wind.

He already knew that he wasn't going far. He just needed to get to the car, then he'd burn the stupid fucking journal and drive himself off the nearest cliff. He was tired. So very tired and hungry and cold. He had dropped everything just to come when his brother called, hoping against all hope that maybe they could finally talk.

He should know better than to entertain hope by now.

He didn't even realize someone was in front of him until he literally ran into them, stumbling back with a curse as he clutched his arm, a new burst of pain surging through his shoulder. He blinked the black spots out of his vision, squinting at the weirdo who was wearing a flashy all-black getup in the middle of a blizzard.

He would've noticed that something was off sooner if he hadn't been so worn down.

But, as it stood, he heard a sharp twang before a bolt was rushing past his ear from behind. Stan stiffened, adrenaline flooding his body when Ford yelled at him, ordering him to run to his car and get out of town as fast as he could.

He took a total of three stumbling steps toward his car before an arm was curling around his throat, getting him into a firm headlock. The stranger wasn't choking him though, so small mercies. Actually, it seemed like the guy was actively avoiding his brand, which was weird because why would that matter if he was gonna take Stan hostage anyway?

Stan tried to hold on to the journal, he really did, but the asshole pulled it away from his icy fingers with ease. Stan choked on what might've been a sob, devastated that he had failed the one task that he'd been given. How did he manage to keep fucking everything up so spectacularly? He should've never been born.

"Stanley!" Ford shouted with no small amount of distress, clearly upset about his journal falling into the wrong hands on his front lawn. Stan couldn't look at him, couldn't bare to see the disappointment and anger that were surely coloring Ford's face right now.

"You can either have the journal or your brother." The stranger's voice carried over the howling wind, Stan's wide eyes darting to the book in the man's other hand with a sinking feeling in his gut. Stan already knew what Ford would pick, he had proved time and time again that he cared about his research more than he loved his brother.

"Let him go!" Ford seethed, the anger far more familiar to Stan, who finally braved a look at his brother. Ford was surprisingly close, only a few feet away with his crossbow loaded and aimed at the stranger. His expression was a mixture of terror and fury, his bloodshot eyes darting from Stan to the stranger several times.

He didn't look at the journal once.

"Is that your choice?" The stranger asked, the arm around Stan's neck slowly tightening, Stan's hands frantically prying at the dark fabric and flexing muscle with a pitiful wheeze that had Ford making an aborted movement toward him.

"Yes! Yes! I choose him!" Ford's voice cracked, face crumpling like he was about to burst into tears. Stan grit his teeth and swung his elbow down to bury it into the man's kidney, the grip on his neck loosening just enough that Stan could twist and punch the asshole right in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Stan lunged for the journal, wrenching it from the man's grip as he kicked the bastard's knee, hearing the joint pop out of place. The guy grunted in pain as he went down, Stan scrambling toward his brother, who had lurched forward to meet him. Stan couldn't see what was happening, but he heard another bolt fire and then Ford was dropping the weapon to grab at Stan.

"He's gone! He's gone! He left!" Ford gasped as he dragged Stan to his feet, using his body as a crutch to keep Stan upright as the two of them unsteadily made their way back to the shack. Stan's legs gave out on him as soon as they were inside, Ford slamming and locking the door behind them with an urgency that bordered on manic.

"Ford..." Stan panted, slumped against the wall, and Ford was beside him in the blink of an eye.

"What? What is it? Did he hurt you?" Ford asked in rapid-fire, shaking hands fluttering over his body. Stan caught one, Ford flinching at how cold Stan's hand was.

"I... the journal... I got it back." Stan said breathlessly, weakly raising his other hand to offer it to Ford, who looked stunned as he stared at it. Maybe he didn't think Stan would bother to grab it? Just how little did Ford trust him?

It was Stan's turn to be speechless when Ford took the journal from him and carelessly set it aside before he was back to fussing over Stan, who was too busy blinking dumbly to stop Ford from accidentally touching the brand while searching for wounds.

Stan cried out, hunching on on himself as Ford profusely apologized, scurrying away after assuring Stan that he'd be back with his first aid kit. Stan kept his head down as he nodded, teeth grit against the pain. He was used to waiting. Waiting for the millions to miraculously come pouring in, waiting for Ford to reach out first, waiting for his next meal, waiting for those rough hands to stop touching him.

Always waiting.

He heard Ford making a racket further in the house and decided that he could wait just a little longer.

[cuckoldlifeofjosie]

You like that she has a boyfriend. That she regularly gets fucked the way you know she needs and deserves. Even when she started to fall in love with him you still got aroused. So much so you encouraged her. You told her it is okay for her to have an emotional connection with him.

It was you who told her, if she really feels she loves him. She should tell him. She did the next time she saw him. Whispering "I love you too," while in bed with him. While his cock split her pussy and he slowly pushed it inside her and slowly pulled it out. They melted into each other when she said it. Kissing, dipping their tongues into each others mouths. It felt intoxicating. The desire she felt for him her pulse quickened. Telling him "I love you," made it real, it made her even love him more. To crave him. Crave his body, his touch, to be with him. When he filled her with his cum he pushed all the way in, farther than you have ever gone igniting her own orgasm. With a groan he clenched his ass as his cock throbbed and poured his fluid inside her moaning and twitching body under him. It wasn't fucking, they made love.

She told you she told him "I love you," and it aroused you so much, she watched as you had a powerful orgasm of your own and it made her feel good that you approve of her loving another man. That it arouses you too and gets you off.

You still have sex but it feels different. Like your little dick no longer belongs inside her. You can't reclaim her. She is no longer only yours so you reconnect. Sex outside her feels so much better for both of you. You rubbing your little dick on her clit, her jacking you off while she tells you about their weekend together out of town. How she told him "I love you" like a thousand times.

Both of you teased and fantasied together. She told you that you feel so much better out of her pussy. Maybe that is where you belong. Her pussy reserved for men that can fuck her the way she needs. Men like her boyfriend. It got you hot and got you off. Again she saw you orgasm in her hand harder than you ever have inside her.

Your married though, a married couple has to have sex right? So you go through these cycles. You having sex with her, then both of you fantasizing again about you only on the outside. Your angst got the best of you. That jealousy, the fear of her leaving, the feeling of inadequacy. One morning she came home to you after a long weekend vacation with him and you weren't excited. You felt hurt, even betrayed, sad and alone. You blew up at her and you had a fight. This wasn't the first time. It is like a rollercoaster of emotional and sexual highs. Then your angst hits and it comes crashing down on both of you. She didn't want to see him anymore to save your marriage. You make up and have sex. You think how hot it was that she spent a romantic weekend with him, that she didn't call, ignored your text. You wish you didn't lash out at her.

Alone you masturbate. You think about that pain she caused you. About her with him telling him she loves him like a thousand times. You are eager for her to do it again. You don't want her to leave him to save your marriage. She does do it again. They see each other to talk about what happend between you and her. They can't resist and make love. Only this time she doesn't tell you. You snoop and find out though and it feels like she cheated on you. Again the angst hits like a car hitting you head on, or someone reaching into your body and pulling your heart out.

You tell her you know. You forgive her though. Encouraging her to keep seeing him.

One day you go on a website. A website you never thought you would be on. There are so many choices. Micro, short, small sized cages. Rings that hold it into place. You do it. You order a micro chastity cage for your tiny little sissy dick. So you can lock it up.

It feels so arousing when it arrives. You try it on. It feels tight around your balls and restricting around your dick. But you like it. You wear it all day and it reminds you, you are a cuckold, a sissy. It feels submissive, it feels right. You want your wife to openly cuckold you. Even cheat on you if she wants. Your dick swells but it can't get hard. A feeling that is hard to describe, blood is flowing to your dick. It is a warm pleasure a feeling of humiliation and arousal. You show your wife and she laughs. "It is so cute, you really are tiny." Her words should humiliate you but they arouse you too. So much so you make sure you tell her it is a micro cage. It helps, she spends the night with him and you feel the pleasure and pain of the cage all night. Like she is giving you a gift, being at another mans house and making love. The cycle goes on and on. She takes it off. You slip inside her, then you unintentionally slip out and she laughs. "Your little dick isn't made to stay inside me, that is what my boyfriends cock is for." Again you should feel humiliated but it gets you harder. You rub your dick on her pussy and cum so fucking hard your toes curl. You both want it but you can't admit it as fact, not fantasy. You want to be pussy free and she doesn't want your dick in her pussy anymore. She fantasizes and masturbates about having sex with other men, she craves and desires sex with her boyfriend when she cums on her vibrator.

You fantasize about and masturbate thinking about her getting fucked like a slut by other men. you crave for her to see her boyfriend again and make love to him so you can be and feel like the sissy cuckold you are. You want to accept it. You understand she might leave you, you don't want her too but it is an arousing thought. A fantasy you don't want to come true but accept that it might. Her leaving you for another man she loves. You are now being emotionally cuckolded. Uncertainty is part of life. It is time. To lock it up, time for permanent chastity. Time for her pussy only to be for other men.

[varpusvaras]

If someone ever asked Roy what Jason reminded him of, he would've said a cat.

A big, black, fluffy cat that would pretend to not even notice you for half a day, but would then proceed to flop right on top of you when you least expected it and leave you coated in fur.

A very cute, big, black, fluffy cat, of course, if Roy was being precise.

Yeah, that was his boyfriend.

His boyfriend, who was currently curled up on the bed like he truly was the cat he so reminded Roy about, his face pressed against Roy's thigh. Combined with the dimness of the room, it was almost enough to hide the fact that there was a large, nasty bruise covering half of Jason's face at the moment.

Almost.

"How did you even manage to get this?" Roy asked. It was mostly a rhetorical question at that point, just whispered out loud, because it was in the middle of the night and Jason was definitely ninety percent asleep already and was not going to give Roy a coherent answer. That was what one got after finishing up a two-days long mission and then deciding to instantly drive to the other side of the country, instead of staying put and resting after said two-days mission.

To be fair, if Roy was being completely honest, he did like Jason being home sooner than later. It wasn't a particularly big secret that Roy didn't hold much love for Gotham, after all, even if Jason still called the city home as much as he called their house home. He just...felt better when Jason was with him, especially after more grueling missions, and he was pretty sure that Jason knew it, even if they had never outright discussed it out loud.

Jason made a noise under his breath that quite honestly sounded like a kitten whining, and Roy had to bite his lip a little to not laugh at it. It would've been an affectionate laugh, of course, but better not risk it.

"Yeah, yeah." Roy ran his fingers through Jason's hair. "Mister always wearing a helmet. I'm gonna fix it up for you."

Jason made another noise, a softer one this time, and he settled further into the mattress as Roy continued to stroke his hair. Roy waited for a moment, then two, and when he was positive that Jason had fallen asleep, he slowly got up and made his way to the garage.

Despite being probably already bone-tired by arrival, Jason had still meticulously gone through their agreed homecoming routine. Lian knew about their identities, of course, and she was a smart girl, but all of the gear still belonged outside the main house. It had been Jason making most of the rules when it came to his own gear. He hated the thought of others touching it without his permission, and he especially hated even the idea of Lian touching it and somehow getting hurt. Sometimes it was like Jason was convinced that even looking towards any part of his gear would hurt Lian, which was something Roy felt like needed a licenced therapist to fully unpack. He did appreciate the care Jason displayed towards Lian, though, so he wasn't going to complain about it to Jason's face.

Thinking about Lian and Jason's face made Roy grimace. Jason didn't like letting Lian see him hurt, no matter how big or small. A bruise that was covering half of Jason's face was going to be hard to hide, though Roy knew that Jason would somehow be able to manage it. Painfully and by gritting his teeth, but he would.

Roy knew what it was all about. He wasn't stupid.

Roy flicked the lights on in the garage, before making his way to the cabinet Jason had claimed for himself. By this point, Roy had an open invitation to Jason's armor and weapons, as he was the only other person who knew how everything worked precisely. Roy was also pretty sure that Jason knew that Roy liked fixing things up for him, and he let him do it because it was an easier way to accept a display of affection than having to listen someone promise him everything, once again, while holding all the power to take their words back without a warning.

Roy went through the plan of action in his head while he unlocked the cabinet. He would need to fire up the workbench and get the electrical tools out in order to get the helmet fixed. Maybe he could draw up some plans how to make the front more durable while keeping it absorbant enough that it would still be the helmet taking the brunt of the hits and not Jason's head underneath it. It would take some time to figure out, but Jason would probably let him make him a new one if Roy just managed it. It would mean that the times of Jason having hard to hide-injuries would be lessened, after all.

Maybe he could manage to adjust the color, too, just to make it a little less vibrant. Roy was starting to seriously think that the helmet was beginning to act like the red capes in bullfighting, inviting more and more hits directly towards it simply because it was there. He wouldn't have been surprised if it really was so. Gotham was messed up, and the rogues playing a game of "who manages to break in the Red Hood's helmet and face first" sounded entirely plausible. This wasn't the first time Jason had come back sporting similar injuries, though usually they were either a little smaller, or Jason had had to stay in Gotham for longer and they were already fading by the time he got back.

Jason would most likely say no, though. The red was part of his brand at this point, it was meant to make an impression to anyone seeing it. Just Roy's luck that he had fallen for the theather kid who had not yet left the phase behind.

Not that Roy was ever going to say that to Jason. He was fully aware of the fact that he was the one running around with a bow, after all.

What a pair they made.

Roy smiled. What a pair, indeed, he thought, as he pulled the cabinet door open and proceeded to have Jason's helmet stare right at him from the upper shelf.

The helmet, which was very much not broken.

Roy stared at it for a good while. It was definitely the same helmet Jason had left with to Gotham. There was a small scratch on the paint, just unde the left lense, that Jason had meant to paint over but had not had the time yet. Roy had watched him pack it up with his own two eyes.

If Roy was anyone else, he would've been able to convince himself that there was probably a perfectly simple and harmless explanation. But Roy wasn't anyone else. Roy was who he was, and that was someone who had been fighting increasingly dangerous fights since he was a teenager, and who had seen harm being inflected over and over again and the marks it would leave behind.

Roy stared at the helmet. The helmet seemed to stare back at him, silently daring him to say it out loud.

Roy didn't say it. He closed the door and locked it back up, while something cold settled firmly at the bottom of his stomach.

He stood there for just a little longer, gathering himself, before he silently made his way out of the garage the exact same path he had walked in mere moments ago.

Lian was still asleep when Roy checked on her, and so was Jason when he slipped back into the bedroom. He stirred a bit when Roy laid down as well, not enough to wake up, but enough to turn towards Roy. Roy could see the bruise now in all of its glory, stretching across Jason's skin like a shadow.

Jason's hand was laying between them on the bed, and Roy laced their fingers together, gently and carefully.

Jason's hand was warm. It was enough to chase away some of the cold inside Roy, and he held onto it tightly.

[daisyofwaterdeep]

AAAAAA I LOVE YOU FOR WRITING ROLAN. Istg ive been searching far and wide for rolan fics that hits jusssttt right. I can NOT tell you how many times ive read your potion fic and the caught fic (all parts) in the last 24 hours, practically the only thing ny eyes are glued to

If its not a hassle for you, may u request a continuation for the birthday fic where the reader went home and read the letter. Rolan was busy taking down the decor being all sappy (i love him like this) when the reader is practically panting (they ran). Love confession ensues and rolan finally can wrap his tail around your leg.

Thank you so much, ignore this if you are busy. Please take care of yourself and dont overwork. Ily

this ask made me so happy kjdnvjfnv thank you so much for your kind words!

read the first part here ----- Lia's voice breaks through Rolan's trance.

"Ugh. Who's the animal that left a huge stack of plates in the corner?"

He looks over to see her across the room, hands on her hips and shoulders tight with agitation.

"Pretty sure that was Minsc," Cal pipes up from the second floor balcony, broom in hand, "I saw him and his hamster hunkered down over there, going ham on the...well, ham."

"So they're the bastards that hogged the ham." Lia crouches down and starts stacking the plates into one pile, her annoyance making them clack hard together to the point that Rolan fears one may break, "By the time I got to the buffet, all that was left were those dainty little sandwiches."

"Heh," Cal points at Lia with a grin, "Hogged the ham."

Lia snorts despite herself. "Damnit Cal, I'm trying to be angry."

A rush and crackle of energy cuts their idle chatter, and the three tiefling's eyes go to the portal as it's swirling mass brightens. A moment later, you stumble through. Though you departed less than 30 minutes ago, you look entirely different now. Your perfectly sculpted hair is now limp and loose, strands sticking to your cheeks with sweat. You're bare-footed, your red dress hiked up your thighs and held in a wad by the same hand that holds your shoes. And in the other hand...

Rolan feels the blood drain from his body. He's completely frozen in place, even as your eyes lock onto his and you begin marching over, brandishing the letter in front of you.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Your breathing is harsh, and as you get closer, Rolan can see just how flushed you are. "Are you stupid?"

"Gods, Rolan, what in the hells did you do?" Lia is is at your side in an instant, scowl in place.

"I--" Rolan takes a step back from the both of you, panic rising hot and tight in his throat, "I don't know--"

And he really doesn't. He doesn't understand why you're looking at him with such anger, why your chest is heaving and your eyes are glassy.

You blink and turn to Lia, seeming to only just realize that she's there. And then your head turns to see Cal, broom clutched in his hands as he slowly descends the stairs. Your shoulders deflate and the anger across your face is replaced with sheepishness.

"Come on, Lia." Cal fumbles as he leans the broom against a nearby bookshelf, "You wanted to go grab a drink at the Elfsong, didn't you?"

Lia's jaw works as she glares at Rolan, clearly wanting to know just what in the hells is going on, but a glance at your embarrassed face makes her huff and turn on her heel. "Whatever's happening, you better fix it, Rolan."

Rolan silently agrees as Cal and Lia cast one last look back at the two of you before disappearing through the portal. You turn to confirm that they've left before raising the letter once again and frowning at him.

"What is this?"

Rolan doesn't answer. He's confused, sure, but he's also in shock. He hadn't prepared to be confronted with his letter so soon. And with such vitriol.

Your lips thin at his silence and you bring the paper up to your face. "I am aware that the feelings I harbor are entirely one-sided. Despite this, I hope you think no less of me for this confession." You turn your eyes back to him and brandish the letter once again, "Are you stupid?"

"Am I...um..." Rolan can feel his blood thundering hot in his veins, his stomach flipping uncomfortably at hearing his written words read out loud. "I...I don't--"

You cut off his stumbling words as you take a step forward. "You sit up here in your big fancy tower, thinking you're so clever, assuming you understand me." You smack your hand against the letter, "You go so far as to write me a confession, but you just--" You smack the paper again as your voice raises an octave, "You just get it all wrong!"

Rolan's lips flounder silently as he tries to figure out what to say. He wishes he could melt into the floor.

You take another step forward and shove the letter against his chest. Your eyes shine brightly and your chest heaves as you look up at him.

"You're really telling me that you had no idea that I'm in love with you?" You scoff, voice nearly hysteric, "You stupid..." You raise your fist and bring it weakly back down against his chest, "Idiot!"

Rolan swears that his heart stops beating.

You're...in love with him? Did he hear that right? There's no way that's what you just said. He replays your last words in his head, again and again, trying to figure out if there's something he's misinterpretting.

You stand before him, so close that he can smell the wine on your breath, looking up at him, clearly waiting for something.

Rolan clears his throat, but his voice still comes out as a scratchy whisper.

"Could you....say that again, please?"

"Say what?" You bite back, exasperated, "That you're an idiot?"

"No, the other thing."

You huff. "What, that I'm in love with you? Are you telling me that you really didn--"

Hearing it again finally cements the truth of it into Rolan, and he breaks your sentence off with a kiss. He feels the edge of your last word dwindle out in a sigh as your shoes clatter and the letter flutters to the floor. Your hands find his back, just as his tail finds your ankle and wraps around it snugly.

Perhaps he's not the brightest when it comes to matters of love, but now that he knows your feelings, he's damn well not going to squander them.

[awkward-fink]

„Love you, please take care of yourself.” You say, your fingers clutching onto the doorframe so hard you would surely leave imprints behind, but you didn’t care in this moment. Because in front of you stands your husband, lopsided smile on his face, clean shaven and his mohawk freshly touched up by your hands and his careful instructions. "Love ye back, hen. Ah'll be back quicker than ye can believe." He murmurs to you, accent thick and his eyes bright.

You don’t want him to go, you don’t want him to leave you behind again and do something crazy he will tell you all about later (or Gaz will spill the beans, like the time your husband decided to nearly drop a half of a warehouse on his head! Thank you Gaz.).

“It’s jist three months, gie or tak a wee bit, love. Ah’ll be back sune.” “I’m gonna miss you so much, Love.” “Ah'm gonnae miss ye even mair.” “Did you pack the lunch I ma-“ you cant end your sentence as your husband leans into your face, his lips warm and inviting and firm on your own, shutting up every train of thought you had as he kisses you breathless and stupid.

You only remember after you had closed the front door, calmed your racing heart and looked into the kitchen. And there it was, the small package of sandwiches you had made for your husband to take with him, untouched and sloppily wrapped, just like you had placed them there. And the lunch you had made, spaghettis with tomato sauce, was also untouched. Your heart sank.

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

“-and then he just goes off to wherever and leaves behind the meal I made for him! This isn’t fair, Leonora!” you pant at the end of your tirade, angrily huffing and growling as you drink the tea your friend and neighbor made in one go, nearly burning your tongue in the process.

“Oh dear, well, honey, how do I say this…” your elderly neighbor wiggled her glasses with one finger, tilting her head from left to right, the curls on top of her head not even moving once. (Soap had once joked that Leonora put so much gel and hairspray into her mountain of curls, she could headbutt any men or women into submission with only one headshake.) “Your food is…” Your shoulders shake and sag as you watch your friend try to think of a way to describe your food in a way that would not totally mortify you or send your soul into hell.

“Bad? A disaster? Hellish? Even a demon would recoil from that torture?” “No, Honey- what I meant to say was, that you have a talent.” Your posture straightens and your eyes glimmer in hope- “You have the talent to burn water.” – only to turn watery and gloomy as your friend goes on with her words.

“That’s not nice…” “But sadly true.”

Leonora leans over the table to pat your shoulder gently, giving you a smile like only a loving grandmother can give. Your eyes turn towards the forgotten sandwiches, which looked even sadder than before and yes, maybe it smelled a little off, but it surely couldn’t be that bad…

You both watch as the single cucumber slice slowly slides down at the side, giving a squelching plopping sound as it hit the table. There is silence for a few seconds before you turn hurt and sad eyes on Leonora, who only pats your shoulders again.

“Kyle told me, that Johnny prefers the mess hall food over mine. The mess hall! No one likes the food from the mess hall!” you are close to sobbing, clutching the mug of tea to your chest like a lifeline.

“Oh dear... Well, there is one thing we can do.” “There is?” “I meet my other friends every Tuesday night for a bit of cards and cooking. How about you come beforehand, and I can teach you some recipes? And the base techniques of cooking?” “You would do that for me?” “Yes, dear. Can’t have your man avoiding home because you cant cook. Think about the children you will have to feed someday!” “You are a saint! Thank you! Please, I beg of you, help me!”

You felt better now, Leonora would help you, she would rescue your culinary skills from the depths of nothing they were at and rise you up towards normal housewife-level meals, you were sure! This would be a piece of cake!

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IT WAS NOT A PIECE OF CAKE! Leonora was menace, a demon from hell! She was a strict and harsh teacher, and you lost count of all the times she hit your arse with a wooden cooking spoon. It felt like you lived through a montage of training! It started with only Tuesdays and then Thursdays as well, and Sundays to help with baking for church! And then Leonoras friends, a gang of grannies, took it upon themselves to further your training!

You chopped and sliced and diced and julienned until your hands could do it perfectly in your sleep (“That is not uniform, this piece of carrot it slightly off! Again!” Julia barked at you, the waif of a woman poking you with her bony fingers until you got it right).

You helped with shopping, hauling load after load of ingredients, having to run back to the shops every time you got some of the listed items wrong (“This is a bitter melon and not a cucumber, run again little chicken, run again!” Tia Zia cackled after you, sending you right back out into the rain again to run to the store before it closed in 5 minutes).

Soon you were frying (“Make it hotter, the potatoes will soak up all the oil if its not hot enough!”), baking (“Is that salt in the cookies? Honey where was your head?”), kneading Pasta from scratch and finally, you cooked a whole meal for the gang of furious grannies and felt like you were back in school, in your exams, your heart racing as the committee of specialists discussed your results before turning to you with hard eyes and grim faces.

“Dear, this food is-“your heart sank and raced at the same time, your stomach dropping as Aunty Angela cracked her neck as she tried to look at you sternly, “this food is good. It is edible and even tastes better than what my niece Lilly makes. Congratulations!”

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“You sure you don’t want to go to another diner before I get you home to your wife?” Johnny snorted and rubbed his overfilled stomach. He was sure he was having a foodbaby growing in there after this morning and this midday. His teammates had stuffed him with pancakes and hashbrowns and every other item of breakfast they could get their hands on and then they did it again at lunch! He was so full; he would hurl if he had to eat another piece of food!

“Naw, it’s awright. Ah’m fair burst, ah cannae eat another thing. An’ Gaz promised he’d send me a care package in a few days.” He smiles at his Captain, rubbing his bulging stomach and fighting down a burp that was stuck in his throat. “Yeah well... next mission is not so far away, no worry. And Ghost packed the rest of the MRE’s into your bag for emergencies.” “Ta, Captain. She's a braw wife in everythin' else, but her cookin' is…” he falls silent and only grins. And then the car is already coming to a stop and his heart beats faster in his chest. He is so close to take his wife into his arms again, to kiss her silly and then sweep her off her feet and into the bedroom, where- “Cheers fur the lift, Captain. Right nice o’ ye!.” “Was on the way. See you soon, stay strong.” “A'll dae that! See ye in a few days tae weeks!" Johnny gives a sloppy salute before rolling out of the car, dragging his luggage out from the backseat to lug it right after him.

And then he is off, loping up the way towards the front door, which is already opening and his wife, the love of his life stands before him, her eyes shining and her hair glossy and her skin looking silky smooth and soft and he can’t wait to wrap his rough hands around her and sink into her softness, be back home again.

He doesn’t remember what he said, or what she wanted to say, his lips are on hers, his arms hold her tight to himself and they stumble inside. And then he comes to a stop, his nose twitching as he sniffs the air, his head turning towards the kitchen. “Sointhing smells awfy guid.” He murmurs and stares at you as if you had grown a second head. “Thank you, it’s a new recipe I tried.” He swallows, his mouth watering. His eyes roaming over her happy glowing face. “Ye... ye cooked this?" “Yeah. And don’t worry, I followed the recipe to a T.” You beam at him, your hands stroking over his arms and shoulders and down his torso, making sure he was alright, holding onto him with delight and happiness radiating from you.

And Johnny, still filled with food and stuffed to the gills with cheap cheeseburgers from lunch, takes another whiff before a soft, but cautious smile steals over his lips. “Ah could dae with some food."

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He must have died. It tasted great.

[scudismystud]

You’re on the right track but I think there’s more to it than that though. Spoilers under the cut.

Gale was told from a very young age that he would be a great wizard so he has to shoulder the expectation that he has to become one again after his falling out with Mystra (which I am of the opinion they were both wrong it wasn’t him just messing up with her- she was also using him but that’s a whole other conversation). Gale believes his only worth is if he is a great wizard and that is so heartbreaking. This is why he is so willing to sacrifice himself at the drop of a hat. He believes that if he can’t be as powerful as he was with Mystra and heralded as a great wizard instead of a great disappointment that he might as well give his life in a heroic way. He desperately wants to be great - like he views Mystra to be.

The reason he talks about her so often is because he wants to be her. This is clear when you reach Act 3 and he starts talking about the idea of becoming a god himself. Gale has megalomaniacal tendencies and will either pursue them if left to his own devices by the player because he just wants to be great. It isn’t until the player chooses options to tell him that he isn’t defined by his magic or grand power that Gale starts to realize he has worth just being himself outside of magic and Mystra. Yes he will always love magic but he becomes aware that it’s something he can enjoy without having to idolize Mystra in the unhealthy way he does through the first act of the game.

Relating back to your analogy, I think this is more of a case where Disney had all of the legal software to draw and you show talent from a very young age and everyone says you’re going to be the next great artist so Disney CEO hires and then starts sleeping with you when you’re of age. As you get older and your relationship is getting closer (at least on your end you believe the relationship is equal) you start asking for better software you know the ceo is using but they keep telling you that you aren’t good enough.

You then find out there’s a hidden software online that you’ve been told is an altered version of Disney software. You download it in the hopes of bringing it to Disney ceo thinking they’d be happy you found upgraded software for them but then they’re mad at you. They cast you out of their circle.

You then get a virus from that program that is going to slowly kill your computer if you don’t keep letting it eat your files and even though you can still use your other programs from Disney they don’t work like they used to so you can’t make art as great as you once did. You then are told by that ceo that they can stabilize the computer temporarily but you should get rid of your computer which would also kill you in the process.

On top of that you also find out the software you had downloaded never belonged to Disney to begin with. You find out other software has always existed but the public cannot be trusted with it according to Disney CEO. You find out you’ve been misled by the CEO for years and there’s so much more out there you could sharing with the world. You then start to pursue making yourself a CEO convincing yourself you’ll be different than Disney CEO.

I do think comparing Mystra to a CEO is very fitting because she does have a horrible power imbalance to the relationship she has with Gale so he sees her in a good light despite all the things she does wrong for way too long. I don’t think Mystra is evil but I do think that what she did to Gale was wrong and warped him into the man who thinks he needs to be a god to be worthy of being alive. To reiterate again this is why he is constantly talking about her. He wants to be her. He wants infinite knowledge and magic.

At least that’s what he wants if left to his own pursuits. If you romance him, he then starts to think of a future with you. He still talks about Mystra but it isn’t in the idolizing way it was before (“you make me forget my goddess” line my beloved). He comes into his own as a character who could see himself being happy as Gale Dekarios the man instead of Gale of Waterdeep the great wizard.

I feel like people don't grasp that Gale keeps talking about Mystra because (among other things) he's obssessed with magic.

I think it's hard to understand because in our world, any skill is an existence in and of itself but for a rough example,

Imagine if Disney had a monopoly on drawing. They were in charge of all of the drawing softwares, they own all of the art supply companies and hell, maybe they even own paper.

Now imagine you royally mess it up with the CEO of Disney. You love to draw but anytime you draw, it's ultimately seen or controlled by Disney. It must be rough. I feel for him, I really do.

Mystra isn't just some goddess connected to magic. Since most people can only safely access through the weave and Mystra manages the weave, as far as Gale is concerned, Mystra IS magic.

[sundew199]

tags: reiner x f!reader, implied child birth, fluff,

His world stopped. Everything stopped. Maybe even the beating of his own heart as he heard the cry that instantly rang in his ears even after it had subsided.

They were here. They were…they were here.

And yet Reiner stood there like a statue as nurses rushed around him and he limply held your hand.

Shit. Were you okay?

Breaking out of his trance, like the play button had been pressed on a remote, Reiner hunched over the bed, grasping the back of your head and kissing you just firmly enough to drive his point across.

“I’m so proud of you, you did amazing sweetheart.”

Breathing the words into your lips, pressing his forehead to yours and letting out a choked laugh.

Nine months later, and his life had changed. For the better of course, but it hadn’t quite set in yet.

Nervousness came over him when one of the nurses called him over, holding a pair of scissors maybe, Reiner wasn’t sure, his vision dull and blurry from tears that hadn’t fallen yet clouding his vision. An outline of a baby could be made out, as his shaky hands held what he still thought were scissors and cut something.

Another cry and his heart beat into a panic, looking to the nurse closest to him who gently placed a hand on his shoulder, saying something that he couldn’t quite understand other than,

“It’s okay.”

Hm. For the moment he’d take that nurses word for it, not wanting to dive any deeper into what she could be talking about. Reiner stepped back out of the way as another nurse carried the baby over to where you were on the bed, passing them to you and prompting Reiner to rush back to your side.

Parts of him were irritated with himself for not being able to focus. Like he were in between panic and calm, floating in limbo as the situation and adrenaline hadn’t worn off all the way yet.

“It’s a girl, congratulations.”

Whoever said that sounded sweet and tender, but Reiner didn’t bother to see who as his eyes landed on the baby in your arms, soothed by your presence and gentle voice cooing at them.

He couldn’t help but swallow the lump that had formed in his throat for the hundredth time, hoping it go away as he didn’t want embarrass himself with emotions rising rather quickly. But he also felt himself breaking, withering away from the sight before him.

He wasn’t just a man or a husband anymore. He was a father now. A father to a little girl who’d one day hold him on a pedestal he thinks and see him as nothing less than her hero.

The pressure would be immense, but how could Reiner ever find a way to complain. Just seeing her clearly for the first time had his purpose in life amplified.

“Do you want to hold her?”

Nodding and muttering out a hushed “yes”, Reiner took in a deep breath, wiped his clammy hands on his pants and leaned over to receive the transfer of the baby from your arms to his.

Everything stopped again, so much faster than before. His body steeled where he stood as his baby squirmed in adjustment in his arms, her eyes adjusting to the light and blinking slowly when they finally landed on his face.

Reiner couldn’t stop the quiver in his bottom lip. She was so beautiful. She was so perfect. She was everything he wasn’t, and he’d never been more thankful for that. She had everything of you, all the good, all the kindness and tenderness that once put him back together and he couldn’t be more grateful.

“Hey sweetheart.”

Bringing his finger to trace her soft cheek, blinking away a tear as her tiny hand came to wrap around his finger, increasing the sobs he was trying so hard to stifle but failing so miserably. Fuck, he was ruined wasn’t he? His daughter not even an hour old and look how fast he was crumbling from the tiniest thing she did.

If Reiner were the same person he were a few years ago, he would be questioning what he did to deserve this gift. But now, he stood there in awe, admiring the product of love created by you and him.

Everything had come full circle for him in that moment. All the pain and suffering brought by his own hand and the hands of people who he scorned in the past, had somehow led him to holding his daughter for the first time. Everything suddenly became worth it, because if he hadn’t been set on this path from the beginning, then Reiner wouldn’t have been able to experience one of the best days of his life.

a/n: baby fever has been so bad lately, good lor