#but we don’t see any of the repercussions of that

[descendintorantness]

least argumentative mal stan… (JOKE. JOKING THIS IS A JOKE I PROMISE.)

you got me!!! i’m actually an evil anti-feminist who hates women :( /sar

No defense for excusing the love spell, I see…

"it truly makes ME sick that you can be so hateful towards a teenage girl!” I’m a teenager. I spent most of my teenage years as a teenage girl, and a a victim of many of the forms of abuse that Mal employs. Hating Mal is a coping mechanism for me, and she is not real. Directing my anger onto her doesn’t harm anyone and I find it fun to critically engage with the media in this way. It’s funny to me that you’re trying to take some moral high-ground by calling me out for hating on a fictional teenage girl (Mal) when you also hate on a fictional teenage girl (Audrey).

"A teenage girl who grew up abused and was morally taught to do all the wrong things for her mother's attention and affection.” You know who’s also a teenage girl who grew up emotionally abused and taught to do morally questionable things as a way to get her caretaker (Queen Leah’s) attention and affection? Audrey.

"She didn't know any better.” Didn’t know any better is crazy because Mal's intentions were actively malicious. She was trying to hurt Ben and Auradon and take over the kingdom. “Not knowing any better” implies that the harm caused by her actions wasn’t intentional, when it explicitly was.

"Furthermore, Mal exhausted every other option before turning to the love spell.” Really? From what I saw, the love spell was not a very thought out decision. There was no real reason that Mal had to spell Ben. She tried, from your examples, three things before turning to the love spell? How does that make the love spell the last option (/gen question)? In my opinion, their attempt to break into the museum barely counted as an attempt to steal the wand given how poorly thought out it was. Her attempts to get the wand through Jane didn’t really go much farther than that one conversation in the bathroom from what I remember. While drugging Ben might be the 'easiest' option, that doesn't mean that it's not an awful thing to do. Spelling Ben was truly awful, and Mal decided to do it about two seconds after she learned that Ben's girlfriend gets to sit in the front row during the coronation (which didn't even help her much, since Jane, who wasn’t sitting next to Ben, managed to get the wand before Mal did). And to be honest, I don’t give a shit even if it was her only possible course of action. It was horrible to completely strip him of his autonomy in that way, and I can’t stand attempts to forgive or justify it. Ben deserves the truth about why she really cast the spell (to get the wand), he deserves a real apology, and he deserves to be recognized as a victim.

"What, did you think Maleficent would just take them failing in her plan lightly?” Maleficent was trapped on the Isle, with no feasible way of getting off besides the Core Four’s plan to get the wand. Her escape was purely based upon their actions.

"As well, Mal willingly and knowingly of the possible repercussions gave Ben the antidote, giving him back his choice.” Okay forgive me this is kind of off topic, but honestly, one of the things I’m most curious about is the mechanics of the love spell and its antidote within the Descendants canon. We really don’t know anything about it, and it’s kind of fascinating to me! The antidote seemed to be made with some of the same ingredients as the love spell itself in the movie (tear of human sadness), even though in Mal’s spellbook the process of the “anti-love spell” wasn’t described that way. If the spell hadn’t washed off in the Enchanted Lake and Ben just ate the brownie, would he even know he had been spelled at all? We know the spell causes emotional instability and irrational behavior, but does romantic contact with the caster negate the effects?

I really want to know how it works.

"Mal gave him that option, knowing that she'd most likely die for it, if Ben sent her back to the Isle and she didn't have the wand."

Alright, I think that “most likely die” is quite a stretch. Even though Mal gave him the brownie, she did not plan on him eating it before the Coronation (which was absolutely horrible planning on her part to give it to him before the Coronation started). She had every intention of stealing the wand with Ben still under her spell, and only after she had Maleficent taken over, reversing it. As Ben shows, he is immediately willing to forgive her for the love spell. Maybe Mal didn’t know he would do this, but she goes along with his excuse for her pretty easily. And even if she were sent back to the Isle, what would pose a threat to her? Maleficent, or the other villains, perhaps? The other villains wouldn’t pose a threat to Mal because of her status on the Isle, and given the context of their relationship, I strongly believe that Maleficent would never hurt Mal.

Despite the opinion of the majority of the fandom, I do not believe that their relationship was abusive (at least not to the extent that many people seem to think it is). Maleficent’s behavior has not affected Mal’s self-worth or emotional development in any negative way, nor did it impact her psychological capacity or emotional stability. While Maleficent was quick to criticize Mal in the beginning of the movie, she was also quick to praise her once Mal clarified the situation (“That’s my nasty little girl”). This criticism (the only criticism that we see Maleficent give), seemed to be given in a slightly teasing manner, intending to teach, not degrade. Maleficent never threatens Mal (neither with physical violence nor rejection), and shows affection/love (verbal commendation/praise). She shows her daughter support and guidance, as well as belief in her abilities. She has a whole song dedicated to giving Mal support and guidance about going to Auradon (to fulfill Maleficent’s plan of breaking the barrier, but still). Not that these are the only ways to spot abuse, but Mal also never showed the usual signs of psychological or emotional distress that come from abuse such as anxiety, depression, withdrawal, or aggression (one could argue that her “evil” exploits were signs of aggression, but those were all planned/controlled acts of “malice/evil,” and not lashing out against people she cared about or risking harm to herself). Maleficent could be considered manipulative (in the sense that she raised her daughter within her own belief system about the world) and forceful towards Mal, but there is canon evidence that their relationship wasn’t as terrible as many people would like to think. Maleficent truly believed that the best way to be successful in the world was to be “evil”. She believes she is right, and that she is teaching her daughter how to best find her way in the world. She does love Mal, and she wants her to have a good life. Not that Maleficent doesn’t have any selfish intentions with teaching her daughter evil and sending her to Auradon, but she never wanted to cause her daughter harm. She truly believed that the best thing for herself, and Mal secondarily, was to break the barrier and take over Auradon. Even if Maleficent’s moralities are not the best values to teach your child, she thought that they were. Maleficent is not a “good parent” by any means, but having her as a mother was not detrimental to Mal’s emotional well-being or development as a person in any way that could possibly excuse her actions and overall behavior.

In one of the final scenes in Descendants, where Maleficent crashes the Coronation, Mal tells Maleficent to go away and actively fights against her (throwing the wand to Fairy Godmother) with no consequences, not even a reprimand. In fact, Maleficent laughs it off and proceeds to show understanding (“You’ll get there”) and offer advice for what she believes to be Mal’s dilemma- Maleficent believes that Mal is confused about what she wants, and that she is only faltering from an “evil path” because she is unsure of herself. To be clear, I am not trying to defend Maleficent here, she is being controlling, manipulative, and a bad parent, but she never intentionally tried to harm Mal, nor did she ever threaten to. She did proceed to yell at Mal later in the scene, but she does so out of annoyance (“this is tedious and very immature”) and desire to control, not intent to harm. When Mal takes the wand from her, she just asks for it back. Forcefully, yes, but with no threats of violence or even withholding affection. She doesn’t harm or threaten to harm Mal’s friends either, she simply puts Dude back onto the floor, and when Jay tries to take her scepter she just knocks him away. And though she does turn into a dragon and breathe fire at Jay, I believe this was done as a show of power and a warning rather than actually trying to hurt him. She very easily could have killed him, Carlos, Evie, or Mal in this form, and had many opportunities, but does not make any real attempts to do so. Maleficent did not want to hurt Mal or her friends even when they actively sabotaged her. Therefore, while she would have been upset that Mal had failed, she would never have hurt her if she were sent back to the Isle, let alone have killed her. She would have protected and controlled her as she had always done. 

There is the argument that this supposed “abuse” could have happened off screen, but when examining an on-screen relationship in a movie series, it holds little to no weight. This is a movie, and the portrayal of character relationships on screen is deliberate. What we see is how the characters were written to interact, and how that relationship was meant to be perceived; the characters interacted on screen how their relationship was written within for the movie, and therefore how it is within that movie. What we can glean from Mal’s scenes with Maleficent is limited, of course, but if the writers really wanted to imply that Mal was suffering from abuse at the hands of her mother, they would have made that much clearer to us, the audience.

One again, I am not trying to excuse Maleficent’s actions or defend her as a character. I am simply trying to thoroughly explain why the Isle was never and would never be a dangerous place for Mal, especially when Maleficent was there.

Point One: "Flat out KISSING another guy not even a minute after Ben had broken up with her DOES NOT really scream genuine/deep feelings for him.” I disagree. The fact that Audrey kissed Chad does not necessarily mean that she didn’t care for Ben. As I mentioned, the situation was most definitely heartbreaking and humiliating for her, so within the context her actions make more sense as an attempt to “save face” in front of her friends and peers. Her actions of randomly grabbing a boy and kissing him in front of a crowd of people speaks to emotional instability and deep hurt.

"And please do not give me the 'but it up to Ben to talk to her!' line.” Ben has no autonomy at this point in the story. The fault is on Mal completely. I will agree that Audrey’s lack of communication was immature and indicative/causatory of problems in their relationship, but the blame cannot be placed entirely on her either. Both Ben and Audrey had poor communication and did bad things to each other throughout the movie. Audrey should have talked to Ben, and Ben should have talked to Audrey. Both are to blame, both deserved better closure when it comes to their relationship.

Point Two: I agree with your response here, well said. /gen

Point 3: If you thought I was annoying before, just wait and see what happens when you try and come for my girl Uma. /lh

I will admit that I oversimplified the “drowning” incident, but I believe you are doing the same thing.

"However, an attempt to prank the especially mean Cruella De Vil leads Mal to seemingly falling off the docks and into the water. Uma laughs at her instead of saving her, only for Mal to surprise her and dump a bucket of shrimp on Uma in return. No matter how much Uma tried to wash her hair, the disgusting smell never left her locks.”

"One day, Uma thought Mal was drowning and went in to save her, but when she realized Mal wasn't drowning, Mal dropped a bucket of shrimp on her head before calling her "Shrimpy". Mal was threatened by Uma's evilness and felt that she needed to take out the competition."

These are quotes from the Descendants wikis (I unfortunately don’t have access to the book itself to check). As I stated, Mal wasn’t actually drowning. At least with my recollection of the book, what happened is that Uma laughed at what she thought was Mal falling in the water and then went into save her once she thought Mal was actually in danger of drowning. It is hard to say whether Uma’s initial reaction was due to genuine malice and wish to see Mal harmed, if she didn’t know Mal couldn’t swim (this interpreation makes the most sense to me, as I don’t think Mal would want to share that weakness), or if she (at least at first) realized that it was a prank. However, if Uma did have truly malicious intentions, I do not believe she would have gone in to save Mal.

"Mal could not afford to be "soft.”” Neither could Uma, due to the same expectations put on her by Ursula. And yet, despite this, she showed Mal genuined kindness and put herself in harm’s way to try to save Mal, and was assaulted and harrassed for it; by Mal, her former best friend who had decided to betray her.

"Furthermore, Uma gave as good as she got in the rivalry between them.” This is just my interpretation of the canon events, but I honestly don’t think that anything Uma did had quite the emotional devastation that Mal’s actions had. Threatening to kill Ben would be the highest on the list of Uma’s “evil deeds”, in my opinion, and that was not done just to hurt Mal.

"She went after Ben and turned up to cotillion deliberately and with malice just to hurt Mal.” OOF. Tell me you missed the point of the second movie without telling me you missed the point of the second movie (/hj).

Uma’s main intentions in kidnapping Ben were not just “to get back at Mal”. That’s an insanely reductive, blatant misinterpretation of her motivations and character. She went after Ben with the expressed intention of getting the wand- the same goal that Mal had just a movie before, and the very same context you used to justify her love spell, remember?

Mal cast a love spell on Ben while he was dating someone else. Ben had explicitly told Uma that he and Mal weren't together anymore.

Uma had no illusions about what she was doing. She knew that she was doing a pretty awful thing, but she really had no other choice. Mal, however, had a bunch of other options for how to steal the wand that she never bothered to look into, as well as no real time limit to come up with a plan, but she decided to just drug someone after barely even thinking about it.

Ben knew exactly why Uma spelled him. He still believes that Mal spelled him because she liked him. He doesn't have any idea that Mal spelled him for the exact same reason Uma did: to get the wand.

Uma had reason to hate Mal, unlike Mal to Audrey. Mal bullied Uma for years in a toxic friendship and then threw her to the sharks. Audrey was a little rude to Mal and that's it. And again, Mal and Ben were not dating at the time Uma cast the spell on him. But my point is, Uma was completely justified in taking a little pleasure in the fact that Mal was upset by her showing up at Cotillion.

Although their ultimate motives for spelling Ben were the same, the way they went about it was a little different. Mal cast a spell to make herself Ben's girlfriend. Her goal was to be in a relationship with Ben. She magically forced him into being in a relationship with her, and that was her motive the entire time. Uma wanted Ben to listen to her so that he would take down the barrier. She never wanted to be in a relationship with Ben or force him to be in a relationship with her. She only wanted him to listen to her and take down the barrier. Although the end result of both Mal and Uma's spells were the same, Ben "falling in love" with each of them, their thought process about it was entirely different.

Uma didn’t catch feelings for a person she had complete control over. Mal “fell for” Ben while she believed that he was under her love spell and therefore had no emotional autonomy and no control over what he did in response to those emotions that she created for him without his consent.

And finally, both Mal and Uma spelled Ben in an attempt to get the wand, but they wanted it for different reasons. Mal wanted the wand for her mother so that she and Maleficent could take over Auradon. Uma wanted the wand to free all the kids on the Isle from poverty. Uma's goal was never selfish or with bad intentions. She genuinely wanted a better life for every kid on the Isle.

"Uma may have been the original victim of the shrimp, yes, but she quickly lost 'victim' status with her actions afterwards.” No she didn’t. No matter what she did, she remained the victim of wrongful imprisonment from Auradon and bullying from Mal.

One thing that a lot of people don't seem to get about why Uma is a much better person than Mal is that Uma isn't selfish. Sure, sometimes she has a bad attitude, yes, sometimes she is mean. But she is never selfish like Mal is. Mal couldn't care less about helping any of the other kids get off the Isle, or even getting them aid or help. Uma did. Uma truly believed that other people should have the opportunities that both people in Auradon and the Core Four got, and she was so angry because she knew that the worst kid on the Isle, Mal, got the opportunity compared to all the other kids who were actually good people. Mal just did not care about anyone on the Isle after she got to Auradon.

Uma didn't go about her goal "the right way", but since when was that ever an option to her? Kids on the Isle don't get to, say, meet with royalty and negotiate getting themselves off prison. Uma saw one chance to do something for her people, and she took it. She was skewed as the villain for thinking it was unfair that Mal, her old bully, got to be the ruler of paradise while Uma and all the other Isle kids were left to suffer.

In defence of Mal getting her 'karma' by the love spell in D2, and the people smirking, 'now she knows how it feels!'

It. Is. Different! 1 Unlike Audrey, Mal has genuine feelings for Ben at that point. (and think about the context of that. This is a girl who has never truly romantically loved someone in her life. And now that she has the person she let have her heart is getting taken away) 2. Mal has just come off months of putting herself through hell/Tartarus trying to be what she thought Ben needed. So that she wouldn't cause him issues with being a VK and on the night it was all supposed to pay off, Ben turns up with another girl. 3 Even if it's unknown to Ben and Uma Mal knows that that's not just any girl taking Ben. It's her cousin, her family that's just a deeper level of low/hurt!

So no, you cannot compare Mal and Audrey's feelings in that moment because the context of the two situations was not the same.

[p-s-yokubo]

I think what frustrates me the most about season 3 and 4 is that all the other characters are so well written in it. It’s JUST clay and Jestro that are botched to hell and back. Like Aaron in particular is so fucking good in these seasons. We see a different side to him that feels realistic and not like they pulled it out of their ass. And the others also have more depth added to them and how they react to things around them. And this realization is pissing me off so much like they were SO CLOSE to making good seasons like I’m having a good time watching and then the main plot comes in and I’m like “oh yeah I remember why I don’t like theses seasons.”

[gyudons]

despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

[peachsayshi]

// brutally soft // I.

baby daddy!sukuna x reader

tags: non curse au; fluff; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different | wc: 1,653 | read this for more context

note: I hope I got the honorifics right lol please correct me if I didn't

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

You didn’t think it was possible for a five year old to render you speechless, nor did you think she was capable of making your former lover blush the deepest shade of tomato red. You part your lips in surprise, stunned as you look down at her innocent expression. She’s sitting on your living room floor, her face perched on her palms with her elbows resting against the coffee table. Her wide eyes drift between you and Sukuna sitting on the sofa, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she tilts her head slightly out of intrigue.

“Mama?” She presses, begging for an answer.

Your mouth moves but no words come out. You���re trying to formulate a proper response that’s palatable for her, one that will be enough to subdue any further questions.

Except you’re not quite sure how to answer: “why don’t you and daddy ever kiss?” without making her pry even more into your history with her father.

Sukuna runs his large palms back and forth nervously over his thigh, the muscles on his inked forearms tensing up.

“We kiss,” you fib, because what else are you supposed to say, “of course we do!”

Your daughter’s face falters, and she quirks her brow as sassily as her father when they both mirror the same expression to look at you.

You glance back at Sukuna, giving him an awkward smile because at least you said something all the while he just sat there. 

“No, you don’t…” your daughter insists.

“Yeah, yeah that’s right…we do…of course, we do…” Sukuna pipes in with a mumble, finally catching on to your attempts as he reverts his attention on to his precious girl.

“I’ve never seen it,” she points out with a pout, scolding her father playfully in return.

“That’s because we don’t do it in front of you,” Sukuna remarks. “Besides, who wants to see their parents kiss?”

His daughter rolls her eyes, “all other mommies and daddies do it, except you guys. It makes no sense…”

She’s got the tiniest voice and the softest lisp, but her attitude is entirely her father. She’s bold and blunt, never afraid to say exactly what she’s thinking or to point the obvious.

“Oji-san kisses oba-san in front of Shiro…” she mumbles, dropping both her hands onto the coffee table and crumpling the paper that she is using to draw her little family portrait.

At the mention of his younger brother Sukuna can’t help but grimace. Yuji was incredibly affectionate towards his wife, wearing his heart on his sleeve entirely which just makes Sukuna grumble with annoyance. He’s always been a little envious of his younger brother, who never had to face the world as harshly as Sukuna. With an eleven year gap between them, Sukuna witnessed his parents becoming actual parents. They were young when they had him, and therefore had no clue what it took to raise or take care of a child. Sukuna was caught in the middle of their relationship for most of his childhood, all the while Yuji got to see the peaceful harmony once they finally made up.

“I’m just saying…” your daughter adds on, “…it’s weird.”

You breathe out a sigh in defeat, knowing full well that she won’t let go of the subject until she gets some consolation.

So incredibly stubborn just like her dad.

Without considering the repercussions, you reach your hand out and clutch Sukuna’s chin delicately between your fingers. You tilt his head towards you, noticing the slow register of your touch wash over his face as you lean up to kiss his cheek.

However, you misjudged your aim, because Sukuna tilted his head down in return, and you wound up leaving a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth instead.

Your lips lingered for only a few seconds, three to be exact, before you retracted and turned towards your daughter.

“See?” You insist, holding onto Sukuna’s chin like it’s evidence between your fingers. “We kiss!”

Your daughter’s mouth forms into a line, clearly unimpressed. The older she’s getting the more she’s picking up on the little things that you guys were hiding so well.

But it’s still way too complicated, and you and Sukuna haven't even discussed how to approach this yet.

“I guess,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders, before returning to her drawing.

You didn’t even know that Sukuna has his focus still locked onto your lips tuntil you turn to look back at him.His gaze is soft, the muscles of his handsome features melting between your touch. There’s a hint of sorrow that twinkles in his eyes, and when you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth apologetically, you notice that you left a lipstick stain in your wake.

“Sorry,” you mouth, and carefully use your thumb to swipe over the mark.

But your heart seizes quickly, your spine growing still when Sukuna mildly inches forward like he’s about to go in for another kiss.

You remember what it was like to kiss him. He was an exceptionally good kisser, even though he probably doesn’t know it himself. You’ve spent hours losing time locked against those lips, allowing his tongue to taste every last drop of you.

There’s a twitch in your chest, everything around you going quiet. Heat pricks the back of your neck when his lips draw just a breath away from yours, and you swear to yourself that he grazed over your mouth with a featherlight touch.

But Sukuna stops suddenly, catching himself.

“Be right back,” he whispers, his voice dipping so low you can’t help but clench your thighs together.

He shoots up from his seat, detangling quickly as he brushes you off, and leaving you to stare aimlessly at his broad back and overbearing muscles. Your sofa suddenly appears a lot larger with all that free space.

You press both hands to your cheeks, licking your lips as the apprehension runs through you as a cold chill. You can’t even remember when was the last time you kissed the father of your child, but you didn’t think that such a small act would have such a lingering effect.

You thought you were over this. Over him. That chapter was closed a long, long time ago.

You look up at the cause of this unexpected interaction, your daughter’s short attention span keeping her focused on her doodle while she hums to herself.

Sukuna returns with his head held high a few minutes after, and plops down on the sofa with his weight prompting you to bounce lightly in place.

That’s when you felt it, a hint of cold hitting your brow like a tiny droplet of rain.

Your furrow your brows then notice that your Sukuna’s hair is actually damp, with little tears trickling down the back of his neck.

The tips of his ears are still burning red.

You part your lips in awe.

Sukuna is a master at making you blush. At making any woman blush, frankly. But you don’t think you’ve ever actually seen that reaction on him.

It stuns you how much it suits him, and surprises you even more of just how cute he looks trying to hide it.

“Daddy, can you help me?” Your daughter asks, finally focusing back on the two of you while her finger draws out an outline of what appears to be two arms.

“Whatever you want, Princess…” Sukuna responds, and obediently gets up from his seat.

He perches himself on the floor, the size difference between him and your little girl doing nothing to help the sudden hammering in your chest.

He’s so, so gentle with her.

She crawls onto his lap, holding the sheet of paper in her hand, before setting herself back up while sitting on his thighs.She points to the drawing with her index finger, “I don’t know how to draw your tattoos…”

Sukuna chuckles, a glimpse of his smile making you to scratch the warmth off the back of your neck.

He picks up a black pencil, “you’re a better artist than me, kid,” he states honestly, “not quite sure what I can do to help…”

She wraps her arms around his neck, leaving her dad to carry on the effort.

“I’ll explain the shapes and you draw it!” She says with a kiss to his cheek.

It’ll never cease to amaze you how easily he bends to her will. Sukuna had no interest in any of this, and was obstinate in every sense of the word. Nothing could turn that man into a docile cat except when it comes to your little girl. He’s present with her, this part of him just so different, and even after five years it still feels a tad unfamiliar.

There’s a slight tightness in your throat because this is all you wanted when you were together. After the break up and surprise pregnancy, you didn’t realize how hard he took it when you told him that you have zero expectations of him being involved in your daughter’s life. You were just informing him out of moral obligation, but something switched on inside him after that.

It may not have been for you, but he made that change for her, and seeing them together now, you recognize just how much that man loves his little girl.

That fact alone makes you undeniably happy.

So happy you wish you could give him a real kiss for it.

Your daughter moves to pat his head in gesture of a good job as Sukuna follows her instructions to the T, but her faces scrunches with disgust when she threads her fingers between his locks.

“Daddy, why is your hair wet?”

Sukuna brings his free hand to massage the back of her scalp, “Pay attention to the drawing, missy…and stop asking so many damn, I mean uh-darn questions…” he responds, leaving a kiss on her brow and doing everything in his power to make sure that he avoids looking back at you.

tag: @selarina @yuujispinkhair @blush-bambi @tojislittleprincesss

[carlsangel]

CARE TO KNOCK?

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl get caught. twice.)

tags: SMUT!! oral sex, f!receiving, getting caught! fun!

masterlist here!

You tried your hardest to be discreet about how…active you and Carl were. It wasn’t the easiest considering Carl was the leaders’ son and it seemed like eyes were always on him, whether it was his dad’s or Michonne’s. Sometimes people in the community.

You’d try to sneak off and do what you could but with your guys’ luck, you almost always got interrupted. One time something possessed the both of you to try it in the church house when there was a community event. That went as well as you’d imagine.

“Holy mother of-” Gabriel had walked in on the both of you on one of the pews. God was it embarrassing. (see what i did there) The scene he’d walked in on consisted of you without a shirt and Carl’s hand practically groping your tits over your bra. Also you were attached at the mouth so you could see why he’d be terrified.

Obviously you scrambled to put your clothes on while Carl tried to explain for the both of you, begging to not tell Rick or Michonne. “Look man, we’re really sorry we just- please don’t tell my dad. I’m begging you he can’t know about this.” He explains worriedly. Gabriel stood there still shocked. You had to make it up to him somehow, considering you were doing an unholy act in a holy place but, there wasn’t really any real repercussions because Carl had gotten him to keep it a secret. Something about making it up to him for something Gabriel had done when they first arrived at Alexandria.

Anyway, a large reason you didn’t want Rick to know, was because you two shared a room. You were happy to almost always get away with things at night (you tried not to be too loud) and not have anyone know. It was nice. Until one particular day.

Rick and Michonne go out on Wednesday mornings to scavenge, so you two took advantage of the time you had..and got to it. It wasn’t really anything crazy, your morning sex was usually romantic and sweet. It’s not like you were going at it like animals.

One week, they’d left a bit earlier so in your mind, you were able to get some extra time.

“Oh fuck-” You spoke breathlessly, he was under the blanket eating you out. Something about the way he was ruthlessly lapping at your clit made you realize that today’s morning sex wouldn’t be so romantic. He began to move upwards and start kissing up your body hungrily. He started to place harsh kisses all around your neck, leaving small bruises around as well. “You’re so perfect.” He mumbled against your neck.

The next thing you know, he’s sitting up with your legs between his knees. He flips you over on your stomach and lifts your hips up so you’re arched for him how he wants. You giggle at his sudden movements and you’re surprised by him literally shoving himself inside of you.

“Oh-” You moan loudly, surprising yourself and immediately slapping your hand over your mouth. He began thrusting himself in and out of you with no plan on stopping. That was until the door beside your guys’ bed suddenly opened. It opened just enough so Rick could see you and your back, Carl’s arms and his face.

Your eyes go wide and once he realizes what was happening, Rick quickly shuts the door, catching Carl’s attention which causes him to stop. “What the hell was that?” He asked, his hands still resting at your hips. “Your fucking dad.” You pull away from him and Carl sits there sort of astonished. “W-wait he saw?” He covers himself with the blanket and you move to find your underwear and shorts.

“Not everything, just me I hope. He didn’t open the door open too much.” You pull up your underwear and scramble around for your shorts which Carl pulled from under the blanket he was using to cover himself. “What’s scary is that you didn’t stop.”

You throw him his own clothes which were on the floor and he feels somewhat upset he didn’t realize the door had opened. He was too busy fucking you. “Well it’s kinda hard to focus on stopping when I’m in the middle of something.” He says defensively, pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. You plop on the bed, dropping your head to your hands while he found a shirt to wear. After seeing how worried you were, he walked over and kissed the top of your head.

“Don’t stress out okay? It’ll be fine, worst comes to worst he’ll take the room away but we’ll work our way around it.” He reassured. Maybe he’s right. This didn’t have to be such a big deal. If Carl didn’t make it one, you wouldn’t either.

“Care to knock? What the hell?” You both were now in the kitchen, Carl was scolding Rick who was standing with Michonne and Maggie at the island. You were standing behind him quietly. “Well I thought we were way past knockin. Plus we got home early.” Rick sort of laughs, seeming unfazed. Your eyebrows furrow at this and he notices. “What, you thought we didn’t know about what goes on in there at night?”

You look to Michonne and Maggie who were both sort of smiling at you. “What?” You asked peeved. “I mean…you’re not exactly the quietest.” Michonne reasons. Your face is flushed and you’re super embarrassed, it doesn’t help that when you turn you realize both Glenn and Daryl had been in the room as well, you just hadn’t noticed. Glenn sort of giggles at you, Daryl just…is Daryl. “Oh shit.” You mutter to yourself, hiding your face in your hands and Carl just stands there annoyed as hell.

“They’re not wrong though you are quite loud.” He says quietly, slightly teasing you over a conversation you’d had many times before, he always made fun of you for being so vocal, even though he loved it. You look up from your hands just to give him a pissed off glare. You give him a shove to the shoulder and make your way back upstairs.

“Fuck off.”

a/n: sorry guys for this HAHAHA idk how smutty anon wanted this request but they got smut..sorry pookie :| ANYWAY i hope you all enjoyed, currently deciding on closing my requests cause im gettin a shit ton but we’ll figure that out later!!! love you bye!!!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[wonderjanga]

Kill Licenses

Stargirl was excited! Captain Marvel had just offered to let her fight crime with him in Fawcett. The man was like a big brother to everyone. That included her. He was super nice, was normally the person who first stepped up to diffuse a situation, and overall just a big teddy bear of a man. So it was a little bit a of a surprise when she saw him snap a rapist’s neck like a twig.

Marvel: *drops the body, muttering something about paperwork*

Stargirl: *gobsmacked*

Marvel: *looks over to her for a second before doing a double take* “Oh my gods I forgot you were here!” *sounds horrified*

Stargirl: “You just killed a man!”

Marvel: “I know- I know!” *leads her away from the body* “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” *sounds completely ashamed*

Stargirl: “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You killed a rapist. That’s one less evil in the world, but my question is how are you gonna get away with this?! Cap, you’re gonna go to jail!”

Marvel: “Ah… Well, no. I have a license to kill.”

Stargirl: “Wait, you can actually have one of those?”

Marvel: “Yeah, uh me, and most of the other Fawcett heroes have one. We’ve all had them since the sixties and had to get them renewed a while back. It’s not a bad thing to have for situations like this.”

Stargirl: “…Can I have one?”

Marvel: “Yes? No? I don’t know? You should in my opinion. It’s a good safety net for if you accidentally kill a villain. You just fill out some paperwork and you’ll be safe. Do you want one…?”

Stargirl: “Yes.” *immediate answer*

Marvel: “Are you sure? I mean, you’re a teenager, so you might need a parent to sign or something.”

Stargirl: “Well, I don’t have a parent right now, but I do technically have a temporary guardian at the moment.” *eyes him*

Marvel: “No… you’re not seriously suggesting…?”

And that’s how Marvel ended up taking Stargirl to a secret government base so she could get a kill license. Stargirl got a stellar recommendation from the Captain and passed with flying colors.

As they’re leaving the base…

Marvel: “Okay, so we need to lay some ground rules.”

Stargirl: “Ground rules?”

Marvel: “Yeah, ground rules. Now I know you’re not the type of kid to go around killing people all willy-nilly, but I’ll say it just in case, don’t go killing people all willy-nilly.”

Stargirl: “Well, duh, I’m not dumb.”

Marvel: “I know you aren’t. And now onto the actually important rule. Under any circumstances, do not kill around other heroes. That’s how Huntress got kicked out of the Justice League after all.”

Stargirl: “I can’t even do it around you?”

Marvel: “Well, I guess you could. And I guess you could do it around the other Fawcett heroes, but just make sure not to do it around heroes who don’t have a license, okay? I don’t wanna get in trouble, and I doubt you wanna get in trouble too.”

Stargirl: “Gotcha.”

Marvel: “Nice. Now that that’s out of the way, wanna go for victory ice cream since you got your license?”

A solid four months passed after this incident. The two forgot about it. They were chilling. Then, Courtney forgot that her stepdad didn’t know that she could legally kill a villain, fill out some paperwork, and face no repercussions.

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “YOU TOOK MY STEPDAUGHTER OUT TO GET A KILL LICENSE?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Marvel: “Nothing! I didn’t think it was a bad thing!”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “She’s sixteen. She sliced a man’s head off. CLEAN. With practiced precision. She doesn’t even have a drivers license! What in hell would make you think it’s a good idea to give her a kill license?!”

Marvel: “Okay, her slicing off someone’s head isn’t my fault. I didn’t teach her that, and the guys who gave her the license didn’t either.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Then who did??”

Marvel: “I don’t know! Maybe she’s just bloodthirsty?”

Stargirl: “No I’m not?” *sounds slightly offended*

Marvel: *ignores her* “Look, the point is, I’m sorry for not telling you but please, please, pretty please don’t tell Batman.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Why?”

Marvel: “Oh come on. He’s super anti-kill. If you told him he’d have me removed from the Justice League almost instantly.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Maybe you should be removed! You don’t just give a kid the okay to kill someone.”

Marvel: “I’m not giving her an okay to do anything. I only wanted her to have it as a safety net. I promise.”

It took a lot of convincing for Pat not to squeal to Batman, but thankfully, they got it in the end. Though, the man still ended up chewing the two out.

Inspired by @helps-the-writing-brain-go’s repost on my We Thought You Died?! post :) Thanks for the inspo!

[lovexdeepspace]

“life without you.”

summary; months after breaking up with them, they come for reconciliation.

warnings; heartbreak, break-ups

note; wowowow the first part to this blew up and i am so beyond thankful for all the love! after this comes more requests :D

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

first part | angst ending

“we should probably see other people.”

༊*·˚. xavier

it had been a couple of months since you broke things off with xavier and the way his face had contorted into one of subtle shock made you feel, well, better about things. although it had pained you to say the words, knowing that he was instantly hit with something — be it guilt, regret, sadness, whatever — made you feel better knowing it meant he still cared enough about you.

though the months of silence that followed had you second guessing that notion, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was normal for this to happen and that you should take advantage of this time. you would never admit to anyone the many nights you would spend on your couch, waiting around late at night hoping that knock would come on your door and your sleepy hunter would be on the other side.

perhaps you ended up manifesting it one too many times, however, because now you stand pj-clad in your doorway with one hand on your hip and a raised brow as xavier held out a round, marshmallow-looking stuffed bunny to you.

“what’s this?” you deadpanned, knowing exactly what he was doing — you just wanted to hear him say it.

xavier’s lips pressed into a tight line as he avoided your eyes and muttered, “i really screwed up. i didn’t realize how good things were with you until i lost you.”

you stayed silent, motioning for him to continue when he glanced your way.

“i don’t deserve to ask you for forgiveness, let alone should i expect you to take me back,” he said, holding your gaze, “but i’d be even more of a fool not to try. i’m so, so sorry i put you in such a shitty situation.”

xavier pushed the bunny a little closer to you, brightening a bit as you took it into your arms. it was soft and downright adorable, a stuffed reflection of the man in front of you(though, again, something else on the list of things that wouldn’t be admitted by you).

“i don’t expect you to answer me any time soon,” he added quickly, filling the silence, “so i’ll just —“

“xavier.”

the blonde immediately shut his mouth, giving you his rapt attention. with a sigh you look from the bunny to him before extending a hand to him, albeit hesitantly.

“i was in the middle of watching a movie,” you said, earning a confused look. “do you want to finish it with me?”

if your heart wasn’t racing by that point, the way xavier’s face broke out in a grin before he grabbed your hand excitedly and pulled you into your own apartment had it pounding against your rib cage like a drum.

༊*·˚. rafayel

you recieved a torrent of snarky, snappy texts following your brief break-up with rafayel. he switched between gaslighting you that nothing was happening and that you were overreacting to him acting nonchalant about the whole thing; it was so bad that you had to block his number before you even got back to your apartment, which was a few blocks away.

it was weird to not have your phone blowing up all day long but, at the same time, the silence was a sort of reprieve while you dealt with the emotional repercussions of the whole situation. it allowed you some peace of mind and gave you the space needed to cope and, with the months that followed, grow more comfortable with not being in a relationship anymore.

you had finally found yourself at peace once again, keeping yourself busy with things to do like trying out the new restaurant downtown. as you were getting ready to head out, a knock came from your front door.

“just a minute!” you called, adjusting the collar of your blouse in the mirror before heading to the door and opening it. “oh.”

standing in front of you was rafayel and thomas, the latter giving you a sweet smile and a wave.

“nice to see you!” he chirped before giving rafayel a shove on the shoulder and gesturing to you. “i’ll be in the car.”

“good seeing you, too, thomas,” you called as he walked off, then turned to rafayel. “so. it took your manager forcing you for you to come see me?”

rafayel pouted at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “last i checked, you’re the one who blocked my number.”

you barked out a laugh, unsure as to why you’d be surprised about the audacity of this man. “well, maybe it’s because you tried to downplay my feelings!”

“well i’m sorry, okay?” rafayel retorted, matching your raised volume. “there, happy?”

“happy?” you echoed, running a hand down your face. “rafayel, if you really think —”

“you’re right.”

you froze, biting back the rest of your statement and raising a brow. “i’m right?”

rafayel nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “i fucked up. like truly, undoubtedly fucked up. and here i am, thinking i can just say sorry and fix it all but that’s not how it works. i’ve got this whole front to keep up to protect my stupid ego but. . .” he sniffles and you realize there are tears in his eyes but he continues before you can speak up.

“fuck my ego,” he spat, clearly more angry at himself with every word he spoke. “my life has been complete and utter shit without you in it. i thought i knew what i was doing but i was wrong and i can’t even begin to express how sorry i am. i don’t deserve forgiveness or anything from you but gods you deserved an apology and i hope this is at least somewhat sufficient.”

rafayel sniffled again, the tip of his nose reddening as he wiped at his eyes. you were shocked to say the least, rooted to the spot as you watched the man you always thought to be so invulnerable breaking down in front of you.

slowly you reached out and your hands pulled his away from his face. he looked at you with wide, teary eyes as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing the few remaining tears away. he whispered your name and you sighed, feeling all the hardened feelings towards the artist and your breakup softening to mush.

“i’ve missed you,” he whispered, leaning into your touch, and everything gets thrown out the window as you press a quick kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then the corner of his lips.

“i missed you too,” you said quietly. “come inside — i’ll tell thomas that i’ll drive you home later.”

༊*·˚. zayne

his coldness towards you was to be expected but still stung more than you could’ve expected. what made the break-up even worse was that you had to do it at the hospital and she was present for it all. you had tripped over your words and felt like a fool but knew, deep down, it needed to be done to prevent you from spending another sleepless night.

you had accounted for the way you’d feel when you’d find his clothes in your laundry; you’d accounted for the way your heart would surge whenever the rare occurrence came that you’d see him out and about in linkon city; everything was thought out and prepared for to avoid feeling too harshly.

what you had failed to account for, however, was how you’d feel when you came home one day to find zayne sitting on your couch with at least ten different bouquets of flowers surrounding him.

first it was shock — you quite literally dropped all your belongings. zayne raised an eyebrow at your reaction as if it wasn’t incredibly surprising to see him sitting in your apartment after having months of no contact.

second it was realization — you hadn’t taken your spare key back. as soon as it hit you your shock wore off and you groaned, running a hand down your face. after a long day at work this was the last thing you were expecting and needed.

last came the indifference. you gestured to him, then to the door. zayne stood slowly and walked around the bouquets, heading for the door. you were surprised up until he shut the door and headed back to his original spot on the couch.

“zayne,” you deadpanned. “that was a sign for you to leave.”

“do you really want me to leave?” the doctor asked, his steely gaze sending shivers down your spine.

no. “why are you even here?” you asked, defeated, purposely avoiding the question. “months of not talking and you suddenly appear in my apartment? what gives?”

“i need to apologize,” zayne replied bluntly, gesturing to the plethora of flowers surrounding him. “did the flowers not make that obvious? are they not enough? should i have gotten more?”

he looked somewhat distraught as he looked around him and you shook your head with a sigh to cover up the way the corners of your mouth twitched. you’d hardly seen zayne so stressed let alone stressed over flowers and if they were enough for you.

“zayne, the flowers are lovely,” you assured him. “more than i know what to do with, though.”

zayne nodded slowly, a bit more at ease. he stood once more and walked over to you, stopping right in front of you. he took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye, though you noted the way his eyes flitted down to your lips for a split second.

“what i did, how i treated you, all of it was unacceptable,” he said softly and you couldn’t help but already feel him worming his way through your walls. “i don’t know what i was thinking — or if i was even thinking at all. you are the most caring, respectful, and loving partner anyone could ever ask for. i was so lucky to have you by my side and i foolishly messed everything up.”

you wanted to reach out and wrap your arms around him, truly, but he still looked as if he had more to say so you held yourself back for a moment longer.

“you are everything to me,” he said, “and i will do whatever i need to do to regain your trust, your love, everything. however long it takes — days, months, years, nothing else matters to me more than you.”

you were in awe of the man standing before you, so moved by his words and actions that you couldn’t help but wind your arms around him and pull him close to you. you could feel him relax in your embrace, something that nobody else could do no matter what. with your cheek pressed to his chest, you smiled to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head and his arms wrap tightly around you.

“since i went a little overboard with the flowers,” he mumbled, “do you think we should take them down to the hospital and give them out to the patients?”

there he was. your zayne. sweet, compassionate, loving zayne.

taglist; @chim-i @reialbert @circusclownsam @yegrnn @kreishin @xmikanx @frobin4ever @keitthen <3 & all the anons that requested this!

[flowerfreya]

Repercussions

The next part in the office AU

Masterlist

Content: Readers ex boyfriend tries to win her back( does not go well ) and then she discovers she has a crush on all four of them *gasp*

Pairing : poly!141 x reader

If have any thing you want to see from this group of people, please let me know. Lowkey running out of ideas lol

Price, Soap, and Ghost stand in front of the room where you were just taken. “She’s just trying to get attention”, he shifts his gaze to Price, “You know what I mean?”, he raises his eyebrows in a know what I mean motion. 

Price is not amused ,“No, I don't know what you mean”.

“Maybe you need to take a walk”, Soap says. He tries to guide him to entrance but your ex is  a glutton for punishment. 

“No,she a bitch, she used me as a gold digger”,he spits out, waving his arms and yelling and honestly embarrassing himself. 

“Mate, you need gold in order for that to happen”, Simon is trying to move him away from the door but he is very persistent. 

“You take another step it will be your last in this building” 

He slowly turns around, “You can’t do that, there's a process”, he smirks, thinking that he’s won. 

“Oh I know the process, we have been doing the process”, he lists all the things that your ex-boyfriend has been doing or in this case, not doing. 

Price has always had a problem with your ex boyfriend, they hired him on a whim and they needed a body. They had hoped that he would have no call , no show and they could help him but alas , he very very sadly persisted. He started fucking up almost four months ago, showing up late leaving early , taking long lunches. Price had finally found his in. He’s been putting in the work with Kyle to fire him, that when he brought you in for an interview. 

Price knew that men like him , took out his frustration on the women in his life because that's just the man he is. So he put a pause on it, you didn’t deserve that. When he got that call from Simon that you had called asking for help he knew that it was a sign.

~ 

Your ex is still moaning and bitching about you, then he says something that makes you not care. 

“Oh shut the fuck up” , you yell at him and walking out the backroom. He’s shocked that you responded, you're usually very passive in this , thinking it’s easy to agree then to argue. He starts stuttering, not used to this from you. 

“Uh -u -u -u” , you mock him. You get close to him so tired of just taking it. You’re so done with him. 

“Nothing to say?” , you ask him. He looks around like one of your guys are going to help but he finds none. 

“Can you do me favor and just fucking go?” ,you're so pissed that you let yourself get to this level, this sad sad place, where knowing that you need better, that you deserve better but just staying. Settling. 

He tries to change tactics with you, “Baby, please you know that I’m sorry, I messed up please forgive me”, he gets tears in the corner of his eyes. 

You scoff, “You know you caused this , you decided to leave me here and be a jerk when I asked you to pick me up”, you pause and wait for him to respond and he has nothing to say. 

“We are done, over, never getting back together, wrap your brain around that”. 

He tries to say something else but John cuts him off and leads( pushes) him toward the exit. 

Once he’s out the door, you kind of deflate when you no longer see him. Kye places his hand on your shoulder, “Alright?”, you want to go home and curl into a ball and drink dessert wine still your stomach hurts. 

“Can I go home?”, you don’t make eye contact with him even though you know that he is trying to connect with you. You can’t do life today and being with all of them today is going to be too much. You are single for the first time in a very long time and you have a crush on your boss ... .and coworker ... .and your other coworker… and your HR rep. How do you go from hating your only romantic partner to having a crush on four people? 

[alwaysanundertone]

Day 4: wax play | rosekiller

smut

TW: piv, wax play, multiple orgasms, handcuffs, oral fem receiving

“Hey Gremlin!” You rolled your eyes as Barty made his entrance in your dorm room, Evan trailing behind him.

“You know, I don’t understand why you can’t use some cute nicknames like every other boyfriend”

“Oh, stop complaining, we got you a present” This sparked your attention. You turned on your chair, facing them.

“You’re such a little minx, only paying us attention when we get you presents. Such a spoiled brat”

You stuck your tongue out at Evan. “Stop acting like a little bitch and give me my present, please?” You made puppy eyes at Evan, who handed you the bag.

“You have such an attitude for being so little”

You chose to ignore the blonde guy, reaching inside the bag, and blushing immediately when you saw what it contained, your boyfriends exchanging a devilish smirk.

You held two pairs of pink handcuffs in one hand and a candle in the other, your eyes widened at the sight. “Already loosing your attitude? Thought it would take a little bit more effort” It wasn’t that you were scared about was coming, but more about the fact that you didn’t have a clue about what they had in mind.

“What is the candle for?” They both smirked, Evan reached for your cheek, caressing it softly.

“It’s not a regular candle, baby, it’s a special one. You see, if you were to touch the wax, you’d feel the sting, but you wouldn’t have any medical repercussions, no risk of getting burned or developing infections.”

Suddenly you understood well what was about to come, and the prospect scared you as much as it excited you. The sex between you three had always been rougher than the average vanilla couple, but they didn’t try anything this kinky until now.

“What do you say, baby, do you want to try?” You hummed slightly, still not totally convinced. “If you don’t want to it’s fine, we can do other fun things, you know?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… What if the pain gets overwhelming? Like, how can you tell if I’m just playing the part or if I’m really hurt and I want it to stop?”

Barty took your hand into his, kissing your fingertips.  “Love, we were about to say that if we’re trying this, we have to set a safe word” You looked at him confused. “Basically, we’re going to establish a word that you’re going to use only if it gets too much and you want to take a break or stop altogether. You have to choose one and tell us” Now that they were putting it like this, you didn’t have any reason to stop this.

“Okay, I want to try it. I think my safeword could be ‘mango’”

“Perfect love. Now, lay back” You did as you were told, both securing one of your wrists to the bedpost, the fuzzy material tickling the skin of your wrist. Evan placed a soft kiss on your lips, the contact alone making your head spin with need, while Barty started teasing you through your already wet panties.

You saw Evan reaching inside of his pocket for his lighter, his black-coloured thumb lighting it up, the motion somehow sexy. Once the candle was lit, you prepared yourself for the wax, but it didn’t come. Instead, Barty teared apart your panties, sucking your clit gently, making you gasp.

Meanwhile, Evan had started playing with your nipples, pinching them softly, eliciting soft moans from you. It was only when you were already lost in pleasure that you felt the first drop of wax on your flat stomach, you felt your brain short-circuiting, the sharp pain mixed with the intense pleasure made a quite pleasuring combo, you moaned slightly.

“Pass me the candle, Barty” As your pussy was still under attack, Evan poured some drops on the skin of your breasts, making you shiver in both pain and pleasure. You felt Barty’s finger probing your entrance, as he dragged it painfully slow, still sucking in a rapid rhythm your clit.

When Barty curled his finger, caressing your G-spot, you couldn’t help but cum all over his face and fingers. “Already coming for us, pet? You’re being so good for us, such a good girl” You moaned at Barty’s praise. “She tastes so sweet, Evan, come taste her.” And just like that, the two guys were making out just above your head, while they let wax drip in the valley between your breasts, making you whimper slightly.

“How are you feeling, doll?” As you were about to respond, Crouch let some was  “accidentally” drip on your mound, making you scream. At this point you couldn’t tell anymore if the sensation was pleasurable or painful. “Words, doll, or we won’t understand”

He kept letting wax drip on your skin, as you force a flebile “good”. Even though you pretended to hate it, you secretly loved when they were acting a little bit sadistic, their faux compassion making you feel helpless. You saw Evan putting on a condom, and after a few seconds he entered you harshly, making you gasp. “Sorry love, you just look so sexy like this.” Barty kept dripping wax on your body, now following a specific pattern you couldn’t make out.

You felt your head being shifted to lay on the blonde’s shoulders, while he picked up a relentless rhythm, his thumb pressing down on your clit, eliciting a few moans from you.

Barty leaned down, kissing your lips softly, then making the wax drip directly on your nipples, his mouth muffling your screams. He tasted like mint and tobacco, the mix always making your head spin.

When he started playing with your nipples you knew you were gone for good. “I’m- Oh my god, Evan, fucking hell” He found that special spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back in your head. “Going to come”

You did, milking his cock, his orgasm following right after yours while Barty released himself all over your tits.

Still blissed out, you felt a flash on your skin, making you open your eyes. You frowned, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at your belly: right on your stomach there was a big “E + B” written in purple was, Barty’s cum covering your breasts right above it.

“Gonna make this my wallpaper AND lockscreen”

“Motherfucker, that was MY idea first”

You decided to not interfere in their bickering, your orgasm lulling you into a deep, peaceful sleep, knowing that they were going to clean you up.

tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @sammyreid @remussbitch @randomcreator-09

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Six — Azriel x Reader

Note — Tumblr still isn’t allowing me to tag some of you. I’ll keep trying but if you haven’t already, make sure you check in settings that your username is able to be searched/tagged! Mwah 💕

Summary: Reader seeks comfort after the events in Fenlaros. Lines are crossed that can’t be uncrossed. Actions come with consequences.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Some violence. Things get fiiiilthy. 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.

It’s not clear who punches who first, because fists are flying left and right. The male in front of you lands a harsh hit on your cheek, the metal of a ring catching your skin, but there’s no chance to register the burst of pain, because you’re being shoved, and you’re shoving back, and your knuckles are pummelling into another male’s face while his friend sends a punch straight into your gut.

It’s that impact that winds you too much to move. You’re doubling over, trying to draw breath while the fight continues around you. The same male goes to hit you a second time.

But he doesn’t have a chance as Rhys comes lunging at him and knocks him to the floor. Your friend is as flawless with his fists as he is with steel. The Fenlaros male doesn’t stand a chance against him.

This is…this is bad. If you can somehow round your friends up and get out of there before it gets any worse, you may be able to escape the repercussions. A fight like this between two camps could carry a punishment anywhere from revoked privileges to an outright flogging. You’d really rather not face a disgruntled Lord of Windhaven upon your return.

Through the brawl, you’re searching for both Azriel and Cassian. You’ve lost sight of them both completely. And you know they can hold their own, that they’re some of the best fighters in all of Illyria, but the four of you are vastly outnumbered. Even the trio of your closest friends have limits, and being dogpiled by a group of males out for blood surely brings them close to theirs.

Someone grabs the back of your shirt, and with your breath having returned to you somewhat, you round on them, ready to defend yourself once more. However, it’s Cassian who looms over you, hair tousled and shirt wrinkled.

He yells at you over the noise, “This is getting out of hand! We need to get out of here!”

Thank gods he’s choosing to be sensible for once. You suppose even Cass knows when a fight is worth having.

“I’m trying to find Az!” You shout back. “I don’t know where he—”

“Kaeda already pulled him out. Let’s grab Rhys and go!”

Now is a really, really inappropriate time to feel jealous.

And yet jealous, you are.

And maybe even a little hurt, too. Did Az even try to find you before making an exit with Kaeda?

You banish the thoughts, allowing Cassian to wrench you through the people and mostly avoid getting hurt, besides the odd wayward fist that isn’t intended for you. The second he spots Rhys, still fighting with the male who winded you, he’s grabbing him firmly by the collar of his shirt and leaving no room for protest.

“We’re getting out of here before this turns really bloody.” He tells him loudly.

Rhys doesn’t put up a fight. He nods, straight on board with the exit strategy. His wild, alert gaze swivels to study you. “You’re alright?”

“Fine.” You nod. “Let’s go.”

It turns out the exit strategy is to just shove through hordes of people until you find a way out. Rhys is keeping hold of Cassian and you’re keeping hold of Rhys, and the three of you create an aggressive little train that wends through the chaos until cold air washes over you, and you’re spilling out onto the front path. You can hear the distant whoosh and thwack of the Fenlaros lot having no choice but to turn on each other.

“Y/N!”

You turn, just in time to see Az pushing away from a wall, Kaeda in tow. She carries a bloodied dish rag that she was clearly using to dab at his bust lip, but she falls back as Az strides over to you.

“I was looking for you everywhere.” He grabs your chin in his hand, turning your head to the side. “Your cheek is cut.”

You stare back at him, waiting for him to say something — something that even vaguely resembles an explanation as to why he started all of this.

“We should really get out of here—”

“Does it hurt?” He interrupts Rhysand’s interjection, his touch gentle despite the ferocity in his gaze. His thumb brushes over your cheek.

You’re too pissed off to care about his concern.

“I’ll live.” You snap, shoving him away from you. “Azriel, what the fuck?”

“My sentiments entirely.” Cass mumbles.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You continue. “You were the one who said coming here was nothing to be worried about, and then you start that? Have you totally lost your mind?”

“My sentiments entirely.” Rhys echoes.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw ticks. He takes a step back, swallowing hard. “Sorry for being protective—”

“Possessive, more like—”

“It’s my fault.”

Both your heads snap round as Kaeda steps closer. She stares between you, wide-eyed. Doe-eyed. Looking like she stole the last slice of cake and has a litany of evidence stacked against her.

“He was being protective over me.” She says, and you freeze. She angles herself towards Azriel. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that Thedis and I have history. I don’t know why I did. I’m sorry, I—I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

Oh.

Oh.

That’s—that’s not what you thought was happening.

Clearly, you and Kaeda have two very different understandings of what went down.

You study Az closely, waiting for his reaction — to see if Kaeda is right, and it wasn’t you he was starting a fight over at all.

He stares at her like she’s spoken in a foreign tongue. He opens his mouth.

“Shit.” Kaeda swears suddenly, looking past him. “Shit, that’s my father.”

Each of you swivels around to see the colossal male striding down the path towards you, two slightly — very slightly — smaller males flanking either side of him. His long hair falls about his head in unruly waves, and there’s something ruggedly handsome about his face that kind of makes you want him to smother you with his ridiculously huge bicep. Everything about him is dark. His eyes and his beard and the whorls of Illyrian tattoos that cover the expanse of his neck.

This…this is a male who could snuff out a family of six just by looking in their direction. And his gaze zeroes in entirely on Azriel.

Cassian yanks you closer by the back of your shirt. “Let’s go—”

“He’s going to want to speak with you.” Kaeda turns to Azriel. “You’re the only shadowsinger around here. He knows who you are. He’s intrigued by your power.”

Az continues to watch his approach. And then he squares his shoulders. “Fine.” He doesn’t even glance your way as he says, “I’ll see the rest of you back in Windhaven.”

You don’t like this. Not one bit. Who knows what the male might do to Azriel? You want to say something, to protest—

But Kaeda links her arm through his, and you know there’s no point. This isn’t your fight.

“Don’t get yourself into even deeper shit.” Cassian says, lifting you into his arms.

Kaeda doesn’t seem worried. She rolls her eyes at that. “He’s not going to hurt him.”

You can’t help staring at her. She seems so sure, so unbothered. Not just by what her father might have in store, but by the entire situation. She seems almost…smug.

Az did start an entire fucking brawl over her, after all.

You can’t meet his gaze as you cling to Cassian. Too much has happened in a short space of time. It makes you feel…full. Uncomfortable. You need some space from Az to process what exactly just occurred.

And it seems like your wish will be granted. It’s clear, as he steps closer, that Kaeda’s father has no interest in the rest of you. His cat-like eyes follow a shadow that coils around your friend, and you could swear his lips want to smirk. Like there’s some inside joke the rest of you aren’t privy to.

“Go.” Azriel says, and neither Rhys nor Cass need telling twice. They don’t seem particularly concerned.

Your gaze snags on Az just as Cassian’s arms tighten around you, and he shoots into the skies with an unpleasantly steep climb. Rhys does the same.

And as Kaeda and Azriel become smaller the higher you go, you’re just able to glimpse Kaeda’s father stopping before him and shaking his hand. It’s then that you look away.

This isn’t for you to worry about. It’s—

It’s between him and Kaeda.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The thing about flying — or, in your case, being flown — is that it’s invaluable for moments of pensiveness. There’s no better time to face your thoughts than when the clarity of the sky stretches all around you.

But that can also be really fucking dangerous. Because you think. And then you think some more. And then suddenly, you’re thinking about anything and everything all at once, thinking about ifs, buts, maybes, thinking yourself into a bad mood.

And that is precisely what you do.

You are pissed the fuck off.

So pissed off, you want to scream into the void, at the shifting landscape below. You’re pissed off with Azriel, with his actions, with your entire situation.

He has never been as stupid, as reckless, as he has been recently. Never did you think you’d see a day where Cassian was the more sensible of the two. You’re used to Az being the mediator, to always approaching situations with a rational mind.

And yet these days, he’s a ticking time bomb. You don’t know who he might have a problem with, and clearly you don’t know why, given that you so wrongly assumed his protectiveness — possessiveness — flared up over you.

Of course it was Kaeda. How stupid you are.

Lust is one hell of a blinding light.

Every few seconds, you tell yourself you’re not going to think about it. And then a few seconds after that, you’re straight back to that constant screech of AZRIELANDKAEDAAZRIELANDKAEDAAZRIELANDKAEDA.

If this is who he’s becoming because of her…you’re not sure that’s a good thing.

By the time Cassian is setting you down in front of the cottage, your mood is absolutely foul. You feel sobered by the situation. You may as well have not had a drop of alcohol at all.

Rhys doesn’t stick around. He tells you and Cass that he’s going to Velaris — he wants to explain what happened in Fenlaros to his father before the High Lord can hear it from anyone else. And so it’s just you and Cassian traipsing into the cottage, freezing cold and fed up that the night went how it did. Your stomach is starting to ache where the male punched you, the cut on your cheek starting to sting.

You head straight for the kitchen and begin turfing through the cabinets, looking for a half-empty bottle of whiskey or a snack or something. You slam each cabinet door closed, but it does nothing to alleviate your irritation.

Cassian lights a fire, his eyes watching you closely. Perhaps he can sense that something is brewing in your veins. And he’d be right about that — you’re just not sure what it is.

Finally, you sit up on the kitchen counter and settle on biting into a stale bread roll. It’s dry and tasteless, but it occupies your mouth and stops a scream from escaping.

“I want to clean that cut on your cheek.” Cass strides over to the kitchen, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Only in your heart. “No.” You lie.

He nods, and just like the other night, he begins gathering medical supplies. He’s getting good at this. You kind of want to tell him not to bother, to just let the cut sting, but you’re brooding too much to get the words out.

You swallow down your last, dry bite of bread, and you comment, “I knew going to Fenlaros was a fucking terrible idea.”

Cassian chuckles. There isn’t much that fazes him. “In hindsight, I don’t know what we were thinking.”

“With your cocks, probably.”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, and then his hands are on your knees, parting your legs so he can slot himself in between. You don’t protest; he’ll only start a mother hen routine and threaten to bring you to a healer instead.

He wets a rag and begins to gently dab the gash on your cheek. It hurts, but not enough. Not bad enough to drown out the thoughts of the night’s events. You go through them from start to finish, and you have to suck in a deep breath just to stop yourself from punching something.

Why had Kaeda suggested such a stupid fucking thing?

And okay, you can’t put the blame entirely on her; it’s mostly your jealousy that stokes your anger. You, Azriel, Cassian and Rhys are all fully autonomous adults. Any of you could have shot the idea down and refused to go.

But it just…it just sits funny with you, weird in your chest. Something about it feels…gross.

Again — probably your jealousy talking.

But the entire thing had been a shit show from start to finish. You should have known, from the self-loathing thoughts that were pelting you on the way there, that you should never have gone. And your failure to listen to your gut only worsens your mood.

“You push that brain to think any harder and it’ll explode.” Cassian murmurs, his warm breath fanning your face. “You can share, if you like. I may even be able to dredge up some wisdom to impart.”

You bite down on your lower lip. “Why would Kaeda’s father want to speak with Az?”

It surprises you that the question makes him smile. “I wouldn’t worry over that.” He says. “I imagine he’s more interested in speaking to Az because he’s fucking his daughter than because he came to a rival camp.”

You almost flinch at the words.

Of course, you know that by now, Azriel and Kaeda have probably taken that leap and slept together. But torturing yourself with your thoughts is different to hearing it said aloud, and by someone so close to Az, too.

It hurts. And you want to scratch away at the feeling. It might just be what tips you over.

Cass studies you for a moment, reading the change, the tightening, in your expression. He knows there’s something — but thank the gods he doesn’t know what.

He turns his attention to your hand — your knuckles must have split when you threw a couple of good punches — and he begins to clean it gently.

“Here I am again, eh? Playing healer. I should get myself an apron.”

He’s trying to make you laugh, but you can barely force your lips to twitch upwards. He drinks in your pathetic attempt with a sympathy that you can’t stand. And, sensing that humour isn’t going to be enough tonight, he tries a different approach.

“Talk to me, Y/N.” He pleads softly, dabbing gently at your hand. “Please…”

You frown. You’re thinking and feeling too many things at once to make sense of them. Running through the entire night over and over. You’re not sure which of those feelings will rear its ugly head when you try to speak.

But you open your mouth, and the words just spill out.

“I really fucking hated myself tonight.”

Cassian pauses momentarily. And then he continues his treatment to your wounds. “Y/N, fights break out every other hour—”

“No. Not because of the fight. It wasn’t that.” You swallow a lump down. “It was the flying.”

“…the flying?”

“Being carried by Rhys while the rest of you flew so freely. Knowing I’ll never be able to do that. I’m Illyrian, and yet I’m always going to be confined to the ground. I hated myself—”

“Y/N—”

“I really fucking hated myself, Cass. And to be confronted by that fact every damn time I take my shirt off…to see the fucking hideous remains of my wings—”

Your words are cut short when Cassian’s huge hands grab your face and force you to look at him. It stings the cut on your cheek, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he stares at you fiercely.

“No. Cut that out right now.” A muscle in his jaw moves. You’re looking back at a lesser-spotted serious Cassian. “There is no part of you — not one part — that comes even close to being hideous, scars or no scars. You’re brilliant. Inside and out. You’re fucking beautiful, and I love you, and I won’t have you hating yourself. Particularly not at the hands of your piece of shit father.”

For a moment, you’re so stunned by the impassioned speech that you don’t know what to say. Thanking him wouldn’t be enough. And you think you might want to cry, but tonight, crying wouldn’t be enough, either. Nor would screaming. You just…want to feel something different. Something good.

Something worth feeling.

You stare back at Cassian, and your throat bobs.

And it might be against your better judgement, but you cover his hands with yours, and you haul your mouth to his.

You can’t exactly explain it, but he has a mouth as rugged as his general appearance, something rough and untamed and just…Cassian. It’s exactly what you need in that moment. You kiss him as if you’ve kissed him a thousand times before.

You feel the moment’s hesitation on his end. It’s rare that anything is able to knock him silent, but this most certainly does. After a pause, he rips his mouth away from yours, and he stares at you, wide-eyed and flushed, reading your face as if in search of an answer to an unspoken question.

But his internal battle isn’t a long one. He seems satisfied with whatever conclusion he comes to. And then he’s surging forward and kissing you back, hard.

What follows is not slow nor tentative.

You and Cassian love each other dearly, but there are no illusions that this is anything but needed pleasure. He’s not reciprocating because he’s spent hours daydreaming about this, or because you mean more to him than any other female.

Cassian would fuck a tree if a stirred branch waved in his general direction.

And that is absolutely fine. That is exactly what you need.

He wrenches your legs further apart and yanks you to the very edge of the counter, just so he can get closer, kiss you harder. His hand snakes up the nape of your neck and bunches in your hair, strands of it tangling around his fingers, and he tips your head back, his mouth scorching hot and hungry on yours.

This is not something you’ve ever thought about, because he is just Cassian. He’s the male who pisses you off by leaving weapons lying around under couch cushions, who sings loudly at the top of his voice first thing in the morning, who fights like fighting is going out of fashion. Since the first day you’d met him, when his eleven-year-old self had looked you up and down and challenged you to an arm wrestle, he’s always just been Cassian.

You’ve always needed him in some impulsive, temperamental way — someone who keeps you on your toes, even if you complain about it sometimes. But now, you need him in a different way.

You part your mouth from his, just long enough to rip your shirt off and chuck it vaguely over his shoulder. Cass watches as you unclasp the bandeau that covers your breasts, and that’s being thrown away, too, and now your top half is naked, and Cassian is growling. It’s not even that he hasn’t seen these parts of you before, but you’d think it was the first ever time, going by the way his eyes darken, and a thousand sinful thoughts flit over his face.

“Fuck.” His voice is deeper. Both of his hands cup your breasts, and he kisses you again. “I love these.”

You smile, and you lock your legs around his waist, and you both groan as you yank him as close as he can get, and you’re grinding the centre of you over the bulge in his breeches. That, alone, feels too good — the length of him pushing through the barrier of your clothing. It’s not enough. You need more. You need him inside you.

Cass seems to echo the sentiment as he growls and finally yanks you fully off the counter. “No screwing around.” He says through gritted teeth. “I need to fuck you.”

His hands are at your breeches, and he’s ripping them open, and you’re so wet between your legs that you have to rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. Cassian notices, of course, and one side of his mouth tips up into a smirk.

“Turn around.”

You do.

You’re happy to be commanded. You don’t want to be in charge, don’t want to teach.

You want to be taken, and you want to be taught.

His rough hands shove your breeches all the way down, and then he’s seeing to his, ripping at the buttons and stays just enough to pull the hard length of him out. You turn your head to drink in the sight, but he doesn’t allow it.

He slams your front against that counter, and then he’s at your back, the head of his cock brushing against you as he murmurs into your ear, “How do you want it?”

You think your mouth might be watering. “Hard.”

“Hard?”

“Hard.”

“Brace yourself, then, sweetpea.” He grabs your hands, plants them firmly on the counter, calluses biting into your skin. His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he asks, “Are you ready for me?”

You couldn’t be more ready if you tried. You moan, pushing your ass back against him. His chuckle is felt through every inch of you.

He moves one hand down, drags it down your body, slots it between your legs. Your hips give a little jerk as he mops up some of your wetness with his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, you’re ready for me.” There’s a smirk in his voice. His fingers land on your clit, and he nips your ear again. “Good girl.”

You open your mouth — to say something, or to beg, you’re not sure. But there’s no chance.

The head of Cassian’s cock is guided to your entrance. You gasp at the mere feeling of it bumping against you, teasing the opening.

And then he fucking thrusts all the way in, hard enough that you slam once again against the counter. Medical supplies go flying onto the floor.

And gods, it feels too good.

There’s a tiny bite of pain, yes, but it’s pleasurable — more a feeling of fullness. He’s pushed all the way in to the hilt, and the guttural noise that leaves him might just be enough to make you come. It’s animalistic, the way he groans, almost a snarl.

“Hard?” He repeats, withdrawing slightly.

You gasp, your head tipping back. “Hard.”

“Thank the Mother.”

You yelp as his hand suddenly smacks against your ass cheek, and then he’s spreading you open and thrusting in again.

He is not gentle.

He is not soft or tentative or even kind.

This is how Cassian — the much-feared Illyrian — fucks.

And you like it, want it, need it. You push back against him to remind him he doesn’t need to be gentle. Forget about the fact that you’ve always known each other, that you have a fondness for each other.

Fuck me, you communicate silently. Ruin me, and make me forget who I am.

He growls, as if those very thoughts reached him mind-to-mind. And fuck you, he does.

You’re slammed again and again against the counter, hard enough to bruise and leave marks. His balls slap against your skin as he damn near rams into you at an unstoppable force. He’s grunting and snarling and panting. His hands suddenly clasp both of your arms, and he pulls them behind your back, holding onto them and thrusting faster.

“Fucking knew,” he growls, “that your cunt would feel like this. That you’d squeeze my cock like this.”

He slows just slightly — just enough to roll his hips and make sure you feel every single inch of him stroking the inside of you. The shout that leaves you doesn’t even sound like you.

“You like that, sweetpea?” He chuckles darkly. He pushes in to the hilt again, and you moan — a mistake that comes with a penalty. His hips still. “Give me your words, sweetheart. I want to know how much you need my cock.”

“Cassian.” You grit your teeth. “Fuck me.”

He withdraws. Slams into you again. And then the rhythm picks up, the pace fast and raw and unbeatable. Gripping onto your arms gives Cass the perfect leverage to take you exactly as you want him to take you, as he wants to take you. He can’t possibly go any faster, reach any deeper.

Heat coils in your lower belly. You meet every one of his thrusts by bucking against him, and it spurs your body on. You can feel something brilliant building beneath your skin and firing through your veins.

And when he lets go of one of your arms and dips his hand between your legs, his fingers immediately finding your clit, you’re not at all sure that you won’t just explode.

As you feel the head of his cock hit deep inside you, unable to go any further, as the pads of his fingers circle your clit, the noise that leaves you is unlike any other noise you’ve ever made. You’re vaguely aware of a sudden surge of wetness between your legs that drips down your thighs. Cassian made you squirt.

He half-laughs-half-groans, and his teeth nip your ear. “Sweetpea,” he bites out, “who knew you were such a filthy girl? Is this what I’ve been missing out on?”

You can’t speak — words fail you. You’re utterly incapable of doing anything but making your breathy little noises, your fractured moans, as Cassian pounds into you. His ministrations at your clit don’t even falter, even as he lets out a noise that hints at his own release being close.

“Come for me again.” Your wetness still drenches his hand, you know, but it’s not enough — he wants more. His finger presses down hard on your clit, and at the exact same moment, he lands a harsh kiss on your neck that turns into a suck. He slams into you so hard that you have to grip the counter to stop yourself being winded for the second time that night. And you erupt.

You hear the exact moment the walls of your cunt clamp around Cassian’s length. The noise he makes is one that you need to commit to memory, keep for a cold, lonely night when it’s just you and your hand. You’ve never heard anything like it. You never imagined he could make a sound like it.

“Oh, gods, yes,” He damn near whines. His hand is suddenly at your back, and he pushes you down, bends you over until your cheek is pressed to the countertop. He fastens that hand at your shoulder, the other at your hip, and then he’s on the homestretch. “Oh, fuck!”

He thrusts, and he thrusts, and he thrusts — and then he goes still, his cock exploding inside you.

He grunts through every spurt, his fingers biting into your skin. You’re not sure you can move as your cunt continues to contract around him, draining him of every last drop. The counter and Cassian’s hands are the only things holding you up. If he steps away now, your legs may just buckle and drag you to the floor.

So in contrast to the wicked noises you were both just making, near-silence sweeps in, broken only by you both gasping for breath. You close your eyes, your brow furrowing. Press your forehead against the surface you’re currently slumped over. You can’t remember how to…how to exist outside of pleasure.

You are well and truly fucked out.

You’re almost content to just stay there, gripping onto the counter for dear life. But then Cassian finally slides out of you, pulling his seed with him. It drips down your legs, into your underwear. A shudder leaves you.

“Shit, that was—” Cass breathes a laugh. “Gods. Why have we never done that before?”

You manage your own weak, sated chuckle, and finally try to stand up straight. “Because friends aren’t supposed to fuck friends senseless.”

“No,” he agrees. Pauses. “But, like…it doesn’t have to make things awkward, does it? We’re both adults. Capable of sharing pleasure and…and carrying on as normal…”

Oh, bless his heart.

Non-committal Cass is now worried that a casual rearranging of your organs might turn into you falling in love.

“It’s not going to be awkward, Cass.” You snort softly. “I’m just not sure I can move.”

He stares at you. And you stare at him.

The laughter hits you both at the same time. It’s laughter of both relief and release. An acknowledgement that you both feel a darn sight better now than you did when you first walked in. The night isn’t weighing on you so heavily, now.

Is that bad? Perhaps.

But you can fuck people, too. Why…why should you regret it?

“Here.” Tucking himself back into his breeches, Cassian yanks his shirt off, handing it to you. “You can use this to clean yourself up. I’ll run you a bath.”

He turns, but you’re stopping him with a hand on his arm. “I don’t want special treatment just because we fucked. Just…be normal.”

One eyebrow quirks up. “I planned to run you a bath after I cleaned your cheek. We just got a bit…sidetracked. I’m looking after you, Y/N — as your friend.”

You study his face. He’s open, sincere — not pitying. Good.

“Okay.” You tug your hand away. “Thank you.”

He dips his chin, and then he’s strolling away again. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, turning back to look at you.

“I love you.” He says. “Just…don’t ever doubt that.”

You’re not sure you ever could. He’s one of the few constants in your life.

You nod, suddenly not sure you can make eye contact. “I know. I love you, too.”

He, too, nods. And then he disappears, and you’re listening to his boots thudding against each step of the stairs.

You wipe yourself down, tug your breeches up. Slump back against the counter. Drag a hand over your face.

You kind of just want to sleep, be unconscious, before the weighty thoughts begin to shove their way in again.

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The summons comes early the next morning, before the sun has even arisen.

One of Lord Devlon’s cronies comes to pluck you and Cassian from the cottage, lead you to the Camp Lord’s study. Azriel is already there when you arrive.

You meet his gaze as you sit down, trying to look for some clue as to what might have occurred in Fenlaros after you’d left. All he seems interested in is checking you over, surveying you for what injuries you have as a result of the night before.

You’re not all too sure if your stomach is tender because of the punch you received to your gut, or because of how thoroughly Cassian fucked you against the kitchen counter.

 Probably best not to linger on that thought for too long.

You’re sandwiched between your two friends, waiting for Lord Devlon to actually grace you with his presence. Where Rhysand is, you can only imagine — probably dealing with his father’s wrath.

You glance down at a slight, sudden pressure you feel at your leg. Azriel presses his thigh into yours, and you lift your gaze to meet his.

“You’re not too hurt?” He speaks quietly.

You shake your head. “You?”

“I’m fine. All good, Cass?”

With his typical, swaggering nonchalance that will most certainly land him in deeper shit, Cass grins and stretches his arms above his head. “Just peachy.”

“Az.” You coax the shadowsinger’s gaze back to yours. “What happened with Kaeda’s father?”

Perhaps you’re being a tad dramatic, but you’d lain awake pretty much all night, brooding on the fact that you’d fucked Cass whilst Az was being subjected to the gods knew what. Your thoughts had snowballed into preparing you for Az to return beaten black and blue — or not return at all.

But he looks…fine. A little roughed up from the brawl, but otherwise fine.

He opens his mouth, leaning closer, and that’s when the door flies open.

The three of you stand up immediately. Tuck your hands behind your backs. Bow your heads.

Lord Devlon saunters into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. His footsteps are loud and purposed as he strides to his chair.

“Sit.” He says coldly.

You take your seats once more. The Lord’s eyes skate over the three of you for a pensive few moments, before settling entirely on you. It makes you uncomfortable.

“So.” He sits back. “Who wants to take a stab at why I’m not very happy this morning?”

The three of you keep your mouths clamped shut.

“I’ll give you a clue. It’s not so much to do with a piss-poor night’s sleep, as it is to do with the fact that three of my fucking soldiers,” his lip curls as he looks you up and down, “and their little plaything,snuck off to a rival camp and picked a fight.”

“She’s not our—”

“Did I give you permission to speak, Azriel?”

The ticking in Az’s jaw is slight, but it’s there, as he stares forward. “No, my lord.”

“Then keep your fucking mouth shut until I do.”

Your friend bows his head once more.

“Can any one of you explain why, exactly, you not only travelled to a rival camp without my orders, but why you then decided to stoke tensions between our two camps? Because, you know, that’s their territory. They were well within their rights to defend themselves and not one of them is being punished for it.”

None of you are sure whether he actually wants an answer. It’s best to just…keep your mouth shut.

“None of you have anything to say?” Devlon’s eyebrows flick up. “Fine. How about I offer you my theory? Because I’m seeing a running theme, here.”

You can feel his hard, intense stare bounce from Azriel, to you, to Cassian. Back and forth and back and forth.

But it always returns to you.

It might be in that moment that you realise there’s another layer to this, that you stupidly hadn’t considered. One that’s really going to get Devlon and his cronies grinding their teeth.

You’re female.

And it’s bad enough for males, his soldiers, to behave like this. But you? A mere, docile female? Someone who should be focused on housekeeping and finding someone to breed with?

A female stepping outside of her place is more or less considered a crime by Illyrians. And you don’t have a Camp Lord father to get you out of that very deep shit.

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” Lord Devlon addresses you. He knows your name. He’s a cat playing with a mouse.

You meet his gaze and nod. “Yes, my lord.”

“The blacksmith’s daughter.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Hm. The thing is, Y/N, I am here to raise armies. To oversee the training of their soldiers. As Camp Lord, that is my duty.”

You grit your teeth, bite your tongue. You hate the condescending tone that is so fucking typical of Illyrian males. It’s patronising. Offensive. He’s stating blatant facts and explaining them to you as though you are a child.

But you simply dip your chin in acknowledgment, because playing your part is the only way the three of you are getting out of here with a slap on the wrist.

“I cannot afford for my soldiers to be distracted from their training, or be seduced into making trouble for themselves.” The way he looks you up and down, in that moment, makes you feel oily. “I need my soldiers to be prepared. If war came tomorrow, do you honestly think I could send these two out onto a battlefield?”

These two. He says it with such dismissal, such contempt, that you find yourself balling your fists at your sides. He’s always singled your friends out, tried to break them. He may have to tolerate Rhysand — his father being the High Lord and all — but the tiny slither of acceptance he has for Rhys does not hold up for Azriel or Cassian. He sees them as useless. As nobodies. He’s waiting for them to lose their lives in training or combat so he can be rid of them for good.

It boils your blood.

Before you can stop yourself, your lip curls. “I think they’re two of the best soldiers in Illyria, and you’re damn well lucky to have them.”

Devlon sneers back at you. “I’m sure you would say that. If only to keep them in your bed.”

Beside you, the arms of Cassian’s chair creak as he squeezes them hard. “My Lord—”

“If either one of you speaks without my permission again, I will string you up by your balls. Understood?”

There’s a pause. And then both Cass and Az are sitting back in their seats. Offering quiet, affirmative responses.

“So.” Devlon focuses on you once more. Anger mottles his cheeks a reddish hue. “Considering every time these two land themselves in shit, you are at the centre of it, I see only one appropriate course of action. I will not have you leading them astray. Be it pointless fighting or the absolute colossal fuck up of last night, you are always the common denominator. That stops today. This instant.”

You stare at him. You’re not entirely sure what he’s getting at, but something lurches in your stomach. You swallow down a lump in your throat and grip hard onto your chair.

“As soldiers under my command,” Devlon’s eyes flit between Cassian and Azriel, “I forbid you — and Rhysand — from having any more involvement with her. You will not spend time with her. You will not speak to her in passing. You won’t even look at her. If I find out you do, you’ll regret it.”

All three of you shoot up in your seats, alarmed looks passing your faces. “You can’t do this.” You’re the first to spit.

“Oh?” Devlon cocks an eyebrow. “This is Camp Windhaven, is it not?”

“Yes, but—”

“I am Lord of Camp Windhaven, am I not?”

“Obviously—”

“Then I absolutely have the authority to give such orders, and thus, consider them given. Starting today, your involvement with my soldiers ends.”

“My Lord,” Azriel’s tone is pinched, panicked, “you don’t understand — she’s living with us right now. Her father kicked her out of his home. She has nowhere else to go.”

“Do you think I give a shit about her domestic situation, Shadowsinger?” The Lord snaps at him. “I’m here to oversee the training of Windhaven’s soldiers. Not to get involved in pointless family drama.”

“But where am I supposed to go?” You can’t help it — you slam your fist against the arm of your chair. “What am I supposed to do?”

“That isn’t my problem.” Devlon shrugs. He stands up, planting his hands on the desk between you. He leans over with a glower. “But you better run home with your tail between your legs and begin mending relations with your father, because if I detect that there’s even a hint of involvement with you and my soldiers, I will make you regret it, girl. Do not cross me.”

He tucks — no, slams — his chair under the table. It’s a dismissal. You’re not allowed to respond.

You’re silent, too stunned to think, speak, breathe, as Devlon strides to the door and rips it open.

“Get the fuck out, all three of you.” He orders, and you stand numbly from your chair. “You two,” he directs his attention to your friends, “I want your asses in the training ring immediately. Go.”

They don’t want to, you can tell. They hesitate, but ultimately, there’s no other choice. They have no authority. They’re mere soldiers in training. This is their career, their life’s work, on the line. They can’t meet your gaze as they file out of the door, and you don’t blame them.

“And you?” Devlon stops you as you try to follow, gripping onto your shoulder hard. He may as well pick you up by the scruff of your neck like a boisterous pup. “You’d better heed my warning, Y/N the blacksmith’s daughter.”

He shoves you out of the room. You throw your hands out before you slam into the wall.

“Stay. The fuck. Away.”

azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @jjlevin @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @spikertrash @kindagoldylocks @barbiezambie @kht1998 @soupghoul @nyctophiliawitch @gracie1234567891011 @gaymistakeboi @luvmxo @rinalouu @microwaveallthedemons @starlightshowdown

[robertreich]

Bezos and Musk Vs. Workers

Two of the world’s richest men want to end unions once and for all. 

Musk’s SpaceX and Bezos’ Amazon are both arguing in court that the National Labor Relations Board is unconstitutional on the grounds that it combines judicial and executive functions.

The NLRB is the agency that supervises union organizing and collective bargaining as established by the National Labor Relations Act of 1935 — a cornerstone of FDR’s New Deal that guarantees the right of workers to organize. It is, in effect, the referee of labor management relations.

If Bezos and Musk get their way, two of the richest people in the world will have gutted the enforcement of labor laws designed to protect the right of average workers to unionize. Corporations could fire employees who try to organize, without any repercussions. It could also be a death knell to unions that already exist.

Corporate giants Starbucks and Trader Joe’s have similarly advanced their own legal arguments echoing the same anti-union, anti-worker sentiment. So much for being “progressive” companies, huh?

Beyond their copycat legal arguments, what do all of these corporations have in common? A history of bashing unions and preventing workers from exercising their right to organize.

The NLRB has charged these companies with hundreds of violations of workers’ rights. They’ve fired pro-union workers, retaliated against organizers by cutting their hours, closed stores that tried to unionize, denied benefits being provided to non-union workers, and refused to bargain. And now Musk and Bezos are even going after the referees — the NLRB—  so unions and workers don’t stand a chance.

It’s not the first time their argument has been trotted out by robber barons. A similar case made its way to the Supreme Court way back in 1937. The opinion in that case upheld the NLRB and its decision to punish steel barons who fired workers who tried to organize a union.

Modern-day robber barons Bezos and Musk are hoping today’s Supreme Court will reverse its 1937 ruling and return America to a time before workers had a referee to ensure their rights.

Evidently, it’s not enough for Bezos and Musk to amass more wealth than any two people on the planet. No, they want even more wealth and covet even more power — and don’t want to share it with their workers.

You see, unions are one of the greatest champions of equality. And unions don’t just help unionized workers — they help all workers. There’s a ripple effect that occurs when workers organize: Non-union workers often receive the benefits of higher wages and safer working conditions fought for by organized labor. Unions also play a political role: They provide countervailing power to the overwhelming political power of giant corporations.

We will all suffer if unions are not there to have the backs of workers.

Now these cases may take a while to snake their way through the courts.

In the meantime, please share this video. These corporations win this fight only if the public doesn’t know what’s happening.

And support your local unions. When they go on strike, join a picket line. Better yet, join a union if you can.

We all need to voice our support for organized labor now more than ever.

[queenie-official]

going with ani to the cafè for pumpkin spice latte only for him to be super nervous since we are so cool and he's some random engineering nerd ☝️🤓

‘Fall In Love With Me’

main masterlist Word count: little over 3k

pairing: modern!Anakin skywalker x fem!reader

a/n: you sending this request in as soon as i mentioned wanting to write fall fics is iconic of you and i love you for it 💋

“come on y/n, this is the only good thing about college! skipping without any repercussions” Honey continued to beg as you walked across campus.

“that’s easy to say when you're skipping a language class you’re already fluent in” you protest as she clings to your arm, pleading like a child.

“you don’t even care about French class, you just wanna ogle your little crush” she retorts before tugging on your arm as she comes to a stop forcing you to stop with her.

“okay that’s only half true, i like French class” you hardly believe your own lie as it tumbles out of your mouth. judging by Honey’s deadpanned expression she doesn’t believe it either.

“you were complaining just yesterday how the Teacher refuses to speak in any other language than French and you had no clue what was going on.” if only you didn’t vent to her about everything maybe then she wouldn’t be able to call you out on your bullshit.

“you’re gonna make me late” you sigh, slumping forward solemnly. she rolls her eyes not buying the act for a second.

“good, if you’re going to be late then it just makes even more sense for you to skip with me.” you let out a groan, gently pulling your arm out of her hold before starting to walk again. “you could at least talk to the guy if you’re gonna keep going just to look at him.”

“he’s too smart for me, i mean he’s a mechanical engineering major for gods sake” did he tell you that himself? no, you and Honey just did a little snooping through instagram after you got his full name and found out for yourselves.

“i have a friend who dated an engineering major and she told me they are not as smart as they think they are.” right but he was, he had all A’s it was a known fact around campus. Anakin Skywalker the college’s golden boy.

academic wise anyway, he didn’t socialize with anyone. you had guessed it was because he was much too focused on keeping his grades as good as they were, he had to if he wanted to keep his full ride scholarship… was it considered stalking if you got this information on a public platform?

“yea well Anakin’s different Honey” you can feel the look she’s giving you and you hate it. she jogs up in front of you now, forcing you to look her in the eyes.

“fine don’t skip but you have to talk to him, you’ve got the confidence and social skills to charm a snake y/n stop selling yourself short” you both stare at each other, a silent challenge that you always lose.

“alright!” you huff defeated and she cheers, throwing her arms up in victory before doing a celebratory dance.

“have fun talking to the boy of your dreams” she teases before spinning on her heel to walk in the opposite direction as you.

“have fun skipping spanish” you snort and she shouts back a quick ‘i will’ as you continue walking towards the building.

your professor was the type of teacher to close the door as soon as class began. ’if you want to waste my time by being late, don't bother coming at all’ was the first thing she’d said at the beginning of the semester, it was the only sentence she’d said in english.

which is exactly why you speed walk past her right as she’s starting to head to the door, keeping your head low when you see the annoyed look on her face as you do. internally counting your lucky stars that you somehow managed to make it before she’d closed it.

Anakin was always one of the first people to arrive in class so it was no surprise he was already there when you get to take a proper look at your surroundings. he was sitting in his usual spot; last row, second to last seat from the aisle.

you take a deep breath mustering all the courage you have as you walk down the aisle past your usual spot and straight to one of the empty seats next to him. he stiffens, hands freezing mid type on his laptop before he forces himself to relax and continue like normal.

you spare a glance at his laptop screen, wondering if it was related to the class. maybe you had missed an entrance ticket or something. you’re met with a shit ton of equations that makes you want to do a double take, unable to even process what you’d just seen.

the sound of your professor starting the lesson pulls your attention before you can. not that you could even understand what she said, all of it going in one ear and out the other. still you pretend to listen, wanting to give it a little time before you possibly ruin this man’s whole mood.

you pretty much dissociate, resting your hand on your palm without a thought in your mind. it’s about thirty minutes later when everyone who didn’t already have their laptops open are pulling them out of their bags that you snap out of it, following their lead you take yours out before turning to Anakin.

kind of a perfect way to start a conversation if you think about it. “sorry, but do you know what we’re supposed to be doing?” you tilt your head slightly watching as it takes a second for it to click in his mind that you’re speaking to him.

“we have to go onto canvas and answer the newest discussion post and then we have to comment on two other people’s answers all in French” he says after clearing his throat, his voice a soft rumble that makes your heart flutter.

you smile warmly at him, a whispered “thank you“ rolling off of your tongue before you turn back to your laptop. you’re about to copy and paste the question into google translate when you realize you could use this as another excuse to talk to him. “don’t suppose you’ve got any clue what this is asking us?”

his attention is on you again, eyes flicker over your face with uncertainty before he looks at your screen “comment prépares-tu la journée?” he reads it out loud in an accent that rivals the professors “it’s basically a formal way of asking how you prepare for the day”

you nod thinking of your answer only to remember a second later you’d have to respond in French. you bite your lip fighting back the urge to ask another question, afraid that you may start to annoy him. you tap on the table lightly locked in an internal debate, and right when you’re about to cave and go back to your trusty friend google Anakin speaks up again.

“do you need help forming your answer in French?” you can’t help but laugh as you turn to him, a shy smile growing on your face.

“is it that obvious i’m struggling?” you joke at your own misery and he rubs the back of his neck, nervously chuckling.

”no, no i wouldn’t say that…” he trails off before finishing with “well maybe a little bit” which makes you snort and cover your mouth to make sure you don’t laugh too loudly.

“help would be much appreciated, thank you” he smiles, wiping his palms on his jeans before clearing his throat again.

“it’s no problem i already finished my work anyway, i was working on homework for another class” he says while closing his laptop “i’m Anakin by the way” he extends his hand and you're quick to shake it. his palms are clammy, his grip gentle yet firm.

he was definitely nervous, even more than you were which somehow helped fuel you with more confidence. “y/n, it’s nice to meet you” you greet back, releasing his hand and turning your laptop screen more towards him.

“it’s.. uh nice to meet you too” it’s almost funny how awkward he is, you’d expected the college golden boy to be more.. well suave. it was endearing though, and you wish you’d made the effort to talk to him sooner.

you tell Anakin your normal routine before leaving for the day and he translates it for you, at first you were the one typing it but when he saw you failing to spell out the words correctly he offered to just do that as well.

of course you agreed, sliding your laptop more towards him. he reaches forward immediately retyping what he’d told you, and you get a front row seat to watch his mind work. so casual and effortlessly translating each thing you told him onto the discussion post. you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive.

thanks to Anakin’s help you’re able to get the discussion post done and comment on two other people’s posts in under 10 minutes, leaving you with nothing to do as the professor waits for everyone to finish before continuing the lesson.

“so do you usually finish all your work early and work on homework for other classes?” you ask wanting to spark conversation again before he gets the chance to reopen his laptop.

“yeah, French is kind of my first language- my mom had me speak both French and english growing up” he answers, shifting in his chair nervously. uncomfortable from the attention you were giving him. “so this is sort of.. my easy pass class, i just took it for the credits”

“i wanted this to be my easy class, and then the first day she spoke almost purely in French and i knew i was fucked- it’s a miracle i’m passing” that miracle was your usual seatmate who would always give you the answers.

“not to be rude but uh.. how are you passing?” you can tell he didn’t want to come off too blunt but there wasn’t really another way to put it that wasn’t beating around the bush.

“lots of google translate and help from peers�� he laughs at how proudly you say that, and you can’t help but smile enjoying the sound of it.

“right, that makes a lot of sense” you raise your brow at that unable to resist the urge to mess with him.

“a lot of sense is crazy wording” you act offended and he instantly starts to panic, backtracking his statement while attempting to apologize. you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you making him freeze when he realizes you weren’t actually upset.

he doesn’t respond even as you apologize, simply shaking his head with a faint smile. he relaxes in his seat, a look on his face like he wanted to tease back but was still unsure.

once you’ve calmed down and chosen to ignore the looks you were getting from the people around you there’s a brief silence until your professor speaks up, calling everyone’s attention. all of the discussion posts must have been turned in as she now continues the lesson.

it’s not until the end of class that you and Anakin speak again, you turning to him as he packs his stuff away. “hey, we should hang out sometime” you suggest, rather bold for someone who was afraid to talk to him a little over an hour ago.

he whips his head towards you, completely caught off guard. “i- i…” he stutters, his brain trying desperately to catch up with the situation.

you wince worried you misread him, maybe you had actually offended him with your joke or perhaps he had no intentions or desire to talk with you after today.

when he sees you physically pull back he forces an answer out of himself in an almost panic. “no! well i mean yeah- i’d like that..” he squeezes his eyes shut cringing inwardly.

“you’re cute” you giggle, and he reddens. eyes snapping open as he tries to catch his breath, you’re too much for him. like taking a sip of coffee that has way too much sugar and cream in it.

“cute?” he repeats practically breathless, he swallows hard. looking down to his bag for a distraction, busying himself with zipping it closed.

“there’s a cafe i like to go to with my friend that we could go to together?” you offer while pulling your phone out of your pocket. readying it for him to put his number in as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

he hesitates for a moment before taking your phone; typing in his name and number, eyes flicking up to you every once in a while like he expected you to change your mind and tell him to stop.

“i’d love too” he finally responds, handing your phone back with his number officially saved into your contacts. you have to hold in a giddy squeal, doing your best to play it cool.

“great it’s a date!” you cheer singsongy, putting your phone back in your pocket. Anakin looks like he may pass out, every time he thinks you can’t surprise him more you do. “i’ll text you the details later tonight”

his mouth opens and closes, every possible response dying on his tongue. you give him the time he needs, brows knitted together in understanding.

he fakes a cough, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “okay, i look forward to it” he says voice cracking slightly which he tries to play off with another fake cough, turning away from you and heading out of the classroom in a hurry.

as soon as he’s out of sight you let out the squeal you’d been holding in, jumping up and down before excitedly running out of the classroom to go find and tell Honey about what happened.

you wait just outside of campus. rocking on your feet as the cold autumn breeze rushes past you making your nose cold, honestly you were far too happy to care.

i’d been two days since your interaction with Anakin and today was the day you’d both agreed to meet up after classes finished. the wait was agonizing but worth it, especially when you see Anakin heading towards you.

he had on a flannel overtop a gray shirt, hair tussled from the wind. palms sweaty which he tried to keep under control, alternating between wiping them on his jeans and trying to fix his hair.

he hasn’t noticed you yet, mumbling something to himself as he walked. you contemplate whether or not to say something, afraid you may startle him if you do but thankfully he finally looks up from the pavement eyes locking with yours. he stiffens mouth snapping shut before standing tall as he tries to look relaxed.

“y/n hey..” it was awkward for sure and you had to bite back a giggle not wanting to make him second guess himself.

“hey, you ready to go? it’s not too far a walk from here” you point behind you in the opposite direction from which he came. he nods, robotically coming to your side as you begin walking.

there’s a awkward silence between you both, Anakin wanting to talk to you but unsure where to start. “sooo…you like coffee?”

you laugh, unable to hold it back this time with how strained his question came out. “i do, it’s a college student's saving grace don’t you think” you half joke, after all there have been many times coffee has actually saved you from passing out and turning in a late assignment.

he smiles, relaxing with your easy going nature. “oh yeah, coffee the holy grail for all college students” he jokes back for the first time and you beam. “you said you go to this cafe with your friend?”

“yep, me and Honey go all the time. they’ve got the best coffee and baked goods. it’s also the perfect environment to do homework or study” you both round the corner of the sidewalk, walking a little ways down to the crosswalk.

“oh that reminds me i’ve been meaning to ask, what’s your major?” well if he was asking that then he had yet to see your instagram account since it was in your bio. good because you’re pretty sure there’s a photo of you from middle school still up on your page.

“i’m an art history major” his brows raise slightly at that, making you tilt your head curiously. “what’d you think i majored in?” he shrugs unsure what to say.

“i don’t know… maybe psychology” this time your brows raise and he laughs. “you seem like the type” your nose wrinkles unsure how to take that but you ultimately decide to brush it off when it was clear he didn’t mean it in a bad way. “why art history?”

“i wanna become an art teacher, i need a bachelors degree for that to happen and art history seemed like the most interesting.” you both slow to a stop as you arrive at the cafe; Anakin steps in front of you, opening the door and holding it for you.

”thanks” you smile, walking in and heading to the usual table in front of the big storefront window that you and Honey sit at, placing your backpack onto the back of the chair. Anakin follows your lead doing the same with his bag before you both get into line.

thankfully it was short, most students preferred the other cafe directly across the street from campus. “ooo they finally have the fall flavors on the menu” you chirp excitedly upon seeing the newly chalked on pumpkin spice latte on the menu.

“are they any good?” your jaw drops dramatically, turning your head slowly towards him in full theatrics.

“you’ve never had a pumpkin spice latte before!?” he smiles, laughing awkwardly while shaking his head no. “oh we’re gonna fix that right now” you don’t even let him respond before stepping in front of him once the person in front of you leaves the line, ordering two pumpkin spice lattes and apple cider donuts for the both of you.

you don’t let him pay either, brushing him off with a “if i’m the one indoctrinating you into fall culture then it’s only right i pay” he only relents when you add “you can pay next time” a content smile on his face at the prospect there was even going to be a next time.

the cashier hands you a bag with the Donuts as well as two disposable cups with your lattes which you take to the table you saved. animatedly sliding the cup over to him as you pull out the donuts placing them on napkins in front of you both. “come on try it, i bet you’re gonna love it”

“a lot of confidence for someone who doesn’t even know if i like sweets” your face falls not having even thought about that, he laughs instantly making you flush when you realize he was messing with you.

still you smile back, it was about time he got you back. really you were just happy he was even comfortable enough to do it. “alright enough teasing, chop chop Frenchie”

“what am i a dog” he snorts, brows creasing together when he laughs this time. it was hardy and from his chest and gods did it make you warm to have been able to pull that out of him. “okay, okay i’m doing it” he says after you nudge him under the table with your foot.

you wait with anticipation as he brings the cup to his mouth, taking a sip of the warm nutty pumpkin flavored drink. you lean in as he takes his time, one hundred percent keeping a straight face on purpose. “..well?”

he pulls the cup away making a show of smacking his lips together to ‘savor’ the flavor. “Anakin!” you groan and he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense before grabbing the cup again.

“you’re right, it’s delicious” you cheer at the success, and he just watches with a smile. taking another sip of his drink before taking a big bite out of the donut you'd given him. his eyes widening as he tries it. “oh this is a dangerous combination”

“addicting isn’t it?” he nods enthusiastically, practically wolfing down the donut in a few seconds and almost completely chugging the latte. “oh my gosh” you laugh, before taking a sip of your own. “it’s not going anywhere”

“not technically true, you said it yourself these are seasonal items” he says and then chugs the rest of his drink. you may have actually just sent this man on a path of addiction.

“well we’ll just have to make it a tradition to come here every fall then. just for the coffee and donuts” he smiles brightly, more than satisfied with your words.

“is the rest of their menu this good year round?” you nod and he leans back in his chair, fiddling with the napkin his donut had been on. he licks the bottom of his lip in thought, bitting the inside of his cheek to hide his nerves before he finally speaks. “well maybe we should make it a year round tradition”

you lean on your palm, absolutely crushing harder on him with each passing second. “year round dates? kind of sounds like you're asking me out” he practically falls out of his chair, choking on whatever sugar the apple cider donuts had left at the back of his throat.

“i-i…i mean..” he stammers and you start to worry you may accidentally be the death of him. “i’d like that a lot.. you know only if you’re into it too-“ he cuts himself off mumbling a ‘she brought it up of course she is’ to himself which makes you giggle.

“why don’t you ask me?” you wait for his answer, not even trying to give him a break. he’s still barely recovered from your initial tease, cheeks a bright red that he’s trying desperately to push down.

it takes him a moment, before he finally works up the courage to speak again. “would you wanna go out with me?” he’s quiet and you briefly contemplate dragging it out more, just to watch him squirm but the poor boy looked tormented enough so you finally grant him reprieve.

“i’d love to” he smiles, relaxing before laughing at himself and you join in. the two of you lost in a fit of giggles, that’s how it is the rest of the date. the two of you getting to know each other better and tossing jokes around.

the more comfortable Anakin becomes, the less awkward and shy he seems to act. no longer as nervous as he was when you first spoke to him.

the cold weather outside is the perfect contrast to the warm cozy bubble around you both that the cafe helped provide. the beginning of many moments to come.

a/n: hope this okay!! im so used to writing Anakin as the more confident and collected one so this is a little different for me but it was so fun to write 😋😋

also how do we feel about Honey becoming a reoccurring character in my fics and oneshots? would you guys prefer me putting ‘y/f/n’ instead?

anyway hope you all enjoyed reading 🫶🏼🫶🏼 have a great day huns!! Xx<3

[kelin-is-writing]

Some of you… Guys… who lack empathy and overall emotional intelligence, kinda love to run your mouth waaaaaay too much and end up saying things that make 0 sense. This fandom is also waaaaay too comfortable with victim blaming Rei and Touya for everything that has happened to the Todorokis while Endeavor gets away with it, for no reason at all at that.

“OhHh BuT hE fElLs SoRrY fOr EvErYtHiNg He DiD”

I’m going to be completely honest with you all: I don’t give a flying fuck that he’s now swimming in his sorrows. He better be drowning in them actually. Because there’s a consequence to everything we do. ALWAYS. Besides, if he was going to feel ohh so sorry about what he did to his family, then he simply shouldn’t have done none of it to begin with.

He can’t go on fill his child like a balloon the way he did and then expect said balloon to not explode after he had blew way too much air into it. That’s egotistical.

You also can’t buy your wife (who was still a minor at the time), have her pop out kids like she’s some kind of kids machine for your greedy needs and even force two of them on her before you go ahead and start physically and mentally abusing her, then expect for there to not be any repercussions on your family’s relationships.

Blaming a kid who got his whole life and being manipulated and then gaslighted by his own father, who remembered he indeed had an eldest son only when it was too late, and a woman who was sold to a greedy, egotistical, egocentric, narcissistic and selfish man when she was a kid who had one option worse than the other (We all know that the Himuras ain’t any more sane than Endeavor) is so weird guys, please.

Touya was treated like a human weapon by his own father, who as soon as he saw no more use in him and his quirk just casted the kid aside (which was before Natsuo was even conceived btw). So where���s the favoritism in this? Where? Because I can’t see it anywhere, no matter how hard I look for it. And why is that? Because there’s none. So you lot can stop being delusional about this topic, ‘cause it doesn’t stand up not even if you force it. You can’t erase the manipulation (into making him think he could become the #1 Hero, surpass All Might for his father and be the strongest) and then the gaslighting (telling him he can’t do any of that anymore since his quirk won’t permit it, telling Touya he should give up on his dream because it will never happen after Endeavor ingrained all that into his mind) just like that, then call all of this favoritism. Do you all even know what favoritism is? Or you just find out words on the Internet, ignore completely their meaning, and run with them blindly? Because I am bewildered by how some of you guys be coming on here to just say anything… Touya got failed by his parents and his siblings, because he was ignored and neglected by his siblings as much as he was by his parents (Shoto excluded because Endeavor was busy grooming him this time around) but none of you guys even call them out on Touya going through all of that alone, for some reason, while being okay with what Natsuo and Fuyumi told him as soon as they got into the battlefield. Like they ain’t bad siblings too and Endeavor wasn’t the reason they all lost each others as a family, literally do not piss me off I beg. I’m firmly convinced some of you guys pick and choose who you defend in the Todofam, but like… Everything you guys say makes no sense? It just shows me that some of you lack, as I said at the very beginning of the post, empathy and emotional intelligence. Which is sad.

You all can say “We’ve all gone through hard times alone” as much as you want, but that is not normal at all, towards any time of relationship but especially towards family. It’s not healthy and it can hurt a person a lot, making them close in themselves and when it starts to hurt from the inside the moment you stop getting all of the pent up stress inside it’s no good at all. And for the record, Touya (or just anyone) venting or opening himself to Natsuo about what he’s going through it’s not trauma dumping. It’s never trauma dumping if you genuinely care for someone (clarifying this before any of you emotional ignorant peoples come at me about this 🫠). So Natsuo and Fuyumi being in all of this too shouldn’t be used as an excuse for pushing their brother’s concerns and feelings under the rug, families are supposed to go through these type of situations as a family if they want to keep living happily as such, but they remembered this after one of them died and their youngest sibling was being still raised as a fighting machine by their abusive father. So, mind you, but they all (except Shoto) owe Touya some big ass apologies written down on a letter with tears if I gotta be honest.

As for Rei; she became a mother young, went through a lot all alone because mind you Mr. Husband was waaaaay too busy trying to groom their son into a Hero machine that could beat someone he is incapable of beating (Because a nullity will always be a nullity after all, even when becoming a #1 after the former #1 retirement, if they insist on projecting ofc) to help and guide his young and inexperienced wife through a wedding like theirs. How was she supposed to not lose her mind after being sold, neglected, beaten up, verbally abused, forced to pop out kids like a gachapon, seeing her fourteen years old son lose himself into the void because of his father and then he dies too, without never getting love nor affection from his father (the one he looked up to) the way a kid wants, needs and is supposed to get which is something I’m 100% sure led her to depression. You all diminish too much the grief a mother feels when she loses her kids. There’s much a mother, a human, can handle; and for Rei it got to a point where every trace of Endeavor disgusted her so much her whole body rejected his entire existence leading her to a mental breakdown. One that was due to come earlier if we think about it, but she was strong enough for her remaining kids until she couldn’t do it anymore. What she did to Shoto is wrong, I know and I acknowledge, but she’s a traumatized person who sees her abuser everywhere she goes because, unfortunately, it’s the person she was forced to marry. She apologized to Shoto right away, because she was still mature and sane enough to recognize her mistake right when it happened.

But Endeavor’s ego is so big that it took him his eldest son nearly blowing everyone up and becoming a walking torch before he finally apologized to the whole family for his wrong doings of 10 years prior. Which is crazy to me.

So I’m gonna need you all to stop erase Endeavor’s wrongdoings and try to gaslight the whole fandom into blaming Rei and Touya for the mistakes of someone else, because they’re the biggest victims in all of this shit.

That being said, hope y’all get well soon 🫶🏻💜

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Unexpected Surprise

Prompt: Crocodile comes back from an extended leave to find you holding a baby

Crocodile X Fem Reader

You groan hearing the crying of the 2-month-old, sluggishly getting up from your bed to pick up the baby, reaching for a bottle to warm like instinct. It had been a while since you’d gotten a good night’s rest, and while you could ask some of the workers to do it, you couldn’t find it in your heart to let anyone else look after the child at night. During the day it was easy letting someone take him into another room but at night you got too anxious if he wasn’t within eye shot.

         As he drinks the bottle you go to sick in the rocking chair you had brought in a while ago, someone had told you the rocking would calm the baby but really it helped you calm your own nerves most of the time. Soon enough the baby is slowly shutting his eyes, you cooing and singing while delicately placing him back into the crib before starting to head back to your bed.

         The most silent knock in the world alerts you to another person, and you sigh opening the door, squeezing your self out of the room as to not wake the baby. “What is it?” You ask looking to see Mr. One towering over you with an emotionless look.

         “Mr. Zero will be back tomorrow. We just got word of it a couple minutes ago.” You smiled a bit; it had been about 8 months since he’s been back. It’s been a busy year with him enacting some of his plans. All you knew is that he told you to wait at the casino and not ask questions. And that’s what you did.

Mr. One glances at the door behind you before looking at you again and you can’t help but grin. “Don’t worry bout it. You won’t have to explain anything I promise.” No body had informed your lover of the infant now taking residence in your home, no one felt it was their right. You wave the man off before slinking back into your room to head off to sleep. You could deal with any repercussions in the morning.

~~~

         You got dressed and went to your office, fulfilling your job while the basinet lay empty in the corner, a worker taking the child off your hands for a couple hours. You gotten word that Crocodile had arrived earlier that morning, but he hadn’t come to check on you yet. It didn’t surprise you, he had plenty of paperwork to sift through and get done after being gone for so long.

         Still, after lunch and checking in on the child, you decided to also check in on him. Knocking on the door before entering without a word, a hook immediately going into the wall next to you, your hair becoming slightly messy at the sudden movements. Brushing a strand behind your ear you take further steps in, “It’s nice to see you too darling.”

         “Y/N, I’m too busy for this.” He grunts, his hook returning to his wrist while he sits back in his chair. You hum silently while pouring him a glass of bourbon, setting the glass on his desk, leaning down enough for your cleavage to be on full display for him.

         “I’m just making sure you remember I’m alive, I won’t stay for long.” He glances up at you before reaching up and pulling you further down, a deep warm kiss placed on your lips.

         A squeeze to the back of your neck before he releases you, “I’ll be done in a couple hours.” His last words before you leave his office.

~~~

         You hold the baby in your arms, their subtle noises making you smile as you wiggle your finger in their grasp. “Whose an absolute cutey? You are, yes you are,” The soft words leaving you without noticing the door behind you opening. You gently rock the child singing praises, slowly spinning to face the door.

         Crocodile meanwhile had his mind racing at the display in front of him. You hadn’t noticed his presence as he watched you cradle the baby in your arms. Your gentle, motherlike voice, sounding nothing like what he was use to. He hadn’t remembered you being pregnant when he left, he would have had plenty of words about bringing a child into his world.

         And you certainly weren’t stupid enough to find another man, if anything it made less sense for you to have gotten pregnant after he left. He supposed that he had been gone for 8 months, so maybe you hadn’t realized before he left. Another issue being why didn’t you reach out to him? Sure, he hadn’t let you have his contact himself, but he had plenty of employees who could relay important information such as this. Had you hidden it because you were afraid, he wouldn’t accept it.

         Crocodile never had plans at being a father, and her certainly did not feel prepared to be one now. But seeing you gently rock the infant in your arms, singing small praises did unlock a part of his heart he hadn’t thought he had. Slowly he took a deep breathe, and just as you fully spun to face him, he finally spoke, “And who is this little guy?”

         You stop at hearing Crocodiles voice, looking up at the man inf front of you. The tired look on his face with anxious eyes you’d never seen before as he tried to keep his voice neutral. This, was entertaining. You wondered how long he had been standing there as you give him a toothy smile, “This is Kenji, isn’t he adorable?” You walk up to your lover, lifting your arms to show him the baby whose eyes were locked onto the new person.

         Crocodile’s face became unreadable as he lifted a finger to the baby’s outreached hands, one taking a firm grasp and a tug. “He looks just like his father don’t you think?” Crocodile remained silent, studying the child more at your words and it took a lot in you to not chuckle.

         After a long silence Crocodile finally let out a defeated sigh, “When did this happen?” You suppose he’s referring to when Kenji was born and let him know that it had been just over two months ago. His eyes got wider before shooting you a gentle glare, “Why didn’t you inform me?”

         His voice was firm but soft, much softer than you had thought given the situation you had put him in. “I didn’t know when you’d be back, I’d assume he’d be gone before you could meet him.” Crocodiles face twists into that of discomfort before turning into anger.

         “What were you going to do to him?” He gripped your arm tightly, but still rather careful as to not alert the baby in your arms. His eyes turning darker the more he studied your peaceful face.

         “Well, my sister should be back in a day or two. She had to go grab something from our home town and didn’t want to bring Kenji with her.” You watch as his face processes the information you just told him. “And you know my sisters’ husband is on a trip until next month, you were the one that sent him on his mission after all.”

         You could tell your smile was turning into the biggest shit-eating grin it could as your lover blinks in recognition a couple times. He lets out the heaviest sigh as he walks past you, siting down in the rocking chair you had placed in the corner while loosening his tie. “He’s your sister’s child then,” His voice turned much more relaxed realizing you hadn’t been the one to give birth to the baby in your arms.

         “Of course, Darling.” You say while placing the baby in the crib before walking to your lover and placing both your hands on his shoulders, “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

         The scoff that leaves his mouth as he pulls you closer, “Don’t give me that, I thought I had missed something huge here.” His hooked arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap. His other hand going to your chin to meet your lips to his.

         “I thought you didn’t want children,” You chuckled slightly. You knew it wasn’t in his life plans to have a child around, and while it saddened you slightly, you had accepted that part of him fully. Watching your new nephew every now and then would be good enough if it meant staying with the man you love.

         “Yea well, maybe I can be convinced otherwise.” His low tone as he shifted his eyes from the crib to you, “Seems like you’d make a wonderful mother, Y/N.” Your heart melts at his words as you gently kiss him. Just as you are about to say something, Kenji starts to cry again, and you immediately get up to look after him. Crocodile watching with a smile splayed across his face.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Fremen Girl: Part 2

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Fremen!Reader

Summary: The potential wife of any future Baron must prove herself by surviving in the arena before the current Baron will permit the marriage. In this case, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen wants a wife, and he might have just found a woman capable of meeting that challenge.

Notes/Warnings (for this part): cursing, lack of fighting technique knowledge, subtle reference to the thought of suicide, Dune inaccuracies and typos.

Words: 1700

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Part 1 (Here)

Feyd POV

Feyd stands aside in his uncle’s room, one hand clasping the other’s wrist behind his back as the Baron emerges from his bath with a groan, inky liquid streaking down his face. 

“Nephew” he begins without glancing in Feyd’s direction, “I hear you’ve found yourself a potential bride.”

Feyd’s lips thin. The Baron has his spies but they are not likely to be the responsible party when it comes to informing the Baron of your presence on Giedi Prime mere hours after arriving. “Rabban?”

“Just as you watch your brother, your brother watches you,” the Baron confirms. “A Fremen woman?”

Feyd takes a moment to consider everything Rabban might know, hoping, at least, that he isn’t aware you were assigned a handful of guards willing to be discrete and your own room rather than a dank cell. The Baron would never allow special treatment of a potential bride and it’s best he remains unaware of Feyd’s plans to keep you nourished and well taken care of. 

“She can win,” Feyd says. 

“And is that your only reason for wanting this one?”

There are a handful of reasons why he wants you. You’re beautiful, perhaps more so with that split lip; you’re respected, as shown by the outburst of your fellow Fedaykin a day prior; and of most value to Feyd: you aren’t afraid of him. You don’t back down from a challenge, even if that challenge is as trivial as seeing who will be the first to break their stare. You’re the only woman he’s seen who might survive the Trial. There was no chance he was going to let you go. 

“If I marry her, she can convince the Fremen to cease their efforts against us,” he tells his uncle, though it is a reason far from the priority of Feyd’s motivations and far from likely. Your people do not surrender so easily. “We can do our work on Arrakis without interference.”

This Baron’s thick fingers stroke the underside of his chubby chin as he contemplates, but Feyd knows it’s a strategic ruse. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen never lets immediate interest show, lest he give up the control he possesses over his nephews who answer to him and him alone. He has not once agreed to a request without having the suspense of being denied hanging in the air.

“Two weeks,” the Baron finally responds. “Enough time to inform all of Giedi Prime of a Marriage Trial.” 

Relief washes over Feyd, despite already expecting the agreement from his uncle. The Baron loves to watch the slaughtering of potential brides, and while the opportunity to manage spice production on Arrakis without a fuss is enticing, of equal value is the entertainment of such high stakes resting on the life of one woman—a woman his nephew wants to marry.

Regardless of whether or not you die, the Baron believes he will have a victory. But Feyd is not going to be the fool his brother is, who selects brides on lust alone and sends them into the arena unable to hold a sword above their heads. He’s going to keep you alive. He is going to marry you. And then he’ll deal with the repercussions of prematurely promising a truce that’s unlikely to occur.

—

Reader POV

“Go again.”

“Fuck off,” you spit through your heaves. His last hit to your back shot the air right out of your lungs and it’s all you have not to collapse to the floor of his training room. 

“They are not going to fuck off,” he says as he circles you, deft fingers casually flipping his knife at his side. 

You hate him for waking you at one in the morning for the seventh day in a row, and that hatred has only grown seeing how he doesn’t break a sweat while you’re thoroughly worn out. It’s humbling if you’re honest, but irritating more than anything. You’ve single-handedly taken down more Harkonnens in one fight than any other Fremen, but it’s become clear that if you met Feyd-Rautha under more hostile circumstances, he would not be a guaranteed kill. For every sparing match you’ve won in your unprepared, sleep-deprived, he's won three. 

“They are fighting for their lives, too,” Feyd reminds you. “It’s six-to-one and their only job is to kill you. You have to kill all six.”

“I know,” you groan, peeling your hair from your damp face. “You’ve been saying the same damn thing for a week.”

“Because you don't care enough,” he snaps.

You care, but he takes it to another level. While he doesn't say it outright, you know you’re training to be a source of Harkonnen entertainment; to last in the arena long enough to provide a good show. You’re the equivalent of House Ezharian’s dancing girls on Erif IV but clothed in a short-sleeved shirt and elastic trousers rather than layers of dainty chiffon fabric with gemstone trim. 

When you first stepped foot on Giedi Prime, you felt the same as you imagine those women do: that life under the close thumb of another is a life of little hope for freedom, so why fight the inevitable? But Feyd hasn’t given you the choice to stop fighting; stop living. He’s had guards watching you at all hours and anything that could have been used to harm yourself was removed from your room before you even arrived.

It didn't take long to realize your only out of this life would be to die in the arena. But being butchered by Harkonnen prisoners for others’ enjoyment is perhaps the least honorable way to go, and there’s a part of you that would never forgive yourself for letting someone else take the light out of your eyes. 

Feyd comes to a stop in front of you. You steel your spine, but before you can step into your fighting stance, he lunches at you. Fucking bastard. Your blade quickly folds in front of your body to block the sharp thrust of his knife, metal clanging against metal. He smirks before slamming his fist into your side, crippling you to your knees, but just as he goes to stab into your chest, you forward-roll out of the trajectory of his weapon. You force yourself to stand and whip around to face him.

He’s on you in a half-second, so damn fast, like a shot of lightning from the sky, but you're swift and he misses you. Unfortunately, you’re more used to fighting on sand than stone, so as you leap away from his swing, you overcalculate the force of your weight and stumble. He takes the opportunity to snatch your wrist in his free hand, and his strength overpowers your attempts to jerk free. He spins you until your back is flush with his chest. One arm wraps around your waist. The other holds the blade’s edge to your throat. 

“Not good enough,” he growls in your ear. 

He holds you, his breath bleeding down your neck, muddling your brain. You can hear him thinking—Get yourself out of this, Fremen girl. So you inhale the remainder of your might, slam your foot down onto his, and jab your elbow into his ribcage. He grunts as you slip through the span of his reach. You turn and side kick his abdomen, but it’s hardly effective past causing a brief stagger.

“Higher,” he says on the exhale of a heavy breath. 

“What?”

“If you’re going for the torso, aim your kick higher,” he tells you, patting at the space between his pecs. “More likely to knock them off balance.”

You roll your eyes. You know how to fight. He knows you know how to fight. It’s why he took such an interest in you. It’s why you were kept alive to participate in the Harkonnens’ little games while the remainder of your group remained on Arrakis.

“I know,” you grumble.

“Then why didn’t you do it?” he asks. When you don’t respond, he shakes his head. “You’re skilled, but you're being sloppy.”

“Because I’m fucking tired,” you say. “And what does it matter when it's not you I’ll be fighting? I’ve killed more than six people at a time. I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t promise that!” he shouts. The rapid change in his attitude makes you take a step back and tighten your grip on the hilt of your weapon. When he sees your knuckles whitening, he sighs and sheathes his knife. “I know the Fremen techniques, and your people never fight alone. Enemies are distracted by multiple targets and you often succeed with the element of surprise, but this time it is you—only you—that they will be after.” 

“And you think I can’t handle it.”

“I don’t get to select your opponents, so I need you to be prepared for the worst,” he tells you, moving in close and entering the ring of your personal space. Your breath quickens as your chin lifts to keep his gaze. “I want you to win this, Fremen girl. I want you to live.”

“Why?” 

“I just do,” he says.

He does not elaborate. All you hear is your alternating breaths as your eyes flick back and forth between his own. Electricity crackles in the minimal space separating your bodies—not the first time you’ve felt it from him being so close—but you don’t know what to do with it. You don’t know why you don’t hate it like you should. 

He, however, seems to enjoy it, and more so each time it catches you off guard. Physically he wants you strong, but mentally he enjoys the vulnerability that he teases out before you can conceal it.

Feyd backs away from you and reaches over his shoulder to grab the collar of his shirt, then he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, exposing pale skin and ridges of muscles. 

For a moment, your lungs refuse oxygen. “What are you doing?” 

“It’s warm in here,” he poorly justifies. There's not a single droplet of sweat on him. Then he unsheathes his knife. “Let’s go again.”

---

A/N: should be two more parts after this one. It was originally going to be one long fic, but it got too long, so I just broke it up. Thanks for reading <3

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[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 7 Part 2/2

Masterpost

His hotel was 23 dollars-a-night. Air: stale. Carpet: faded. Receptionist: disliked all of them personally. 

“It’s extra to have guests!” He barked after them. He looked at Cass in particular when she came out from behind the men and he could see that she had a Black Bat face on. He paused.

“There is no fee,” Cass said, and glided past him.

The receptionist quietly cursed, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Damn,” Stinkyman RudeWizard said quietly to himself. “Maybe I oughta spend more time with Bats. You have a real talent for ending conversations.”

“I bite,” Cass said serenely. It wasn’t a threat. Just providing information. Not relevant information. She would not bite him. He was stinky.

Stinkyman was quiet until he unlocked the door. “Well, come in do-gooders and creeps of the night.” He somehow managed to flourish with with bare arm. Cass swept in underneath without touching him, just to flex. 

Captain Marvel waited politely for Stinkyman to move before he entered. “We ran into a situation the other day that we hope you can comment on.” Wow, business mode. So tall of him. Sudden professionalism. “We encountered an artifact that appeared to be scientific in design, in a location that was heavily contaminated with Death magic.”

Black Bat nodded agreement.

The wizard made a face. “And what did this artifact do?” He sounded exhausted.

“Electrocuted me,” Black Bat said, putting on her mission mind a little more firmly. No fear. No horror. “Had an involuntary transformation.”

“Tranformation into what?” stinkyman asked, reluctantly interested. “A normal bird?”

“She had a costume change and her physiological signs seemed to be altered for the duration of the transformation.” Marvel saved her. He lied a little by implication. She was grateful.

“What ended it?” He was looking her over carefully. He had gone through his own transformation into a responsible, thoughtful professional. Probably it was the money that did it. Cass mentally counted the bills she had left. She was more than willing to pay him to stop being annoying. 

“I was able to trigger the detransformation on purpose.” She had to sound that sentence out carefully so that the syllables didn’t turn into mush and tumble away, but this was important. 

Stinkyman nodded thoughtfully. “Try to trigger it the other way,” he suggested. He clamped his cigarette down on one side of his mouth. “I need to see what I’m working with before I can give you any assessment.”

Cass scrunkled up her face, unhappy like Alfred the cat when it was dry food. “I’ll try the inverse.” She closed her eyes and thought about what it had been to be White Bat. Her heart had been still and empty in her chest. Her body moved easily, no aches and pains. Lightning thrummed in her veins. 

She held the feeling in her mind and said, “White Bat,” under her breath.

Light flashed over the room. When it receded, she saw that Stinkyman was shading his face and scowling. “You’re an Infinite Realms being,” he diagnosed dryly. He let his cigarette drop carefully from his mouth and fall onto the shitty hotel carpet. Absently he stepped on it, as if this was a muscle habit.

“...What?” White Bat asked. 

The wizard shot her a lopsided grin that was almost handsome. “You’ve got ghosts in your blood. Want cocaine?”

“No one is going to be doing any drugs!” Marvel put his hands up and his tone high. “Haven’t you seen the PSAs about that? You do that and then your teeth fall out!” Genuine stress. Concern. Don’t hurt yourself!

“Thank you,” White Bat said. “Yes. No drugs.” She addressed that to Stinkyman. “Infinite Realms being?” she repeated. “I’m an earth being. Born and raised here.”

“And died here.” Constantine fished another cigarette out and lit it up. “You clearly have control over the transformation, so… might not be any repercussions if you avoid thinking about the metaphysical. Just go back to Black Bat and never think about it again. Or…” He appeared to have a new idea. He looked at her. Shifty. Curious. Could I benefit?

Died? Died here? Her brain skipped like Alfred’s records after Damian threw them for Titus to get revenge for the establishment of bedtime laws..

“What?” Cass said flatly. She crossed her arms. No blood moving in her veins. It was less upsetting the second time. At least it was not a surprise. 

Stinkyman looked sly. “If you want to look into it, we’ll have to go to the Infinite Realms. Hard for humans to get there, of course, but things like you are right now, well.” He gestured at her as if it was self-explanatory. “I’ll help you get there if you take me along with you. There’s something I’d like to pick up from hell.”

“From hell?” Marvel stressed. He thundered his face at the wizard. He looked intimidating. “We’re going. I’m not going to let you use Black Bat for whatever weird bet or gamble you have going on.” 

Cass blinked, impressed by his scaryface. She didn’t know he could do that. She inhaled through her nose and went back to Black Bat. It was… easy.

The wizard put his hands up in faux innocence and smirked. “It’s an offer, you can take or leave it. Anyway, you have my opinion,” he addressed Black Bat. “You died, Black Bird, I can only assume after touching something that clearly ought not have been fucked with. Can’t tell you offhand why you’re still walking the earth, but you’re not a revenant, ghoul, or other obvious fuckery that I care to banish. You look as human as me.” He flopped down on his motel bed. “Shut the door on the way out, that’s a love. But feel free to call me if you want to find out more.”