#but to get back there i also need to work on this awful habit of overthinking and worrying too much about what i write

[byanyan]

okay i am... feeling some kind of motivated today, so i think... i'm gonna just dig all the way down to the bottom of my drafts and work my way up without letting myself overthink about what i'm writing or whether or not it's "good enough" bc that (plus the number of drafts) it what's been really blocking my progress. anything i get done is getting tossed into my (still paused) queue, and... idk. maybe if i make enough progress i'll let the queue start tomorrow, we'll see

[barkingangelbaby]

I feel like such a broken fucking person lol

I talked way too much in the tags don't read them

[britneyshakespeare]

im just gonna tmi-medication share in the tags real quick

[washeduphazbin]

Hi, I would like to ask for a smut from Adam x fem Reader, his dear wife is going to pay him a visit at his work and in the end they almost get paid for lute

New Eve (Adam x Fem! Wife! Reader)

-SMUT AHEAD MINORS DNI-

Other warnings: Adam Being Adam

I hope I wrote this ask and understood it correctly! Adam is my guilty pleasure. I love men who are dumb as rocks and who are going to be absolutely leashed by even stronger women.

REQUESTS OPEN

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

There's a saying that all good things come in threes, Lilith, Eve, and you. Adam's final wife, who physically couldn't be swayed by Lucifer because Adam had met you in Heaven. When you passed through the pearly gates, you were greeted by none other than the first human himself. You were in awe for about two seconds until you quickly gathered the first man was a complete and utter dickhead. He seemed to falter when you walked past him to greet an angel named Lute, Adam's second in command. She tensed a little as you introduced yourself, ignoring Adam's protests that dubbed you a Queen Mega Bitch.

All this to say, it took about three months before Lute caught Adam sticking his tongue down your throat with you latched onto him like a koala. You made a distressed sound at being caught while listening to Adam laugh above you. You distinctly heard him call your mouth as good as a vagina while pressing a kiss to your hairline. "Adam!" You hissed, pulling on the horns of his mask as he let out a defiant sound, "Inappropriate."

"Ugh yeah, that's kind of my thing, sugar tits."

"You need to not make it your thing, or this thing doesn't happen." You drew your line in the metaphorical sand before marching out of the room, faintly hearing Lute argue about Adam's behavior behind you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Two years later, you were Adam's new 'Eve' in heaven with two golden rings to prove the love that formed between the two of you...somehow. Did the both of you fight constantly? Yes. Did you want to wring his neck every time he opened the gaping hole he called a mouth? Also Yes. But did you love him...unfortunately. Even though he had a laundry list of bad habits, a vulgar mouth, and gross hobbies, he had his moments. He was protective, fiercely so, and despite his fuck boy personality, he only had his sights set on you. Lute often asked you what you saw in Adam, and you'd reluctantly sigh and give a tired grin, "He makes me laugh. Plus, with proper motivation, he's putty in my hand." Lute made a sound of understanding, nodding her head,

"Ah, yes. Use your feminine wiles to control those weaker than you, even if they may be physically stronger. We must use what we are given as women. Well, you must. I'm very strong without using that to my advantage."

"Yes, exactly," You snickered as Lute stopped outside Adam's office. "Which is exactly why Sera put me in charge of convincing Adam to meet with The Morningstar's daughter." You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "I'll see you back here later, then?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lute bowed, "I wish you luck...you'll need it. He's in one of his moods." before taking off into the sky and down the hall. You reached up with a stretch of your arms, fluffing up your wings to look extra pretty before knocking on Adam's door,

"Adam." You hummed, knocking on the grand marble door once before opening it. You leaned against the entranceway, wings brushing against the floor, as his head shot up.

"Sugartits!"

"Not my name!" You dodged Adam's hug with a flurry of your wings; he grinned, shoving the door closed with his hip. "Adam," you said in warning as he used his angelic magic to fly towards you and trap you within his arms.

"and what would you prefer I call you? My Bitch? Wifey?" He mused, peppering sloppy kisses against your cheek and down your neck. "We could go with Queen or Goddess, preferably." You shot back, dragging Adam down to sit in his chair; you hummed gently, removing his mask from his face. He leaned back, kicking his legs up on the desk as you slid down into his chest, straddling his hips. You hummed, running your fingers through his brown hair, and he melted into your touch, "My name works, too."

"I guess we can settle on Queen. Does that make me your King?" Adam preened as you scratched under his chin,

"Without a doubt...but we must talk about the Young Morningstar."

"Who?" He made a faux confused face which you raised an eyebrow back at in response, "Ugh, Lucifer's cunt daughter. What about her?"

"She's been begging for a meeting. I suggest you meet with her." Your lips began to trail down his neck, nipping at his skin as his body flushed.

"But that's so much work, sugar." He groaned, running his clawed hands through your hair, "Can't I just say fuck off back to hell we're gonna exterminate all of you regardless."

"Sera wants you to at least meet with her one time; she's giving you a lot of trust to handle this on your own."

"And if I do what you ask, what'll you give me?" He mused, eyes sparkling. You huffed, hitting him with the back of your wing, and he laughed, "Come on, you gotta sweeten the deal for me, mama."

"You're such a bastard." You huffed, moving to pull your hair out of your face. He moved his legs to the ground, and you could slide between his knees. "Robe off unless you want dirty," you commanded as Adam fumbled out of it quickly.

"I love you~" He leaned back with a sly grin, hand reaching up to move your head closer to his lip. Your fingers spread across his thighs, and you huffed softly, looking up at him.

"I love you more. If I do this for you, you promise to meet with young Lady Morningstar?"

"You can't just fuck me because you love me?"

"Bite me." You sneered, but there wasn't any malice in your voice as he stood up, picking you up off the ground and pressing your back against his desk.

"Oh, it would be my pleasure. I can't say your robes will survive, though I might need to get you some new ones." Adam popped the buttons on your robe, allowing your body to be laid bare for his eyes. He watched your breathing hitch as his long claw trailed down your neck to your chest. "Fuck I love these puppies, you know that?" Adam grinned, grabbing fistfuls of your breasts, squeezing and kneading to his heart's content. Your husband was like an oversized golden retriever. When he sees something he likes, he obsesses over it like a man deranged. His favorite playthings of yours were your tits and ass. "Any meetings?"

"None. I'm yours for the rest of the day. You can mark me how you'd like; I'm yours, my husband. Well, until you meet with the Princess."

"Fuckkkkk yeah, baby, come 'ere." Adam dove between your breasts, and he felt you suck in air through your teeth. He began to bite and suck on the supple flesh of your chest; you keened, arching into his mouth, hands tangling in his brown hair. You could tell from the way his teeth would graze against your nipples and your flesh he was doing everything in his power to leave marks on the skin.

"Adam...ngh." You panted, feeling his hand move down from your breast to slide down your stomach and between your legs. "Shit," You squeaked, feeling him tease your clit with his thumb and forefinger with a dopey grin on his face.

"There's my favorite girl," He flicked your nub skillfully; for being a massive asshole, this prick sure knew where to find your clit. One finger slid between your folds, and you tossed your head against the cold marble desk. "Damn, only one finger has you acting up? I must not be treating you good enough," He purred as another finger entered you, stretching you out to be big enough for, 'the first ever man god created.' Adam watched with delight as your wings spread out and trembled, glowing with a soft golden glow. "That's it, you're being such a good girl for me. Are you ready?"

"Yes." You panted, "Adam, please."

"God, you beg so nicely, you little slut," His hand reached up to grip your throat, causing you to let out a desperate whine, hips bucking into his fingers. "Beg Harder," He demanded, moving your hand to palm him through his trousers, stiff and aching. "Look at how hard you make me. How desperate. I need you to worship your god."

"Yes, sir." You purred, "You're my God, Adam. I need you, I'd worship for your love, your touch, your dick." You dragged your hand up your chest, playing with the swell of your own breast, "Don't you want to make me happy, baby?"

"More than anything." Adam's eyes lit up in elation, "Stay with me. Don't go to Lucifer. You're mine." He snarled, hands around your throat, "Say it."

"I'm with you. Only you. Forever Adam." His entire body seemed to relax when you said that, pressing gentle kisses to your cheek and lips. "I love you, you annoying Dickweed."

"Love you more, Sugartits." He grinned cheekily before lowering himself to you with a hiss-like laugh. "Tight as ever, and that's why I love you,"

"If you keep talking nonsense while you're literally inside me, I'll cut off your dick,"

"Sounds kinky."

"Adam."

"Fine, Fine, you're so vanilla." He mused, albeit his tone was much softer, fonder than his earlier teasing. His hands grabbed under your knees and pressed you close with a snap of his hips. You both let out a moan, yours higher pitched and needier, bucking your hips, searching for more friction than he was currently providing. You always savored the way he was able to fill you up, he wasn't the longest but god was he thick filling you in all the right ways. Every time his hips snapped into you, you could feel just how deep he kissed your cervix. "Yeah, you like that?" He panted, "Like how deep I'm getting? From the way you're dripping, you're practically soaking through my table. Your vag is like a vice, babe, so tight for this big cock."

"Hm. Your words always know how to turn me o-ng-ff." You moaned out this end at a particularly sharp thrust of his hips. "Fuck you," You panted as he grinned down at you,

"Good news, wifey, that's exactly what we're doing-"

"Sir!" You let out a scream as Lute slammed the door of his office open, you climbed against Adam's body like an embarrassed Nun. He groaned, still inside you but having the decency to cover you with his wings.

"What do you need, Lute? I'm a little busy getting it on with my sexy ass wife." Adam complained, motioning to the top of your head, to which you made an embarrassed sound of mortification. "Can this be rescheduled or-"

"The Princess of Hell is here, Sir. She just showed up-"

"Are you for real telling me that the bitch Princess of Hell is seriously cucking me right now?!"

"...Yes."

"(Y/n) If I killed her for interrupting us, would you be pissed?"

"Beyond Adam."

"Fuck."

[inkdrinkerworld]

Early seasons Spencer Reid was BORN to be a loverboy 💞💞 fawning over your every move and blushing the second you look at for too long 💞💞💞 (I need him REALLY bad omg…)

Ah I just realized I did it the other way round! Spencer blushes every time he looks at you

“You’re gonna catch flies in there,” Derek tells Spencer, barely looking up over his desktop as he types at his desk.

Emily pipes in next, “Or drool on your pretty green sweater vest and then where is she meant to rest her head on the jet?”

Spencer’s mouth snaps shut immediately. His teammates have an awful, familial, habit of trying to embarrass him for his blatant affection and preference for you.

Spencer noticed they don’t give you nearly as much stick as they do him.

You’re something special to Spencer, something right out of the fairytale books his mom read to him when he was a child before he started reading them to her.

Sure you’re not the perkiest and smiliest person in the world, but Spencer likes you just the way you are.

“I’m not drooling,” still he wipes his mouth and peers down to his vest. There’s no drool, thank god.

“Here you go, Spence.” You set down a mug of steaming coffee on his desk, rolling your eyes when Derek wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You hand coasts through Spencer’s hair and he feels the heat in his body rise. It’s like your touch sets a livewire off and every nerve ending is fizzling under your touch.

He’d been meaning to cut it, but your hands gravitate to his hair every time he’s within reaching distance and he can’t bring himself to make the appointment.

“You two are sick,” Emily gags when Spencer leans into your hand, you roll your eyes again.

“You two are bored and should be working on not letting Garcia hack into your highschool’s yearbook data.”

Derek launches an almond at your head, it just barely misses you. You laugh when Emily slumps into her chair, clearly remembering the yearbook debacle a year ago. You give Spencer a quiet smile before making your way to your desk.

He watches you go and feels guilty for the way his gaze drags over you. Cheeks flaming.

Spencer doesn’t quite settle back into his newspaper the way his friends settle into whatever’s on their desk.

It’s hard when he can smell your toasted marshmallow perfume lingering on the shoulders of his sweater vest.

He can also feel the heat of your palm on his shoulder still and it makes his cheeks flush; he looks down immediately.

Spencer wills his cheeks and neck to cool. He doesn’t know if he can handle Emily or Derek catching him again.

He cautions a glance in your direction ten minutes later, finding you tapping your pen along your lips as you read over your crossword puzzles.

Spencer’s itchy again, skin flushed and hot as he watches your lips move with every tap. You smile when you find the word and Spencer’s stomach erupts with butterflies.

In quiet moments like this, where you can’t tell that Spencer is looking at you, Spencer thinks you’re the most gorgeous.

This unsurprising beauty that stops his breath short- your hair is falling out of your braids, framing your face and even in your stiffly starched blue pinstripe shirt and jeans you look soft.

Spencer feels heat shoot up his neck as he realises his daydream is obvious, he takes a sip of his coffee and his heat only gets worse.

Derek looks up when he hisses and chuckles, shaking his head when Spencer doesn’t even try to take his eyes off you.

[sanguineterrain]

Sanne can we get a part 2 for reporter!reader?? Picking up where it first left off their first night in the same home - and there's only 1 bed! - and reader shares the bed with him with the promise of not looking at his unmasked face in the middle of the night? And like them realizing over the next few days that they have very similar habits like tendencies to work throughout the night once they've got a lead and not having a set sleep schedule/unconventional sleeping hours.

OKAY HERE WE GO! be fed my lovelies <3 didn't exactly do one bed but hopefully you like it anyway ;) pt 2 of this

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. nightmares, hurt/comfort, jason sexy mf todd being a domestic dreamboat. 2.4k. pls enjoy

****

The Red Hood's apartment is... not at all what you expected.

It looks lived in. It, as awful a thought as it is, looks like an actual person lives here.

And it's not that you didn't know that Hood has a life outside of shooting and scaring, but the giant ficus and the overstuffed bookshelf seem paradoxical to everything you know about Hood.

You're realizing that you don't know him at all.

"So, uh." Hood awkwardly gestures to the apartment. "This is it. Welcome."

"It's nice," you say, stepping over the threshold. "Really nice. I'm a little jealous, Red."

"What can I say? Being public enemy number one is surprisingly lucrative."

You wander to the kitchen. There's a picture of him and a red-headed masked man who looks vaguely familiar. The man is smiling, his arm around Hood. There's a city skyline behind them you don't recognize.

"Where's that?" you ask. You don't expect him to answer.

"Morocco."

"I didn't know you had friends," you say, studying the Welcome to Vegas! magnet that's holding up the picture.

"Ouch."

"No, I—" You turn, shaking your head. "Sorry, no. I meant, like, people you do fun things with."

"Mm, yeah, I know what a friend is."

"Red, you know what I mean. I didn't know you took selfies and kept plants and read."

"Thought I was friendless and illiterate, huh?" He leans against the kitchen table, fist tucked under his helmet. "Y'wouldn't be the first."

"Hood—"

He snorts, shoulders shaking. You stop.

"That's not funny," you say, rolling your eyes. "Jerk."

"It's a little funny. You're always so sharp with your words, smartypants. No, while I'm very literate, friends are admittedly far and few. Arsenal's my closest friend."

"Is he also a crime lord?"

"Nah. Way better guy than me."

You look back at the picture and wonder how often Hood gets to experience joy. And when was the last time he had a vacation?

You feel a gentle tug at the back of your jacket.

"C'mon. You can snoop more later, promise. Lemme show you your room."

Hood takes your suitcase before you can protest. You follow him down the hall. There's one door to the bathroom—the other is to a single bedroom.

The bedroom is nice, bigger than yours at home. It's sort of what you expected (i.e., the mounted katanas on the wall) but also not (a giant framed poster of the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film).

Holy hell. You're in the Red Hood's bedroom.

"Hood, I can't sleep here," you say, watching as he puts your suitcase in the corner.

The bed has been made, sheets tucked in without a single wrinkle. They're in various shades of red. You're sure Hood thinks he's hilarious.

"Why? If the swords are putting you off, I can move 'em."

"No, it's—I can't take your room, Hood. There's no way I'm doing that."

He shakes his head. "No, trust me, it's for the best. That couch is only comfortable to sleep on after a dose of painkillers."

"Dude, I am not making you sleep on the couch in your own house."

"Well, dude, I'm the host, and I'm the big and scary Red Hood, so what I say goes."

"Like either one of us actually believes that," you say, brushing past him to grab your suitcase. "I'm not kicking you out of your bed. It's–it's very sweet of you to offer. But you physically exert yourself every day. You need a comfortable bed more than I do. Besides, it's not like I'll be here for long."

Hood steps in front of you, casually blocking your exit.

"Well, try this on for size: my room is more secure than my living room," he says. "If someone were to break in, they'd have to get through me out there first."

That... is, unfortunately, a good point. You're still extremely paranoid after the assassination attempt two nights ago.

"You're so manipulative, y'know that?" you grumble, leaving your suitcase where it is.

"I know. I come from a real fucked up family." He doesn't sound too put out by it.

"But if you get injured on patrol, I'm sleeping on the couch."

He pats your shoulder. "'S cute you think you can bargain in my house, smarty."

****

Dinner goes well. Hood makes beef bolognese and it's delicious. You take an extra long time in the bathroom before bed so Hood has enough time to eat, considering his refusal to remove his helmet. You'd offered to blindfold yourself—he'd just laughed.

"Sure you don't want your room? It is, after all, yours," you say when you come out, fresh from your shower.

Hood glances at you briefly from where he's washing dishes. He's out of his jacket and suit, now only in jeans and a white t-shirt. Your face feels hot for some reason.

"I'm sure. Cute robe."

"Oh." You look down at the Wonder Woman robe your friend gave you. "Thanks. Got it for my birthday."

"I'll have to get myself one too," Hood says, drying a glass with a polka dot tea towel. "Big Wonder Woman fan."

"Yeah? We solve this case, and I'll get you all the robes you want, Red."

"Tempting."

You chew your lip as you watch him clean up. "Want any help?"

"Go to sleep, star reporter." He sounds amused.

"You try to be a polite guest only to get shot down..." you mumble.

On your way to Hood's room, you get distracted by a pile of documents on the coffee table. You stop, picking up the corner to read one. They're about the case, about all the labs that might be involved in the experiments.

Well... you can read just one. It seems like Hood's compiled a lot of information on his own.

You stand for a bit until your legs grow tired. Then you sit on the couch, making notes of what you do and don't know on a nearby writing pad.

"Did you get lost?"

Hood's watching you, leaning against the wall. It's weird to see his bare arms. His very sculpted, muscled arms. You think you peek a tattoo on his bicep.

"My attention was caught," you say, unrepentant. "Anyway, there's a lot of stuff I haven't seen. You've been holding out on me, Red."

"'S just theories, mostly. Didn't feel it was relevant to mention without hard proof."

"Ever hear of a work-life balance?" you ask.

Hood walks over and joins you on the couch, making the cushion dip. You bump shoulders briefly, before you move.

"Look who's talking, Pulitzer prize," he says.

"That's a very reasonable goal, and I'm not obsessed with it. You're just a workaholic. I have activities outside of wo—oh my God, work!"

You shoot up from the couch, panicked. "Fuck. Fuck! I haven't shown up in two days! I'm—"

"Hey, easy," Hood says, propping his socked feet up on the coffee table. "I called you out. Said you had the flu. No biggie."

"How did you call me out?"

He shrugs. "Pretended to be your boyfriend. Girl on the line was kinda rude about it. Didn't believe me at first."

"Red, I believe we've talked about these invasions of privacy."

"I'm just fulfilling my host duties. Is it true you haven't taken a day off in two years?"

You sigh. "Yes, okay? Fine. I'm a workaholic, too. That's why Jane, the secretary you spoke to, was so sassy about my having a boyfriend. It's pretty unbelievable."

"That's ridiculous. You could totally get a boyfriend. Some guys don't mind that."

"Like you?"

Hood tilts his head in acknowledgment. "Sure. Like me."

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly most men."

"And thank God for that."

You look at each other for another moment. Hood's tattoo is in clear view now: it's a bird surrounded by flowers. You can't tell the species of either one.

"Cool tattoo," you say, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth.

Hood turns his arm so the ink is hidden. "Thanks."

"Right." You start to walk backwards. "I think... I'm gonna go to bed."

"Sure," he says. "If y'need anything, holler."

"'Kay. Thank you for dinner. You're a great cook."

"You flatterer."

You smile. "Gotta stay in the Red Hood's good graces."

You start to walk away.

"Do you—waffles?"

You stop and turn. "Sorry?"

"I, uh... do you like waffles? For breakfast," he says. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together. Nervous habit.

"I love waffles for breakfast."

Hood nods. "Great. Good. Then I'll... we'll have those."

"Please don't wake up early just to make breakfast, Red."

"You're my guest. I'll do whatever I want."

You don't recall the prospect of waffles ever making your heart hammer in your chest. Weird.

"Right. Well, goodnight," you say.

"G'night, smarty."

****

You turn the case details in your mind over and over. It's better than thinking about beef bolognese and peeks of skin you shouldn't see and how Hood's sheets smell like lavender.

But you fall asleep thinking about robins. You don't know why. You can't recall ever seeing a robin in Gotham.

You're on a rooftop. It's the roof you met Hood on, all those months ago. There's a robin nesting with its babies on the crumbling bricks.

The sky is a sick shade of green. You see horrible faces in the shadows on the roof.

That face from the night of the attack returns. He's hideous. You remember the stench of his breath, the way his eyes bulged. He grins at you across the roof.

"He should've killed me when he had the chance," he says, voice distorted.

You look around. The robin is gone. Blood drips from your stomach.

You turn and your attacker is there, inches away. He plunges the knife into you again and again. You can't move. This is it. You will die.

You wake up to wet cheeks. You're hot, and you're screaming. You've died.

A cool, rough hand grabs your arm and you fight because you can't die, you won't die. Not today.

"Hey. Hey, hey! It's me, 's J—Hood. It's Hood."

The room is almost entirely dark, save for a sliver of light from the cracked curtains. You can't make out his face. His voice is different. Clearer. He's without his helmet.

You reach out and feel soft hair. The curve of a neck. A bicep. A warm, bare chest.

"Sure, honey. Cop a feel if that makes you feel better," he murmurs.

Your face screws up and you start to cry.

"Shit," Hood whispers. "Shit, shit. Can't get the comforting thing right, can I?"

The bed dips with his weight. Arms wrap around you. You launch yourself into those arms, that solid chest.

"He g-got me in the dream," you choke out. "He killed us, Red. I'm so scared."

"Nobody's getting me or you. I promise."

Hood's jaw is smooth. His hands are big on your back, rubbing circles. His bare knee bumps yours.

You clutch him tighter. He hums.

"'S okay," he says. "It's alright. I got ya. He can't hurt you. I'd tear apart anyone who tries."

He lets you cry for several minutes, petting you all the while. Hood's body is warm, almost unnaturally so, but his hands are cool. He engulfs you completely.

You wonder what color his hair is. His eyes. What shape his nose is. His... lips.

"God, I'm a terrible guest," you mumble after you've caught your breath. "Fuck. I'm so sorry to wake you."

He hums, the sound going through your chest. "Don't worry. I don't sleep much. And you're not the worst guest I've had. My brother stayed with me for a few days last month. That was hell."

"You have a brother?"

"Four, actually. And a sister."

"Wow. Do they know you're...?"

"Yeah. It was a whole thing. They're over it now."

"Cool family."

Hood grunts. "They're... something."

You smile and close your eyes. "You're not who I thought you were, Red."

"Yes, I know. Friendless and illiterate."

You pinch his side. He clucks his tongue in response.

"Cheeky," he says, the gravel in his voice shooting down your spine like lightning.

You pull back, suddenly aware of how long you've been touching him. Hood lets you have your space, scooting to the edge of the bed.

"You know what I mean," you say, glad it's dark and Hood can't see your wide eyes. "Not like that."

"I know. You thought I was a monster, ugly and alone, sleeping in a cave."

Blindly, you reach for his face, feel the shape of his jaw, his chin.

"Doesn't feel like an ugly face to me," you say quietly.

He exhales like you punched the air out of him.

"Trust me," he says. "The dark hides a lot."

You frown and pull away. "I didn't think any of those things, Red. I thought... I thought you were one-track minded. Now I realize that you're probably better adjusted than I am."

"Oh no, I got issues. Believe me. Definitely more than you. Not that it's a competition. 'Cept if it was, I'd win."

You smile. "Title is all yours, big guy. Gotta be a little crazy to do what we do."

"Sure. But you're the bravest soul I know. 'Cause you weren't forced into this. You hunted down the story yourself."

"Brave or stupid?" you ask.

"Brave. But it's a fine line."

Nope. It's definitely more stupid than not, clinging to the Red Hood in his own bed in the name of a case.

What are you doing?

"Ah, anyway." The bed shifts as Hood stands. You can just barely make out the shape of him. "You probably won't be going back to sleep any time soon, huh?"

You sigh. "No, probably not. Please feel free to take back your bed."

"Nice try. You, uh... like hot chocolate?"

"Oh. Yes, I do. But you don't have to do that."

"I've been awake," he says. "No trouble. C'mon."

Hood walks to the door and opens it. Light spills out and for a moment, you have a clear view of his back.

His hair is dark and wavy. His back is covered in silver scars and fresh bruises, broad and muscled. You can see the tendons shift as he walks out.

The Red Hood is a man. Made of flesh and blood. Carved, more like.

Your belly flutters. Fuck.

This is no longer just you working a case. And you're about as far from an informant as anyone can be.

[tyquu]

Ah I remember my question now!! Since Ezra is a growing boy, how does that impact his prosthetic use? I'm assuming they can't just go get him refitted like normal... do they help him resize? Do they build new parts? Or help him find some?

Hiii!! :D) So I doodled out my thoughts as I pondered this question but my handwriting is ass so… I’m also gonna write a little summary too!

Ezra's first Prosthetic was given to him by the same people who performed the amputation on his leg in the first place. Some concerned Lothali citizens who couldn't bare to watch him hop around on his severely infected leg any longer. 12 year old Ezra was pretty pissed about it though (understandably). It didn't help that his first prosthetic was old as balls and awful to walk on.

Thankfully, using bits n bobs he'd collected out on the streets, Ezra was able to tighten the loose hinges at the joints and modify the top to fit better. Alas, he ended up loosing this leg after bopping Kallus over the head with it pretty early on into joining the spectres.

Hera set him up with a pair of crutches and then devoted herself to finding him a replacement. She was determined to find something that was better than his last prosthetic and thought she'd struck gold when she figured out Vizago had one sitting in storage. She haggled hard but eventually managed to pocket the rarity, and delivered it back to Ezra. Sabine helped modify it fit to properly, and to Ezra's delight he discovered that the hinges on this leg were motion activated, and could pack an even better punch (or kick) than his previous one.

Ezra hadn't really manage to curb his habit of using his leg as a weapon on occasion, and during such an incident ended up losing leg 2 (much to Hera's despair). Thankfully, Sabine had helped Ezra do enough maintenance on his last two legs that she was confident she could fix up some similar prototypes using her engineering skills. The spectres all contributed to a scrap box that would be used to build replacement legs whenever Ezra ended up losing or outgrowing one. All of them were very dedicated to scouting out parts for him and happy to help with maintenance.

At some point the rebellion had gotten large enough to start having a more organised healthcare system, and Ezra was offered a spot on the surgery waitlist for cybernetics. Ezra was initially hesitant, however, post the incident on Malachor he eventually agreed.

The cybernetic, although not the most advanced for it's time, is connected to his nerves giving him full mobility over the prosthetic. However, it came with it's own new quirks that took some getting used to. Detaching and Reattaching the cybernetic takes between 2-5 minutes to do, and often requires tools to help, rendering it no longer an option as a spontaneous mid battle weapon. As a result there was no longer need for him to cut holes in the left leg of his trousers either.

Ezra doesn't sleep with the cybernetic (same as one wouldn't with a prosthetic) cause it would be hella uncomfortable. On lazy days, he often goes without it, opting to use crutches around base instead. The cybernetic is waterproof, however, in both snow and sand it can sometimes become clogged and stiff, and may need extra maintenance after the mission is complete. The ghost crew is always willing to help pitch in with their engineering expertise (mainly Hera, Sabine and Chopper) or spare part gathering.

Anywho,,, yeah. I hope that sort of answers that question?? I'm not 100% familiar with how prosthetics and cybernetics work in the Star Wars universe so forgive me if some of this info doesn't check out. ( also if u see a spelling mistake,,, no u don't)

[spideyhexx]

coriolanus being so stressed from all the work he has to do and then he gets home to you.

You’re in a perfect mood, happy to see him, layering on the kisses and sweet touches. He doesn’t mind them but no matter how many kisses you give to his cheek and forehead, and the gentle squeezes on his hand, the tension in his body remains.

Coriolanus feels you watching him closely and at some point he snaps about it, asking what's wrong.

"Take your clothes off." Your voice is softer and quieter than you expect it to be. He cocks his head to the side, his brow furrowing.

he listens. Coryo removes his shirt and pants, hesitating to take his underwear off. "Those too," you butt in before he can even think to ask. He follows your instructions and then sits back down on his chair, a small tint of a blush on his face.

You move onto the ground, gently nudging his legs apart so you can make yourself a home between them.

Soon, his hand finds your head and yours find his thighs, digging your nails into them as you take his cock as deep as you can in your mouth.

He lets you take the reigns, letting out small moans and praises. "I needed this," he'd say through a breathy gasp, his hand holding your head firmly but not pushing it down.

You think maybe he'd even let you control the entire thing. That is until he gets close. That's when you feel the push on your head and his hips bucking up, desperately chasing after a release that he didn't know he needed.

"My good girl, always know what I need hm? Look at you taking it," he lets out a chuckle, completely in awe of you like this is the first time he's ever had his cock in your mouth.

coriolanus also has a habit of not announcing when he's cumming, so when he does, you moan around his cock and he fucks up into your mouth, ensuring you swallow every last drop of him, just how he likes it.

his grip loosens and you take your mouth off of him, panting and leaning your head on his thigh. "Thank you," he whispers, his fingers trailing along your hairline and rubbing your temple.

let's chat about coryo, here :)

[dear-ao3]

well good day to all of you. i have a tale. a classified, certified absolute god tier disaster of a tale.

at the ripe hour of 6:45 am i was awoken from my slumber by a Noise. what sort of noise? you might be asking.

the sort of noise that usually accompanies my father getting up at the ass crack of dawn and trying not to turn on the tap loudly so that he doesnt wake us up.

for one blissful moment i thought that i was at home, in my bed, and all was right with the world.

and then i remembered that i live approximately four hours away from my parents and all is not right with the world.

so i did what any person would do. waited for the noise to go away.

but it did not.

so i investigated. in all my bleary eyed glory.

and found that my bathroom ceiling light was pissing.

not just a little either.

a severe, unauthorized amount of water was streaming out of my bathroom light fixture.

so after banging on katyas door and finding a bucket and throwing on a sweatshirt i dragged my tired ass down to the front desk and reported the tea as it were.

now one thing you need to know about our building is that it is old. the second thing you need to know about our building is that the maitenance guys (we call them the boys) are absolutely incredible, like tumblr funny guy posts but irl, however they take for fucking ever to respond to any situation.

this time though, nothing was in clear danger of exploding or lighting on fire. so we made some breakfast. drank some coffee. watched the bucket that we had put in the bathroom fill up with water. and we waited.

and waited.

and waited some more.

then i noticed that if you stepped on some of our kitchen floor tiles they started squelching.

so back downstairs i went and explained the tea as it were once again.

and let it be known, that i worked for two very solid and very miserable years as a resident assistant in college. i know all about the woes of people complaining to you to fix things that you cannot fix and you cannot tell them when it will be fixed because the person who needs to do the fixing is otherwise indisposed. so my general attitude towards this whole situation was "hey man you can't make this better for me and im really not pressed about it as long as someone eventually comes and sorts out my pissing ceiling." which is a great attitude to have in this general situation. and especially so because it was about to get even more strange.

at approximately 9:30am our apartment was graced by the presence of one of the boys. the maintenance man. we will call him james.

we have encountered james before. he delt with our fuse box nearly exploding. that situation was not nearly as chill as this one was.

hes also incredible.

so he comes in and he goes "hey how's it going" and i say "well you know things are just leaking!"

he proceeds to tell us that the fridge in the apartment above us had a connection pipe that froze and exploded some how and that managed to leak all into our apartment. not nearly what i was expecting but hey! at least they know what's going on!

we tell him about the squelching tiles and he says that he will bring us a dehumidifier after he turns off the water and deals with the mess of the fridge above us. we say ok great! this is wonderful!

and he goes to leave the apartment. out of habit i had locked the door when he entered. he goes "aw man did you lock me in?"

and i say

"oh sorry!"

and he pauses.

and he looks at our door in disbelief. perhaps even utter horror.

and this, my lovely audience, is what he was looking at:

surprisingly. he was not staring at the entertainment for man and horse plaque that katya and i found while thrifting. nay. he was staring at the unfortunate combination of the printed photo of lando norris and max verstappens face.

now why are lando norris and ax verstappen on the back of my door? you might be asking. you might even be asking who they are.

and if youve been following the lore of this blog, you might recognize them as formula 1 drivers. lando norris of course being a mclaren driver and max verstappen being the reigning world champion of team red bull.

and how did they wind up on my door? well at christmas katya thought it would be funny to put a picture of lando norris on top of our christmas tree and so we got one printed at cvs but when you get wallet sized photos printed they print you four of them so we ended up with four of the same photo of lando. one went on the tree, one went to my sister, one is in our bathroom and now one is on the back of our door.

as for max. well. katyas partner drinks red bull and he was on the red bull box so we cut him out and stuck him there. neither of us are particularly big max fans, it was just funny.

but anyway. i digress.

james is standing there staring at this array of perplexing stuff and goes.

"really? him??"

and i go

"yeah..." not knowing what else to say.

and james turns. and he looks at us. and he goes. and i shit you the absolute fuck not.

"now what's wrong with lewis hamilton???"

(sir lewis hamilton being the mercedes f1 driver, 7 time world champion and absolute icon)

and katya and i go

"oh no no! we love lewis hamilton! we just respect him too much to put him on the door!"

which is true

and james goes "now what did you think of him going to ferrari?"

and i say "i thought it was an interesting choice"

and katya says "i was surprised."

and james says "you and me both" and then he shuts the door behind him.

katya and i look at eachother. and we both fall to the floor in fits of laughter.

let it be known that james has come face to face with a giant tapestry of mr worldwide mr 305 pitbull himself that is in our bathroom, on several occasions, and yet, he chooses to comment on our choice of formula 1 driver that is taped to the back of our door.

im still in a state of disbelief. my ceiling is still pissing. my floor is still squelching. and my maintenance man felt the need to call our my choice of formula 1 driver at 9:30 on a saturday morning.

[ghxst-guts]

⋆˚࿔ Oh baby 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

words: 1.1k

warnings: cheating, hurt/comfort, slight angst, neglect of partner, piss kink, slightly dark, slight pevert wanda, stephan strange (yes, he needs a warning), wetting yourself, jealousy, texture issues, alludes to possible eating disorders and possible abuse, smut, praise, degradation, brief ignoring/ghosting, kissing.

relationships: boyfriend!stephan stranger x female!reader & bestfriend!wanda maximoff x female!reader

18+ minors & men dni

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

"oh my, that must have been awful.." wanda whispered, her words tickled against your ears. your boyfriend stephen had canceled on your date and you were upset because you hardly saw him anymore.

you looked down at your nails, picking at the skin near it. this was one of your nervous habits that wanda tried to help you break but it was no use. every time she'd think she got you to stop, it continued.

wanda hummed, with a swift response her fingers brushed your hand. her eyes followed your movement. you met her gaze, she was waiting for you to say something.

"i'm not even surprised, i don't think i'm his first priority. or his second.. or third." your eyes dropped. wanda could feel your pain but didn't comment on it. "it's just more convenient if we were together... i know that our mess of a relationship will be over in a few months." you mumbled, a stray tear escaped your eye.

"oh, baby.." wanda sighed softly, bringing her hand up to wipe your tear. she hated seeing a man, especially one whom she hated, get you all worked up.

you collapsed in her arms, your quiet sniffles filled the silence. her fingers traced circles over your back. her hot breath lingered against your skin. the smell of her sweet perfume.. it was almost too much for you.

almost.

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

your eyes fluttered as you began to feel a warmth pressed against you. it was the arms of your best friend lazily draped around you. she had also fallen asleep it appeared.

your bladder felt full and when you attempt to make a run for the toilet, you found the woman's death grip to be wildly protective. so comforting.. the urge to lay numb against her was strong but you changed your mind when you find yourself nearly having an accident on her.

"wanda" you mumbled softly against her. she shifted in the bed, no response. "wanda" you repeat but the red-head just shushed you and wrapped her arms around your waist. "wandaaa" you whimpered, you couldn't hold it anymore.

wanda felt a warm liquid drip down your leg, spreading all over her bed. she smirked against you, this was her plan all along. to get you all embarrassed and flustered under her. now this isn't exactly how she envisioned it but she can't admit that this wasn't hot.

"oh, detka.. you had a little accident, let mommy help clean you up." wanda's eyes darkened, hovering over you. you hid your face, you were so embarrassed. first you cried to her about your boyfriend and now you've peed all over her bed. there are definitely better ways she could have spent her friday evening and now you've ruined her bed.

"hey, let me see you pretty girl." she cooed at you, removing your fingers from covering your face. she smiled at the reveal of your glossy tears, god you were so beautiful.

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

she noticed after your previous interactions, you wetting her bed a week ago, you had been more distant. she felt hurt and upset that you were avoiding her. she saw you spending all your time with stephen again, you claimed he was trying to "make up for lost time".

she ran into you at the supermarket and to her surprise of course you were with stephen. his hand intertwined with yours while the other occupied his phone. he appeared to be wrapped up in whatever it is he was doing, or whomever he was texting.

wanda bite her lip to hold out the venom she so desperately wanted to let out. instead, she sighed and pushed her cart to align with yours.

"hey, y/n!" she exclaimed, her eyes fixated on stephan and the way he doesn't even acknowledge her presence. y/n looked at stephan nervously, you had on a baggy hoodie and this made wanda suspicious. she furrowed her brows trying to rack her brain why this could be. she knew you hated wearing baggy clothes, it was a texture thing for you.

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

the next time wanda saw you was at a barbecue, you were all dolled up and she wished she could run her hands down your doll-like figure. kiss your soft cheeks, caress your shoulders, leave traces of her all over you. she knew she had to fix things.

wanda saw you with a tray in your hands making your eay to the kitchen so she grabbed a glass and quickly followed behind. finally, she could have a moment alone with you to talk things out. she hate the silence treatment, not being able to hear your sweet voice and laugh that could brighten anyone's mood.

"y/n" wanda called out, in a rush. you emptied the tray into the trash and placed it in the sink. wanda is hovering behind you when you turn around. this startles you and you bump into her. knocking the glass out of her hand.

oh no. "wanda, i'm so sorry-" you exclaimed. you felt so bad, you had been ignoring the girl because of stephen and know you've knocked a glass out of her hand. "No- no, please let me talk y/n." Her eyes full of guilt and sadness.

you nodded, the least you could do was hear her out.

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

"i can make you feel way better than he could.." she purred, exhaling softly against your neck. "let me take care of you, baby." wanda's hands ran through your body. light as a feather but just soft enough to have an effect on you, and she could see it.

she wanted to take her time with you to show you how making love should be like. your eyes widened, nodding. god you've wanted this for so long. "need to hear you say it, darling." wanda whispered, her eyes lingering on you. just aching to go forward but depending on your sweet voice to give her consent.

"i want this wanda" your words muffled against her skin. wanda waited no longer, her hands motioned for you to lay on your back as she hovered over you. she pressed dher lips against yours. you tasted so sweet, it was so addicting.

wanda let out a soft moan against your lips, she sounded so beautiful. you wanted to hear more. her hands lifted up your shirt, exposing your bra-less skin. the moment your shirt departed, the cold air hit your nipples. they began to harden, wanda bit her lip to try and control herself.

she so desperately wanted to take your nipples in her mouth, to suck on them, bite them, pull at them and just abuse them. she resisted, to use for another time. right now, a sweet little thing like you needed to be treated like an angel.

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

wanda's masterlist

[fairysongs]

౨ৎ pretty scary﹕spencer reid .ᐟ

summary: you're having an awful day and your boyfriend is kind of the best person ever.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

includes: reader struggles with bpd, reader has slight mommy issues, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, depictions of overstimulation (NOT the sexy kind), reader has slight mood swings, established relationship, silly fluff, spencer reid is the perfect boyfriend, hurt/comfort KINDA? (reader is upset, spencer soothes her), lowercase writing sorry it's a habit/my preference, Fiona Apple Mention <3

word count: 3.1k

a/n: omg.. hiiii! this is my first silly post on this silly blog and its a very self-indulgent one as someone who has bpd and is told OFTEN how irritable i can get -_- .. im so nervous.com right now bcos ive never posted my writing on here but also excited..? yes yes.. on a huge spencer reid kick so if u liked this and have any requests they are open!! likes/reblogs/any feedback much appreciated :3!

today was just not your day.

the morning started out fine. it was actually kind of perfect. you spent the night at your boyfriend’s place, waking up just in time to see him getting ready for work. there was a smile that crept over your lips as you watched him adjust the tie hanging around his neck. you propped yourself up against the pillows as he caught your eyes in the mirror adjacent to the bed. your heart swelled at the sight of a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“why are you staring at me like that, weirdo?” there was a little morning gravel in his voice but his tone was lighthearted enough to make you giggle. you fell back against the pillows, tucking one under your arm as you kept your gaze on him.

“what? i’m not allowed to stare at my boyfriend anymore?” you replied, a yawn falling off your lips. he playfully rolled his eyes in response, walking over to your side of his bed. he sat at the edge, one of his hands brushing some of your hair from your face.

“actually, no. they just passed that law last night while you were sleeping through coraline again.” you bit your lip, vaguely remembering begging spencer to put that movie on only to fall asleep on his shoulder twenty minutes in. you can only assume at some point he carried you from the sofa to his bed. you blushed at the thought, as if he hadn’t done it at least twenty times by now. clearly you weren’t used to the ‘princess treatment’ he liked giving you.

“oh, my fault then. please don’t arrest me, mr. fbi agent.”

“it’s dr. fbi agent, actually.”

“right…” you giggled again, beaming as he smiled down at you. “do you know if you have a case?”

“paperwork day.” his fingers started tracing small shapes against the skin of your arm. “of course if that changes, i’ll let you know. but hopefully it won’t. you can come over again tonight if you want. maybe we’ll finally finish coraline.” his voice was soft, ringing harmonies in your ear as you let your eyes flutter shut in the comfort. “need me to take you to work today?”

you hummed, reaching out to your phone sitting on his bedside table. you quickly rechecked your schedule and shook your head. “no, it’s okay. i go in a little later. it’s close enough to walk.” you tilted your head as you felt him tangle his hand in your hair again. spencer scratched delicately at your scalp.

“okay, my love. i washed the clothes you left here the other day. they should be in the second drawer of my dresser.” you nodded in response as he leaned in to press his lips to your forehead. you caught his jaw in your hands and pulled him downwards, giving him a proper kiss on his lips. he laughed quietly as you both pulled away. “have a good day, angel.”

“you too, baby.”

well to put it simply you did not have a good day. you got ready for your job at a local cafe and made it to work fine. it was when you got there that it started going downhill. you genuinely loved being a barista. you definitely had the personality for it. friendly, outgoing, kind and patient. it’s actually how you met spencer in the first place. but sometimes it was hard. especially with certain needy customers. most of your regulars were chill. you were actually friends with many of them, always asking about the new things in their lives whenever they’d come in. of course, though, there were always a few bad apples.

like this one particular older man. he came in every now and then and ordered the same thing every single time. black decaf coffee with a blueberry scone. he was always in a rather grumpy mood, not even your tender words could help that. so this morning when you gave him a black regular coffee by an honest mistake he made sure to let you know just how stupid and idiotic you were. you stood there at the counter, expression apologetic as he continued to berate you. eventually your boss told you to go in the back for a bit while she took care of things.

you practically ran to the bathroom, locking yourself in the tiny space as you tried to control your breathing. you could already feel the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. you absolutely despised how sensitive you could get. through shaky breaths, you pulled your phone from your back pocket, unlocking it with a small sob. you had a few texts and one missed call from your mother. one of the texts was from spencer, letting you know it was just gonna be a paperwork day and inquiring what you wanted to order for dinner tonight. the other texts were from your mother, reminding you about a family party that was coming up soon. there was another text after her missed call.

- Guess you’re too busy to talk. Just let me know if you can make it.

you closed your eyes, feeling the passive aggressive tone through the message. the best way you could describe your relationship with your mother was that she was both your best friend and your worst critic. she tried to support everything you aspired to do, but also hated the way you did them. it was... complicated but her text was enough to leave you in a sour mood for the remainder of the day.

you felt like you couldn’t catch up. you couldn’t get over that bump setting you back from having a good shift. your head felt like it was elsewhere and no longer attached to your body, your movements becoming monotonous and your words dull. to make things worse, your eighteen year old coworker was coming in for their shift an hour before you were leaving.

and you loved them, you really really did. often times you would joke about them being your work child, taking them under your wing. but they talked. a lot. most days you could keep up no problem but with the way your mind was on a downward spiral today, all you could feel was immense overstimulation as they yapped in your ear about the latest tv show they were binge watching. soon it was all too much for you to handle and you end up snapping at the poor kid.

“dude i’m sorry but i don’t really care. can we just be quiet for, like, five minutes?” you interrupted them mid-sentence, tired eyes looking over with a slight glare. you immediately softened, eyes wide with guilt as they looked towards you like a kicked puppy. you tried your best to stammer out an apology but was met with silent treatment until you clocked out.

they would soon accept your apology in the next coming days and you’d go back to normal because that’s how you guys were, but the guilt would eat at you for quite a bit. when you were a kid, your parents often praised you on how self-sufficient and respectful you were. in your adolescent years, with the help of an untreated personality disorder and your regular teen hormones raging inside your cage of a body, your behaviour would suddenly change. you found yourself more irritable. more prone to overstimulation. you internalized a lot of what you were going through because every time you tried to bring up your feelings, your mother would shut you down and it’d turn into a fight.

you expressed yourself through slammed doors and screaming matches. you bottled things up until they overflowed. it was how you handled the thunderstorms behind your skull. you would eventually get better in time, finally attending therapy and finding solace in little things like journaling. and when you started dating spencer, he helped a lot too. your brain could sometimes make a lot of irrational judgements and spencer would help you see reasoning instead. he was also insanely patient with you. especially in the first two months of you guys dating where you broke up with him upwards of five times. each time because you didn’t believe you deserved him. (you still don’t believe it, but at least now you’ve stopped trying to fight the good coming into your life.)

you would never forget the first time spencer met your parents. the night was going well up until dinner time when your dad decided to pull out your old high school yearbook. at first it was just classic embarrassment as spencer looked at your school photos. but then your mother, after one too many glasses of wine, brought up your old struggles with anger.

“be careful getting on her bad side, spencer!” she had said, waving a finger in the air. “she’s got a scary temper for sure! remember when we had to replace her bathroom mirror because she threw her hairbrush at it?" she spoke like she was a comedian telling her greatest joke in the world as she turned towards your father. "i can’t even remember what made her so upset! but i remember how expensive that fix was…”

“oh i’m sure i’ve dealt with far worse at my job, ma’am. i think i can handle her just fine.” he was quick to reply and the hand pressing on your bouncing knee beneath the table calmed any nerves of him looking at you differently. later that night he’d hold you as you sobbed in his arms, retelling different memories of your past. he made you a promise that he’d never see you as a bad person as long as you promised him you’d talk to him whenever you started to feel like one.

you were finally walking home after this exhausting day and it wasn’t until you were changed into your comfy clothes and curled in bed that you realized you hadn't texted spencer back at all. with your knees pulled to your chest and a low hum of a fiona apple album playing from your record player you reached across your bed for your phone. you had four texts from him and one missed call.

- Hi angel. Haven’t heard from you all day, just checking in. - Hi, you should be clocked out by now. Just wanted to know if you still wanted to come over? We can order from your favorite italian place. - One missed call from spencer ♡. - Are you having a bad day, my love? Or did I do something wrong? - I’m gonna come over. See you soon, angel.

your brows furrowed together at the last text, sent just about ten minutes ago. you could feel your eyes well with frustrated tears. you felt like shit for unintentionally ignoring him. you couldn’t even think of what to say to him, but you had to think fast because soon you heard a gentle knock at your bedroom door. with a sniffle, you stood to your feet and slowly opened it.

you met spencer’s eyes, they were desperately searching your face. trying to figure you out, trying to see what was troubling your mind. you hated it sometimes when he profiled you, but most times you were grateful he could just know when you weren’t doing okay. saved you the shame of having to actually vocalize your feelings. you stepped back as he entered your room.

“your roommate let me in. she said you went straight to your room after work and have been listening to nothing but when the pawn… by fiona apple.” he was still in his work clothes, the same ones you watched him get dressed in just that morning. felt like an eternity ago at this point. before you could even let your face fall to the ground, his hands were holding your jaw, tilting it upwards and keeping it in place. he always held you like you were made of glass. “bad day?”

“you could say that.” you words were short and you didn’t mean for them to be. you were just so exhausted. “sorry i forgot to text you back. it’s just been…” you let your words fall off, waving your hands in the air with an annoyed huff. you pulled away from his touch, slumping back into your mattress. he just watched as you ran your fingers through your hair, eyes shut tight as if you were trying to talk yourself down. he bit his lip, taking a cautious step forward.

“you look like you’re trying to compute a million things at once right now inside that little head.” he shrugged off the sweater draping over his work shirt, tugged off his tie and kicked his shoes off besides your bed. you laughed sarcastically at his words but bit your tongue from replying with a snarky comment. “did you know that one of the brain’s primary functions is to collect and process sensory information? it’s kind of like there’s a little guy in there, sitting at his desk and filing through every bit of information that gets thrown at you throughout the day.” your eyes were still shut but you felt a dip in your bed as his voice grew closer to you.

“when there’s too much sensory input, it can make the brain think there’s danger, sending off signals to the body to escape. that’s when your fight-flight-freeze response gets triggered. aka that little guy’s desk is suddenly on fire and every file has been thrown all over the place and the little guy, well, the little guy is running around screaming for help.” you feel two arms wrap around your waist and maneuver your body until you felt your head resting against the warmness of his chest. soon enough you also felt slender digits running through the locks of your hair.

“you seem to resort to a fight response i’ve noticed. your body feels like you can overpower the danger your brain thinks you’re in. resulting in intense feelings of anger. which can lead to irritability.” you feel him tracing shapes, the same ones he made on your arms earlier that morning, deep into the small of your back. he always did the same movement pattern and you always wondered if that was intentional or just a coincidence. “do you wanna talk about what’s going on in here?” he poked an index finger to the side of your temple. you shook your head. “okay. we don’t have to. but i will ask about it later, is that okay?” you nodded this time.

you didn’t realize it when it was happening, but the combination of spencer pulling you into his arms and his soft voice spewing factual information at you was enough to make your head feel almost empty. your body was melted against his, curled up in his touch. you let out a shaky breath, slowly raising your head, resting your chin on his chest as your eyes opened. “how did you do that?” you whispered, soft hues scanning his face as he just smiled down at you.

“a magician never reveals his secrets, my love.” you rolled your eyes, laughing quietly as his hand lightly brushed your cheek. he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. your lips twitched in thought, a tiny frown suddenly taking over your features. spencer tilted his head. “what is it, baby?”

your eyes fell to focus on his chest, your finger tracing over the fabric of his work shirt. “do you think i’m scary? like… when i get upset?”

“scary?” he repeated, voice in small disbelief that you’d even feel the need to ask. “no, i don’t think you’re scary. i think you’re beautiful. and i think your mind can be pretty mean to you sometimes. but that’s not your fault. hey, look at me please.” you let him guide your head back up, eyes meeting each other again. he smiled at you and it made you feel warm. “why do you think you’re scary?”

your shoulder shrugged with an exasperated sigh. “because it’s what i’ve been told my whole life. when i get too overwhelmed and i just feel nothing but anger i… i feel like i can get mean and i hate feeling that way. like, i always get too snappy and i always say something that’s gonna hurt someone i care about and i…” your breathing hitches. your lashes quickly blink, trying to fight any tears from spilling yet again. “i’m so scared i’m gonna get that way with you and you’re gonna leave me.”

he was shaking his head, thumb swiping underneath your eyes at the few tears that betrayed you and fell down your cheeks. he sighed out your name. “i don’t think you understand just how much i love you. if you think i’d leave you at something so silly like that. you know, i started reading up on borderline personality disorder after that night i met your parents. i wanted to understand it more. i wanted to understand you.” he continued wiping away your tears as they kept falling.

“i can’t even imagine what you go through inside your own head every single day, but i can acknowledge how hard you’re trying to cope with it. i see it all the time. i see it in the kindness you like to spread to strangers. i see it in the way you push yourself to learn new things and the way you stopped beating yourself up if it doesn’t turn out perfect. i see it in the way you love me, and more importantly in the way you’ve allowed yourself to let me love you back. you’re such a beautiful person, my love. it’s okay to have bad days and it’s okay to let yourself be a little mean sometimes.” he laughed quietly, noticing the way your lips were fighting a smile. he leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “as long as you just communicate with me when you’re feeling bad. that’s all i ask.”

you sat there for a moment, admiring the way his big brown eyes stared at you. your eyes fell for a moment before picking back up with furrowed brows. “i snapped at my coworker today.”

“the teenager?” you nodded. “ah,” spencer’s hand resumed circling around your back as he hummed. “they’ll forgive you, i’m sure of it.” there was a pause and then a small hum coming from his throat. “are you hungry? hm? let’s order some food.”

he ordered you your favorite pasta dish from your favorite italian restaurant and you fell asleep in his arms in the middle of coraline again. he couldn’t help but admire you resting so peacefully in his arms and continued tracing the words ‘i love you’ over and over again into your back for the rest of the night.

[mamawasatesttube]

ok i put a longer post abt tim's Emotional State in drafts for when my brain is less melted but re: tim and going to college im just gonna get a lil silly with it. hear me out.

i have this whole vague story in my mind for tim's college days moonlighting as red robin as he tries and figures out what he wants out of life. (it's a while after rr leaves off and all because he's like. Super Depressed for a hot minute and then has to drag himself through actually bothering to get his GED and applying to college, etc., but eventually lucius is like hey. you're great with gadgets, and you clearly love tinkering. i'd hire you for r&d in a heartbeat but you need at the least a bachelor's of engineering. i know you have a lot of the technical skills, but you need a degree. so tim goes ugh fine i'll get a goddamn engineering degree how hard can it possibly be.)

anyways. i think it's a universal experience that if you go to college and you hang with the STEM crowd, you will unfortunately get to know at least one Fucking Guy. it's like brentwood arc; tim does make friends, but there is just this One Fucking Guy he cannot stand and will never stand. this Fucking Guy is in the common room playing his guitar at midnight. he's drunk and yelling and laughing really loud when people have exams coming up. he's convinced everyone adores him. there's also a detective/supernatural plot going on. the subplot is just that tim hates This Fucking Guy.

at some point, there's a story beat where he as red robin has to rescue That Fucking Guy from a real dicey situation, and That Fucking Guy is really shaken and grateful to him, and he's like okay. maybe. maybe we are making progress. but then the next time he encounters This Fucking Guy as tim drake, the guy is just like. "ohhhh hey drake you missed it last night, it was AWESOME!!! i had to save red robin from a KILLER ROBOT. he's pretty cool though i guess. i bet you wish you could be more like him huh??" and tim is just. I Will Not Grind My Teeth About This. I Will Not. his life is a fucking joke. he dismantles the toaster oven in the common room kitchen to cope. it's definitely to cope and not just so that That Fucking Guy won't be able to heat up his pop tarts in the morning.

at another point, This Fucking Guy looks at street mode, lowkey, unremarkable Normal Car-looking redbird and goes, aw, dude, i thought your dad is loaded?? he only got you a generic-ass sedan?? that sucks lol, if you want we can take my car down to the game instead. and tim is just Say One More Fucking Word About My Baby I Dare You I Fucking Dare You One More Fucking Word.

(also i like to toy with the idea of this being a university in metropolis - he's out of gotham, but not too far. keeps him from getting antsy about what if he's needed because he can get right back over there. and in the meantime, he can hang out with kon and kara a lot, and occasionally enable and be enabled by lois lane and her snooping habits. there's another subplot in which tim and lois get up to shenanigans. at least once.)

it's sort of an introspective thing of him trying to come to terms with the way he no longer wants a fully normal life the way he always used to assume he would - he has the option to walk away from the cape now, like he always thought he would one day, but he just can't give it up anymore. he's fallen into the same black hole he watched dick and bruce dive headlong into. it's also about him finding joy in tinkering and working with his hands and getting to spend more time as tim drake first and foremost. and it's about him venting to kon about That Fucking Guy while they have a lil picnic on the green while kon loses his absolute shit laughing. all against the backdrop of a little mystery or something. <3

OH and also, most importantly. zoanne wilkins is there and laughing at him for assuming college would be easy. and kon gets her into wendy the werewolf stalker. My City Now.

[sapchat]

We Are Not Our Fathers

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You get summoned to your mate and Cassian whilst they are on a mission, only to find out there was a surprise at the end of it.

Warnings: mentions of a fight, children, and an argument between two lovers.

Words: 5k

Part 1: You are here! Part 2

Fun fact: this is technically my third fanfic now, cuz I’ve got a part one for something else and I’m writing part two, I just got this idea yesterday while listening to this playlist and was like “I need angst, azriel, his mate and a child.”

Azriel and Cassian had been at one of the Illyrian camps investigating rumors of… something. You hadn’t been paying attention when your mate told you why, he’d been getting dressed while telling. So, you could see the distraction at the time. It had been at least two hours since your mate had left and you got summoned down the bond, and a shadow seemed to tug at your hand.

So, following the bond you appeared in a typical Illyrian Steppes living room, with Azriel at the top of the steps.

“Hey, we uh, need you up here. We thought we were done but Cass found someone.” Azriel said meeting me at the bottom of the steps and grabbing a hand, rubbing his fingers on my wrist. He picked the habit up a few years into our bond, he says it keeps him grounded, especially after or during missions like these. Nodding my head, I followed the narrow steps behind him to see Cassian standing in the doorway of one of the rooms, there was a smidge of blood on the side of a wall, so I wasn’t sure what I was going to walk in on.

A little winged child was not what I was expecting. Cassian looked at me sheepishly then nodded to the side so the three of us could talk.

“So, I’m going to assume we didn’t know there was a child here?” I asked leaning against the wall.

“From what we could tell there were no reports of a child when we first started getting reports of the retaliation happening. My shadows also didn’t pick up on a child when we got here, so either he was just hiding really well because of the guests in the house, or he snuck in.” Azriel responded.

“Any idea how much he heard? Or what does his parental situation look like?” I asked, I needed to know how bad this situation could be. Especially if this child doesn’t have a family because of its father’s or mother’s choices.

“For the most part, some of them went easy. Only three of ‘em put up any real fight, hence some of the blood there by your head,” Cassian started.

“Ew, thanks for telling me that one.” I’ll just shuffle to the side.

“As for a possible guardian, he hasn’t answered any questions. He did call me a bastard though, so I guess he has listened to something while around them.” Cassian finished. He seemed almost more stressed than I. I assume because he’s become quite partial to being babysitter for Nyx in the last few months for Feyre and Rhysand to be able to go out.

“What do you think, he’s probably what four, maybe five. You have more experience in working with kids, and with Madja, what do you think his outcome is with what he’s been dealt.” Azriel asked, dragging a scarred hand down his face.

“All children are different. One could experience something awful like the death of a parent and not remember anything about it. Others could never recover from it and grow up acting out the rest of their lives. It’s just a matter of how they get help. And knowing this camp, they probably won’t get much mental help at all. You two should know that” It’s not what they wanted to hear I imagine, but it was the truth. “So, what’s the plan? I assume if you have summoned me here you want me to go talk to him?”

“Yea actually, that’s exactly what so thanks for offering that so we don’t have to ask.” Cassian states rubbing the back of his head. Little shit.

Sighing, I turn my eyes to my mates, who just shrugged. I’ve been left here with the two most awkward people when it comes to random kids. Such a surprise came from the man-child Cassian himself. I roll my eyes, but send something to calm down the bond, and turn to go into the room.

The child is on the smaller side, evidence of the winter that’s still in the mountains so it’s evident his family doesn’t have much money for food. He’s got some dirt on his clothes so he’s either been out playing today or he just doesn’t have many clothing options. His wings were on the smaller side for what we assume his age group is, so he either is just going to have slightly smaller wings, or he’s developmentally delayed for his possible age. Probably due to the lack of food and hygiene.

I step slowly into the room, trying to make my slightly tall frame smaller. “Hi there. What’s your name?”

The little boy looked at me with wide hazel eyes, a twinkle in it that I couldn’t tell meant he was scared or intrigued by my presence. “Hawthorne.”

“Hawthorne huh?” You ask, then tell him your name, “Are you okay Hawthorne?” I ask him, he sits up just a little taller, a twitch in his bat-like wing following after.

He nodded his head in response, and I nodded back in understanding. “I was wondering who you were here with buddy? It’s okay if I call you buddy, right?”

“I was with my daddy. and I don’t know if you can call me buddy. Daddy’s usually the only one that does. Daddy said it’s cause we’re friends, but I don’t know you.” He answers sheepishly looking around my body towards the end, telling me I have a shadow, likely two of them.

“Well, if I tell you something about me, and then you tell me something, then we would be friends, wouldn’t we?” He hesitates, thinking about the question then nods his head quickly.

“Okay, well you know my name already,” I say then move to sit on the corner of the bed and make it seem like I’m thinking about my fact, “One of my favorite things ever, is getting to go and watch the sunrise or sunset as it comes up or down, and it shine on the soft snow. It’s really pretty.” I say, his head perks up a little at what I tell him.

“I like that too! I also like it when it storms, 'cause that means I don’t have to go out and I get to stay inside with my daddy.” He says. I smile at his enthusiasm of getting to share something we both like.

“I’ll tell you another secret then.” His eyes get really wide, and I feel a questioning brush through the bond. “I also like it when it storms. Because that means I get to stay inside with my friends.”

“Are they your friends?” Hawthorne asks looking at Cassian and Azriel behind me.

“Yeah, those are my really good friends, Cassian and Azriel. They… came to talk to the people that were downstairs. Did you know them?” I ask, glancing at the two males behind me, who are trying to seem small, but with the size of Cassian and Azriel’s wings. They’re failing.

“It was my daddy and their friends. I heard lots of yelling. And that they called your friends bastards. So, I did when they came up here. Where is my daddy?” I looked at Azriel for an answer, he looked down and then at Hawthorne.

“We took your father somewhere so we could talk with them. Do you have a mother we could take you to? Or anyone else.” Azriel answered the child.

Hawthorne shook his head no, “Daddy says mommy died when I was little, even smaller than now. And daddy says I’m the only thing he has left. But I think that’s silly 'cause we have neighbors!”

I sigh and look at my mate and Cassian, I then look back to the hallway and back to the child, “Hawthorn I’m going to go talk with my friends really quick, are you okay here?” The boy nods his head and watches as the three of us leave the room.

It’s now my turn to rub my hands down my face. “What do we do with him? I assume mom either died in childbirth or from sickness. And now we’ve got dad where he’s going to probably be punished for what they’ve been planning.”

Cassian almost winces at the last part, “His father was one of the people to put up a fight. We’ve got him in Hewn City right now, one of the others said he’s the ring leader for wanting to try and get rid of Rhys, and ‘go back to the old ways.’”

“Gotta love males and their ever-needing reason to be on top,” Azriel said laying back against the wall across from me, one of his feet resting between my ankles.

“We asked Rhys what he thought. He thinks it should be up to you.” Cassian said.

I processed the question for a second. Thinking about the options that are available. If Hawthorne stays, he’ll be homeless, wandering the streets like Cassian did; and based on how he looks already, he probably wouldn’t last long. Or taking him with us. To Velaris and trying to find him a place there. He could stay in the House of Wind until we find somewhere or someone.

I look at Azriel and he nods, knowing what I’m going to decide. If I had it my way, there would be no children wandering the roads here in the camps. But the orphanage idea has been slow, Devlon the only one wanting to even entertain the idea.

“Take him with us. He’ll be better off in Velaris, and until we can find somewhere permanent, he can stay in the House with us all.” I say, Cassian nods knowing I’m making the decision based on what he’s told me of his past before Rhys and his mother.

“Looks like you’ll get a friend Cassian, I’ll be sure to set up playdates.” Azriel says pushing off the way and patting his brother on the back.

Cassian had a shocked look on his face, eyes following Azriel as he followed me back into the room Hawthorne was patiently waiting in.

“Hey, Hawthorne? How about you come with me and my friends for a little bit, until we can see if your father gets into trouble, okay?” I asked going in and sitting on his bed, angling my body to be eye level with the winged boy. He seemed to sit and think about it for a second, then spared Azriel a questioning look before looking back at me.

“Will I still get to do my training?”

My eyes widen just a tad. Training at five? I look over my shoulder to Cassian and Azriel in question.

“Yeah me, and Cassian can help with that. We’re both really going at flying so we can help you learn some.” Azriel told the child, putting a lot of emphasis on them being so good at flying. This seemed to make the boy happy.

“Okay then. I guess I’ll come with you. But I get to bring my toys!”

“We wouldn’t expect you to leave them behind buddy. Now where are your clothes?” I said standing from the bed and ruffling my fingers through his dark brown almost black hair.

Hawthorne jumped from the bed, his little wings flapping as he did, and ran to the dresser in the corner of the room. He pulled open a drawer almost at eye level and grabbed what little clothes sat in there. “Here they are!” He ran back over and handed them to me. He only had two shirts and another pair of pants, plus only a few pairs of undergarments.

I looked in the direction of my mate and he nodded at what I was thinking. We’ll have to get him some more clothes. I held my hand out and Azriel summoned a bag from the shadows and handed it to me. I usually use it for the farmers market, but I’ll just get a new one.

“Okay, bubs, come here and I’ll hold you while Azriel takes us back to the house.” The boy hopped over with a questioning look on his face.

“He’s going to fly both of us to your house?”

“Nope! He’s going to do something called winnow, which means,” I sat for a second thinking how to explain this to a child, “he’ll grab my and Cassian's hand, and then we’ll disappear and then reappear in the house!” Yeah, that was a great explanation.

Hawthorne seemed to question it for a second, then came over and all but crawled up into my arms. I moved the bag to my shoulder and then joined Azriel and Cassian. The three of us all looked at each other as if questioning what I’d decided.

And into the shadows we went, only for Azriel to then grab onto me tighter to glide us down to the balcony of the House of Wind. Hawthorne gripped my neck tighter looking around at all he could see of Velaris. And I knew I had made a good decision for the boy.

Feet touching the ground Hawthorne all but leaped from my arms to run and look over the balcony, pulling himself up by using his feet on the spindles to gain leverage to look out. Mouth opening by the second, I leaned back against Az watching the boy. He’s never seen so many people at once living in such a beautiful place.

“Hawthorne, wanna go get a quick snack before we get you cleaned up in a tub?” I asked leaving my mates front to join the boy at the railing. He looked up at me with wide eyes before looking back out towards the Sidra. “It’ll all still be here when we’re done. And if you’re not tired then you can even see it once the sun goes down. It looks even better.” He turned back with a slightly toothless grin and nodded enthusiastically, jumping from the side, and gripping my hand swinging from it.

Walking into the sitting room I walked the boy towards the kitchen. Already sitting on the counter was a little dinner for the boy, the House instantly knowing what was needed of it. I helped him up onto a stool he quickly dug into his dinner.

“Easy now, don’t want to eat too fast and make yourself sick,” I advised brushing a finger across his back. I walked around the counter and grabbed a small cup and filled it with water so he could drink as well.

Once he was done eating, he quickly gulped down the water and brushed his mouth on his hand, then proceeded to wipe the hand on his shirt. Boys. I grabbed him before he had a chance to run off and walked him up to mine and Azriel’s bathing room where Az sat pouring a few drops of bubbles into the bath.

I set Hawthorne down on the ground and allowed him to undress so he could climb in the bath and gave my mate a quick peck on the cheek in thanks. Admiration flowed down his side of the bond as I leaned over and started wetting Hawthorne’s hair. He splashed around a little playing with the bubbles as I washed the grime off of him.

Once I was done, I grinned and grabbed a handful of bubbles and placed them on his head. The little Illyrian quickly looked up at me and proceeded to grin. And without a moment's notice he flapped his wings in the water spraying water all over me.

We both sat in silence for a little bit, me in shock and him with a look that said, ‘Uh oh’. Then I started laughing, and Hawthorne quickly realized he wasn’t in trouble for getting water over me.

After his bath, and the fight of drying him off, and the battle of getting him dressed. I did as I had promised and walked him back to one of the balconies so he could watch the ending of the sunset and all the lights of Velaris come on. We sat quickly, him in amazement, me writing down some reports to send to Rhys in the morning.

It was in the middle of the night I was awoken to one of Azriels shadows, Azriel rousing from sleep himself and moving a wing off of me to see what was happening. Then I heard soft padding down the hall, and a shuffling of wings. I then heard the door move a bit as someone jumped and grabbed the doorknob, and the door quietly moved open.

Raising our heads, we were greeted with Hawthorne sniffling as he waddled into the room. He looked up at the two of us from the foot of the bed, glancing back and forth. I glanced at Azriel and silently asked if he’d allow the boy in the bed with us.

Azriel looked at me, then flopped back on his stomach and grumbled “Once you feed them and let them sleep in the bed, they end up staying. Look at Cass.”

I lightly slapped his arm and raised up more and nodded to my side of the bed. Hawthorne quickly shuffled over and climbed his way into the bed and my arms. “Wanna talk about it?” I quietly asked.

He shook his head and placed his wet face into my neck. I hummed an okay and moved the blankets back over us and went back to sleep, Azriel’s wing shifting back over as he moved around.

In the morning I awoke to an empty bed, not unusual with Az doing morning training, but I distinctly remember a little boy crawling into the bed in the night as well.  

Climbing out of bed, a shadow greeted me happily and started leading me in the direction of the living room; and was greeted by Cassian holding the boy in the air telling him to get ready, and Azriel sat in a chair drinking tea.

“If he breaks something Cassian, you get to tell Rhys.” I said, walking further into the room and joining Azriel on the armrest, his hand wrapping around my hip and patting it. Azriel tilted his head in a way saying, ‘That’ll be fun’ and went back to his morning readings.

“Hey, we learn to fly by being dropped from different heights, I figured you prefer it in the living room, where he could land on the couch.” The general replied, letting go of the boy and allowing him to flap-glide his way to the couch in question.

I let the two continue and looked down to my mate, “Wanna join me in the kitchen, so we could talk about H-A-W-T-H-O-R-N-E’s F-A-T-H-E-R?” He nodded his head and took my hand to lead me in the direction of said room. Already on the counter was my breakfast, courtesy of the house which I thanked, and a steaming glass of coffee.

“I went earlier this morning. He’s not wanting to give us anything. Rhys wants to make an example of them.” Azriel said going straight to the point. I looked up from putting jam on my toast, my eyes trailing to the sounds of the child’s laughter and Cassians' praise.

“What about Hawthorne?”

Azriel sighed, already knowing I wasn’t going to let this go without a fight. Either with him or our High Lord. “Rhys is going to leave that up to you. His recommendation thought was to find someplace around Velaris so he wouldn’t be in a camp where issues may arise in the future. When he’s older.”

I looked sharply up at what he said. “What is that supposed to mean?” I made sure to keep my voice somewhat low so as to not raise attention to us.

“We both know what he means. He’s just trying to cover future bases because he has Nyx now.” Azriel tried to calm down, resting a hand on top of mine. I pulled it back from him immediately.

“No Azriel I don’t know what you mean. He’s a child what are you two trying to say?” I was angry. He’s five, if that. What was there to possibly worry about to ‘keep an eye on him in the future.’

Azriel said your name then continued, “His father was plotting to get a group of people to kill Rhys. Maybe worse.” Azriel almost seemed angry at the position I had taken, in defending this threat against his High Lord. But the threat was a child.

I glared at Azriel and all but snarled when I said, “Sons are NOT their fathers Azriel. You of all people should know that.” I even pointed in his direction for emphasis on my statement, his hazel eyes going wide in surprise at it. Shock and hurt flowed down the bond, and I pushed my feelings of anger towards him.

Turning I leave my breakfast to go join Cassian and the deemed threat in the other room to watch him stretch his wings.

It was later in the evening, after playing with the child and having Cassian take us down to the shopping district so he could have more clothes that I had finally let myself think about the argument from earlier in the day. I had already put Hawthorne to bed almost two hours ago and was down in the kitchen sipping wine. Setting the glass down on the counter I ran my hands down my face in frustration, and then came some shuffling.

Turning my head, I expected Azriel but found Hawthorne. Bleary-eyed from what little sleep he got. “Hey, what are you doing back up, it’s late.”

The little dark-haired child rubbed his eyes, his other hand gripping a little black cat stuffed animal he begged to have. “I have trouble sleeping in the bed. It’s super soft.” His eyebrows furrowed together and then he said, “The shadows also keep me awake by playing with my hair.”

A few of Azriel’s shadows had taken a little liking to the boy, much unlike their master, it seemed. “Well. Since you’re awake, want some hot chocolate?” I asked, the boy seemed confused at my words and asked what hot chocolate was. “Hot cocoa?” He shook his head in confusion again.

“Come on, I’ll make us some cups and you can try it,” I said lifting him up to sit on the counter and wiped my finger at some of the dried drool on his cheek.

Turning to a cabinet, I grabbed two mugs to set beside him and continued to pull supplies out to make the cocoa. Hawthorne watched every move I made, measuring out the ingredients, putting them into a pot to warm up, and even helping stir every now and then. Once it was done, I moved it over to the side to allow it to cool a bit more before putting the drink into the mugs.

“Now here’s the fun part. I like to add some extra things to mine.”

Hawthorne seemed interested in whatever it was I was going to add.

“I like to take this white stuff, called whipped cream, and put it on top, then add this stuff here called cinnamon. Do you wanna try mine and see if you like it for yours?” I asked, Hawthorne seemed to think deeply about it, furrowed eyebrows, and all then eagerly nodded his head. I carefully handed him my cup and he took a little sip, whip cream getting on his upper lip and nose, then made a loud ‘ahh’ sound after gulping it down.

“I’d like some please!” The boy eagerly handed my mug back and watched me add it to his smaller mug.

We sat side by side sipping at our drinks, Hawthorne’s eyes drooping more and more as he drank before he set his almost empty mug on the counter and yawned.

“Ready to go back to bed?” He seemed a little hesitant and then said something that broke my heart.

“I don’t wanna sleep by myself, I’m scared someone’s going to come and get me.” He didn’t want to make eye contact.

I looked at him a little inquisitively, “Why do you think someone’s coming to get you?”

“Well, I really liked being with Daddy, even if I didn’t get much food. And then you guys came and took my daddy and me, because daddy was being bad. But you have been really nice, and Cassin has been helping me fly, and even though Azzie don’t like me he still lets me play with his shadows, and you guys have food and it’s warm-“ I stopped him before he could continue working himself up.

“Hawthorne, you don’t have to go back to the camp if you don’t want to. You know that right?” I said rubbing his hand in a comforting way.

He seemed sheepish as he nodded then asked, “I would get to stay here with you? And Cassin and Azzie?”

I sighed trying to think of an answer, “I don’t know if you’d get to stay with us. You could go to another place that would love you very much.”

Hawthorne didn’t like that answer. Tears forming in his little hazel eyes, lips wobbling, and I knew I needed to backtrack.

“Hey, how about this buddy?” He sniffed and ran a hand over his eye, “How about we pause this conversation, and me and you go sleep? Then we can talk when I get some answers.” Answers only the Inner Circle could answer.

It took Hawthorne only 20 minutes to fall back to sleep in his room and me another hour lying beside Azriel. It was early morning when I awoke to Azriel getting up himself.

“Think you could call a meeting about little bits?” I asked rubbing my hands down my face.

Azriel sighed and sat back in the bed beside me. “You shouldn’t get attached to him; you know that. And it’s not that I think that he’s going to become his father or that I hate him. I heard you guys’ last night, and what you both talked about.” He sat there for a second licking his lips as I cringed knowing he heard us, “I do like him. He’s a sweet kid, and I’m glad he’s had a better life than most Illyrians-”

I stopped him, “I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. I know you’re not your father and I should’ve never. Ever. Compared you to him.”

“I know. You were angry and believed you had to defend him. I’m proud of you for that. But if you really want to discuss what happens with him, then I think we should talk.” Azriel said, grabbing my hand and holding it as he laid back across my stomach.

I nodded, and we started talking. About all outcomes for Hawthorne. What would happen to him, how he’d be raised, all of it. Then we went to the River House. And I joined the Inner Circle as we talked about him. Rhysand’s concerns, Amren’s and Mor’s surprise, Feyre’s support in what would happen, and how it would all be dealt with.

At the end we had an answer.

It was later in the day that I asked Hawthorne if he wanted to go walk around town with Azriel. I was slowly walking behind as Azriel walked somewhat awkwardly with the boy, talking with him as Hawthorne was eagerly pointing around at different shops.

Hawthorne’s eyes widened and grabbed Azriels’ hand, the older Illyrian tensing up at the innocent little child grabbing his scarred hands and dragged him over to a bakery to press his face into the window and stare at the sweets.

“Can we go in there?” Hawthorne asked eagerly looking between Azriel and me. Azriel looked to me for some guidance, letting me control the situation. Nodding my head, Azriel led the three of us into the bakery and let the boy pick what he wanted and got me my favorite treat too.

I led Hawthorne back outside so we could eat, take in the sights, and talk to Hawthorne like we needed to.

“Hey Hawthrone, remember the conversation from last night? Can me and Azriel talk to you about it?” Hawthrone seemed more downtrodden at the reminder of last night but nodded his head.

“Hawthorne, I got to visit your dad before we left, and I just wanted you to know that he isn’t going to be able to come home. And because of that, we need to find you a good home.” Azriel started out, not telling the boy his father wasn’t going to come home. Rhys did have to make an example and couldn’t just pardon him because he had a son.

“Azriel and I have been talking with some people, and we’re wondering what you want to do,” I said, handing the boy a napkin to clean his face as he ate. He glanced between Azriel and me, then down at the table.

“Where would I go if Daddy can’t take me?” he asked shyly.

“Well, we could find you a loving home here, in the city. Where you would be cared for and get to learn all kinds of things with kids your age and everything. Another choice is we find you a home back at your camp, somewhere that’d be able to care for you, and you’d get to be with other Illyrians your age.” Hawthorne seemed to think the two options over. Then Azriel looked at me and I nodded.

“Or” Azriel started, “You could stay with us, and we could raise you. Then you’d stay with Cassian and us, get to meet the High Lord and Lady, and all our friends, while going to school here in Velaris. And in a few years, we’d take you to a camp called Windhaven and you’d train to be a warrior.” Hawthorne’s eyes got wider and wider as Azriel continued, looking back and forth between us two, his grin starting to match mine.

“So. Which would yo-“ Azriel didn’t finish as the tiny Illyrian lunged over the table into both of us.

“YOU I WANNA STAY WITH YOU!” Hawthorne yelled excitedly, gripping the both of us as I laughed.

Azriel looked at me, love flowing down the bond and him receiving the same back from me at the new addition to the family.

[mysicklove]

im so normal about gojo, the strongest sorcerer of his time and his wife who's not a sorcerer and works as a ceo of a company that absolutely dominates him on a daily basis.

like yea, gojos over 6 feet tall and he could easily take your life away whenever BUT you're his mommy darling and he couldn't even bring himself to do anything without your approval.

gojo malewife agenda also; busy man that makes breakfast for his ceo wife in the morning, makes her coffee and gets her bag and laptop ready so she doesn't have to lift a finger. you reward him with a pat on the head and a firm kiss before you're out the door and his dick is hard IMMEDIATELY.

you get back home and he's already a the door, kneels to help your heels off and hang your coat in the closet. guides you to the kitchen where dinner is ready, and he's staring at you like 😇 very proud of himself cuz he's been the best boy.

anyway. gojo is the cutest thing I've ever SEEN

i LOVEEEEE this idea oh my.

hes like an overgrown puppy about it too. you have to praise every single detail about his work or else he gets all pouty and lets out the most dramatic sighs ever. and every day when he hears the, "aw satoru, you didnt have to do all this for me. youre so sweet." he gets all giddy and declares that he is the best husband out there.

but you do have a habit of teasing him, grabbing the back of his hair and pressing your mouth to his. he always ends up pinning you to a wall, only thinking, are you staying home? please stay home. dont go, its not worth it. and then you pull away as if nothing was amiss, leaving him with swollen lips and ruffled hair from where you affectionately ruffled his hair. the door shuts and he groans to himself, knowing that he has to jerk off now because of you.

but when you get home he is back at your heels, attending to your every need and staring at you while you eat his (frozen, pre-made) dinner that he just pulled out of the oven. and then he goes off on a tangent on how he cleaned the house, washed the sheets, folded the laundry, and you make sure to praise him accordlingly. but it is gojo, and even if the praise makes his cheeks flush, he was never just satisified with that. so he ends off his little monologue with a, "i do believe earth shattering sex would totally show how greatful you are of your adoring, hard working husband."

[kirimoochi]

blisters on the wall

₊˚ ᗢ college au! alhaitham x gn! reader.

⤷ when the noise gets too much, he reaches out to catch you.

it was rather common for the average college student to be stressed. it just came with the job, some would say. for every class, you must maintain perfect attendance. every hand raised must be accompanied by irrefutable fact. all while paperwork flood the hall as seasons pass. desks become messier by the day. loose pens and coffee cups left abandoned. liquid having dried into a crude crescent.

from corner to corner, wall to wall, there will always be a new bundle of words waiting to be solved. a new equation. a new theory. a new thesis. a new idea. the world is filled with mysteries that you must uncover and reveal. and it can't be anyone else. not the adults or elders in your life, it must be you. it had always been you.

you forced a smile as your professor raised your hand, presenting your essay in front of the class. sounds of awe echo alongside joyous claps. but your cheeks were beginning to hurt. with teeth clenched so tightly, you thought your gums might split.

you must uphold this standard. if not for yourself, then for your parents, friends, peers, and instructors. eyes will always be on you when the spotlight follows. the weight of the world's future comes down to you. change must be produced. sacrifices must be made. with blood, sweat, and tears, you rip through the fabric of this earth, desperately reaching for answers that could prove you worthy. searching endlessly through space to deliver what you think the people need.

you have a test next week. one that you estimate will take a four days to fully prepare. a paper is also due this friday, cutting your time to study short. your thesis is right around the corner. you're so close to breaking through and showing it to your advisor. your club was depending on you to manage the event organization. you had friends to take care of and spend time with. family to attend to and see. dreams to fantasize. and all this work, you don't know what to do. where to start. where to go. what will you do when everything is done?

where is the end?

in the corner of your eye, you failed to see a familiar, silvered-haired student slowly clapping. unimpressed by the fake smile that you've taped across your face.

he reads you so easily. he knows you like the back of his hand. he knows the bad habit you have of biting the tips of your fingers, the uneven surface having dragged across his skin with a hiss. he knows when you're stressed, you become quieter and distant. replying less and less to his messages, he knows this all too well.

he has always seen you, even if you've never looked back at him. it was like that since you were children. only a few months older than him, he trails behind you in every park. you were one step ahead of him. sports, science, math, english, art. everything.

you were his light.

and yet, he can see you flickering on and off. the radiant brilliance you've always surrounded yourself was beginning to fade in front of his eyes. you were dancing between uneven ships, struggling to keep afloat in this never-ending storm.

when he places a cup of coffee beside you, will you see his support? when he lets you lean your head against his shoulder, will you see the authentic smile he gives as he brushes your hair? when he lets you study at his apartment because you were locked out of your building, will you understand how much he cares?

when your friends approach you, dragging you through the busy mall to buy you new clothes, will you see how much you mean to them? or must you be so blind that you cannot see how brightly everything is when you're here?

how much longer will it take for you to see, what you were doing is enough?

standing in front of your club, you stare in shock as each person raises their voice. shouting over one over the other. arguing over simple plans, something you were in charge of. they were pushing and shoving. screaming insults that they can never take back.

and you try to pull them apart. trying not to lose your voice as theirs grow louder. the buzzing in your ears is an explosive firework that is going off. and your heart was pounding at the forefront of your chest. you could feel it bouncing off of your ribcage and into the back of your throat.

things were going horribly wrong. it was just a plan you pitched in your half asleep state and now everything is plummeting downhill. oh, how you wish you could turn back time and rewrite those words. maybe they wouldn't fight anymore. instead, because of your careless mistake, your desperation to finish your papers, you failed to foresee this.

you feel tears threaten to break your happy facade. oh god, everything is your fault, isn't it? they're fighting because of you.

getting off the floor, you run through the halls. shoving through crowds to search for the familiar pathway to your home. clutching your ears in the hopes of deafening the noise, you pray that someone could take you away from this hell you've created for yourself.

it's all your fault.

if you had more time,

if you were better,

it wouldn't be your fault.

in the blur of tears, you see your friend's face.

"alhaitham!"

you crash into him with a heavy sob as he wraps his arms around you tightly, catching you a mere seconds before your knees buckled. squeezing you close to his heart, he holds his hands over your ears. his name is like a breath of fresh air, your head creeping out from the waves that drown you.

the world goes quiet.

for once in his life, he pleads for you to ignore the flushed pink color of ears and see how much you mean to him. move past these papers and see him. hear him when he tells you that you're enough. feel the warmth in his skin so you know the way he burns for you.

⤷ notes; mainly a vent/comfort post. it feels way more unpolished and raw but i think it sort of matches the overall tone.

[bajicantspell]

Strangers

Summary : part two to Kodzuken in my DMs (press), although i wrote it in a way that reading part one isn’t necessary. The only context you need is that x reader is a small instagram influencer. This chapter is about them hanging out together, doing stuff and Kenma pondering how to make you his girlfriend :)

→ Warnings: smut,cursing (Fluff) 🎧

Kenma loved every conversation with you and couldn't get enough. Each text left him wanting you more ; you were just so… interesting. He was completely amused and infatuated with you. 

The fact that he also thought you were a total smoke show was a bonus as well. It was like having the best of both worlds – someone who was not only interesting to talk to but also insanely attractive.

He daydreamed about you a lot, whether he was grocery shopping and saw the drink you told him you like, or glancing at his screen every few minutes hoping you’d reply. He also thought about you, at other times. With one last whimper he flopped onto his bed, exhausted, reaching for the tissues.

He couldn’t help himself; everything you said, every picture you sent, every time you spoke during a call, made him feel a certain way. Your words, your voice, and your beauty all had a profound effect on him, stirring emotions he couldn't ignore. Each interaction left him more captivated, more infatuated with you, and he found himself constantly thinking about you during his alone time late at night. 

Kenma kept breathing heavily due to his exhaustion from his high, feeling his eyelids growing heavier. 

“Fuck, wish you were here.” He whispered to no one, hoping it could reach you. 

He just felt so, so fucking lucky. Not only were you everything he asked for, your university was also ridiculously close to his place, so you didnt live far either. It was as if everything was perfectly set up for you to get together. 

He’s a logical man, he wouldn’t be hopeful if the probabilities of you being together were low, but each day he was growing  more and more impatient.

He didn't know if he was doing the flirting thing right, but he assumed he must be doing something right since you agreed to go out with him a couple of times over the few weeks of knowing each other.

Over text you could talk together so much, no conversation was boring with you. But he spend the entire evening of your first date just staring at you in awe. You honestly looked better up close than in your pictures, he didnt know that was possible. He could tell you were a little nervous since you talked about everything and anything that came to mind. Your constant chatter was endearing, revealing your anxiousness in a way that made him sheepishly smile. It was clear you were trying to fill the silence, and he found your efforts adorable. 

Thankfully, when you talk you’re not that in touch with your surroundings, so maybe he got away with staring. 

Lying down in his bed, he smiled a little at the memory. He drifted off to sleep, knowing he’d get to see you again tomorrow. The thought brought him a sense of calm as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

Kenma has always been observant of people, a skill that served him well during his high school volleyball days. Old habits die hard, and his keen observation hasn’t faded. But now, it’s working against him as he watches you wrap your lips around the coke bottle, his eyes fixated. It makes him wish he were that bottle.

You noticed his eyes lingering.

"Ken', are you okay?" you asked.

"Hm? What?" he replied, caught off guard. 

He invited you to his house for a date night, away from the crowds. The past few times you went out together, you were stared at due to his presence, and he noticed it made you a little uncomfortable. He knew exactly how that felt. Back in high school, he had even bleach-damaged his long beautiful raven locks just to avoid standing out. Though he's an introvert himself, he eventually got used to the public attention fame brings and learned how to tune it out. But he understood that it's not something everyone can easily adapt to. He wanted to ensure you felt at ease, so inviting you to his house seemed like the best way to enjoy each other's company without any unwanted attention. 

"You were staring, Ken," you chuckled.

The way you said his nickname was smooth and sweet, giving him chills. Your seductive voice held him utterly entranced. 

“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty.” He said, leaning down to peck your lips. 

You shared a few kisses, both gentle pecks and passionate ones, but it never went further than that. You didnt know each other long enough for it to go further than that. 

You smiled against his lips and he swore his heart skipped a beat. You don’t know what you do to him. He was completely and utterly at your mercy, like putty in your hands. 

He knew that if someone who knew him well, like Kuroo, saw him interacting with you, they wouldn’t believe it was the same Kenma. 

He surprised himself, honestly. Kenma wasn’t used to being this gentle; he was more familiar with hearing his friends call him a bit intimidating or too straightforward. Though he wouldn't admit it, he kind of enjoyed leaning into his scariness. He also really enjoyed making fun of his friends, if he didn’t throw shit at Kuroo at least once it’d be a bad day. He took particular delight in finding the perfect moments to attack in his monotone voice, and Kuroo was often his favorite target. 

Honestly, you couldn’t believe that the guy taking you out, showering you with gifts and compliments, taking photos of you when you asked, and offering to help you with everything, was the same guy famous for his streams being the definition of chaos. The contrast was striking, and you wondered if you’d get to see both sides eventually. 

"Ken? Should we clean up and watch a movie?" you whispered softly, your face just inches from his.

"Mmhm," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "How about I wash the dishes while you pick out a movie?" His eyes lingered on yours, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, "No, I'll do it. You paid for the food."

He smiled, appreciating your gesture. "Alright," he said, leaning back a bit. "But next time, it's my turn to clean up."

With a playful nod, you headed to the kitchen, feeling his gaze follow you.

He snickered, enjoying the view as you walked away.

Kenma often found himself questioning whether his opinions of you were merely a romanticized version he had created in his mind, or if you truly were that perfect for him. He couldn't help but wonder if his feelings were clouding his judgment, making you seem even more flawless than you actually were. The way you made him feel was undeniable, but he often pondered whether his perception was influenced by his own desires and hopes.

He mentally shook his head—no, that’s not how his mind operated. Kenma was to his core, a realist, often setting himself up for disappointment by meticulously analysing every detail. There was no idealized version of you in his mind; it was simply you. He couldn’t find any flaws because, to him, there genuinely were none.

He knew sooner or later he’d have to officially make you his. The thought of it made his heart race with anticipation and excitement. 

The fact that you were still technically available made him simmer with jealousy, despite the unspoken understanding between you that you were unofficially exclusive. He knew he needed to change the 'unofficial' part, though.

He didn't know what got over him, but something compelled him to go after you. An irresistible urge surged through him, driving him to follow you into the kitchen.

You were washing the last plate, completely lost in your thoughts, when you were suddenly brought back to reality by the feel of two hands gently gripping your waist and a head resting on your shoulder. The warmth of his touch and the closeness of his presence sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you out of your reverie. His breath was soft against your ear, and you could feel his heartbeat against your back, grounding you in the moment.

“Well, hello there,” you chuckled, your voice light and amused, hiding your nervousness.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled against the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath tickled your skin, sending tingles through you. His arms tightened around your waist slightly, pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. You could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle press of his lips against your skin.

You giggled in response. 

“I’m almost done with these. Did you pick a mo—” you were suddenly interrupted by his grip tightening on your waist, bringing you closer, followed by the sensation of wet, lingering kisses being placed on the back of your neck.

“Kenma, what are you doing?” You asked, your voice firm and low. 

"Whatever you want me to. If you want, I'll stop," he replied matter-of-factly, his breath warm against your neck. His hands remained firmly on your waist, but he eased up slightly, giving you the space to decide.

You paused.

"I want... I want more."

Kenma's eyes lit up. "More?" he echoed quietly, a spark of excitement and anticipation in his voice. His grip on your waist tightened once again, his lips hovering just above your skin as he awaited your next move, eager to fulfill your desire.

“Mhmm,” you nervously replied, still gripping the plates. Your heart raced as you felt him grin against your neck, anticipation building with every second.

“Well, if you want more, I'll give you more,” Kenma murmured, his voice low and full of promise. His hands slid up your sides gently, and his lips resumed their trail of kisses along your neck, making your heart race even faster.

His hands slid under your shirt, over your bra, an action that made you set the plates down in the sink gently. The feel of his touch sent a sense of calm through you, and you leaned back into him; an action that made him smirk against your neck.

He played with the textured lace of your bra, his fingers tracing the delicate fabric as if asking for permission to go further. You nodded, neither of you making a sound, the tension between you too much to make a sound. His fingers, encouraged by your silent approval, continued their exploration with more confidence.

He stopped at the hook of your bra, bringing both hands to unclip your bra in one swift motion.

The ease with which he did it made you wonder how much practice he had. His fingers moved so skillfully, it seemed almost instinctual. But don't worry; it was just a fluke. Even he was surprised by it. In reality, he was navigating this new territory with as much uncertainty as you were. The chemistry between you made everything feel natural, even though his heart was pounding just as hard as yours.

When your bra was completely off, with just a little bit of hesitation his hands approached to cup your breasts. His touch was tentative at first, fingers lightly tracing over them as if he were memorizing every curve. 

"Fuckin' perfect perky tits." he mumbled against your neck, almost as if he were talking to himself. His breath was hot against your skin, and the words came out in a hushed, reverent tone.

You could only giggle in response. 

He pulled one hand out from under your shirt, cringing as the sudden cold air hit his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you provided.

With one hand still drawing circles around your chest, he brought the other one in front of you, his middle and ring finger just before your mouth. His silent request was clear, so he eagerly waited for you to part your lips. 

"Say it," you said, a sudden confidence overcoming you.

"Hmm? Say what?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity and anticipation.

"Say what you want me to do," you commanded softly, challenging him to voice his desires.

"Oh yeah? Okay then. Suck ‘em," he said with a chuckle, his fingers practically pushing your lips open. The playful command, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers, sent a thrill through you. You parted your lips, letting his fingers slide in, and the taste of his skin filling your mouth.

He was still pressed up against your back, and throughout this entire exchange, it was the only time he was glad he couldn’t see your face. He knew he didn't have the self-control to hold back if he saw your pretty, pouty lips wrapped around his fingers like that. The thought alone was enough to drive him wild, but the feel of your mouth on his fingers, warm and inviting, was almost too much to bear.

Eventually, much to his displeasure, he had to remove himself from your mouth.

His sticky, saliva-covered fingers quickly slipped back under your shirt before you could notice. Meanwhile, his other hand traveled just below the waistband of your sweats, tracing the small bow on your panties.

With the fingers that were mere moments ago in your mouth he started gently tracing your nipple, slightly pinching it in the process, causing you to mewl oh so quietly. 

He had to bite down on your neck to quickly ground himself. Hearing you make a noise, even if it was barely audible, for the first time had him battling every instinct to not pounce on you that same instant. The soft sound made him want to hear it more, and he struggled to maintain control, every fibber of his being yearning to give in to the moment. He was so hard it was aching. 

He couldn’t help himself. While maintaining the rhythm of his fingers, he began gently grinding against you, unable to resist the overwhelming urge.

“Fuck, baby. I never knew it could feel this good, never felt this good with anyone. ” he quickly mumbled, his voice whiney, almost a whimper. 

You couldn’t even process the new pet name, you were clenching around nothing and aching for attention too much. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you were touched like this. Kenma had his own struggles with love due to his fame, and although you were locally known at best, it didn’t mean you didn’t attract a bunch of insecure boys. Men who claimed they didn’t care about the online attention you received would quickly change their tune when they saw how many men were in your comments. Some even used you to boast to their friends about talking to you. As a result, every experience you had prior to this one felt completely one-sided. They didn’t care if you felt good or not, as long as they got off. Your last boyfriend couldn’t even make you come once in the entire three months you were together.

But Kenma was different. Kenma wasn’t insecure, and his feelings for you, although attraction based at first, were real now. His touch was filled with genuine desire and hunger, making you feel truly seen and wanted, craved even. The contrast was striking,and it made all those past experiences fade into insignificance.

“Kenma?” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Mhmm?” he responded, his voice husky he continued to touch you. 

“Please. Wanna come,” you pleaded, your need evident in every word. The desperation in your voice only fueled his own, making him more determined to bring you to the edge.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, pretty,” he said, his voice filled with urgency. The hand that had been teasing the edge of your cute panties slipped inside, his fingers skillfully finding their way to your most sensitive spot.

He paused for a moment as his fingertips brushed against your entrance. “You’re fucking soaked,” he murmured, a hint of awe and satisfaction in his voice.

“Maybe you’re doing something right, then,” you replied with a teasing smile, your voice a mix of playful and breathless. 

“Maybe I am,” he teased back, a smirk playing on his lips as his middle finger began making gentle circular motions on your bundle of nerves using your own juices to lubricate it. It was so lewd. The sensation was like nothing you’ve felt before, making you gasp and lean further into him.

‘Fucking gamer hands.’ You thought to yourself. 

As his fingers continued their rhythmic movements, you could feel the intensity building within you, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths grew shallower, your heart racing as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations he was creating. His other hand, still wet and playing around with your nipple, only fueled the buildup. 

Kenma’s eyes never left what he could see of your face, watching every expression. You couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes closed in pleasure. If you could, you’d be terrified by the dark, feline-like stare he wore. His eyes were intense, predatory, and focused entirely on you, taking in every detail of your reaction. The sight of you, lost in feeling because of him, only spurred him on. 

He could tell you were close.

He whispered softly in your ear, “Let go for me, pretty,” his voice a mix of command and tenderness. His assured yet gentle words urged you to surrender. 

The rhythmic circles on your sensitive spot grew more insistent and you could feel the tension building, a powerful wave approaching.

His free hand roamed your body, adding to the sensations. You felt completely surrounded by him—his presence, his touch, his voice—all combining to create an experience unlike any you had known.

As the intensity built, your breaths became ragged, your body trembling with anticipation. Kenma’s dark, intense eyes never left your face, capturing every expression and quiver of pleasure.

 “Let go,” he repeated, his voice now a husky murmur, filled with urgency and promise. His touch and words were irresistible, and you finally surrendered, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

Loud whimpers filled the house as your muscles tensed from the sensation. The intense pleasure made it impossible to stay quiet, each sound escaping your lips adding to the excitement. Your whole body tightened, responding to the waves of ecstasy, leaving you breathless and trembling in Kenma's arms.

He finally turned you around, taking a good look at your face. His eyes roamed over your features, taking in every detail—the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the dazed expression in your eyes. He smiled to himself, proud of his work.

“Was it good?” he asked, gently cupping your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, his eyes searching yours for an answer. Not that there was any doubt in his mind it wasn’t. 

“Are you joking? That was the best one I’ve had in a long time.” you replied breathlessly , a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

Your arms wrapped around him and he followed suit. You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, you calming down from your high and him holding you through it.

His fingers gently stroked your back, a soothing gesture that further eased you into a state of complete relaxation.

“Ken?”

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice gentle and attentive.

“I’m on the pill, you know,” you said, your voice teasing but clear.

He grinned slyly, “Oh yea? And why are you telling me this?” 

You stood on your tiptoes, gently pulling him closer by the collar. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn't resist, his breath hitching as you leaned in close. Your lips brushed against his ear, and you whispered, "Because I wanna go to your room so you can ruin me."

He hid his surprise and excitement, taking a step back. "Sorry, I don’t fuck strangers." He lied.

You were confused. "Strangers?" you echoed, your voice tinged with hurt and uncertainty.

“Well, yeah,” he said, leaning on the counter. “So unless you wanna be my girlfriend, it’s a no for me.” He smirked, watching your face change from confusion to realization.

The initial hurt faded, replaced by a mix of surprise and excitement. "Girlfriend?" you repeated, your voice softening. 

“Mmhm.” He replied with anticipation. 

A smile appeared on your face. “Oh, fuck you. I thought you were going to kick me out or something. Couldn't you ask like a normal person?”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “Where’s the fun in that?” he teased. “So, what’s it going to be? Girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide your grin. “Yes, Kenma. I’ll be your girlfriend.’ 

“Good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Now, about ruining you...”

You looked up at him seductively. “Gonna have to catch me first.”

Before he could process what you said, you quickly turned and ran to the bedroom, laughing.

“Don’t run so loud, you’re annoying,” he called after you, a huge grin plastered across his face as he followed you.

Kenma genuinely lost count of how many times he came in you that night. 

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 ↓。

a bunch of ppl requested anonymously for this to be a smut chapter, so I’m delivering lmaoo, you animals. (ILY THANK U FOR THE SUPPORT) Tags : @nazwrites-2002 @nishayuro @nnnyxie If u wanna get tagged in my next fic abt Suna or if u want a part 3 lmk <3