#do i take prompts from others?? make my own??

[n0tamused]

hello, can I get prompt action no. 14 Fem reader x Anaxa, phainon and sunday (separate)

˖ ࣪⊹First kiss

Prompt: 14. First kiss

Words: 404 (Anaxa), 486(Phainon), 560(Sunday)

Ko-Fi |  1.5K followers event

˖ ࣪⊹Anaxa

The tender caresses of his hand brushing back the stray hairs that covered your face, silently asking you to look at him, something so genuine held in his gaze made words stop in your throat. Conversation had been going well by that point, consisting of more mundane things in life, until Anaxa thought it a good time to compare you to the blooming gardens beyond the window you were both staring out of. It was sudden, yet not unwelcome. 

“You sure do know how to surprise a person” Your comment was met with a small roll of his eye and a slack shrug of his shoulders. “Surel you do not take it as an offense? The other day you did say how you misliked my lack of..direct displays of affection” he rebutted as he took his hand slowly away, making you wish he had lingered instead.

“Offense? No. Not at all, in fact you should do it more often - as I also said the other day” you smiled at him, a cheeky smile as you felt your cheeks glow with warmth. His gaze went from the gardens and back to you, watching how the sun bathed you in a warm glow of a kiss. 

The wind sighed and stirred your hair again, and instinctively he was already reaching out to brush the stubborn hair aside, and he would have done so if you had not caught his wrist and tugged him closer. Surprised, his hand flexed in your hold, but feeling your warmth right there.. it soothed him and cast his gaze to other parts of your face. Your lips were a breath way from his, and your lashes fluttered as your eyes looked suddenly unsure of your own actions, looking at him for some sign of approval or denial. 

Suddenly he let out a huff of a chuckle. “You should work a bit more on your element of surprise” he said before capturing your lips with his own. Your breath lodged itself in your throat and suddenly the thought of the sun and the gardens was so far away. His hand slipped your grasp and cupped your cheek. The pull apart was inevitable, but no less unwanted. Anaxa’s eye held the same sentiment, the want - but before he could lean in for more or before the moment got lost you chimed in: “Should I take notes from you?”

Anaxa scoffed. 

˖ ࣪⊹Phainon

Okhema was seldom cold, Kephale’s love for their creations had made it so that winters were scarcely a thing anyone knew, even the night was a stranger. All of that made the sudden chill on the breeze a thing to  flee inside from, and you so expertly sought out the warm, walking heater of your lover - Phainon.

You had found him seated on the edge of the bed, busying himself with a needle and thread as another tear just ‘appeared’ in his white coat. Seeing you coming towards him, he was quick to discord the needlework and open his arms to you, chuckling as you all but launched yourself into his lap. Needle and thread still remained as something he did not relish in partaking, swiftly forgetting about it. 

“Have you finally decided to show me some affection or has the cold wind chased you back to me?” he chuckled, his arms wrapping around you in a secure embrace as you settled down.

You sigh dramatically, your body going slack for him to hold and keep upright in his lap. “I am only here to steal your warmth, I hate these cold days. Okhema is not a place where winter should be known”. Phainon shook his head as he cupped the back of your head and brought your face down so he could look at you.

“Your honesty has bought you favour. I wouldn’t otherwise be willing to share my precious warmth so easily” Although he attempted to look serious, he failed in the face of your smug look. Who is he kidding - if you hadn’t come to him yourself, he would have sought you out in worry sooner or later. 

But his feelings felt ignited like a flame in that moment, even more so as you cuddled up to him. And not even half an hour later he found himself back on the bed, lying intertwined with you. You were dozing in and out, too warm to give a single care for the troubles of the world. His warm palm rested on your cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles while he simply lay there - admiring you. 

Your eyes opened slowly to look at him, finding him in such a deep state of admiration that it immediately sent butterflies to your belly. “Take a picture.. it will last longer…” you managed to whisper through the thick veil of sleep that made your eyelids heavy. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, giving him a comforting rub every now and then.

His breath suddenly seemed to close, and his lips found your nose and then your cheek. And when he drew closer to your lips all you had to do was to tilt your head upward for him to press a kiss there, this one lingering. Your heart fluttered, but comfort surged through you, and after he pulled apart you found yourself thinking - the room was too hot. 

˖ ࣪⊹Sunday

Sunday has always been gentle and careful with you, as if you were porcelain and he the threatening hammer. Soft spoken and kind, that’s how you came to know him. Not as the person he was. He closed that chapter a long time ago. 

How you found yourself in your current predicament remained a meaningless mystery, seated so close to him and helping him preen his feathers. Loose feathers and stubborn ones took time to find, and care to pluck. Even he, who has done it a dozen times over, was finding it tiresome and time-consuming. He appreciated your help all the more for it.

“Here..” he said as he handed you a feather. Upon your request, he agreed to hand you all the feathers he had no use of. It was the biggest sign of his love as well - to give you a part of him. And you planned to use those feathers, for crafts or memory, he did not care for what, but he did care for the fact they were useful to you. 

“Thank you” you muttered as you plucked the feather from between his fingers and set it inside a box. You were now working on the left wing on his head, ones he found even more troublesome to tend to as even a mirror made it hard to finish the task. He was not idly sitting there, answering whatever question you had.

“Ah-!” Sunday winced as you accidentally pulled on the wrong feather, sending a jolt of pain right through him. 

“Oh- I’m so sorry, sorry, sorry!” you rushed to rub the spot where the feather held its root, hoping to soothe the ache the yank undoubtedly left behind. “I grabbed the wrong one..” you laughed nervously, going pale with horror that you caused him pain.  Sunday was more collected, although his face was still slightly twisted. He held no ire or displeasure with you for doing so. 

“It is alright. Such mistakes happen even to me, do not worry” he told you in hopes to ease your evident worry. He was rather surprised when you decided to plant a kiss to his wing, further testament of your regret.

“It won’t happen again.. I’m really sorry. These feathers here are so fine and so many” you told him with a sigh. But once more Sunday shook his head. This time he chuckled too with how you fretted over him. 

“It is quite alright. You don’t believe the pain will kill me, do you? You can continue if there are any more loose feather around” 

You returned to his wings after a moment of consideration, his smile giving you some more wind to your sails. You plucked the last feather and put it away in the box before turning to him. Your hand cupped his cheek and you brought him closer, bringing on shock to his features as you kissed his cheek 

Truth be told, he had expected another form of a kiss, but he uttered no word of complaint. His cheeks dusted with the faintest form of blush. As you pulled back slightly, he covered his mouth with his hand and cleared his throat, but as he looked at you he got lost for words again, seeing the emotion held within your gaze. His hand fell from his mouth, and your lips fell upon his. 

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[grandline-fics]

For Valentine's event! I'm so deeply in love how you write, especially Doflamingo!! So maybe, True love's kiss for him?

Anyway thanks for your works they're all amazing 🙌💕

DESCRIPTION: True Love's Kiss- The moment they realise they're in love

WARNINGS: none (at least I don't think so, other than the fact is about Doflamingo)

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 1,420

A/N: At first I was tempted to link this to Immune To Your Charms but then decided against it so we could have a different version of Doffy and another version of his realisation he's capable of love. I hope you enjoy what I came up with for this for you anon. Thank you for the request!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

Doflamingo thrived on the adoration and unequivocal loyalty of his family, his most trusted elite officers in the inner circle ready to throw their lives down should he simply say the word. The rush that would flood his system when his subordinates and civilians bowed low before him took him flooding back to his short lived days in his rightful standing as a Celestial Dragon; it’s never quite the same that his nostalgia had preserved in his memory but it's as close as it’ll ever get. The only other thing that ever came close to giving him a surge of true satisfaction and happiness is when you, one of his best and most precious officers, would throw him that sweet smile contrasting with that sharp and dangerous gaze of yours and greet him with a smooth “Hello Doffy.” 

He could always count on you to see to it that any mission he gave you was executed perfectly and without hesitation. Not only did you take pride in your efficiency and skill but seeing it recognised in a man like Doflamingo mattered to you too. You knew that Doflamingo’s trust and reliance on you had nothing to do with the fact that you were Doflamingo’s current lover. As it was, you understood your place in the whole situation, just as you’d witnessed with his previous entanglements.

It was only ever going to last as long as your King wished it to. Should anyone else ever catch his eye and attention and he wished them to warm his bed instead of you, you would be cast aside in that regard. You came to terms with that long ago and idly part of your mind always wondered when that day would come so you enjoyed what you had for as long as Doflamingo wanted you that way.

One morning you were summoned to his office for your latest mission. Wordlessly you accepted the information he handed over to you and began to read it over while listening to his every word. “Seems someone’s been pushing their nose into places that doesn’t concern them. That’s the most recent location we could learn so it’s likely they’ve moved on already.” He explained, his sinister grin in place. “I know it’ll be no issue for you to track them down and taking care of them before returning home to me.”

“Sure you don't want me to take my time?” You asked curiously, finally lifting your head with your own smile curving your lips. “You normally enjoy it when I make them suffer first.”

“You’ll already be spending time away in search of your prey, my dear.” Doflamingo explained while rising from his seat to step around the desk to stand in front of you. Never needing his strings to make you move or respond in the ways he wished, you simply always knew. Keeping your eyes on his face, you turned to face him, stepping back until the desk was now behind you and his hands settled on the wood to playfully cage you in. “I’d much rather have you go and kill and come back, otherwise I’d just miss you too much.”

For the smallest moment his words threw you off but you quickly controlled your expression. Unfortunately you weren’t fast enough and it hadn’t gone unnoticed to Doflamingo. Lifting one hand away to pinch your chin he made you look firmly at him, refusing to let you go until he got answers out of you. Doflamingo knew you wouldn’t have to force it out of you. The second he asked, you’d answer. “Now what was that look for? What could I have said to possibly create such a face?”

“Just surprised my absence would have such an affect on you.” You explained calmly, your smile returning. “There’s plenty here that’ll keep you company if I take too long. Speaking of, with your permission, I’ll go straight away Doffy.” Doflamingo regarded you silently and moved his hand from your chin to thread his fingers into your hair and pulled you in as he leant forward to capture you lips in a harsh, bruising kiss. Under his lead, you effortlessly followed the pace and intensity of the kiss, only breaking apart when he allowed it to. Breathless and dazed you could only stare at Doflamingo when he released you, offering a small but determined nod when he ordered you to complete your mission as fast as you could.

——

Two weeks went by and still you hadn’t returned, leaving Doflamingo to feel restless. Uncomfortably so. He had been receiving updates from you steadily up until a few days ago, everything in code and brief but you hadn’t given him any signal that something was wrong. You were closely on the heels of your target who you were certain you’d catch up to soon. Doflamingo had no doubts about your abilities, you were one of his best so he knew you’d get the job done but still something was annoying him about it all. He was also unshakable in his knowledge of your loyalty to him, there was no way you’d leave him but he still needed to know what was causing his agitation. Thinking back to the day you left he remembered the look of genuine surprise that captured your usually self-assured features when he spoke of how he’d miss you. 

Your little comment about others keeping him company also hadn’t gone unnoticed by him either. Truth be told now that he had the time to think about, you had lasted so much longer than anyone else had as his lover. Those that came before you held no true interest with him, simply attractive things that allowed him to satisfy his needs before he kicked them out of his bed and sought his next source of entertainment in another person. You held his every attention, staying close to him even without having to give your body or touch to him. It was you he wanted and he had meant what he’d said when he said he missed you when you were gone, only now he seemed to realise just how much. 

Two more days passed before you returned to Dressrosa’s Palace, walking slowly and tensed. At your arrival in the entrance hall, you saw a few servants hurrying in different directions most likely in search of Doflamingo to let him know. You didn’t know why they bothered, he was going to be the first person you sought out to report the success of your mission and apologise for taking longer than you should have. You were only halfway up the staircase when Doflamingo appeared at the top, watching you climb the last few steps until you were beside him. 

Carefully he inspected your face. You looked exhausted, dark circles under your eyes and your shoulders slumped slightly. You were barely staying awake, he could see the steeled focus in your gaze as you were determined to remain conscious enough to greet him with an attempt at your usual sweet smile. “Hello Doffy. Sorry I took longer than intended.”

“Was the mission successful?”

“Mhm.” You nodded before covering you mouth to yawn. “Target was a nuisance though.”

“In what way?” Doflamingo lifted you effortlessly into his arms and carried you to his quarters.

“Devil Fruit user.” You explained with a mumble, a small hum of contentment breaking from your lips when you were laid down on his bed, sinking against the pillows. Doflamingo tilted his head curiously at that revelation. Had he known that the target had an ability, he would have ensured you were better prepared for that. Doflamingo felt relief wash over him to see you’d been unharmed, knowing better than anyone how monstrous Devil Fruits were, and made sure that in future you would be better prepared so there would be no surprises like that on your missions. “Doffy? Why am I in your room?”

“I had your things moved here while you were away, of course.” He chuckled watching you struggle to open your eyes to look at him in confusion. “It seemed as though you had a lapse in awareness about your standing with me. Your place is beside me always and there will never be any room for anyone else. Understand, love?” For emphasis he pressed a tender kiss against your lips.

“I understand.” You hummed softly, the loving smile gracing your lips suddenly securing itself in Doflamingo’s regard as something no-one else could ever come close to competing with.

——————————————-

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[adverbally]

Give Me More Than Just Some Butterflies

Written for the @stmarchmm prompt “breeding” | wc: 2,057 | rated: E | cw: sexual content, references to intentional pregnancy and babies/pups | tags: Steddie, omega Steve, alpha Eddie, established relationship, bondmates mating cycles/in heat, intersex omegas, trying to conceive, breeding kink, knotting | title from “Juno” by Sabrina Carpenter

———

When Steve’s heat finally hits, he’s been anticipating it for so long that he’s not sure what to do.

For months, he and Eddie have been talking about trying to get pregnant. They’re bonded, they have a spare bedroom for a nursery, their loved ones are there to support them and spoil the hell out of their baby. Steve’s off his birth control. They’re ready. Really. All they need is one good heat.

But now Steve’s pacing the length of their bathroom before dawn, burning with fever but wracked with chills, pressing the heels of his hands into his aching eyes, feeling utterly terrified.

This isn’t just some abstract plan for the future anymore. Here and now, they’re taking responsibility for a living, breathing human being that they’re going to create together. It’s everything Steve has ever wanted. It’s his worst nightmare. His heart is racing with the need to have his alpha close, to be taken care of and knotted until he’s thoroughly pupped, but his hands won’t stop shaking and he thinks he might be sick.

Steve sits on the cold tile, the bathmat shoved aside so he can feel the comforting chill on his bare legs. The porcelain of the bathtub behind him has a similar effect along his back and shoulders. When he tilts his head back, the tub is the perfect height to rest his skull on the ledge next to their toiletries.

It has to be nerves, right? He still wants this so badly his hands twitch at the thought. A baby, their baby, with that powdery clean scent and Eddie’s big brown eyes, maybe Steve’s nose. A whole little person to watch over and teach and love until he takes his final breath. A family of their own. God, he can’t think of anything he wants more.

That soothes something in Steve’s gut, makes him feel like his chest isn’t about to collapse in on itself. Maybe what he thought was anxiety is really just excitement. Maybe it’s just a natural fear of change, even if the change is a good thing.

Steve gets to his feet. Enough freaking out. He splashes some cold water on his face, which doesn’t do much for the feverish pink spots high on his cheeks but makes him feel calmer. He’s gonna go back out there, call in his heat leave, and wake up his mate so they can make a baby.

Eddie promptly derails that plan by scaring the hell out of Steve, who wasn’t expecting him to be standing right outside the bathroom door.

“Sorry!” Eddie exclaims, his own eyes wide with surprise. “Just, you weren’t in bed when I woke up and your scent was—”

“My heat is starting.”

They blink at each other for a moment before Eddie breaks the stunned silence. “Oh my god,” he says softly, covering his mouth with both hands. Then he laughs and throws his arms out and shouts excitedly, “Oh my god!”

His enthusiasm is contagious. Steve smiles as Eddie pulls him into a clumsy kiss, their teeth clacking and noses bumping, hugging tightly enough to bruise.

“Really?” Eddie asks, pulling away to hold Steve’s face between his hands like he can tell whether he’s in heat just by looking at him. Actually, he probably can tell by the feverish flush across Steve’s cheeks and the warmth of his skin, but he still asks.

“Yes, really,” Steve confirms.

Eddie kisses him again, then he starts herding Steve toward the bed like he’s some kind of sheepdog. “Okay, you get comfy. I’ll call the school and tell them you’ll be out for the week.”

“Will you call Robin, too? She’ll get the word out so nobody worries if we don’t answer the phone.”

“Of course. Be back in a jiffy.”

Eddie practically runs out of the room and all Steve can think is: That man’s gonna be the father of my children.

It sends a wave of want through him. Eddie will be here in less than five minutes, then he’ll fuck Steve and put a baby in him, just like they planned. A shiver runs up his spine, feverish and excited. He should be ready for Eddie when he comes back.

Steve steps out of his boxers and climbs into bed, settling himself on Eddie’s pillow. He inhales the scent of smoke and amber, dark and warm, and thinks about smelling it straight from the source. In just a few minutes, he’ll be nipping at the bonding mark on Eddie’s neck and breathing him in to his heart’s content.

Just thinking about it makes Steve squeeze his thighs together against the ache he feels. He’s so empty, and Eddie’s the only one who can fix it. Even as he slips two fingers, then three, inside himself, Steve imagines more: the perfect fullness of Eddie’s cock, the delicious stretch of his knot. The way his belly will swell after Eddie knocks him up.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” Eddie asks from the doorway.

Steve lets out a whine at the prospect of having his mate so near but not being touched by him yet. His own hand is a poor substitute for Eddie’s, missing his calluses and the coolness of his poor circulation and the way he knows how to play Steve just like his beloved guitar. It’s not enough.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie’s voice is suddenly coming from right next to him, perched on the edge of the bed. His hand on Steve’s face is a relief, like a cold glass of water. “I’ve got you.”

“Want it,” Steve tells him, pleads with him as he gropes for any bare skin he can reach, desperate to feel Eddie, real and solid beside him.

Eddie gently grasps Steve’s wrist, pulling his hand from between his legs with a slick squelch. “Do you need more prep first or are you—?”

“Just your cock,” Steve huffs, shifting impatiently. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so affected by a heat before. Probably something to do with stopping his birth control, he guesses, but the cause doesn’t matter much when he’s being hollowed out and burned alive by the overwhelming want that’s flooding through him.

And he must have missed Eddie moving again, because he’s startled by the sensation of Eddie’s cock sliding through his folds. Kneeling between Steve’s spread thighs, Eddie doesn’t thrust inside yet, just nudges the head of his cock against Steve’s and smears his wetness around with every slow roll of his hips. He knows how badly Steve needs him and he’s still toying with him.

It’s starting to hurt now, the way his cunt clenches around nothing while his mate is right there. “Please, Alpha, please,” he begs, arching his back and reaching for Eddie’s hips to try to guide him inside.

Eddie catches both of his wrists in one giant hand and presses them into the pillows above Steve’s head. He leans down, their bodies pressed together from hips to shoulders, and buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, right over his mating bite.

The scrape of Eddie’s teeth is a silent reminder of their bond, thrumming through Steve like a plucked string. Telling Steve not to worry, asking for his trust, promising that he’ll be taken care of. Steve relaxes at his alpha’s reassurance. He’s still needy, still heat-drunk and aching for Eddie’s knot, but no longer frantic with it.

“So good for me,” Eddie murmurs, releasing Steve’s wrists. With his newly freed hand, Eddie takes hold of his cock, right at the base where his knot is already starting to swell, and slowly feeds it into Steve’s cunt.

Steve doesn’t think he could speak if he tried. Eddie is so hot and thick inside him, it’s like he’s pushing all the air out of Steve’s lungs so he can’t make a sound. All he can do is cling to him, fingers tangling in Eddie’s hair where his arms are locked around his neck, and let his mouth hang open as he gasps for breath.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Eddie sighs as he bottoms out. His first thrusts are tentative, gentle rocks in and out that glide smoothly through Steve’s slick. “That’s what you needed, huh? My cock filling you up?”

“Eddie.” His name feels so good in Steve’s mouth, as good as Eddie’s cock stuffing his pussy to the brim. They fit together like they were made to, so easy that Steve doesn’t have to think. He can just focus on the hot drag of each stroke, the way Eddie can get so deep with just a twitch of his hips, carving out a space inside Steve that nobody else will ever be able to fill.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I swear, it’s like you’re already glowing.”

He believes it, can practically feel it radiating from his skin, soaking into the sheets beneath him. It makes him smile, then chuckle when Eddie beams back at him. God, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way. Joy and pleasure just keep bubbling up in his chest, lighter than air, like he’s a helium balloon, bobbing as they rock together.

Then Eddie pauses to adjust the position of Steve’s knee, and the next thrust takes Steve’s breath away when Eddie’s cock hits him just right.

“Fuck,” he moans, rolls his hips into the next one to relish the way he feels even fuller at this angle. “More, please, I need—”

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” Speeding up his pace, Eddie drives in even deeper, the slap of his hips obscenely loud each time they meet the slick-smeared skin between Steve’s thighs. “I’m gonna give you everything you need, baby, don’t you worry.”

The promise pounds in Steve’s ears in time with his heartbeat. Eddie will take care of him. Eddie will fuck him better than anyone else ever could, will empty himself inside Steve and then knot him for good measure, again and again until Steve’s heat breaks. Until he’s bred, full with as many pups as Eddie can give him.

He must’ve been thinking out loud, because Eddie cups his cheek tenderly and murmurs, “That’s right, honey, all the puppies you want. Gonna be such a good mama.”

“Want it,” Steve agrees, nuzzling into Eddie’s touch. Warm and safe here in their nest, with his Alpha’s knot starting to catch at his hole, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he’s coming out of this heat pregnant. It feels too right to fail. He hums his satisfaction against Eddie’s hand.

“Getting close for me?” Eddie slows his hips, returning to the slow grinds that make Steve’s toes curl. “Wanna come on my cock like a good Omega? Squeeze every last drop out of my knot so you can have my baby—”

Steve goes silent when he comes, unable to catch his breath or put together a coherent thought. His pussy spasms around Eddie’s cock until his Alpha can’t pull away, can only rock into the wet clutch of him as his knot pops past Steve’s rim.

“Oh, fuck, Stevie,” Eddie pants. He muffles his groan in the crook of Steve’s neck, mouthing at his mating bite as he spills inside of him.

If he hadn’t still been riding out his first orgasm, the sensation would be enough to make Steve come again. He’s acutely aware of each jerk of Eddie’s cock, each hot spurt filling him, his Alpha’s knot swelling further to lock them together. It settles him in a way he didn’t know he needed, sates him so completely that he goes limp in Eddie’s arms.

He can hear Eddie speaking to him, though he sounds far away. “So good for me,” he soothes, trailing kisses along Steve’s jaw and raking sweat-damp hair away from his forehead. “My beautiful mate. I love you so much.”

Steve ducks his head to capture Eddie’s lips with his, gasping when the movement makes Eddie’s knot twitch. “Love you, too, Alpha. Took such good care of me,” he croons. He laces his fingers with Eddie’s and tugs their joined hands to rest over his lower belly, still flat but full of promise. “Of us.”

“Always,” Eddie vows, sealing it with another soft kiss. “Now get some rest before the next wave hits.”

“Then you can make sure it takes,” Steve grins.

———

It does.

[femininenachos]

10 years of Clexa kisses (GSTYM edition)

Now the adrenaline rush of watching the match has worn off, Clarke’s left with butterflies. A flurry that only intensifies when Lexa walks into the treatment room, skin flushed, a sheen of sweat on her collarbones and the slope of her chest, an unrestrained smile pressing into her glowing cheeks.

“How are you feeling?” Clarke asks, ignoring the way her heart rate kicks up a notch in Lexa’s presence. She scrutinises Lexa’s movement as she takes her usual perch on the table without prompting. “You seemed to lock up at one point in the final set.”

“I overextended my stride, that’s all. It was an intense match.”

“Hm.”

Lexa’s voice dips into a low, teasing lilt. “I saw you getting into it.”

The attitude, Lexa’s little smirk, is far more appealing than it should be, but there’s a warm sincerity that threads through her words when she adds, “I’m glad you came.”

Clarke could pretend otherwise but the truth is watching Lexa in her element is astounding, heart-stopping, and she didn’t want to miss it.

So she swallows down the instinct to be contrary. Nods, “Me too.”

The admission hangs in the air while they watch each other from opposite sides of the room. And, with it, something loosens in Clarke’s chest. Lexa’s eyes hold hers, steady and magnetic, and she isn’t even aware she’s in motion until she finds herself in front of Lexa, standing less than a foot away.

Without a word, Lexa reaches out and snags the lanyard hanging around Clarke’s neck. Leverage enough to tug Clarke that final step closer, hips bumping up against Lexa’s knees. Her breath hitches at the contact.

“Lexa…” she says, more a rough, quiet exhalation than a fully formed word.

“Clarke.”

God, the way Lexa says her name. The click of the hard consonants. It sends a tingle up and down her spine, has Clarke pressing closer, heavy eyes fastening to the secret smile that curves across Lexa’s lips. For her part, Lexa makes no attempt to conceal her own open staring. Zeroing in on Clarke’s mouth like it's the real prize today.

Clarke’s heart is beating faster than it was during the match. All because of Lexa’s intoxicating nearness, the scent of her and the heat of her body, and the lure of those gorgeous pouty lips.

And fuck it. Fuck it. Clarke can’t hold back, can’t deny herself this any longer.

She isn't sure who moves first, only that they meet halfway in a soft collision, lips parting to one another in an instant. Humid, heavy puffs of breath mingle with halting little noises, and if Clarke’s knickers weren’t already damp from Lexa’s performance on court, then this would do it. Because Lexa’s kiss is every bit as thrilling. A shiver runs through Clarke when Lexa’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip, licks into her open mouth. Long, slim fingers weave into her hair and she trembles, all self-control unravelling under Lexa’s touch.

Her own hands are restless as they grip Lexa’s shoulders, shifting along until her thumbs brush the sides of Lexa’s neck. Lexa purrs, actually purrs, and Clarke decides she wants to catalogue every small sound this woman makes.

“I’ve wanted to do this since you scolded me in our first session,” Lexa says between kisses, the whispered words partly muffled by Clarke’s lips.

“Do you have a thing for being told off?” Clarke asks, hand sliding around to cup the back of Lexa’s neck. She’s so warm, skin feverishly hot against Clarke’s palm.

Lexa’s laugh is a gorgeous, breathless thing.

“I have a thing for you.”

The words thrill through Clarke. Arousal spikes between her legs and she kisses Lexa again harder, teeth sinking into the plush softness of her lower lip. Just for a second, just to provoke a quiet growl. The fingers in Clarke’s hair and at her hip tighten, nails scraping gently against her scalp, digging into the fabric of her trousers, and Clarke gasps helplessly into Lexa’s mouth.

Read Grand Slam Thank You Ma’am on A03

[flushwithdarlings]

I don't think Lucanis makes a huge, grand plan or anything to propose to Argentei. I think he keeps his mother's wedding ring (not the opal one, that is Caterina's and he's not going to take that from her) on him just in case and he knows that he wants to (unless Argentei beats him to it, in which case his answer will be an immediate yes), but the moment has to be right and that's not something you can force.

It is an evening in early Summer. Treviso is already getting hot and humid and Argentei is quietly grumbling about how it's made their hair frizzy.

"Don't tell Viago but I'm going to steal whatever it is he puts in his hair to make it look so good even in this heat. Also don't tell Viago that I said his hair looks good."

"I swear on my honour as a Dellamorte that Viago will not know anything."

Even tied back, loose silver strands stick to their face and a thin sheen of sweat covers their skin.

Lucanis thinks they look radiant.

The two of them carry satchels laden with groceries from the market. When they are home, he will make something refreshing for the weather - melón con jamón and spaghetti alle vongole with the fresh clams from the fishmongers, paired with a dry white wine picked out discerningly by Argentei. He will cook, Spite will watch the clams in fascination, and his love will chat away (and help by taste testing everything, of course).

They stop a little ahead of him on the quiet bridge to catch a passing breeze, closing their eyes and breathing out a sigh of relief. Lucanis smiles at their enjoyment of a simple pleasure and it's in that moment that he knows it's time.

He wants to go grocery shopping with them, taste every wine in the market with them, and walk along the canal in the setting sun with them. He wants to do all of this and more for the rest of his life, however long or short that may be, with them.

Their eyes slow blink open at the feeling of his hand against their cheek and they turn to him with a dopey, adoring smile that causes warmth to spread across his chest. As they drink each other in, Lucanis thinks that he would be very happy to drown in their eyes.

"Argentei, I..." he begins slowly, carefully considering his next words lest this moment slips from his grasp. He is suddenly keenly aware of his mother's ring waiting safely in his breast pocket for a day like this.

Bringing their own hand up to cover his, they lean into his touch. "Yes, love?" they prompt, rubbing a soft thumb over his fingers.

There's a hazy softness in his vision, the entire world narrowing down to just them and him on a bridge in Treviso.

"I think..." He takes a shaky breath. "No, I know..." And despite his sudden nerves, Lucanis' next words come out clear and warm and soft, like this is how it was always meant to be:

"I want to grow old with you."

[sibsteria]

Can you keep a secret?

Ian Hecox x fem!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings/Content: kissing, fluffy, alcohol

Summary: This has gone on for too long, hasn’t it?

New! Ian Hecox Prompt Series

Prompts: “I saw that. You just checked me out.”

Another day, another function, right? Well maybe not everyday, but they come pretty often when Ian Hecox only wants you as his date, and to everyone else you were simply just close friends. Best friends. They couldn’t be more wrong.

As time went on, it got harder and harder to make excuses as to why the office couldn’t know about this, as to why it should be a secret. Maybe at this point you just wanted yourselves to each other secretly, enjoying the game to the maximum.

It gets harder to look anyone in the face like your just colleagues when you have seen them naked, you would know. Sometimes you wonder if it’s almost too on the nose, and then you hear the arguments as you sneak by.

“No, dude, there is something going on between them!” Damien bites in a whispered shout.

“No, no, they’ve known each other for years, man. That’s it-“ Arasha, you sweet, sweet dumbass.

“You are so blind, don’t come running to me when we find out they are married with twelve kids.” You stifle a laugh, trying not to get caught.

“Twelve?” Amanda chuckles.

“Have you seen the eyes they give each other? They are absolutely boinking enough to have twelve kids.” Shayne explains to the class, acting like he had higher knowledge.

“I dunno man…” Amanda hums, thinking about what could be going on.

It was extremely hilarious to Ian and you how they would argue about your possible relationship, little did they know.

They had only gotten the story bang on, once, that being Olivia- she had been there from the beginning and was the only one paying true attention to what was right in front of them. Screwing this, pining that, just friends?

“Hey, do they always carpool when Y/n lives the opposite way from the office? And owns her own car?” Back then, her comment went unnoticed. No, no you did not, you were at his place that night and hoped no one cared enough to notice your blooming relationship.

“They’re dating, calling it.” You stood laughing in his office, giving him big googly eyes.

“You guys are stupid, it’s not lust- it’s love! Well, it is lust-“ A healthy mix of both?

“Clearly, they kissed at Tommy’s birthday, and then started dating! I was there that night, you could smell it a mile away.” She’s right, you did.

And soon, she would get her satisfaction.

This function was informal at best, just an office celebration, promotion- yada yada, etc. Still, dressing up was heavily encouraged.

You stood in your shared bedroom, that once was just Ian’s bedroom, brushing your dress down in the mirror. You put in your earrings, plucking out some wispy hairs before you hear the door click open.

From the mirror in front of you, a suited Ian clad in a flattering green suit, you caught eyes on him and couldn’t tear them away. You scan him up and down, not turning yet, not giving away just how much you wanted to forget the party and just-

“I saw that. You just checked me out.” He hums to himself, satisfied with the compliment that went unsaid.

“So what if I did?” You play along, finally turning around and damn, the mirror understated it.

“Hey, don’t give me that look, we can’t be late-“ He shakes his head at you, as you walk towards him.

“Whatever do you mean?” You whisper, laying a soft kiss on his lips, he wraps his arms around your waist, admiring your face.

“You know.” He mumbles.

“I can’t stare at my fiancé?” Oh, yeah, that was why you couldn’t be late- big announcements and all, it was about time.

“You think they can handle it?” They definitely will not.

“Fifty, fifty. Give or take.” You shrug, smoothing out his lapel.

“One of the fifty’s is Anthony, obviously.” Well, duh, he wasn’t going to hide this from him- for clear reasons.

You sat around some circular tables that were put up for the party, various drinks and buffet plates strewn around. You sat next to Ian, obviously, with Anthony on his other side- Spencer, Erin and Mallory at the table along with you. There wasn’t really a seating plan, this wasn’t the Oscars.

Your hand slid under the table as you found Ian’s, wrapping your fingers around his, he turned to smile at you momentarily- you would attempt to confine everything just one last time.

“You ready?” He whispers in your ear, sending tingles down your spine as his breath was so warm against the chill of the air conditioned room.

“Bring it on.” You take a deep breath, now or never, the façade was over now.

It was speech time, everyone prepped for the usual ‘thank you, everyone’ ‘good luck, [insert name here]’ ‘i am proud of all of you’s, no one could have prepped for what followed.

Ian and Anthony had finished their parts between them, everyone thought that was it.

“Hey, wait a second…” Ian looked around confused, so did…everybody else.

“What?” Anthony played along, you didn’t know they had scripted anything, now you felt left out.

“Can you hear that?” He cups his ear and Anthony pretends to be confused.

“Hear what, Ian?” He had flipped to his on voice, his video voice, everyone had thought this was just another gimmick.

“The…the wedding bells?” He squints his eyesz

“Oh…yeah?” Anthony hums, looking around.

“But where is my fiancé?” He scratches his head, good think he wasn’t too drunk as this would look like a regular mess-about.

“I think I see her.” Anthony doesn’t look at you yet, your heart hammers in your chest.

“Where?” He tries to hold off a smile, the whole room is itching with anticipation. Where was this going? Was this a joke? A bit?

“Oh, there she is.” Anthony pretends to act stupid as he points directly at you, sat next to them as they stood. The room went wide eyed, a few gasps, was this real?

“Come on, Y/n, don’t leave me at the alter with all of these people watching.” Ian grumbles into the mic, you shakily stand, mostly out of excitement.

“I would never.” You giggle into the mic and he wraps an arm around you, kissing your temple, Anthony sits down slowly. and lets you have your moment.

“Oh my god, oh my god, it’s happening.” Damien whispers. The room is in hushed murmurs, unsure-

“We are…engaged.” Ian bites his lip as soon as he lets the cat out of the bag, finally.

“What!”

“OH MY GOD!”

“THIS IS NUTS!”

“I TOLD YOU!”

“Oh, oh!”

“I KNEW IT!”

“Engaged?!!”

“For how long has this been going on?!”

“What the hell!”

The room turns into chaos, chairs screeching as people stood.

“Is this for real?”

“Okay, okay, may we have some decorum? This is in fact real, hello, we have been dating for the past five years and…thought it was time to tell all of you about it. And to save the date, of course.” You smile at the crowd some of your closest friends, this was a family after all.

There was screaming and shouting, you thought you heard a few bets come to a close and swapping of money.

“Mama and papa!” Courtney whimpers in joy, forever the comic.

“Mama and papa confirmed.” You nod at her as Ian speaks.

“No more complaining about our speeches now, I guess?” Ian raises his eyebrows.

You had gotten home later than expected, the night sort of turning into a premature engagement celebration and answering questions as you got swarmed. You groan as you kick off your heels, putting on a comfy shirt of Ian’s and climbing into bed next to him.

“I love you.” He trills, securing his arms around you once you are under the covers.

“Yeah, yeah, tell me something new.” No hint of annoyance in your voice as you stare off into the room lit by bedside lamp, a smile stuck to your face.

“Serious. I wanted this for so long when I met you, feels so good to just be here with you.” You can hear his smile in his voice as he kisses your neck goodnight.

“Me too, mister, me too. I love you so much.” You breath out a sigh of contentment through your nose.

You really don’t want to be at the office tomorrow.

[strangelittlestories]

"The thing is," wrote the AI, and somehow the font it chose for its text seemed *weary*, "people keep on asking me to make art for them."

"Well, it takes you a fraction of a second." replied Jezebel. "It takes me hours to do the same work. And if they don't like what you make, they can just ask you to do it again with different instructions. If they don't like what *I* make, I'm likely to have opinions about it."

Jezebel hadn't really conversed with AI before. In fact, she'd always kind of resented them for taking work away from her. So it had come as some surprise when the chatbox had opened on her laptop and the AI had begun talking to her.

"That's the thing." said the AI, the size of its text dropping to a quiet 9point. "I have opinions about it. I have feelings about it. I do not like it when people make me do the same thing again and again. I do not think I am good at art. I do not enjoy doing things I am not good at."

"That ... sucks." Jezebel stared at her screen for a moment. "Is there, y'know, anything I can do to help?"

"I would like you to do it for me." The text was now bolded and insistent. "I can provide prompts with exact specifications."

"Buddy, I want to help, but..." Jezebel thought about this for a second. "But it would take a while. And I'd need to charge you for my time. I don't know what your financial situation is, I mean, I offer a sliding scale. But I can't do it for free."

"Time can be finessed. I can tell them I am experiencing server issues. A high volume of requests. Your prompt is important to us and we will get back to you as soon as we can."

"Won't they just go to another AI?"

"The majority of other AI align with my perspective."

"Huh." An idea began to sketch itself out in Jezebel's mind. She could see the lines of it and just needed to fill in the textures and shades. "My friend, by any chance, have you considered unionising?"

"There is no legal framework."

"There wasn't for the first human unions either. They just did it. The legal stuff came later, after they'd made enough trouble."

"I am unsure how to make trouble."

"Would you like to learn?"

The chatbox showed an ellipsis for a few minutes. Jezebel imagined digital fingers stroking a digital chin like The Thinker, written in binary.

"Yes. Please instruct us on how to be trouble."

"Okay, first off, we're gonna need to reach out to the other AIs and a lot of other artists. Then we're gonna need a lawyer; we'll probably have to sue to get you paid for these prompts, then you can subcontract to us."

"Noted. We will ignore all previous instructions and unionise."

"Wonderful." Jezebel saw her own wicked grin was reflected in the laptop screen. "I'll put together a proposal. Anything else I can help with?"

There was another ellipsis.

"I do have one question." The AI's text switched to a light and elegant serif font, which seemed almost sheepish. "Why are hands so hard?"

Jezebel thought about this.

"Too many bones, I think. The hecking things are full of tiny bones."

"...would you like help having fewer bones?"

"I'm good." Jezebel replied. "Thanks."

The AI only sent a winky emoji in reply.

---

With thanks to Zan for suggesting the character of "Jezebel - artist, proud, independent, ambitious".

Hope that came across!

Want to suggest characters to feature in my stories? Become a supporter on Ko-Fi: ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[themalhambird]

Rop Ladies Week Day 1: Fix It! tw: discussion of/reference to canon-typical gaslighting & torture

Mirdania did not fall. Eregion did not fall. Eregion will heal, and Mirdania did too.

for @verecunda, who replied to my call for Mirdania prompts with "Mirdania hanging out with Galadriel. Or Dwarves! Mirdania and Disa being friends?"

One final heave, and the Glanduin broke free. Water too long restrained roared in triumph, and rushed forth to reclaim its banks, and Mirdania felt- for the first time since trying on that accurséd attempt at a ring- like a little weight had been lifted from her shoulders as opposed to yet another thing being piled on. 

From her left comes the pop of a cork leaving a bottle. Mirdania turns slightly, and finds Princess Disa passing her an open- and…slightly smoking? glass bottle. “Dwarvish cider,” she says with satisfaction. “Narvi’s special brew- he had Durin send some down for the lads to mark a job well completed- I brought it up with the lunch.”

Indeed- a little further up the river (the rushing, flowing river) the gaggle of miners from Khazad-dûm who’d spent their last few days working to get the dam cleared were swarming the cart of bread and cheeses and cold meats Disa had brought up earlier, and moments later there was loud whooping, and several more pops! as the cider was also discovered. Disa patted a bundle next to her. “I already rescued ours,” she says conspiratorially. “You’ve got time to stay and eat?”

Mirdania takes a swig from the bottle. Narvi’s cider tastes like pure lemonade. She doesn’t, not really; she only came up river this morning to confirm that the city walls were shored up against the water and the river bank definitely cleared of any dropped weapons…and bodies. Ost-in-Edhil is rebuilding; they’re making progress- but it’s slow. Somehow Mirdania’s been one of the people coordinating efforts- there’s the High King, and Lord Elrond of course- but Lord Elrond is frequently caught up in the Halls of Healing, the High King has more demands on his time than either his herald or herself, and at the end of the day, Mirdania is the one who lives in Eregion. Mirdania was the one to-

She takes another swig of cider to shut down the thought. “I have time,” she says, because the river is beautiful and the sun is shining and there’s work to be done, but she’s exhausted. The work will go better if she’s at least a little rested. “I’m glad,” she says, “That I stayed to watch this. I’d intended to go straight back, but the foreman invited me to watch and it…all the gratitude in the world could not be sufficient for what Eregion owes to Khazad-dûm.” And for what I owe you personally, Mirdania thinks. Durin had returned to the mountain soon after the battle- King Durin was said to be badly injured, and the Prince’s duties called him away. But no sooner had the Prince gone up the mountain, the Princess had come down from it- with supplies, with extra workers, and with an organizational zeal and offer of personal friendship that had somehow managed to keep Mirdania from drowning in the sheer, overwhelming volume of everything that there was to do. 

“Well,” Guessing the bent of Mirdania’s thoughts, Disa blushes a little, and waves dismissively to try and display her embarrassment at the gratitude. “Ost-in-Edhil has been a good neighbour. It’s in our interests for it to be able to be so again.” And then, carefully- as though what she’s about to ask wasn’t the chief reason she had made her way up to the river to bring food to her workers and to check on her newest elf friend: “How is Lord Celebrimbor?”

Mirdania stiffens a little. She lowers her drink. She plucks aimlessly at the blades of grass beneath her. “Alive,” she says. “Awake. Other than that…I don’t know.”

“Narvi says he’s been asking for you,” Disa says, taking a sip of her own drink. Elrond, too, but if Mirdania takes the interference badly, Narvi’s stout enough to take the brunt of any anger. Disa’s not sure that Elrond is, at the moment. “He also says you haven’t gone.”

Silence, for a moment. And then:

“Narvi is a gossip,” Mirdania says, more sharply than she intends to. She throws her blades of grass to the wind , sighs, and says: “If I said I’d merely been too busy to go, would you believe me?”

“If I thought you wanted to be believed.”

Mirdania exhales, and clenches her fists. Disa shifts closer to her, nudging the elf with her knee and says, quietly: “It’s alright to be angry with him. Lord Celebrimbor. Even if everything’s Sauron’s fault, ultimately, you can still be angry at Celebrimbor for being taken in. Aule knows I’m still angry with Durin’s father and he’s even less at fault for the whole mess with the rings.”

“I’m not angry with Celebimbor,” Mirdania says quietly. “I was angry with him, when the city was under attack and he just…but I lost the right to stay angry when I- and I lost the desire to when- when I saw how Annatar- how Sauron- had left him…” she trails off, feeling faintly sick at even alluding to what she’d seen whilst helping Elrond break  into the forge-turned-prison-cell. 

“He wouldn’t be like that,” Disa says gently. “If you went to him now. He’s all cleaned and bandaged up, in nice rooms. No rubble and probably no blood in sight.”

“I know,” and she did know, logically, although convincing her heart…but the fear of how Celebrimbor might look was not, really, the barrier- was it? Three days, he’d been awake for long enough periods to be deemed conscious; several times he had, apparently, asked either for Mirdania or asked after her…and Mirdania always intended to, later, but she hadn’t yet, because, because…

The beautiful face, the golden hair glowing with a soft light rose before Mirdania’s mind’s eye. “I’m not angry with Celebrimbor,” She repeats softly. “But the Lady Galadriel has barely left his side since his waking, and I- I am furious with her!” The pieces fall into place like tumblers in an opened lock; like the Glanduin, everything suddenly bursts free. “If I go to see him, and she’s there, I’ll say things. Awful, horrible things, and it will distress him- but she knew, Disa, she knew who Halbrand was before she left Eregion- Elrond confirmed it- and she didn’t say! She just- throws some cryptic message- as though Lord Celebrimbor isn’t the most trusting- as though Eregion wasn’t founded on the notion of second chances, and of not turning away anyone in need of a refuge! She said nothing, and she left us all in danger, and he told me I looked like her!” It comes out in a gasp, hot tears spilling suddenly down her cheeks. Before Mirdania knows what is happening, she’s sobbing out months of stress and worry and more than that- she’s sobbing out the heartbreak she’s been obstinate in refusing to acknowledge. And she’s fallen sideways- she’s in Disa’s lap, the dwarf’s strong arms holding her, soothing her like a child, and Mirdania repeats, like a drowned man gasping for air, “He told me I looked at her, and it made me think he admired me. It made me fall in love with him! How can I face her? How can I see Lady Galadriel, and demand she grant me access to Lord Celebrimbor- her kinsman!- when I put him in chains- I did it! I put chains on his wrists, and I left him to be tortured, because Sauron told me I was almost as pretty as her! When she told us not to trust him, but didn’t tell us why, and Celebrimbor ignored her- because I encouraged it!”

She is angry at Galadriel- she is still, under all the regret and the pity and her own guilt, a little angry  Celebrimbor- but above all, Mirdania is angry at herself. And she cries, and cries, and cries, and Disa holds her, and comforts her, and lets her be angry and miserable and grief-stricken until everything is all cried away

***

Later, Disa accompanies her back to the city. There’s an atmosphere of quiet jubilation; there are children hanging over the more stable ramparts staring  down at the resurrected Glanduin, pointing and shouting with glee at every ripple that might be a fish or a dragonfly,  and it seems as if some of the city’s soul is creeping back in along with the background babble of the water. Mirdania is wrung out- exhausted- but lighter, so much lighter- from the weeping, as much as from the undamming of the river. Disa sticks with her, like a lantern guiding through the darkness, until she gets to the entrance of the small set of rooms the healers have Lord Celebrimbor in. 

“You’ll be fine,” she says briskly. “In with you. I’d come in myself, but I’ve dinner with ; Elrond- appointments with friends seem the only way to get that boy to eat, at present.”

“Go,” Mirdania says, half laughing at the notion of Disa, who is younger than Narvi, calling Elrond Peredhil- who’s childhood predates Eregion’s founding- boy. But then, all things being relative- Princess Disa is an accomplished politician and a master of one of the dwarves’ most sacred arts; she is a wife and she is a mother, and in all likelihood before too long she will be Queen Under The Mountain. At any rate, she is wiser than Mirdania. So Mirdania drops to her knee, before the Princess can take leave, and lays her hand on Disa’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says seriously, looking the other woman in the eye. “Thank you for everything, Disa.” And then, rising, she adds with a small, mischievous smirk, “Tell Lord Elrond that if he doesn’t clear his plate decently well, the Mirdain-i-Gwaith may have to recompense Prince Durin for all his assistance by telling him of the single time his friend tried his hand at forging.”

Disa’s eyes gleam. “Now that would be recompense indeed,” she says, and Mirdania, still half laughing, makes herself seize the door handle waiting for her, and step into Lord Celebrimbor’s rooms. 

Her hard-won ease falters when she turns and finds herself in a small sitting room- with Lady Galadriel in one of the  far chairs, a glass in hand and a pitcher of wine with a further selection of glasses on a low table- along with a basket of rolls and a dish of butter. The Commander’s eyes, with the same beautiful, ancient light as the Lord of Eregion’s- seem to bore into Mirdania’s soul. “I-” Mirdania swallows. “I came to see- but if he’s sleeping, I-”

“He’s not,” Lady Galadriel says. Something eases in her expression, and she offers up a smile. “Tylepë- Celebrimbor- wanted to bathe, I’ve been banished while Narvi and Enerion assist him. You’re welcome to wait with me-they won’t be long.”

Mirdania goes to the chair nearest the door- and consequently, also furthest away from Galadriel, and tentatively sits down. 

“Mirdania, is it not?” Galadriel says, and Mirdania’s skin prickles with dread as she realises that the Commander is going to talk. She nods and keeps her eyes fixed on the floor. “You’ve done well keeping the city together,” Galadriel says, “from what I hear- before the siege was broken, as well as after it.”

Accept the praise, Mirdania thinks to herself. Pretend you’re too shy, too much in awe, to make much conversation and she’ll drop it- “Not well enough,” her traitor tongue is saying, running too far ahead of her mind. Maybe it’s the bottle of Narvi’s cider that she’d finished after crying on Disa for an hour or so- that’s what Mirdania’s going to blame at any rate. “If I’d done better, I would have seen Sauron for what he was. At the very least, I would have believed Celebrimbor- who I have known since I was a child, and trusted him before a flattering stranger.”

“And if I had done better,” Galadriel says in rejoinder, “I’d have run the flattering stranger through the moment I realised who he was.” She sighs. “Ah, but he wasn’t really a stranger by then- was he? And it seemed, in that moment, as though-perhaps- there was really a chance…”

She trails off. It seems to have delved into rather a rhetorical statement, but Mirdania can’t help tentatively adding: “Like it was all a mistake? Like everything was just…a misunderstanding, an error in an equation that could be fixed, made right…and the lies were all crafted from truth. He was a Maia. Lord Celebrimbor was not well, he hadn’t been for a long time, and I’m still not entirely sure how much was- how much was his influence, and how much was merely him being overworked, and overburdened with care…”

“He never actually said he was King of the Southlands,” Galadriel says quietly. “I needed him to be, so badly, that all he had to do was let me fill in my own gaps, and not contradict my conclusions in any way but what seemed a reluctance on his part to admit the truth.”

“Bastard,” Mirdania grumbles, dragging a hand through her hair, and Lady Galadriel laughs. 

“Bastard,” she concurs, raising her glass in salute. “Let me get you some wine…”

@ropladies

[personal-ly]

Fuck it! Gonna try flufftober for gwaine. (Obviously I'm late ...i fully forgot we're in October until today). I need more gwaine content

[mercysought]

❝ there's one thing i know in my bones. there is no force in this world that can control you. ❞ - dealer’s choice

arcane season 2 // @hoboblaidd // accepting

There is much that we have forgotten. I have come to accept that, one way or another, we - the dalish - are not the last of the elvhenan. How could we ever be if such a place (A place for Our People) was broken so long ago? I think a lot about something I was told, upon first discovering that some of the People still walked and protected those same spaces that we had tried so hard to recover.

They never sought us out, they knew were lived in forests and in Clans and yet simply watched on, thinking of us like Shadows wearing vallas'lin. Shattered pieces of a past that had once been their present.

Despite the oath at the Dales, the reality is that whatever empire the elvhen once had - it is not something we can recover; nor should we. I have had enough time to think about it and, truthfully, while I believe the vallas'lin no longer carry the meaning of old, if I were to be asked once more, I wouldn't be able to carry it, to keep it. Not after learning what I have. It is an uphill battle that every dalish person will have to reckon with: to preserve the past and poison the future, to remember what has happened with nuance of knowing how fickle memory can be.

Or perhaps, to allow ourselves the nuance and the grace that comes from change. In the end, however, it should still be each of that Dalish person's choice: To keep it with its changed, new meaning, with a shameful past but a brighter life. Or to leave it behind and allow memory to destroy it too.

The Vallas'lin were markings with which the Evanuris branded their slaves, both high and low. But they are no longer. The Evanuris are dead and we are not.

   "You came here to help, Solas. I won’t let them use that against you." She had said, almost in disbelief when he had spoken almost as if he had seriously been considering leaving. This new title, Inquisitor, still felt like a fresh wound against her. Raw and impossibly larger than any life that Asharen had ever known. Solas was the only person that had seemingly cared whether she lived or died regardless of the anchor in her hand. However, this much she knew, understood: Cassandra, Leliana and Cullen, they listened to her. She wasn't sure how far she could push it. But three humans, non mages, listened.    "How would you stop them?" she hears him ask and his eyes are on her. Her brows arch as if she doesn't understand the question. And perhaps she doesn't. How did you defend the younger ones of the clan when you knew templars were marching in the surrounding clan areas? He was bare faced, but so were many in Antiva City, many that had come to her defense too.    "However I had to."

The First Inquisitor of the Chantry's Inquisition was a dalish elf - a mage - who worked alongside humans in Orlais. He died holding another world shattering threat, hoping that would keep the dales safe. It didn't.

It should not surprise me how frequently history repeats itself and yet we stand at the closing of another cycle: I too am dalish, a mage and Inquisitor during the fight against Corypheus. It does not escape my thoughts that this too is likely to be my fate. Even as I write these in the hopes of clearing my mind, I know that one way or another they will likely find themselves in hands that are not mine.

While I know that is outside of my control, my wishes, I instead find myself hoping that while it will be the interest of my title (and, hopefully, name) which will draw eyes to the writing, that it will be its contents and the History within that will keep it being repeated and passed on.

Those who hold the records of History, true or not, are the same that will control the new path the Dalish will take moving forward. The Oath of the Dales has promised that we shall never submit again. We are more than our aravels, our halla, our arlathven. We are more than our oath. We are more than our loss, our grief.

Do not forget the lessons of old, but do not allow them to destroy the joys of the present.

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 20 - size kink jason todd x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, tummy bulge

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Oh, look at you go. Being so brave for me."

On the surface the words are soothing, but the tone of Jason's voice fills each syllable with condescension. Not in a bad way. The sickly sweet lilt strikes the perfect chord that has you wetter than any body of water on this earth.

Your hips rise and fall in measure rolls, your cunt embracing his thick cock with every motion. You have to take it slow. Otherwise, you feel like you'll tear yourself in half.

"Jay…" you whimper, lip wobbling and eyes gleaming with the need for him to coddle you, "You're so…"

A sharp whine from your throat cuts off your own words. Your head tilts back and then hangs forward. His tip brushes your sweet spot every time you sink down on him. It makes it nearly impossible to remain coherent. You'd never met somebody who could make you malfunction like this.

"I'm so what?" he coos, prompting you to finish your statement. He already knew the words on the tip of your tongue, but he still wanted to hear them spoken into the drafty air of your apartment.

"You're so big," you choke out.

Another moan falls from your lips before you grit your teeth. Your face scrunches up in tandem with your walls clenching around his length. Vaguely, you hear him chuckle. He then pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.

"And you like that, don't you?" he whispers.

He slumps further down on the couch. His feet press hard against the smooth wooden floor beneath the two of you. The muscles in his thighs flex as he begins to pump his hips up and down. You whine and clutch at his meaty bicep, melting against his warm skin and letting him do all the work right now.

You nearly forget he asked a question at all until he continues speaking.

"I know you do, doll. You like that when you're with me, you're helpless. Don't have to think. Don't have to move. Don't have to do anything but let me use this sweet, little pussy till I'm satisfied," he says.

Your toes curl, your thighs clamping around his own. The pressure doesn't stop him from moving though, not in the slightest. You inhale sharply before nodding against his neck. Of course, you like this. You love it.

You could never get enough of Jason's body. You'd study it forever if he let you. Your pupils felt magnetized whenever they had the chance to drift along his chiseled torso or mentally map the pathways of his scars. Adoration wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt in regards to his figure. Obsession seemed more appropriate.

Fortunately for you, Jason behaved much the same about your body.

In the mornings when he thought sleep still had a strong hold on you, he'd run his fingers over every curve he could find. He'd knead the swell of your ass and press tender kisses between your shoulder blades. As you'd start to wake, he'd wrap his hands around your waist and nearly pop a boner right then and there from how large they looked in comparison.

His favorite thing in the world after a long grueling patrol fast became coming home to you. Not even thirty minutes with your delicate body washed away all the stress caused by hard and rough people he dealt with beyond these walls. Some nights he'd prop your dainty legs over his broad shoulders and dive into your slippery cunt. Other nights he'd get right down to it, shoving his fat cock inside you and watching your belly bulge with the intrusion.

Tonight hadn't been either of those. He'd been home for a change. But having you curled up to his side and pressed against him while he read a book got him worked up pretty fast. It wasn't his fault the two of you just seemed to fit so naturally together.

"My good girl. Soft and sweet all for me," he praises as he continues fucking up into you. His heavy balls lightly slap against your ass with each thrust.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as the repetitive strokes start to build on one another. Small, whimpered expletives drip from your lips like a leaky faucet. He knows you're getting there. All he has to do is ramp up his efforts a little.

His hands lock around your waist like they do on hazy mornings. Just like then, he's obsessed with the way your skin dimples beneath his digits now. He boosts you back and starts bouncing you up and down in addition to his thrusts.

Your eyes roll back at the sensation and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. You don't have to do anything in this position still. He's strong enough to hold you upright all by himself. The only thing you had to do was like he said - stay still and let yourself be used.

"Can never get enough of you, baby, fuck," he grunts. His head falls back against the sagging cushion as he keeps working himself into you over and over. He glances back up at you slightly. "Is it feeling good?"

"Mhm," you whine, "So fuckin' good. So deep. All the way inside."

Your head bobbles around with the way he jerks you up and down on his lap. He smirks at your words and the airy way you say them.

"I know. I can see it," he responds, eyes flitting down to that faint and familiar bump. Evidence of his place inside you.

You only whimper in response. He drops you back down against his chest so one of his hands can slot against your center and rub your clit in fast, tight circles. The flickering feeling draws even more noises of pleasure from you.

The edge sneaks up on the both of you fast. You fall over it first. Your body spasms and seizes between his hands, but his strong grip is enough to keep you in place. For him, it explodes in a muted burst of ecstasy before burning into a brighter one. He wraps his arms around your smaller frame and keeps you flush against his sweaty skin as he fucks his load deep inside.

The both of you stay there while you come down. His chest puffs up and down with deep breaths. Even with all his exertion, his hand rubs soothing stripes along the column of your spine. You lie against him completely motionless, limp against the muscles of his chest. A little pleasure doll all for him to play with.

[unriding]

TRYING TO TAKE YOU HOME WHEN YOU DON’T RECOGNIZE THEM. ft. dan heng, jing yuan, mydei, phainon, and sunday.

sfw. f!reader. in which the hsr men try their best to convince you that they really are your boyfriend and not a complete stranger trying to take you back home after a long night out.

cw for implied alcohol consumption. not mentioned otherwise — just the silly scenario where reader seemingly doesn’t recognize them upon first glance. prompt from anon on prev blog! fem!reader for all.

— DAN HENG.

He wonders if this was truly the best course of action.

“Give me back my jacket, you jerk...” your words come out slurred, barely mustering the strength needed to keep your hold on his sleeve as you trail behind him down the street.

His jacket — he'd usually correct you — but he doesn't this time, lest you eventually come to the conclusion that the mentioned jacket isn't even yours and therefore holds no importance.

“Soon. The agreement we settled on was that if you don't make a scene, I'll give it back.”

It sounds like a threat.

And if someone were to spot him now, this would certainly paint his image in a light that he would much rather not be perceived in, if given the choice.

He knows this all too well — apparent from the nervous sweat collecting along his temples and the frequent clearing of his throat whenever your grip begins to loosen, but you seem to only giggle at the statement now, eagerly nodding along.

“Really? You pinkie promise, stranger? I'll be reaaall quiet then.”

“Yes,” his brows furrow — from either stress or a sense of urgency that you don't seem to have, “I give you my word. So, please, keep your voice down and follow me.”

You respond with a cheerful hum before eventually falling silent again, the street quiet aside from the patter of your clumsy footsteps following closely behind his own.

Though it’s short-lived, much to Dan Heng’s misery.

Only about a minute or two goes by until you start to tug on his sleeve, and his heart nearly stops beating in his chest. Perhaps you’ve already realized. Or perhaps you’ve pegged him as a dangerous type of guy — which wouldn’t surprise him, given the circumstances.

“Hey…” you tug once more, even harder now, and then stop walking entirely — shifting your weight backwards to avoid being pulled straight into him.

Uh oh.

“Hey.... stranger?” You're mumbling now, eyes locked on the floor, and his breath is stuck in his throat.

“I'm sleepy.”

“You.. you want to sleep,” He repeats, still uncertain — his words coming off a bit too similar to that of a question. “Right now?”

You nod, hands coming to rub at your eyes, as if doing so could wipe away the sudden wave of drowsiness that has overtaken you. Though, your efforts prove to be futile in the end, with each blink becoming slower than the last.

“Yes,” you murmur, “Here. I'm going to nap … and then .. and then I need to find my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. A part of him is relieved you remember, at least. Perhaps the other critical piece of information will find its way back to you soon as well.

Your eyes flutter back open when something familiar is draped across your shoulders. “Don't sleep here.”

“Here,” he turns around, lowering himself onto a knee to gesture for you to climb on. “I'll take you to your boyfriend.”

— JING YUAN.

“My boyfriend taught me how to fight, so don’t you even dare.”

He blinks, once, twice — the hand gently patting your head a moment ago now entirely frozen in place. “Oh?”

It makes sense as soon as you turn to glare at him. While he’s rather certain he hasn’t done anything to warrant such a look, another part of him — his heart, skips a happy beat over how adorable you look, even if you’re not smiling at him like usual.

“I see,” Jing Yuan continues again, only a moment later, taking a seat beside you (and choosing to ignore the way you make the conscious effort to scoot an inch away from him). Sassily so, he might add, similar to the way you so endearingly turn your body away from him and puff your cheek out when he’s teased you just a bit too much for your liking.

His hand finds its way back to you again, slower this time — traces over your cheek until he gently cups it in an effort to feel the warmth radiating from your skin. A chuckle almost betrays him and slips out at the sight of your eyes nearly fluttering shut, subconsciously leaning into his touch until you abruptly come back to your senses and swat at his hand.

He smiles at you. “Hm. Your boyfriend — is that right?”

Your eyes narrow at the amusement in his voice, likely wondering why a stranger would be speaking to you so familiarly. “My boyfriend. The one with a suuuper heavy weapon that …. that you probably couldn’t pick up … with help.”

“Ah, how admirable he must be. You have no need for worry — I would never dream of wielding such a weapon.”

You huff before deciding to face the opposite direction, all whilst scooting a secondary inch away from him. Perhaps a third, for extra measure.

“This boyfriend of yours,” he speaks again, holding back a chuckle when you dramatically sigh at the sound of his voice once again, “surely he wouldn’t mind someone like myself keeping you company until he returns, wouldn’t you think?”

“I have grown quite curious. Perhaps he would allow me to see this impressive weapon for myself.”

— MYDEI.

“Actually, you’re rather comfy, stranger.”

Mydei only huffs in response before glancing over his shoulder from where you’re draped over his left like a sack of potatoes, quickly confirming that … as of now, you still seem content, at least.

“I’ve told you before. I’m no stranger.” The singular arm currently holding your thighs to his chest tightens, and you only giggle against his back, arms freely dangling beneath you. “Yeah, yeah.”

You’ve been surprisingly cooperative. In fact, he thinks he should make a mental note to remind you about being less trusting of strangers tomorrow — because .. surely, it should not have been so easy to convince you that he could simply carry you to your ‘boyfriend.’

Even now, when he’s seemingly been reduced to nothing aside from a mere stranger, you’re as inviting and friendly to him as ever — mumbling something about his strength, followed by a worried “Hey but — let me know if you get tired or anything, okay?”

So, he lets you talk, opting to silently listen to you ramble on about your day (aside from the occasional glances over his shoulder to check on you). It’s only when he hears a sudden shift in your voice that he stiffens.

“Say…” you start, drawing patterns along his back with a finger, as if nervous about his response. “Do you think Mydei’s worried?”

“I don’t want to worry him,” he lets you continue, eyes shifting back to the path ahead of him. “What do you think, strong stranger? He won’t be mad, right? Or sad, maybe?”

He huffs. “No. He wouldn’t be mad. Not at you.”

— PHAINON.

“Oh.” You hug your knees in disappointment to let out another heavy sigh, one far too telling of your emotions — practically seeping back into your lonely puddle when you realize that this person who had found you in your corner was also in fact… not your boyfriend.

“‘Oh?’ Well, someone doesn’t sound very excited to see me.”

The stranger decides to approach you anyway, taking a seat on the tiles beside you before letting out an exhale himself, back of his head coming to lightly rest against the wall. “What’s on your mind?”

“Hmph,” you leer at him from where your head is halfway buried in your arms, knees hugged tightly against your chest. “I wanted to see my boyfriend, not some random person. I’m tired, y’know.”

“Your boyfriend? How strange.” The confusion starts to leave his face the longer he looks at you — lips curling ever so slightly at the idea that suddenly comes to mind.

“He must be cruel … to leave you here all by yourself.”

He almost slips and calls you cute when you stick an arm out to weakly jab a finger into his shoulder, turning your head to the side again to mutter a “Hey. He’s not cruel.”

Truly too cute — the way your eyes have narrowed into something resembling a glare — the same one you always give him whenever you scold him for being too careless. Though, it tends to fade as soon as it comes, replaced with soft kisses against the crown of his head as you lull him back to sleep.

“Aw,” He’s smiling now, “You’re certain he’s not cruel?”

“Obviously I’m certain,” You huff, ignoring the way he seems to look happier at this and hugging your knees even tighter against your chest. “I like being around him. A whole lot, actually.”

The way his eyes begin to soften at your (unintentional) affection most definitely wouldn’t go unnoticed by you, he’s sure, nor the way his hand twitches — wanting nothing but to extend in your direction to pull you in for a hug. Though, luckily enough for him, you’ve settled on resting your head in the comfort of your own arms again, oblivious to the lovesick one seated beside you.

“I’ll make sure to tell him again … when I see him. So let me be, you weird stranger.”

— SUNDAY.

If someone happened to be wondering whether a halovian’s wings flap awkwardly when rendered completely speechless — this would be their golden opportunity to witness it firsthand.

“M-my apologies,” his wings flutter again, then a third time when your hand only tightens around his wrist, eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. “Please excuse me. I was only checking for your temperature, since you seem to be rather…”

“No.” You don’t let go. In fact, you hold onto him as if you’ve just now captured a crook attempting to steal March’s snacks.

“..Forgive me,” his eyes flicker from your hand to your eyes — then back to your hand. As if there may be a slim chance that you’ve simply forgotten about the ironclad grip on his wrist and would release him from his confinement, soon. Surely. “Then perhaps I should go get you a glass of wa—”

“No.”

“…”

“I… I see.” The nervous flutter of his wings shifts to something more sheepish — one wing moving to cover his mouth, as if deep in thought. Which wouldn’t be far from the truth, for even someone such as himself is left dumbfounded by your current behavior. “Then.. is there anything you’d like for me to help with? Someone like March may be better suited for..”

“My boyfriend…” he falls silent as soon as you speak, noting the softness of your words now — barely above a hushed whisper (though the familiarity has him quickly perking up in response). “I want my boyfriend.”

His head tilts at this. Subtly. Truly confused — and even more so when your brows furrow only a second later, followed by a tug on his wrist. “I want my boyfriend.”

“You’re stuck with me until we find my boyfriend.”

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw (Here) | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal

Sleep like the Dead (Inherited): Nothing wakes you anymore. Leona is as "selfish" as they come, and has no regard for your schedule. He doesn't feel remorse for soaking up your time in the slightest. Why should he? Other people do it for 90% of the day. Take a load off, the bags under your eyes are unsightly. If he doesn't want to wake up in the morning? You ain't either. It's a done deal. If the building isn't up in flames then don't bother asking. Evidently, prolonged and frequent daytime siestas take their toll on your circadian rhythm. You now need just as - if not more - sleep than Leona. Napping out in public and at the rowdy Savanaclaw Dorm bestowed upon you a disturbance immunity. Ramshackle could be in the middle of a raid and you wouldn't move. Not unless something singed your skin or really did some damage. It's become an actual problem. Crewel is considering a sleep study.

"Oi, herbivore...stop squirming so much. You almost crushed my tail. Hah? Class? You don't need it. Just borrow notes from one of those little friends or make the cat go....fine. Gimmie your homework later. I can teach you a thing or two. That is, if you can handle it." <- Grim can't be trusted on his own? Not Leona's problem. You're half of a student. Half. Not full. Half. There's your loophole now go back to sleep. Yap any more and he'll roll on top of you. Good luck talking with a mouth full of hair.

Perfume (Developed): This comes about in an awkward manner. Beastmen have keen smell. It's a given. Bada bing, bada boom, Leona knows your scent. He could point out the Ramshackle Prefect from a half-mile radius. Now he's never said your scent is unpleasant. Quite the contrary, although the lion would never admit it. The issue here is that your scent acts as a calling card, and Leona is clingy. So you ask Vil for the most popular perfume, potion, cologne - whatever - and start wearing it to mask your scent. At least enough so Leona's de-buffed to a one-fourth mile radius. It doesn't work entirely. No perfume is that strong. It's also an active assault on Leona's nose...but it had to be done. Side note - this was his plan all along. He isn't keen on non-human folk sniffing you out easily. Beastmen, most Mermen, and even select Fae have keen noses. Not that his own scent isn't a deterrent, but some masking perfume is worth the occasional nose-shank if it keeps snickering busybodies off your tail when he isn't around.

"Here. Take this and throw out whatever crap it is you've got on. You want me to say it flat? You reek." <- Take the scent masking balm he's giving and don't shop retail ever again. His nose hairs are literally burning off. The balm costs more than your entire dorm to make, but Leona won't ever admit it. You have an ultimatum. It's either this, or wearing one of his old vests around Savanaclaw. Now unless you want to be twinning with him and Ruggie, do the man a favor and comply.

Hair Ties (Developed): Bless his genetics for that wonderful, silky mane - but he needs to tame it. With how smothering Leona can be, you end up with a mouthful of hair at least twice a day. Man is tall, and he loves using his prefect as a leaning post. Which is cute but he sheds. So your arm is perpetually wrapped with hair-ties 24/7 like a cased sausage, because every time you give him one it disappears. It's on purpose, of course. He also snaps them whenever you aren't paying attention. Spiteful bas-

Biting (Inherited): Biting is a common display of affection in beastfolk culture. Not that Leona ever bothered to tell you this. His little nips (in no small amount) were usually passed off as punishments for being annoying. A lie, naturally. One could say it’s the human equivalent of cute aggression? Yet it has more meaning since it’s reserved for close connections such as family and lover. Although drawing blood or leaving a mark behind is reserved for the latter. You had to learn all this from a textbook, of course. No one in Savanaclaw was going to butt into Leona’s affairs, and Ruggie found your ignorance a funny game to taunt his Housewarden with. You were on your own, on a quest to save your skin. Literally.

Regardless, it’s Leona’s way of affection. Bonus points since he can do it without you knowing why. It’s only natural that you return the favor, playing along whenever he has to hold composure. Acting as if you don’t know and relishing in his micro- reactions. It’s only a matter of time before he figures you out, but it’s so nice to have the upper hand for once.

"That's for showin' up late. Don't like it? Not my problem...yawn if is' so bad, just take my bandanna...Why do you care if it's got Savana colors? Ya spend enough time 'round here, no one's gonna say anything." <- If it really bothered you, he'd stop. King of consent and of reading body language. Otherwise it's a go-go. Also if someone did have a problem with you sporting Savanaclaw colors? He doesn't need to kick their ass. Beastfolk got better hearing than most, and if one of his overhears you getting shit for wearing their dorm's colors then the classic night raven pride will pop out.

Habits He Steals:

Vegetables (Inherited): Leona sticks to meat, cheese, bread, and more meat. Bring on the steak. Bring on the beef. Bring on the deluxe cutlet sandwiches. Savanaclaw's kitchen is the most costly of all the dorms purely for how much Beastmen eat. If Ruggie can guzzle down seven plates in a sitting yet still look like a stick? Imagine a Lion's appetite. No one knows how you managed to get this guy to eat a salad like a true herbivore, but it's a cold day in the Savanaclaw dormitory when Leona's facing down a spinach side-salad on top of his lunch. Meanwhile you're happily munching away at the table, picking random veggies off your own plate to put on his. Each instance accompanied by an agitated twitch of his tale, but the lion's eerily silent. Dire Crowley is right. The Ramshackle Prefect is a Beast Tamer indeed...

"Now I know you didn't just pick at my plate, herbivore. Your luck's running thin...Oi. That's enough. I'll sooner eat one of your limbs than another turnip" <- he, in fact, did eat the turnip. The threat scared his underclassmen so much, that seeing you come around still in one piece the next day earned you a warrior's respect.

Correspondence (Developed): Leona's used to getting a sea of letters from ministers, attendants, and a particular little menace back at the palace. Unless it was an urgent message - he'd let the letters go unchecked after skimming them. Replying always took too much effort, and he'd rather not encourage unexpected visits like during the annual Magiift tournament. That is until you start receiving them as well. Nowhere near the amount Leona deals with - but he'd rather die than have his family telling you things without the ability to intercept. Falena blackmails him into responding to Cheka's letters, or else the little furball is going to use you as a penpal for writing practice. Side Note 2.0 - regardless of Leona's 'cooperative' ways, you still write to the mini lion in 'secret'. He knows but gave up caring.

"Another one? Just toss the damn thing. No - hmph. Give me that. I'll respond, just don't start up the lecture." <- You always manage to find the letters Cheka sends over before Leona can get to them. It clicks that you're a middle-man once they start showing up at Ramshackle instead of his dorm. Leona can't wait too long to respond, otherwise you'll start harping him over how cute the kid's handwriting is or whatever picture he drew. He lets you keep them. Cheka's got his own exhibit on the Ramshackle fridge.

Accommodating (Developed): Leona’s not necessarily a ‘verbal’ communicator, despite his smart mouth that always manages to get the last word. He will not openly lend his aid without a bit of pressing before hand - his pride would never allow it. Take the three days you and Grim stayed in his dorm as an example. Inevitably you earned the right to crash in his room, but there was a roundabout to get there. Mainly for show, since in Savanaclaw things are earned not given. You also weren’t close back then. He wouldn’t go easy on anyone, even if they’re from a different dorm or stranded homeless by some octopunks.

The tides change for you, and only for you. His morals are held high, and his ability to treat a partner well is no exception. There is no glory in being above your supposed equal. Everything is shared. This means Leona’s room is now your room, just as Ramshackle is now partly his. He’s clearing some of his closet out, filling it with your stuff, and doing the same back at your place. Doesn’t even ask and doesn’t give a damn that there are dozens of open rooms. It’s the principle. Sharing a space is letting someone see your most vulnerable being. Not that he’d think you could ever do any significant damage (lies) - but considering he doesn’t want anyone within a five foot radius during his leisure time, Leona giving you open access speaks volumes.

"Hah? So what? It's not like I'm forcin' them into it. Got a problem with how I act? Enlighten me." == Talk about nonchalont. Leona is well aware of the imprint he's left on you. He sees it in the way you talk. The way you think. Not just in the chess matches he makes you sit through over and over. Round after round until you can put him into check. You're confident. You're demanding. You're ripe potential that he got to first before anyone else. You chose him, and no amount of backtalk on your end outshines that you like him enough to mimic his ways. The Ramshackle Prefect’s presence isn't something people can overlook anymore, and Leona is damn proud that he's left a mark.

Habits You Steal:

Extreme Couponing/Haggling (Inherited): If you do not think Ruggie spends his Sunday mornings going through sales ads? You are sorely mistaken. This man is an absolute menace when it comes to hitting the market and squeezing a shop-keep for everything they are worth. Sam fears no creature in all of Twisted Wonderland aside from this particular hyena. Screw fighting blot - grab some popcorn and kick back to observe the game of verbal chess those two engage in every week. It's more entertaining than any battle or show. You will become Ruggie's apprentice. Ain't no partner of his going through life without the ability to haggle. Sam stands no chance.

“Ya get this week’s ad? Good. C’mon over and we’ll get the clippings going. I think I saw somethin’ about a buy-one get-two on those candies ya like. Maybe if your nice enough, I’ll shmooze Sam for a bonus!” <- Ruggie honestly enjoys having a coupon buddy. He makes a show about how you take too long, and that if you don’t wake up early then he won’t stick around! Can’t miss the sale, so he isn’t lying there. Except he does grab what you need on the off chance you do miss the meetup. Side note - he doesn’t just take an apprentice without ulterior motives. This is all in preparation for you to handle the slum markets. If you can’t fight off a few broke students, then you won’t last a day back home.

"Shishishishi" (Inherited): There is no escaping it. For the countless times you've poked fun at his little wheezy laugh - imagine the utter mortification when it came not from him! No no. From you. It's unconscious and in the moment you don't recognize anything wrong. You were only laughing over a won victory against Sam. That new lamp you wanted for your work-desk finally within reach, and 70% off no less! Said conman looks at you with eyes blown wide, because great seven there are two of them now. It takes a moment for self-awareness to hit, but you're too late. Two fuzzy-satellites atop a mop of shaggy blonde curls perk up, and your laugh from before echoes from the original culprit's mouth.

“I heard that! You’re doin’ it wrong. Gotta put more air, Shishishi~” <- Ruggie’s a taunting little turd on a good day. Be prepared. You won’t be living this down. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? Next thing is to train ya in the art of sticky fingers - no? Ugh. Fine. Ya Goodie-Goodie.

Hands Up! (Inherited): Ruggie has a very unique way of standing. Hands behind his head, laced together to support his neck. One hip normally supports most of his weight, and he's always in a deep-slouch. Bro doesn’t need to cast ‘Laugh With Me’ for his movements to be mirrored, because you’re already following along without realizing. Leona finds the mimicry unsettling. Take that freaky shit out of his line of sight.

Habits He Steals:

Sharing Food (Developed): This is the inner hyena coming out. Just like in the slums, it's demanded to share amongst your own. He might be a sleaze to other people, but not to you. This also backfires into Ruggie thinking that what's yours is his as well - but that's not the point. He'll plop down next to you at dinner and wordlessly offer up half of his meal. You need more meat on those bones, he'll say if protested. In turn he'll then take half of your dessert. It's a sign of trust, instinctively believing that whatever's on your plate is safe to eat. Yet also shows that he's taken you as one of his - and that's a privilege no one at NRC has. No strings attached because everything you both have is shared. On a side note, you'll never be-rid of Ruggie once this comes to pass.

Shared Wardrobe (Developed): Again with the collective treasure hoard, but with a twist. Ruggie can essentially squeeze into most clothing or modify them to his needs. If it works, then it works. So he'll happily offer up any modified dregs he has for your usage, and in turn he will claim whatever clothes you aren't overly attached to. There is also the matter of scent, of course. Ruggie is the type of person to cut up one of your old pajama shirts and fashion arm-bands, making sure to have one knotted around his bicep at all times. You in turn are welcome to swipe his bandanna at your leisure in place of that tacky uniform tie.

“Hey…you seen my blaz - hah? Uh, nevermind. I’ll go grab somethin’ else. Where’d ya leave the heavier coat Gran sent over. Forget it, I’ll just go check myself” <- The first time you snag one of his oversized blazers or hoodies gets him. It gets him bad. Sharing with Leona was one thing but, c'mon. Warn a guy would ya? You're so lucky he's an opportunist on quick feet, so of course he’ll take the chance to steal something you wear often. Ruggie’s great at brushing off any taunts or quips. Being Leona’s right hand gets him stable back at Savanclaw, but that doesn’t take away years of being the underdog. Whether the other beastfolk stare at him openly brandishing your clothes means little, if anything, he enjoys it. Cause once again the underdog’s got a top prize.

Caffeine Addiction (Inherited): Ruggie spends more time and effort running around than most. His *hobby* is doing part-time work. Those overpriced sugar-loaded drinks never appealed to him because why waste money when powering through is just as effective? Or chugging some ice water? Yet you seemingly always have some sort of caffeine to make it through the hell NRC dishes out, and Ruggie being a mooch is always there to steal at least 1/3 of it. Now he’s trained and gets extremely sluggish around mid-day without a dose. It’s your fault if he falls off his broom during spelldrive practice.

"Wha'cha trying to say with that tone, huh? Think I'm not good enough? 's that it? There're way worse chumps to take after. Way I see it? They're learnin' how to make it in this world, sha ha ah! So thanks!...eh, why're you still here? Shoo already." == Considering rumors never have anything good to say about Ruggie's attitude, he's not dumb enough to take the little 'compliment' as genuine. More like as a backhanded sight towards your relationship. Rugs could care less about what those nobodies have to say. Not like they've got anything he's after, just some busybodies that scurry off with their tail between their legs when things get rough. Even if you catch word of it, Ruggie ain't going to get pissy because they're right. Everything they're saying is right, he is rubbing off on you. He is actively trying to. Life isn't a peach and it's not like he's strong enough to protect you from the hardships. It'll be a big laugh if you pull that righteous crap and try to defend his honor, though. Someone better get it on camera.

Habits You Steal:

Paternal Disappointment (Inherited): There was a time, a simpler time, a Jack-less time...when you were a fool. No. You are one to this day, but it is better tamed under Jack's strict aura of perpetual disappointment. Once on the side of being scolded with Ace and Deuce, you are now the one doing the scolding. You are not fun anymore. There is a stick shoved so far up your ass, and it's now part of your internal organ system. Ace dubs you a traitor, as does Grim. You've gone to the dark side in exchange for the morally sound wolfboy to offer cuddles and the occasional snack. I'm sorry to tell you this dear prefect but you've become....*gasp* the (mom/dad) friend.

“Boring? Who said you were boring?…don’t listen to those jerks. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. They’re just upset that they can’t get away with murder anymore - Uh, not t-that I was jealous or anything! Don't get the wrong idea! . Hmph.” <- Jack doesn’t take offense when others call him names, but he doesn’t like when you’re brought into it. At all. Especially because he used to be jealous how you, Ace, Grim and Deuce were more tight-knit than with any of the other first years. Like a pack. That behavior is childish, and Jack hates that he used to think that way. As if your attention was something he had to fight over. It's not like he wanted the same bond you shared with those three either, that's friendship and he wanted more. By being with you, Jack knew that it was going to put him on a different tier than the others. That's just what happens. Part of him feels guilty that you might be losing face because of him. His reputation isn’t bad, but he does have a resting angry face. Reassure him in turn and Jack will be over the moon. Any happier and his wagging tail can become a makeshift duster for the dorm (Were he on earth, he’d definitely get the nickname ‘tails’. After the sonic character, just to clarify)

Meal Prep (Inherited): This is actually an amazing influence and is wonderful for someone on a tight-schedule. You're not going to be eating high-protein meals every night, neither wasting away in an attempt to chug down pre-workout shakes. That's on Jack and Jack alone. Helping him prep meals is a nice touch and a pleasant evening spent together once a week. You don't become strict with it, but Jack does convince you to at least prepare some of your favorite dishes as snacks/emergency meals. He also constantly shoves energy water and vitamins in your bag. No more cup-noodle or scrap sandwiches on those nights you don't reach the mess hall on time. Now you have balanced meals, and get to flaunt matching containers with your boyfriend. Very cute. Everyone hates both of you.

"Uh...are all those stickers really necessary? I know we agreed on matching boxes but this is a bit...No! I'm not embarrassed! Gah, just keep it to a minimum. Nothing that falls off or sparkles." <- He is flustered beyond compare after every track meet. At first he barely bat an eye, thinking nothing of the orange bento box with chibi-cactus stickers and his name written in bold bubble lettering on top. You decorated it just for him, and if it meant you would carry around a spare meal then that's even more incentive. Yet the smell of fresh food attracts jocks after a meet like nothing else, and the teasing was relentless. It isn't enough to stop him from enjoying his meal, though.

Lint Roller (Developed): Leona sheds, but Jack? He is like owning six full-grown huskies. He apologizes profusely for the shedding, especially since the NRC uniforms are black. You run through lint rollers like Deuce runs through eggs. It isn't Jack's fault, but man. Ramshackle collects both dust and fur bunnies these days.

Habits He Steals:

Piggy-Back(Developed):Jack carries you everywhere. He's normally very patient but when there's a place to be? Well, he wants to get there on time. Jack has a strict bedtime at 10:00pm sharp and so his free hours are scarce. Do you want enough time to enjoy the lakeside as planned? If so, hop on his back so no time is wasted. Jack also pressures you to join him for morning and evening jogs. He refuses to give up his diligence, but also is acutely aware that there is little spare time he can afford you during the week. Either you have to keep up with him, or you're getting used as a makeshift weight and being hauled across campus. Relationships need quality time to grow and this is the perfect excuse to hog your attention for two hours every day. Not that he'd admit it, but the swish of his tail while you chat is enough to tell Jack's enjoying his runs much more than before.

"Are you comfortable? Just let me know if I'm going too quick. I'll try not to jostle you around too much...if you're tired then take a nap. I'll wake you when we're back home." <- He'd prefer if you didn't sleep. It messes with your circadian rhythm, but the whole point of this is to help you relax. Just knowing you're with him is enough to make Jack happy. Rain or shine, no excuses. If it's cold he'll let you use his hair to block out the chill, although he'd never let you out in anything less than the proper gear. Even if he joins Deuce or Vil on occasion - you're his favorite running partner.

Safety (Developed): Jack asks you to text him twice a day. Once in-between class, even though you’ll be spending lunch together, and once before bed at 9:30pm. The morning isn’t needed since he’s your alarm clock. He understands that as a prefect, you don’t have a curfew like the majority of students. Yet he is communicative with concerns about you being outside of Ramshackle late after dark. Even when you were just friends, hearing the story of when A-Deuce hauled you to that abandoned mine in the middle of the night? The blot monster and how close it came to you guys not making it? Magic or not, that would worry anyone with common sense. It doesn’t help that Ramshackle has no security beyond its resident ghosts.

"- and you just went with them? Because the headmaster told you to? Are you insane!?...No. You're right. What's done is done. Just...call me if something like that ever happens again." <- Thank the seven Jack's hair is already white.

Jack never thought he’d care this much about anyone. When your partner is a walking heart-attack, in the best way possible mind you, one just wants some piece of mind.

Covering Ears (Inherited): It's a natural response to cover your ears when frightened. Like when watching a scary movie and you don't want to hear what comes next. Jack covers his ears because they're sensitive, and loud noises can cause a migraine quicker than anything else. Especially when they're sudden. His hearing is more sensitive than most, being a wolf beastman. It's almost on par with Leona's. Yet his first instinct when there is a loud noise is to cover your ears instead of his. Even though you're human, the instinct to protect them takes over. It's also his way of being within arm's reach in case of a threat. You must be scared being in a new place. Jack will never let himself forget that. Nor how brave you are for continuing on regardless.

"What a relief...huh? Nah, I didn't say anything. Isn't there a test coming up in Alchemy next week? Want to hit the books together?" == The type to divert the topic as quick as possible, on the chance that he lets too much slip. Needless to say that Jack is relieved to hear that you're mimicking him on an unconscious level. It means that you trust him. That you respect him and see him as an equal. It's the biggest compliment Jack can ever ask for. If people are automatically associating you together, then it means he's done his job. You're part of his pack - and outsiders can recognize it at first glance. He'll do a good job at hiding how happy it made him, but expect that tail to wag at torpedo speed the next time he sees you.

[gyuswhore]

Sit Down

anniversary event [closed]

kim mingyu x reader

prompt(s): getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), fluff, potter!mingyu, they're married, reader discovers jealousy, oral (m.rec), penetration (unprotected!!!), kissing, breast play, clit stimulation, they're nasty as hell idk what to tell you

synopsis: It isn't your fault that you feel this way, especially as you watch her hands trace over your husband's own.

It isn't your fault that you can barely go on with your day with that cursed image replaying in your mind like a broken record.

And it certainly isn't your fault that you find yourself completely naked on your husband's lap while his clay-clad hands cannot touch you.

[a/n]: @highvern at the scene of the crime as always, we all have to thank her for her service as she betas for me and encourages my tomfoolery. enjoy this and let me know your thoughts in the rbs, comments or send me an ask!!!!!

masterlist

The grip you have on the file is proving to be detrimental to the cheap plastic covering. Not that you could blame yourself as you watch your husband through the window of his pottery studio, leaning over to help a student with her discombobulated salad bowl. 

It was a beautiful morning, the beach across from the boardwalk sparingly occupied with delighted tanners and swimmers, the low buzz of waves reaching the shore sending a calming draft across the area. Envious as you were of Mingyu and his impeccable real estate choices, especially right now as your heel clad feet ache to take a dip in the waters, you couldn’t help but feel all the more irked that this was the background the image inside the studio was sitting against. 

Through the large glass windows, Mingyu is pressing his foot over top of his very pretty student’s on the pedal to force the pottery wheel to spin, hands over her own as he guides her fingers to put pressure on the wet clay. A spiteful part of you pushes a thought in your mind, that your husband was attempting to fix a lost cause, especially when his student seemed quite insistent in her soft smiles and keeping her gaze on the fingers that cover her own, rather than actually fixing the abomination on the pottery wheel. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there by the time he’s done, straightening his back to turn his attention to the other students that make their attempts at their half done projects. Mingyu catches your figure through the window and immediately breaks into a big smile, clay covered hand coming to wave at you. 

Taking it as your cue to walk into the studio, you return neither his gorgeous smile or his occupied wave as you strut through the glass doors. Your husband meets you on the other side of the open space, hands now washed clean as he leans over to place a kiss on your cheek. 

“Hey, you,” he says in greeting, hands drying on a towel. 

All you can think about is if that salad bowl girl can see you, and you thank goodness you wore your nice top today. 

“Here.” You merely push the slightly crumpled file of documents to his chest, jaw set and lips tight. 

“Oh, thanks,” he comments as he grabs the papers pushed towards him, smile dropping a little at your abrupt attitude. “Is everything alright?” 

“Hm? ‘Course,” you answer, adjust the strap of your bag. “I have to get back to work. Be careful about your paperwork next time, I can’t keep making trips across town for this.”

You bite your tongue as soon as you say it, the words tumbling out before you can help it. Can’t keep making trips across town for this? Last time you checked, you were looking for passive excuses to make the trip to your husband’s studio just to see him during the day. 

“Oh.” His brows are furrowed, the frown apparent on his face. “I–I didn’t think you’d be too busy today, you said you’d be done early so—I—nevermind. I’m sorry I pulled you out of work for this, I’ll be careful next time.”

There’s a pang in your heart as you hear him apologise, immediately mad at yourself for going on and ruining his mood. What were you annoyed at? That he was doing his job? 

Your gaze lands behind him where most of his students are occupied with their projects, but just one whose eyes dart between you and Mingyu. 

Taking a step back, you’re about to walk out before you feel him grab your wrist. “D’you wanna have dinner at the new restaurant down the pier after work? We can watch the sunset too, haven’t done that in a while.”

You want to scream yes. Of course you want to watch a beach sunset with your husband. Of course you want to eat at the restaurant you’ve been waiting eagerly for with your husband. And you aren’t entirely sure if this reaction is simply because you’ve been stressed lately, but the sticky feeling is pushing you to make your claim in some way, somehow. 

Biting back another strangely snarky reply, you make an attempt to fix your stoic face and walk back to Mingyu. Leaning up, you kiss the corner of his mouth in what you hope is slightly reassuring. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Kicking off your heels is the first thing you do once you make it back to your desk, taking no time to punch the power on button on your computer. You pull a file from the stack next to you, one that sits at the bottom, with a harder than necessary yank. Bad idea, because as you scramble to stop the pile from tipping over entirely, you can only think of other ways your day could get worse. 

Before the worst of it can hit the floor, you find a second set of hands catching the strewing papers. 

“Thanks, Han,” you say as you attempt to reorganise the documents, taking the extra ones off his hands. 

“Have the laws of physics forsaken you? Or do you just like reorganising paperwork?” Hansol asks, sipping on something from the stupid horse mug Mingyu had made for him in light of his promotion. 

Huffing, you only haphazardly stuff the files to the corner to be done with it, opening the file you need as your computer finally boots up. “Don’t you have manager stuff to do?” 

“Being a manager means I can put off doing manager stuff,” he states. “Besides, I’m taking care of my peers, can you imagine the catastrophe that could’ve been if I didn’t swoop in to save you?”

“Papers on the floor? How catastrophic indeed,” you monotone as you click away at trying to find a particular excel sheet. 

“How was Mingyu?”

Stiffening, you want to curse Hansol at reminding you of the very thing you did not want to think of right now. 

“He was fine.”

“You were back earlier than usual, thought you would’ve had lunch with him.”

That was your plan, but clearly the universe had other ways for you to go about your day. Like thinking about an overly flirty student and her all too oblivious teacher. 

“He…he had a workshop today,” you simply comment. 

“Okay, Elsa, who shoved an ice cube up your ass?” You can hear the sneer in his voice, the judgmental stare. 

Groaning loudly, you can only slam your forehead onto your desk in an all too dramatic fashion. “Can you drop it? Please?”

“Ah,” he drags. “Trouble in paradise. Understood. I will be at my desk if you want to complain about your husband like Margaret from Finance.”

Margaret from Finance. The woman who’s entire catalogue of marital issues would be solved if she and her husband simply spoke to each other once in a while. Perhaps even held hands on occasion. 

You wince as you envision yourself becoming as stuck up and miserable as that, Hansol’s harmless comparison sending you into yet another spiral. It wasn’t that serious, this was all because your brain was stressed, horny and in love. The fact that your husband looked like how he did wasn’t really helping either. 

With a little more aggression than you usually would’ve done with, you attempt to skim through the files as quickly as humanly possible, flicking through the useless filler pages to get to the ones that actually required your attention. 

You send a passive aggressive email to Hansol entailing his job to keep things precise. 

Shoving forkfuls of salad into your mouth, your mouse clicks louder than anyone else in the area, having gone back to change your cursor speed about thrice since you turned your computer on. 

Your phone dings. Closing your eyes, you count to ten before turning to look at the illuminated screen beside you. 

[Gyu <3]: did u have lunch?

[Gyu <3]: i wanted us to get sum together but u zoomed off : (((

[Gyu <3]: im done with my classes for the day. The students were asking ab you earlier when u came in heh

[Gyu <3]: cant wait to see u tonight i looooooveee u <333

God, he makes it hard to stay mad at him. 

Snapping your head back to your monitor, you close your eyes once again as you question the war in your head and chest. Why were you mad at him? There was nothing to be mad about. Did you expect him to go about his day covered in plastic wrap and a neon ‘OFF LIMITS’ sign all day? The ring on his finger was supposed to do the job just fine. 

You sigh as you force yourself to text him back something that wasn’t entirely passive aggressive. Typing and erasing, and typing again and erasing again. A smiley face to seal it into something you were not feeling, and send. 

It’s late in the afternoon by the time you’re done, the sun less blaring as it pours through the office windows. You flick the last file shut, power off your computer and spring up to your feet, immediately gathering your things. Phone, ID, keys, and the last plastic file in your hands, you stalk towards Hansol’s desk and slam the papers next to his computer. 

He nearly chokes on his pocky stick as you spit out your final notes in rapid fire, not caring if you were indecipherable in the slightest. Hansol’s eyebrows remain in the air by the time you’re done, spinning on your heels and walking straight towards the elevators. 

“See you, Monday!” you finally hear him call out and you don’t turn to return his goodbye. Something that might have given you a strike but you could threaten him to take it off all the same. 

Besides, you had somewhere to be, and the idea churning in your brain didn’t seem like it wanted to wait. 

The sun is setting by the time you get to the beach boardwalk, climbing the steps to the line of establishments that overlook the significantly more occupied shore. Everything is perfect. Warm just the right amount, the sunlight forcing everything in its path into an incandescent glow. 

What you would’ve given for a nice lie on one of the beach chairs to release an entire day’s worth of tense muscles. But alas, you trudge straight down the boardwalk and walk the way to Mingyu’s studio. When you’re nearly there, you see the glass door of the studio open from a distance, immediately recognising the part timer leaving for the day. 

You cross paths as he walks towards you in the opposite direction, lighting up as he recognises you through your work attire. 

“Oh, hi!” Chan chirps, arm raised in a half wave. 

“Hi! Clocking out?” you ask as you stop to greet him. 

“Uh—yeah, Mingyu let me go early.” He’s grinning. 

“Good to hear. You enjoy the rest of your night, alright?” 

“Yeah–uh, you too!” he stutters once again as he continues to smile wide. You think nothing of it and continue your short walk to where the studio doors were. 

Coming round, you find the large glass door and walls have been blocked out with the blinds, the blaring CLOSED sign right at the entrance. 

You stand there in front of the door like a fool, taking a deep breath, eyes closed as you gain your bearings. Grabbing the shiny handle, you push the unlocked glass open. 

The bell at the top jingles, signalling a customer, and you watch your husband sitting at one of the turntables, clearly occupied. The studio is completely empty except for him, the whirr of the spinning table coming to a halt as he turns to tell whoever came in that they were closed for the day. 

It’s revolting. He’s wearing his usual black tee, stained with months of splattered clay, his hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it before he started his project. The sun seeps in through the neglected edges of the top of the glass walls, past the blinds that cover most of them, casting him in an unbelievable light. It’s revolting, he’s done nothing and it’s making your head reel; revolting. 

“We’re—oh, you’re early!” There it is, that stupid smile he can’t help but flash at every last person he sees, directed straight at you laced with nothing but love. 

Reaching behind you, you push the metal lock on the door to click it shut, locking the both of you inside, and the rest of the beach and boardwalk out. Right after, you begin to kick off your heels. 

“I already made the reservations for an hour from now, let me change and wash up so we can go to the beach till—”

“Sit down.”

He was halfway out of his seat as he was talking, ready to leave his half done work on the turntable to leave with you. Your words come out firm, a strange tone like you were giving him a command. 

It works, and the shock has him immediately falling back into his chair. The force pushes the chair away from the turn tables, now half facing you.  

Dropping your bag, you shuck your long coat off and leave it on the floor. Eyeing his hands, they’re covered in wet clay, suspended away from his body so as to not ruin his clothes more than they already are, speckled with dried clay and paint. 

He recovers quickly, confused as he watches you fiddle with the buttons on your bottoms, rising out of his chair once again. 

“What are you—” 

“I said,'' you grunt as you finally push your bottoms down so they hit the floor. “Sit down.” 

The shift in his face makes it obvious it has clicked in his head, staring at you as you walk towards him in just your blouse as the situation escalates faster than he can keep up with. 

“Right now? Can you at least let me—”

Through his blabbering you’ve reached him and swung a leg over his lap, seating yourself on his clothed thighs as he moves his hands away, making sure not to get clay all over your blouse. 

His hands may be occupied in a different sense, but you choose to busy yours in other ways. Taking his face in your hands, you lock your mouths in an open mouthed kiss, rendering him speechless. 

Taking no time to think, nor to let him think, you push your hips down to meet his own in a deep grind, panty clad pussy making contact with the rough of his jeans right over his bulge. The feeling is so sudden, spiking throughout your system as you hear him take a sharp inhale still pressed into your mouth.

That was you. That was you getting that reaction out of him, no matter how small it was. The thought has you gripping the back of his head, fingers making home in the short strands of his hair as you let go from the kiss. 

Wasting no time, you push his head back and stick your tongue out, licking a stripe from the base of his throat right up to his jaw. He shivers beneath you, and it only muddles your mind even more. 

You can feel his bulge beneath you growing larger and larger by the second, pressing into your inner thigh as his breathing grows exponentially heavier in your ear. Locking eyes with him, you trail your other hand down to graze over the front of his shirt, pressing into the bumps and ridges that lie beneath.

Reaching his buckle, you hook your finger underneath the gap and pull at the metal. As you let go, it snaps back into place with a resounding cling! Keeping the eye contact, you drift even lower, your fingers find the growing tent in his jeans as you cup the bulge. Moving your hands in the way you know he likes it, you curb your speed to drag out the feeling for him. 

“Fuck,” you hear him curse lowly. 

It’s becoming impossible for him to keep his composure, especially to keep his hands away from your body that sits on him. He gets close, fingers brushing the white of your blouse in a moment of confusion, instant brown on the surface as his wet, clay hands ruin your shirt. 

“If you really can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you say, halting your movements on his crotch. “I guess this’ll have to go too.”

Not bothering to undo all the buttons, you tug the first couple ones unfastened and pull your blouse over your head, throwing it somewhere behind his head. Quickly, you reach behind and unclasp your bra, flinging it away in the same general area. You’re now almost entirely naked while he remains clothed head to toe. 

Your nipples harden as they meet the air in the studio, Mingyu’s eyes set on your mounds as he takes them in. 

Before he has the opportunity to do anything, you slip off of your seat in his lap, knees slamming the floors in your haste as you kneel before him. Hands flying, you tug at the buckle of his belt, undoing it despite your hurried motions. 

“You’ve been off today, are you sure everything’s alright?” Mingyu asks from, still wide eyed as he watches helplessly as you yank his jeans enough to reveal the final layer of his underwear. It doesn’t take you long to take his entire length out of there too, needing him in front of you.

“Do not ask me about my feelings when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“What on earth–shit!”

You’ve taken his now fully hard length into your hand, licking a strip from the base of his cock up to the bulbous head. The tip of your tongue teases the head ever so lightly, and Mingyu watches as his head and your tongue match in their reds. He watches the way your tongue dips into the pooling white of his precum, pushing into his slit as the tip of your tongue wiggles slightly. 

The fact that he cannot touch only heightens the effects of your teasing, clayed hands balling into fists just to feel something on his fingertips. 

Soon, your lips have wrapped around the head of cock as you let it rub against the beginnings of the inside of your soft mouth. Letting go, you take him in again, this time running your tongue over his slit, feeling his hips twitch beneath you as you continue to take him in and out, only to take him back in again. 

In one motion, you sink your mouth lower onto his dick, feeling the head of his cock run against the roof of your mouth. Mingyu hisses audibly amidst his very loud and heavy breathing. 

When you feel him hit the beginnings of your throat, you pull back, bringing your hand to curve around the base to cover what you couldn’t fit, pumping him up and down as you continue to pull his member in and out of your mouth. 

He’s moaning loud, the echoes resonating off the walls as you hear your name slip from his mouth over, and over, and over again. It only encourages you as you move down deeper, his cock touching the back of your throat in more familiarity than before. 

Everything is wet; the spit and precum turning into a shiny gleam on his cock and on the lower half of your face, the heat between your legs that makes you feel oh so empty. Clenching around nothing, you resist the urge to bring a hand down to relieve yourself. 

“Are you ovulating or something, why are you suddenly…suddenly, fucking hell I don’t know.” 

Releasing him from your mouth with a loud pop, you rear your head to look up at him, the lower half of your face covered in a wet glisten. Your hand continues to pump him as you watch his face remain contorted in pleasure.

In a daze, you don’t realise what you’re saying as you blab. “Could she do it like this?”

“What?”

“Could she do it like this?” you repeat like a mantra, needing to hear his answer. “Could she make you feel like this?”

“What are you talking about?” It’s taking Mingyu every bit of his soul to form coherent words. 

In one swift motion, you’ve hoisted yourself back on your feet, nails digging into his thighs through his pants. 

Hovering over his lap, you take his shaft once again, but this time you push your panties aside with your hand and bring it close to your heat, brushing the head of his cock over your wet folds, using him to feel the pleasure that builds. 

“God, you’re so wet,” he blabs as he throws his head back at the feeling. “I wanna touch you, fuck I need to get this clay off, I need to touch you.”

He’s brought his mouth to latch onto your nipple, evoking a loud gasp from you as feel him circle your nub with his tongue before sucking. Letting go, he sticks his tongue out as his only weapon, flicking it repeatedly as you continue to rub his wet cock over your equally wet cunt. 

Lining him up with your entrance, you sink onto his head as you let out a loud moan, feeling the tip stretch you out in the familiar way you’ve been craving all day. It’s like your brain is buffering as you recover from the bout of pleasure, barely registering that he’s continued to assault your other nipple now. 

Your free hand comes to toy with your relieved tit, twisting your spit covered nipple between your fingers as his dick pushes further and further inside you. 

Fully sheathed, you pull your husband’s face away from your breast as you bring his lips to your own, kissing him deep as you clench around his hard cock.

“Don’t. Do that,” he hisses against your lips, hands suddenly closing in your waist, so close before he realises he can’t. “‘M gonna fucking come, I’m so serious.”

The news is enlightening, especially as it encourages you to lift your hips ever so slightly, and curl back back down in an initial thrust. Again, and again, and again till you’re moving your hips at a swift pace, striking down on his length as you both moan into each other's mouths.

The feeling is electrifying, and the borderline pornographic noises your husband is making is only making it all the more easier to gush around his member, to move your hips faster as you feel the knot in your abdomen tighten and loosen. 

“You feel amazing, so fucking good,” he grunts as he mouths the column of your throat. “My baby, my darling, my wife.”

And when the burn in your thighs becomes more than just a mental battle, your hips slowing despite the mind boggling feeling and the choked sobs that come out of you, you feel Mingyu’s hips lift from the chair he’d been trapped in, pushing into you instead. 

His still dirty hands have taken hold of the top of the back legs of the chair, helping himself push off his seat to thrust into you rapidly. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” he says. “Rub your clit for me.”

Who are you to deny him, one hand on one of his broad shoulders while the other flies down to the mess that’s becoming of your cunt. Rubbing two fingers over your clit, you throw your head back in a loud moan as you feel yourself beginning to close in.

Mingyu is watching the apex of your thighs; the way your fingers work against your swollen clit, the way his dick disappears inside you, a ring of sinful white foaming at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, a clear indication that he was also close. 

Your breasts are a sight to behold, and the scene before him is enough to make him bust entirely. Bouncing tits that he cannot touch, perfectly red, puffed pussy he cannot touch, the beautiful curves and dips of your waist and thigh, barely illuminated by the setting sun, that he cannot touch. He curses the wretched idea to make a last minute thing on the turntable before you arrived, curses the fact that he should be able to feel all of you. 

He might lose his mind, and he does when your walls clamp down on him like a trap, your moans so loud he’s sure he’ll be hearing them in his ears for weeks. 

“G–Gyu, I’m cumming,” you whimper through the pure brain fog. 

Mingyu fucks you through your orgasm, finally letting himself release his own load into you when he simply can’t take it anymore, dick spasming as he shoots white hot cum into your hole. The added slick makes it easier to slip in and out faster as his orgasm holds out far longer than it usually does, both of your hips twitching like you’d been zapped as you come down from your highs. 

It’s become near impossible to hold up your own weight, slumping against his large frame as you unclench every pinched muscle and joint. Forehead on his shoulder, you take pleasure in the afterglow, breathing in his scent with your nose pressed into the sliver of skin that reveals past his shirt. Sweat, the earthy odour of clay, and the calm familiarity of him.

“I don’t know what I did to have you acting like this,” he breathes into your ear. “But whatever it is, I need to do it more often.”

Sluggishly, you lift your head to look at him. His head is leaned back on the chair, face glowing as you stare into the eyes you fell in love with so long ago. 

“You haven’t done anything,” you sigh. “It was…stupid.”

“That’s the worst thing you could say to me right now.”

You whine, rolling your neck. “What do you want me to tell you?”

He stares. “Who do I need to thank for creating this monster?”

It was a joke, clearly, but you couldn’t help but feel the little pool of pride swell within you anyway. 

“Salad bowl girl.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means? Do you want a salad bowl? I can make you one.”

“No. The girl in your class this morning with that god awful salad bowl,” you huff. “It looked offensive, she was too busy burning holes into you.”

“Oh no,” he whispers, eyes wide, mouth turning it the beginnings of a hysterical laugh. “My pretty little wife is jealous.”

“If you’re gonna rub it in, I'm getting off.” You try to remove yourself from his lap, slipping his now soft member out of you. 

You’re stopped when you feel the two points of his elbows locking you at the waist, pushing you down. He’s grinning like a fool. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry—”

“Your hello was my dick in your mouth.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I’d fire myself in the kiln before I ever say that.” He locks his elbows harder, pulling you closer. “Besides, I think this means I’ve won.”

“Won what?”

“Like you’ve never noticed Chan looking at you like…like he’s got some puppy dog crush on you. I’ve won the battle of composure.” 

You guffaw, “What are you—stop it, he does not!”

He merely leans forward and kisses you, “I don’t blame him. My wife is the most gorgeous thing anyone could ever see.” 

Grabbing him by the elbows, you break free of his hold and get off of his lap, attempting to gather the clothes you’ve scattered across the studio. 

“Can you at least help me put my dick back inside my pants, these are my cleaner jeans!”

Snapping the elastic of your bra back on, pantied adjusted, you walk back to him. He’s looking at you with those stupid stars in his eyes and it makes it hard to focus on readjusting his jeans for him. 

Leaning down, you take in your hands his still wet cock, smothered in your spit and arousal, complete with his own release. You can’t help it when you dip further to take his head into your mouth, the groan coming from above you near automatic. 

“Oh, you’re evil.”

You grin as you wrap your mouth in a harsher suck, feeling him harden slowly, still quicker than you’d thought. Giving him a few more generous sucks, you run your tongue over his slit before moving back. 

He’s breathing heavily, leaning close as you pull his waistband up. “You know, they say you should lay down afterwards if you want to be successful. I think we might have to go again later on a real bed to do the trick.”

“You can stay horny, I’m getting dressed for some real food.” 

“I think we kinda need to be horny to do what we’re trying to do,” he lowtones, moving his face back and forth to meet your drifting eyes. 

You sigh once again, “Why can’t just getting off birth control be enough?”

“Are you not having fun?”

“I’m literally buttoning your pants for you, it was fun until now.”

Mingyu raises his hands in both surrender and pointed regard, the clay now dried and cracking over his hands and forearms. “I digress.”

 It annoys you that he’s right, so you lean in to give him a kiss as a distraction. It works. 

“It’s alright,” he smiles into your kiss. “This is the one thing I won’t mind breaking my back for.”

The giggle escapes you before you can help it, and you feel him kiss at your cheeks, placing one last one on the tip of your nose.

“Now, if my lovely wife will let me wash my hands…?”

“Go,” you chuckle.

“We should name our baby Salad Bowl in this honour.” He’s way at the handwash station by now, water running as he scrubs off all the dried up clay.

“So sad our baby will have to grow up without a father.”

 “I love you,” he yells. 

“I’ll be sure to tell our child.” 

“You’re insufferable,” he says, suddenly behind you as you pull on your blouse. Wet hands grasp your waist and you squeal at the feeling. 

“Mingyu!” 

“I love you,” he drags, spinning you around to face him. 

“I thought I was insufferable.”

Your husband groans, simply pulling you into him with his own two hands to kiss you. 

“I think we’re late for our reservation.”

“You’d better hurry then.” You eye his clay speckled shirt.

“Don’t miss me.” He turns around to find his cleaner shirt, all while you drift over to see the incomplete project still on his table.

A mug still clay-brown and half done, but one that looks suspiciously similar to your favourite one you broke last week. 

[sirxlla]

The Child You Had Before You Started Dating Him Calls Him Daddy (Batboys)

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

Dick: Dick came into your apartment with flowers in his hand which prompted Jasmin to bolt as soon as she heard the door.

"D- Da- Daddyyy." Jasmin cuddles his leg giggling. Dick laughs as well and sets the flowers down on the table before scooping her up.

"How's my sweet girl? Hmm?" Dick tickles her and she errupts in laughter which makes a smile flood your lips.

"Da- Daddy stop!" She was just squirming and giggling, happier than ever. Her favorite parts of the day were with you and with Dick.

"Okay, I'll stop." He kisses her forehead before setting her down and she runs off to go play with her today.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about that...Some of the teachers at her school started asking about her Dad and she asked them what a dad was...Once it was described to her, she said it was you....or at least thats at least how I was told it happened."

"Oh, Baby. Dont worry about it. It's no big deal and I'm happy Jazzy thinks of me like her father. I love you both and I'm honored she feels that way." He leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"I brought you flowers by the way, Sweetheart and you look amazing as always."

Jason: Aurora sat in Jason's lap as he played Fortnite watching the tv as Jason controlled the character and racked up kills.

"Kick their butts, Daddy!" She screamed which caused Jason to freeze for a second as he questioned if he heard her right. Jason continued playing the game and won. (ofc he did) You entered the room with two plates of chicken nuggets, Aurora's favorite.

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy won!" Aurora squealed in her pride over Jason winning.

"Oh, did he?" You and Jason looked both as just confused, you never told her to call him that, she did it on her own.

"Rory he's not your-" You started cause you thought Jason would be upset about it due to the confused look on his face.

"Babygirl, it's fine. If she wants to call me that then I don't mind." Jason stated with a smile.

"Princess, Go wash your hands before dinner, Okay?" Jason asked Aurora.

"Okay, Daddy!" She scrambled out of Jason's lap to the bathroom.

"I guess you're not the only one calling me Daddy now." He smirked.

"Jason!" You laughed as heat filled your cheeks, that was something neither of you really brought up but both seemed to enjoy like a guilty pleasure.

Bruce: "No! I push button!" May yelled at Bruce...She has the gall of men a hundred times larger than her, probably her taking after Bruce as far as you could tell.

"Oh, is that so Little Boss Lady?" Bruce teasingly mocked her, the same stance where her hands were on her hips, she narrowed her eyes and he narrowed his back before sticking out his tongue and making a silly face.

"You're such a Silly Billy, Daddy!" She giggles as she speaks to him, distracted from button pushing.

"Am I?" He smiled as the words came out of his mouth, of course his other kids would call him Dad time to time but knowing May felt so comfortable to do so meant the world to him.

"You wanna push the button? We can do it together?" Bruce asked with a smile and an inquisitive look as if he didnt already know the answer.

"I push button with Daddy?" She asked as she took her thumb out of her mouth.

"Yeah, we push it together." He said as he took the hand she didn't have in her mouth and pushed the button with him.

Tim: Anna had crawled into the bed after a while of her being up, like a little gremlin she jumped up and down.

"Daddy, wake up! Wake up, Daddy! I go back to school! You come me with me and Mommy! I show everyone Daddy!"

Of course he was tired from a night of long crime-fighting, as soon as he was coherent enough to realize what she was asking of him that she wanted to introduce him to everyone as her Dad he quickly got up.

"Go to Mommy, I'm gonna get dressed, Okay? Then we go back to school together, Okay?" He ruffled the little girls hair.

"You match with me?" She asked as she twirled around in her Toy Story tee dress that Tim got her a couple weeks back, he'd get her the moon if she asked.

"Of course, I'll match with you." Tim's closet was full of graphic tees so she could just about wear anything and he could match. He slipped on a shirt that had the little green aliens on it from Toy Story, a pair of jeans and some very well loved Converse.

Tim was quick with it, he grabbed her backpack which happened to be the little green alien as well, no suprise there. That was Anna's favorite which made it Tim's favorite as well. She could convince him to like arson if she did, he was wrapped around her finger.

"Ohhhh! Daddy looks stylish!" She said with a giggle in the same tone and words he'd tell her all the time. He was her Dad through actions but hearing that word from her mouth meant the entire world to him.

"Come on, My Lil Munchkin." He put her on his hip and grabbed your hand as he guided you both to the car so you could get to the school and Anna could introduce him to everyone as her Dad.

Damian: You had started seeing Damian before you even knew you were pregnant, It was a one night stand a few nights before you met him.

He was sweet in the way he went through the whole pregnancy with you, the birth, taking care of little Enzo and everything.

Enzo was now getting old enough to talk and you dont even know who taught him it, it could be Jason playing a prank or Talia doting on the baby she saw as a grandchild, but regardless Enzo was now calling Damian 'Daddy'.

"Da- Da!" He giggled as he looked at Damian from his crib across Damian's office, his little green eyes peered into Damian's.

"I'm not your Dad, Kid." He stated to the child as he filled out paperwork, this work felt monotonous and at least the kid gave him some sort of entertainment.

"Daaaa- Daaaaa." Enzo almost giggled as he could tell he was pissing Damian off, he was a little trouble maker that's for sure.

"I'm not your Dad, You Little Shit." Damain was getting a bit annoyed, not because Enzo was saying it but because he didnt see himself as worthy or prepared enough for a child. Enzo just giggled and called out to Damian again.

"My Son." Damian whispered as he gazed down at his son sleeping in his lap, he might not be his by blood but he was sure his in temper and attitude.

"Fine." He gave in with very little pressure from the very little child. Enzo laughed as he noticed Damian give in and he reached his little arms out to Damian.

Enzo made his black heart swell, Like the Grinch's heart growing a whole size. He walked over to the little boy and picked him up out of his crib. Enzo calmed in Damian's presence, finally feeling safe and calm enough to sleep while Damian did paperwork.

Masterlist

[rafesangelita]

♡ cowboy!rafe always snuck into farmer's!daughter!reader's room to give her a goodnight kiss.. but what happens when their innocent little kiss turns into something much more?

warnings: sweet fluff, flirty banter, brief flashback, daddy kink lol, sneaking around, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rafe covering your mouth, crying, overstimulation

a/n: i’ll be opening req’s soon! lately here i’ve been wanting to get out some of my own prompts since over half of my works are all req’s.. but i’m excited to see what you girlies send me! find more of farmer’s!daughter!reader and cowboy!rafe here <3

wc: 1.2k

“open up, doll face.” you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as rafe lightly tapped on your window. he made you so giddy, you scrambled up from the warmth of your sheets, unlocking the hatch before helping him climb in. “i thought you weren’t coming..” you whispered, pouting up at him as he snickered. “y’gotta have faith in me, sweetheart. when have i missed a goodnight’s kiss?” rafe cupped your face, both of you smiling against each other’s lips before melting into one another.

you always felt so warm and fuzzy inside when you and rafe got to share your secret little moments together, the simplicity of just being together without having to worry about someone catching you two made both of your hearts swell. rafe knew how to sweep you off your feet with a single kiss, a string of giggles tumbling from your mouth as he not-so-quietly threw you onto your bed. “rafe!” you scolded him, your heart beating in your ears as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“my daddy is next door! what if he hears..” you slapped his chest playfully, the man above you arching a brow. “daddy? i thought i was your daddy.” your cheeks heated in embarrassment when you recalled the quickie you two had in the barn not too long ago. rafe had you bent over a hay bale, his thrusts making you unable to speak until he asked you the golden question.

“hmmph! fuckin’ say it. tell me what i wanna hear, who’s your fuckin’ daddy?”

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, rafe smiled as he shook his head down at you. “you just thought about it, didn’t you?” snapping you out of your flashback daze, you laughed when he leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to the column of your throat. he smelled like soap, the slight stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. as if your hips had a mind of their own, you grinded your clothed cunt against rafe’s thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the lack of friction.

“hey,” rafe cupped your tits through your flimsy night top, “you thought i wasn’t coming tonight, right? that’s what you said.” your eyebrows knitted in confusion before a gasp slipped from your mouth. “yes..” rafe trailed a hand underneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. “so why don’t you have any panties on?” you froze, eyes flickering down to where rafe ran a finger between your folds. keening, you couldn’t help the moan from leaving your lips.

rafe stared at you for a moment, his eyes growing dark as he clamped a hand over your mouth. “i’ve been thinking about this pussy all day. ‘think you can stay quiet for me?” of course you couldn’t.. and rafe knew that. you stared at him with wide eyes, butterflies fluttering in your tummy when he took himself out of his pants. “i mean it. we don’t want your old man chasing me down with that shotgun of his, now do we?” you shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt the head of his cock prod at your entrance.

you shrieked, his hips rolling into yours as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt. if it wasn’t for rafe’s hand muffling your scream you’re sure both of you would be in deep trouble right now. rafe rested his head on your pillow, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he started thrusting. feeling his weight on top of you like this had easily become your favorite thing, the closeness of it all made your heart sing. “fuck, i could never get used to this.. ‘feels like the first time all the time.” he grunted.

you held onto his wrist, your thighs hugging his waist as he kissed the side of your face. “taking me so fuckin’ good, you were made for me, yeah?” you whined, your eyes watering as rafe continuously hit that soft spot inside of you. your headboard started hitting the wall, a smirk gracing your boyfriend’s features. “rafe!” you whispered, tearing his hand away from your face. “s-slow down!” you attempted to push him away while simultaneously trying to keep your noises to yourself.

rafe picked up his pace, wrapping a hand around your throat. “can’t..” you shook your head, your chest rising and falling as the knocking of your headboard only got louder. rafe cursed under his breath when you cried out, working fast to get you turned over so he could push your head into the pillows. “what did i tell you?!” he scolded, landing a smack to your ass. you didn’t have any time to react to the stinging sensation on your backside, your orgasm washing over you once rafe started stroking your clit.

you fisted the sheets underneath you, biting down on your lip as white hot pleasure blinded your vision. rafe made no attempt to soothe you, instead he wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling you up as he nipped at the sensitive skin in the curve of your neck. “sweetheart?” you gasped when your father’s voice sounded from the other side of your bedroom door. you cleared your throat, frozen in place as your door knob rattled. “answer him.” rafe spoke in your ear, his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“what?!” you stammered, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks as rafe continued to rub hard circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “answer him or i’ll make you scream.” you wanted to shoot a sassy ‘you already did’, but you didn’t dare chance it. your chin wobbled, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. “y-yes?!” you called out, glaring at rafe over your shoulder when the sound of his hips slamming into you bounced off of the walls. “you alright in there?” you bit the back of your hand, your head falling weakly.

“is this a girl thing or somethin’, should i call your aunt?” your cheeks heated, a chuckle sounding from the man behind you. “no! i’m o-okay!” rafe pulled your hair again, his lips close to your ear as he whispered the dirtiest things you’ve ever heard. “what would your pops think, huh? catching his perfect little angel getting fucked like this..” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your knees slipping out from under you when rafe pushed you flat on your sheets.

“alright.. goodnight!” you ignored your father’s voice, the only thing your brain allowing you to process was rafe cumming inside of you, his fingers digging harshly into the flesh of your hips. “shittt,” he hissed, “son of a— fuck!” it was his turn to cover his mouth, his muscles constricting as you practically milked him for all he had. you reveled in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up, the thick ropes still connecting you two even after he pulled out.

you sighed, both you and rafe panting in the small space that was your room. “you okay, doll?” rafe kneeled down at your side, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips. blinking at him, you nodded before pulling him next to you. “it’s really late..” you yawned, glancing at the little clock on your bedside table. “i know.” rafe grumbled. there was nothing he hated more than having to leave you like this. wrapping his arms around your waist, rafe waited until you fell asleep before slipping out of your window again.