#he could leave at any time with his skills and get work anywhere he wanted. he doesn't bc he grew out of that desire

[goddamnitmahtin]

Beauty and the Beast

(A dc x dp prompt)

Danny was in college online so he didn’t really leave his house much. It was probably why he didn’t really realize it when Jazz started going out more than she used to. He was so swamped with his mechanical engineering major and astrology minor that he didn’t even bat an eye when Jazz started to go out at night. Most days, Danny didn’t even know what time it was anyways. He was constantly up at his computer, studying for this or designing that.

Every once in a great while he would go out to pitch his inventions to WE but nothing ever came from it most of the time. It wasn’t like he was expecting for it to go anywhere, he was just trying to get his foot in the door a bit. Maybe if they saw something in him now, he could get hired right out of college. That was the hope anyways.

So imagine Danny’s surprise when the CEO of WE himself asked Danny into his office. The Tim Drake. Holy fucking shit. This was either gonna be really good for him or REALLY fucking bad. Danny assumed it was about one of the inventions he had submitted. What if it was great and they wanted to patent it? What if it was absolutely trash and the CEO was calling him in just to tell him to stop sending in his shitty ideas? Knowing Danny’s luck it would be the latter.

“You wanted to see me Mr. Drake?” Danny said sitting in the chair across the desk.

“Yes I did,” Mr. Drake said, “And please, call me Tim.”

Danny wasn’t sure where this was going at all, “Sure, uh Tim.”

The young CEO looked to be about Danny’s age to be honest. He must have been really something if he was able to have been given the position so young. Mr. Drake- Tim sat forward, leaning on the desk with his elbows. Danny couldn’t help but notice that it was kind of attractive how he demanded power over the room even when acting casual.

“Danny, I have seen your work. It is remarkable to say the least. You have impressed me,” Tim said.

Danny smiled. That was a good sign. Maybe he could get a job upon graduation after all.

“Thank you,” he said in response.

“But that’s not why I called you here,” the CEO said, standing up from his desk. Danny watched as the man walked around the desk to sit on the tabletop right in front of Danny, smiling almost seductively.

Danny felt his face go hot as he realized that the man’s legs were placed right between his own. Mr. Drake was attractive before. But now… ancients be damned… how could he not be hot? Should Danny have been a bit more concerned with the clearly inappropriate behavior in a work place? Probably… but Danny was never the best at self preservation.

“Oh?” was all Danny could get out of his mouth before Tim flashed a dazzling smile that made his brain short circuit.

“You see Mr. Fenton, I seem to be more enamored with you,” the young CEO said, leaning in enough that his breath ticked Danny’s neck.

As we have established, Danny’s self preservation skills were absolute dog shit. So instead of any sort of alarm bells going off in his head, he felt that the next logical step in this situation would be to shoot his shot. Fuck it, why not?

“What, are you telling me to ask you on a date Tim Drake?” Danny asked, his lips curling into a smirk. Fuck the job, this guy in front of him would be much better.

He watched as Tim’s cheeks flushed for a moment before returning the smirk, “Are you asking me out on a date?” Ancients, his eyes really sparkled huh?

Danny crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, “I dunno. If I did, would you say yes?” Be smooth Danny. Be smooth. You got this.

Tim leaned in, impossibly close, “Hm, I think I would.” Danny could feel Tim’s breath on his lips and ancients be damned if he didn’t get to find out what those lips tasted like later…

“Then I guess you have a date Mr. Tim Drake,” Danny said smoothly.

“I’m counting the seconds, Mr. Danny Fenton,” Tim replied. UGH THIS GUY WAS SO HOT- WHAT THE FUCK-

…

Now that Tim had secured a date with the Fenton guy, Operation Belle could start. Seducing the guy into letting him go on a date with him was remarkably easy. Now Tim just had to use his leverage to get what he really needed. Answers. How the Fentons knew about their secret identities. Who were they and why were they in Gotham? Whether or not Jasmine Fenton was really in cahoots with Killer Croc and if she was, was she involved willingly. In the meantime, Tim had to get ready for his date.

…

Anyways something something shenanigans, Danny thinks he’s landed himself a hot CEO boyfriend, Tim thinks Danny is some sort of villain who knows his identity, Jazz is just trying to date her “monster” boyfriend in peace and get him out of the criminal life, and Killer Croc is just trying to find a legal job to provide for Jazz.

Chaos ensues.

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

Sometimes I want to read my friends' fics bc like... friends! Their fics! But then like... my brain reminds me the only fic I read is dmcl.

[satinroses]

Night Time Routines

How the harbingers and their darlings ready for bed

Yan! Harbingers x reader (separate)

Feat: Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone and Scaramouche

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: “honk shoooo honk shoooo” - capitano, “zzzzz zzzz” - Pantalone, “honk mi mi mi” - Scaramouche, dottore’s doesn’t snore but he does speak in fluent sentences in his sleep and it’s terrifying. thank you for coming to my ted talk. also yes i made scaras pretty purple eyes light up like ei’s when she’s using her skill, the more raiden parallels the better in my opinion

Warnings: 5.3 archon quest spoilers, Yandere behaviours, i have likely not proof read this as well as i should have so i apologise for any mistakes, dark themes, some mentions of NSFW themes but no actual smut, being robbed of making choices, they all have serious control issues

Capitano:

Capitano has struggled with sleep for centuries now, he hopes you take no offence when he doesn’t join you at night however he would never wish to make you feel neglected. The primary reason he stole you away was to could ensure that you are treated with the dignity and adoration that befits someone of your character.

If your hair is long enough then he takes great care in braiding it every night. You’re surprised that a man of his stature is able to manoeuvre his fingers so nimbly through your hair. If braids aren’t your style or they simply wouldn’t work with your hair then he patiently awaits your instruction. Whether you want a bun, a ponytail or simply for your hair to flow freely he will diligently do as you command.

Although some aspects of your night routine may resemble that of Pantalone’s darling, Capitano doesn’t force you to abide by any particular routines. As long as you get enough rest he doesn’t mind if you spend every evening huddled in the library, just please allow him to sit with you as you read, nothing would bring him greater pleasure.

Despite the first harbinger being unable to sleep due to the constant burden of the tormented souls upon him, he does find comfort in the domesticity partaking in your nightly routines affords him. Watching your eyes flutter shut, hearing the words that slip out of your mouth leaving him to guess what you could possibly be dreaming about, watching over you when you are at your most defenceless.

He finds it utterly endearing to see you in this state. His heart feels much lighter the first night you fall asleep in his presence. He understands you may hold some resentment towards him for stealing you away from your home and the life you knew yet he is able to find hope in the vulnerability your behaviour shows. Being in your most docile and helpless form around him must surely mean you hold some form of trust for him. Trust is something he can work with, he’s certain now that he can cultivate this small piece of trust that you’ve extended to him from a sapling into a flourishing bloom and in time, perhaps you’ll forgive him for the selfish decision he made. He was utterly mindless and inconsiderate when he took you with him, against your will. Every day he lives with the shame of stealing you and yet... watching over you as you lay in his sheets, he cannot bring himself to regret it.

He shuts his eyes and listens to the rhythm of your breaths, a symphony that brings him nothing but relief. The knowledge that you were resting peacefully by his side invigorates him far more than slumber ever could.

After some time passes and he truly believes you are warming up to him in spite of everything, he might slip into your bed (with your permission of course). He’s unsure what to do at first, so overwhelmed with your closeness and warmth but as you begin to drift into a dreamscape, he allows his hands to wander slightly (but never anywhere inappropriate, despite how desperately he might crave your body he would never force you to do anything that might dishonour you). The body heat that emanates from you brings him immeasurable comfort as he forgets about the pain of the abyssal rot ravaging his body, instead focusing on the softness of your skin on his.

To feel you against him, your body tucked against his, it brings comfort that settles deep in his bones, not even the heavenly principles nor the curse that eats away at his flesh could strip it from him. For the first time in 500 years he remembers what its like to have a home.

Dottore:

You have the misfortune of having spent more time alone with Dottore than anyone else in Teyvat. In spite of his near constant presence, you had never once see him or any of his clones go to sleep. Once every few months you’ll catch him with his eyes shut and hunched over his desk, you assume he has finally drifted off but then mere seconds later his eyes will shoot open and his hands resume tinkering with whatever (or whoever) has had the misfortune of piquing his interest.

Prior to eliminating his clones he often used them as lab assistants, citing that the only person who he could trust to fulfil his work to the measure of perfection he demanded was himself. As the sun began to set whichever of his clones had the least to do would be charged with escorting you from his laboratory in the cellars of Zapolyarny palace to your shared estate. Much to Dottore’s annoyance, he swears that as the moon begins to rise, the segments begins to rush to finish their tasks in hopes of being the one to escort you home.

From early morning to night time you are forced to remain wherever Dottore is however he understands you are only human (for the time being, however he has plans to change that) and you require rest so he allows you to go home and sleep with the caveat that a segment remains by your side as he repeats a similar sentiment as he did earlier, that being the only man he would ever trust with your safety is himself.

Upon prime having to destroy the clones he is visibly on edge despite his dismissals when you try to enquire about it. It’s evident to you that without having the security of his segments watching over you he is tense. He now forbids you from going home, even with a platoon of Fatui guarding you, he has made far too many enemies to count over the years, he isn’t foolish enough to entrust your safety to some lackeys that even the eleventh could carve through with ease.

Much to your dismay he also states that he cannot take so much time away from his experiments to tend to your slumber and that from now on you will be sleeping in the laboratory.

It doesn’t take much exertion for his brilliant mind for him to deduce that you are not thrilled at this development.

After a few days of complaining he finally cracks. You seem to find a fault with every aspect of his laboratory.

”I’m uncomfortable”

”My back hurts”

”It’s too loud”

”It’s too bright”

”It’s too hot”

“It’s too cold”

”This pillow is lumpy”

”I can feel you staring at me”

It drives him mad. His next experiment will be on your voice, he has to test his hypothesis that there is something particular about your voice, perhaps it’s the tone or the pitch but whenever you speak he can’t help but grant you his full attention.

He prides himself on his resilience but for you he has always been quick to crack. Seeing you in such a bad mood puts him in a bad mood. Suddenly his patience has been shortened exponentially, the screams of his patients grind on his nerves far too quickly, leading to many experiments being cut short.

The following morning you will see two anemo skirmishers setting down a large object covered in a dust sheet in the far corner of the laboratory. You raise your question to Dottore, asking what it is. Only then does he set down his tools, a tiny smirk blooms across his face as he takes your hand in his and leads you across the room before lifting the sheet off the object and looking at you expectantly.

It was a single bed with plain white sheets and a single pillow. It was hardly exuberant but for Dottore to even show any form of regard for the discomfort of any living being was nothing short of a miracle.

If you ask him what prompted this his voice will grow venomous as he bites out that your endless complaints were a hindrance to his experiments but you see the self-satisfied sneer on his face as he soaks in your gratitude.

Admittedly you do still have to endure the screams of those unfortunate enough to end up strapped to the operating table as he refuses to allow you any form of noise cancellation lest he needs you for something (he never has but you’re sure he just doesn’t want to give you any avenues for ignoring him), at least you can keep your head staunchly under your pillow for whatever small form of muting the cries that it's able to provide.

Pantalone:

In spite of your resentment for Pantalone you could not deny the morbid interest you had in watching him go about his day. As an outsider you couldn’t shrug the pervasive feeling that had settled in your mind that his whole day seemed to be more of an elaborate routine rather than a man naturally progressing through the day.

Every paper, painting and plate had a specific place in his life and that was how Pantalone preferred it. One night at dinner you had made note of it and he had let out a rare chuckle as he gazed at you from across the grand mahogany dinner table. He put down his utensils before taking a moment to stare down at his hands, twisting the rings back into place so that the gemstones on them rested perfectly on his fingers, glimmering just right in the light before he acknowledged that perhaps some people might agree that he can be a little particular.

From the moment he had taken you into his home, he made sure that you too fit into his routine as flawlessly as everything else. He had expectations that you would meet if you knew what was good for you. Throughout the day his routine never once relaxed and as such, neither did yours. From the moment dinner ends he has you on a schedule that he had devoted hours to ensure it would allow you to fit into his schedule as perfectly as he wants you to. Like a ballerina wound up in a jewellery box, you would pirouette seamlessly to whichever melody he desired and you only move when he winds your cogs, never before.

Once you rise from the dinner table and he returns to his study, you are taken directly to your shared chambers with Pantalone by your ladies maids. In the porcelain tub within the en-suite sits a pool of hot water, still steaming with heat. Standing there awkwardly with only a silk robe wrapped around you as maids flutter in and out of the room. You stay rocking on the balls of your feet until at last the head maid returns, with her she carries a silver tray upon which rests several different bottles of fragrant oils and soaps to add to your bath.

Perhaps if you had been a little less perceptive you would believe this to be one of the areas in your life in which he allows some leniency but that is not the case. You are certain beyond all measure that each and every scent has gotten his approval before being presented to you. Maybe you should be thankful for this small illusion of choice but it only makes the reality of you situation sting in your tear ducts.

As you smell each one the head maid takes great enthusiasm in telling you the elaborate backstory for each and every bottle. Although its her voice speaking, you can hear his words.

The violet grass scent that had been acquired from the very highest point of Liyue’s immense mountain scape lending to it’s powdery floral notes being far more potent that before.

The sakura bloom oil had been extracted from a handful of petals that had been struck by the Shogun’s own divine lightning lending to it’s typical sweet smell having a bright undertone. You couldn’t stand that oil, you swore every time you applied it, it tingled.

The glaze Lilly that this oil had been diffused from had allegedly only bloomed when an adeptus descended from her abode in Jueyun Karst to serenade the flower and coaxing it into opening its petals. Supposedly its scent was so delicate and intoxicating that everyone who smelt it wept tears of joy. You didn’t think it smelt much different than any other glaze Lilly.

After a dozen more being presented to you, each with its own elaborate origins you simply grabbed the bottle closest to you on the tray, not caring which. They all smelt far too similar to care.

Since the day you were taken he had insisted that there was no price too high for his beloved. Perhaps he thinks you find his gifts romantic, instead you can’t help but laugh bitterly at the irony of your bathing products being better travelled than you are.

After nearly an hour of several maids scrubbing you from head to toe (when you had originally arrived you had refused their help however once Pantalone caught wind of this he had punished the maids for it. You had pleaded with him that it was your own fault for refusing their help and to please not punish them for your actions. He smiled gently, thanking you for your honesty before pressing a gently kiss to your forehead yet he said nothing about pardoning the maids, dismissing you at every mention of it. You had an entirely different group of maids tending to you the following morning and every subsequent morning after that).

After leaving the bath and drying off, you were dressed in a night gown. They were undoubtedly the worst part of the night, although they were beautiful they were also covered in itchy lace with necklines too deep and hems too short for the Snezhnayan winter.

After being dressed you would sit down at your vanity and methodically brush your hair with the gifts he had gotten you from Mondstadt: a boar bristle brush with a silver handle (he claimed the bristles were from a mighty bore sovereign native to Dragonspine) and a Dragon bone comb (he also had this made in Dragonspine, the bone acquired from the skeleton of Durin, the comb was a sturdy bone that no matter what always stayed warm).

Finally you would lie in bed and wait for your husband. If he decides to join you then you can slip gently into your dreams, the one place where you can forget about the heavy arm latched around your waist and the fingers tangled in your hair. On more unfortunate nights, he would not join you in your shared chambers, instead he would expect you to come to him. Shuffling sleepily through dark corridors until you finally reached the tall doors of his study. Your knuckle barely grazes the wood before the door swings open and he offers you a gentle smile before wrapping his arm around your waist and coaxing you in.

If you were lucky a few well-placed tender kisses to his neck would persuade him to abandon his work and join you in bed however some nights he would have you sat on his lap until the sun rose. Those nights you rarely slept well as you had to deal with his mutterings, the candle light illuminating the room and the way he adjusted you on his lap. If you were lucky you could shut your eyes and feign sleep when you felt something hard growing beneath you, other nights he was insistent on your participation.

Scaramouche:

Throughout the countless waking hours you’ve spent in unwilling solitude with the sixth harbinger you were hardly surprised at the revelation that his sour attitude persists far past the sunset and well into the moonlit hours. If anything his annoyance only grew the closer you crept to retiring for the night.

Having no knowledge of his marionette body’s ability to endure without sleep, you couldn’t disguise your discomfort the first night you shared his bed and his lilac eyes stayed glued to you all night, their vibrant hue glowing in the dark of your chambers. You could see the dim purple light in the room, even through your eyelids. His illuminated eyes wouldn’t move from your face as you rested. It doesn’t matter how often you late in the night you might wake up or how often you squint through your half-closed eyes at him, Scaramouche’s gaze stays fixed intently on you from the moment you pull the blankets over your shoulders.

Should you somehow develop a fondness for your captor you will quickly learn that in spite of his feelings for you, he is not an attentive or affectionate man. Scaramouche scoffs at the proposal of ‘cuddling’. He spits out that he will not entertain such pathetic displays of fondness, not even for you. The firm tenor in his voice makes you believe that there is no room for negotiation on the matter, however from that night onwards, his hand remains fixed tightly around your wrist the moment you retire under the covers with him.

One particularly irritating trait about Scaramouche is his insistence that you never turn away from him, many times your awoken by a set of firm hands clamped down on your shoulders as they turn you around in the bed, back to facing him. While you are both waking and sleeping he refuses to allow you to turn your back to him, you’re unsure as to why and frankly you’re not certain you wish to know. There are aspects of your captor's past that you're undoubtedly influence his current actions yet you do not wish to learn such things, not yet.

On exceptionally rare occasions, oftentimes after an intimate night of gently unwinding with him, removing his clothing with all the attentiveness he has expected to be synonymous with being the wife of the sixth harbinger. Brush your lips gently over his skin with a tenderness in your touch he hasn’t felt since… he can’t recall. After several hours in each others passionate embrace, Scaramouche may fall into a restless slumber. You may initially find this rare period of sleep from him to be enjoyable however it opens the gateway to a version of Scaramouche you may find yourself unfamiliar with.

The first night Scaramouche falls asleep in your presence, you soon understand his disdain for sleep. The whimpers and cries that escape the balladeer are completely uncharacteristic for him. You had never heard his voice assume any tone beyond a haughty drawl or an intimidating bark, you almost didn’t recognise it was Scaramouche speaking until a familiar word escaped his throat.

”Y/N...”

It was undoubtedly the balladeer speaking however his voice had been fragile and light as he spoke your name, as though saying it too harshly would cause it to shatter.

”Y/N… come back, please…”

“please...” he had whispered out and the word sounded almost foreign on his tongue. Until now you had assumed the word didn’t even exist in the harbingers vocabulary. His sleep only seemed to worsen. You sat up, unsure whether you should wake him or not. His gentle murmurs were slowly growing louder and more desperate. You watched as his sleeping form writhed across the bed, his arms fully extended as his fingers clenched and unclenched, grasping and pawing at the bedsheets.

You slowly nudged yourself closer to him, preparing to wake him from whatever nightmares was plaguing him until his hand brushed against your night clothes. Suddenly his fist clenched tightly around your waist as he yanked your body impossibly closer, curling around you.

The following morning he untangled his limbs from yours before quickly scurrying out of the room. His gaze never met yours but from the chaste kiss and the way his eyes refused to look up from the ground… you swore he almost seemed embarrassed, his demeanour suiting that of a pouting child rather than an agent of destruction.

As you opened the bedroom doors not long after his departure, the stench of sizzled flesh wafted through the corridors. Some poor Fatuus were now paying the price in blood for Scaramouche’s humiliation as they were demoted from subordinates to the punching bags for him to unleash his rage on. The part of himself that he had buried so deeply, shrouded in layer and layer of bitterness and rage, had exposed itself to your discerning gaze and his mortification was suffocating him.

If he were a weaker man perhaps the humiliation would have brought tears to his eyes but he was stronger than the mewling little wretch he used to be. Like forging a sword, he had beaten the impurities out one by one in the heat of his own hatred and the boiling of his blood until only the perfect blade remained. cold. lethal. merciless. He is no quivering weakling that can simply be thrown away. Not anymore. Never again. In spite of his pathetic display last night he would make certain you and everyone else remembers it.

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦

↳ summary: the x-men can't seem to leave you alone, even if you've made it clear that you want nothing to do with them. as a last-ditch effort, they send logan, who's a little different than the rest

↳ notes: man writing this fucked me up. i kept editing it because i didn't like how it sounded, so some feedback would be much appreciated

↳ warnings: mentions of blowing things up in a past instance, but no one died. reader is a mutant and their powers are kept ambiguous, but it is implied they can somehow cause explosions

↳ song: promiscuous—nelly furtado

masterlist | commissions | carrd

The first time they sent someone, you had been excepting it

You weren't dumb. You knew the difference between an innocent bystander and a hired gun; or at least something along those lines. The way people walked talked and carried themselves was always a dead giveaway, and recently you had been surrounded by a few too many intense stares and stiff shoulders for your liking. A lot more than you were used to, in fact. Maybe that's what prompted you to start taking a new way home from work instead of the usual combination of cross walks and dirty bus seats.

The quick guy with silver hair was their first attempt at contact. You had found him waiting outside your apartment for you to get home all but a week after noticing the new attention on you, and you would have ignored him too if it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting on the outside your balcony, kicking his feet merrily off the side about ten stories above the pavement below without a care in the world. And with what looked like a twinkie in his hand, too.

You'd closed the blinds without a second thought, tossing him a fake grin and a little wave when he eventually turned around as you slammed them shut. You were fairly certain he could have stopped you in no time flat, if the way you would watch him zip away in the blink of an eye later said anything, but you took a heat-of-the-moment gamble and were satisfied when all your efforts got was a whine from the other side of your window pane. His mouth was too full of pre-packaged pastry to say anything in the moment, you realized

"Not interested." You called over your back as you began to retreat into your kitchen without another moments notice.

"You haven't even heard what I want!" He said thickly, clearly trying to swallow as he spoke. You must have startled him a little then. Good.

"And I don't need to."

He left a few minutes later when his one sided conversationalist skills got him no where, and you responded by throwing a frozen pizza in the lower half of your oven.

You had been craving pepperoni all day anyway.

The second person try was a bit more aggressive.

They didn't have the decency to wait for you to come home this time. Instead, you found yourself looking up from your laptop as a chair was pulled out across from you at the quaint table you sat at. It made a scraping noise, and you tensed the muscles in your hands for a moment at the sound.

"Can I help you." Your eyebrow quirked up as you looked at the woman across from you. She had blonde hair, and what you thought were the brownest eyes you had even seen. You had trouble looking anywhere but into them for a second. When they hit the light, you swore they turned yellow just for a moment, and she looked about as annoyed as you were that she was sitting by you. You didn't have to wait long to find out why.

"We've been trying to reach you." The surrounding noise of the café hardly disturbed the hard tone in her voice. "You're avoiding us."

At least this time these people had the common sense to approach you in public. If you were any form of confrontational, which you very much weren't, you could have started a fight the last time. Who knows if you would have won against super speed and whatever else the first guy had— you weren't exactly sure about the extent of his powers, and at this point didn't care —but the point remains that some damage could have been done. Now, in the middle of a coffee shop on a busy afternoon, it would be a bit harder to start a fight. Not that you were seriously concidering it. If anything, you wanted to duck into a large crowd just to loose this new recruiter, or whatever they were called. You didn't exactly know if they had a name for this type of situation.

"I have no idea who you are." Your tone matched her own, dealing out the half lie nonchalantly. You weren't technically wrong, really. You didn't know her, nor did you know that other man that had shown up before. But you knew what they wanted, and you'd be damned if they didn't pin you down without a bit of a struggle.

Moving with a speed quick enough to get your message across, but not fast enough as to alert any of the surrounding coustomers that something was up, you closed your laptop, abandoned your now lukewarm drink, and started for the door. You only paused in your movements after a weight settled over the back of your shoulder, and you carefully turned your neck to look down at the hand resting firmly on you.

"I don't recommend doing that." You said with a bit of a warning tone in your voice, looking her right in the eyes as you did so. They had since shifted from dark brown to an almost hazel shade, and you filed that information away for later use.

Her grip remained where it was for a moment. Then a thought seemed to cross her mind, and she let go of her hold on your shirt; even if a bit reluctantly.

You didn't stick around to see if anything else would happen. You just made your way out of the shop and into the bustling street, not caring if she followed. They already knew where you lived anyway.

"Taxi!!"

The final person they sent for you, you hadn't seen coming.

Every other time— from the teleporting blue kid, to the woman with white hair and fair skin, and even the tall guy in glasses that had turned a little blue when you pushed your way past him —you had been able to prepare beforehand. At the very least you were able to lock your doors before going out and about your day. You knew that wouldn't stop them in the slightest, but it was a silent message to stay out of your business.

But this guy? This guy just didn't care at all.

"You know, you're really nailing this first impression thing."

A gruff voice sprang to life at the same moment that your hallway lights did, doing a fine job at catching you off guard. You managed to not jump, but with the way the intruders lips tilted up, you figured he knew he had surprised you.

"Oh, fuck my life."

You were really not feeling like another impromptu visit tonight. You had gotten home from a rough day of work a couple of hours ago, only to realize that you had finally blown through all your food, and was once more sent back out into the city to look for a grocery store. You had been looking forward to finally resting your feet, and maybe your eyes a few hours earlier than planned, and you most certainly weren't in the right state of mind to entertain this hulking figure of a man and the proposition that came with him.

You looked at him harshly. He had muscles for days, and a brown leather jacket to accentuate just how large he was. You knew for a fact that he was a few weight classes up from the last guy that had been sent to your house, and you wondered if this was their way of trying to intimidate you into forcefully accepting their offer.

Tiny scars dotted his face and the skin on his neck. You wondered why there were so few, considering that you already knew what he did for a living, but also knew better than to question someone like him. Especially since he was already standing in the doorway to your home, looking like he owned the place.

"Go away." You didn't grant him any sort of emotion in your voice as you walked in the direction of your fridge. The plastic bags full of your food for the week swung in your arms, and for a moment you thought this new guy was going to block your way into the rest of the house before he backed off with a roll of his shoulders.

You clocked his broad chest and bruised knuckles out of the corner of your eyes as you opened the ice box and slowly placed some frozen veggies in side by side. He had either gotten here straight from a fight, or was itching for one. You figured it was probably the former considering he hadn't jumped you the second you walked through the door. Or you know, maybe he just had fucked up hands. You could never tell with people at this point.

"You're pleasant." The mans wry smile was nothing but headache educing as you finished putting the cold groceries up. You snorted with hollow amusement.

"Try being stalked for a month and a half. It really makes you feel like being hospitable."

"Try being the guy that gets sent to get in contact with you. It ain't exactly the way I wanted to be spending my Friday night either." He parroted back your words while running a hand down his face and across what you had since recognized as mutton chops in the process.

"When are you going to tell that professor of yours that I'm not interested in his little passion project." You think that might have been the first time you ever directly acknowledged what exactly was going on. Every other time you had just told the other person to get lost or slammed a door in their face to really get the point across, but the way this guy was looking at you gave you the feeling that he wouldn't be as easy to shoo away as the others, and you weren't really feeling up for a giant display of effort right about now.

"You could always tell him yourself, bub." His eyes followed your face as you crossed the room to stop in front of him, hand outstretched with something that ignited a small smirk on his face.

"Trying to bribe me?" He asked, going to take the fresh beer you offered him all the same. You shook your head.

"No. My master plan actually consists of getting you shit-faced drunk so you guys will finally leave me alone." You watched as his hand hesitated in mid-air slightly, and you misinterpreted his silent amusement at your jab for skepticism. "I've just got too much beer and a stranger in my apartment that's not going to leave me alone anytime soon, that’s all." You relented with a shrug.

"Fair enough." He took the brown bottle by the neck and popped open the top without so much as looking around for a bottle opener. When the cap went rushing to the floor less than a second later, you squinted.

"What are you then? Super strong? Or is your power alcoholism." That got a rough chuckle out of him. He swallowed about half of the bottle in one go before answering, and you sucked at your teeth as he did so.

"Something like that."

"Wow. Really feeling the comradery here." You didn't miss the way he deadpanned at that, and you figured he was thinking about all of the times you had kicked every other pursuer to the curb without even letting them get a word in edge wise. Still, you pushed on. "Remind me how its fair that you and your friends know all about me, but I have a new hero-of-the-week showing up on my doorstep every other day without so much as a clue as to what they could do to me?"

"About as fair as your little accident in Colorado." He responded without a seconds hesitation. You felt a little perspiration form on the back of your neck, and chalked it up to the lack of a.c in the room. Even if it was anything but.

"If you're here to try and convince me to join your little superhero team, I hate to tell you, but it isn't going to work. Just like it didn't work the past ten times." You ignored his last comment and made yourself comfortable on your living room couch. "Do you have a name? I've never really stuck around to talk to one of you this long before, and it's annoying to keep rendering to you as 'some guy' in my head."

He paused abruptly while drinking the beer, and you barely held back from rolling your eyes at his change in mood.

"It's Logan." He finally bit out reluctantly. You got the feeling that the only reason he told you was because he was here by request. If it has been any other circumstances, you had no doubts that he would have told you to fuck off. He gave off that energy.

"You already know mine, so I'm not gonna bother." You kicked your feet up and let your head hit the back of the couch with a sigh. "Just let me know when you finally get bored and head out. I want to make sure my landlord knows to blacklist you from the building after you're gone."

"Is this how you got everyone else to leave? By annoying them to death?" Logan sounded more entertained then you would have liked, and you blamed it on the beer.

"Depends. Is it working?"

"I've been sleeping at a school filled with screaming kids for the past few weeks. You're going to have to try harder than that to get me out of here." He took another swig.

"What will it take to get you to leave me alone. All of you." Your voice dipped out of it's usually casual tone for a more annoyed one. You were used to playing the long game when it came to getting people to leave you alone, but at this point it was getting ridiculous with the amount of people that they were throwing at you, and it was starting to wear you out. You weren't sure if Logan could tell your patience was being tested, and you weren't sure if you wanted him to.

Logan raised one eyebrow in your direction as an answer to your question, and you sighed.

"I'm not taking a stupid fucking spot on the X-Men if that's what you're implying. What do I have to do to convince you guys that I'm not up for it; blow up a building on accident or something?" The word 'again' went unsaid, but the implication was there.

You watched as Logan seemed to throw something around in his mind for a moment.

"Do you want to know why I joined the X-Men?" He eventually asked.

"Because you had nothing else to do with yourself other than styling your hair real stupid? Seriously what's with this horn thing you've got going in."

"I joined because they helped pull me off a dark path, kid." He barreled past your sarcasm, shutting you down quicker than you would like to admit. His tone was laced with something you recognized all as hatred, and you knew it wasn't directed at you, but rather himself. You knew the feeling all too well.

"I was running from something that I didn't even know I was trying to avoid." He continued. "And if it wasn't for the Professor and his 'stupid fucking team', I wouldn't have ever stopped."

For the first time in the past few minutes, you allowed one of your walls to come down as he spoke. You stared at him with a tired look lingering behind your gaze, choosing this time to listen rather than to ignore.

"I'm not running from anything." Even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. Logan didn't even have to look at you for you to sigh and lean forward again.

"I can see why the Professor wants you on the team." You felt the cushions on the opposite end of your couch dip slowly as he sat down. The now empty beer bottle was still in his hand, but as you looked over at Logan, you found his eyes filled to the brim with nothing but the honest truth.

It was a strange, tense moment. Both you and Logan could admit that. You were clearly filled with regret for your past actions, no matter how accidental they might have been, and conflicted with yourself because of it. Logan could do nothing more but watch as you battled with yourself over his words. His original plan had been to come here, show off a claw or two if needed, and bring you back to the school with a characteristic scowl on his face. But all that was thrown out the window when you offered him a beer, and when he was finally able to get a good look at you.

You looked exactly how he used to before one of his old cage matches. Detached and losing yourself. He could see it in your eyes.

The room delved into silence. You wrung your hands together and planted your feet. Logan watched as you seemed to have a silent conversation with yourself, and he began to regret not pacing himself with the beer. He wasn't anywhere near affected by the alcohol, that's to say. He just wished he had something to do other than sit in your home with squared shoulders and a furrowed brow.

"If I took one trip over to the place, would you guys let up on whatever this is?" You finally asked. Logan pushed down a faint smirk as you turned your neck to look at him.

"Sure."

You didn't say anything else, and you didn't have to. You got up without another word and grabbed a bag from a nearby closet. Logan found himself leaning on your doorframe as you stuffed a few essentials down into your travel bag in the room over, and he remained there until you finished.

"Still curious about my powers?" Logan decided to bait you just a little further as you shut the door to your apartment with a click of your keys, and he had trouble keeping a straight face when you looked back at him with curiosity dancing across your features.

Without saying anything, he held one of his hands up, and let you watch as his trademark claws popped up slowly. Like seasonal weeds in a garden full of flowers. The appendages let out a slight sliding noise as they did so, and you blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"And I thought my powers were bad." You finally said after a moment, and Logan scoffed at you.

"Kid, everyone thinks their powers are bad at first."

You seemed to take that as a challenge, and Logan watched as a bit of that fire that he'd heard about from Storm and the others flared up in you.

"Yeah? You ever accidently blow up a boiler room and take out half your high school's classes, big guy?" Your grin was all teeth as the two of you made your way down the complex hallway. Logan slowed his pace so you could keep up, and turned around so he could fully look at you as he walked backwards.

"Big guy?" He questioned you with a tilted of his head, looking about as unimpressed as he could.

"I mean yeah." You snickered. "Just look at your, well, everything." You took to gesturing at his entire being, something that got you a huff from the other man.

"Maybe you're just small." He shot back. You laughed and shook your head, looking down at yourself. Yeah right.

"And maybe I'm right, and you're just freakishly big."

Your banter continued all the way down to the elevator, where you had a hard time holding in your laughter as Logan accidentally almost stabbed the down button with his claws, apparently having forgotten that they were even out.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was always like this; if everyone at the school was like this.

Maybe going for a visit wasn't as much as a bad idea as you'd thought.

[esote-rika]

derision as prelude to desire | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI, fluff if you squint

Summary: Spencer Reid’s new coworker is mean but one night doing overtime together leads to the two of them bonding.

Content: glasses!Spencer, workplace rivals if you squint, Spencer Reid vs technology, reader is kind of mean and based on Blair Waldorf (in background, looks, and personality), Spencer is petty, his mind is in the GUTTER, use of eye drops, making out, sub!Spencer, fingering, oral (male receiving), whining and begging glasses!Spencer. Let’s pretend the BAU doesn’t have any CCTV cameras for this one m’kay thanks

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: This is an ITCH in my brain, like I’ve been thinking about a Spencer Reid x Blair Waldorf crackship since August last year it’s actually concerning. One of my favorite ship dynamics is loser boy x popular girl, so it makes sense. Still in second person to make it immersive. This isn’t a crossover, so there will be no spoilers for Gossip Girl. The reader's personality, looks and background are just based on Blair. Let me know if you want to read more of this dynamic because I have so many ideas for it oh my god. I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer Reid often muses on the series of events that had brought you from the streets of the Upper East Side to work in Quantico, Virginia. It would be easy to ask, of course, or even have Penelope do a quick background check on you, but he’s made a game of it instead, piecing together what he knows of your history, filling in the blanks of what would have gone wrong, what decisions you would have taken, in order to leave the privileged life you led and enter public service.

As far as he had been concerned, you don’t belong anywhere near the FBI, let alone the BAU. Spoiled, rich, with a mean streak he is all too familiar with from his time in school.  

He had been so sure you wouldn’t fit in when you first joined the team. You had been, and continue to be, perfectly made, every single hair shiny and curled just so, heels always so shiny and matching whatever designer bag you have slung over your shoulder. Everything about you screams high maintenance, and his profiler instincts point to several things: uncooperative, wants everything handed to you, ditzy.

But then you had shown your cards, had proved his assessment so wrong and he could never forgive you for the sting of that defeat.

It doesn’t help that you seem to enjoy riling him up as well. Every case is an opportunity to one up him, an attempt to claim his spot and it’s unfair. You already have everything, yet you still refuse to yield the title of team genius to him, the one thing he can cling to, the thing he knows is his. 

He is still glowering today, four months into your employment, passive aggressively hitting the keys on his keyboard. He’s a slow typist, and he’d agreed to write Morgan’s reports for him this week, a favor between friends he’s now beginning to regret. You are the only one keeping him company. The rest of the team has already left hours ago, but you’re typing away at your desk, fingers flying through the keyboard without even a glance. His own skills seem laughable in comparison, going at the keys one by one, with the speed of an old grandparent squinting over a typewriter instead of a man in his twenties. 

“Take a picture, Reid, it’ll last longer.”

He blinks, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. “You’re so original.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up to nestle on top of his head. He rubs his eyes, already despising the glare of the screen.

“Aw, what, the genius can’t handle a little blue light?”

He doesn’t bother with a response, blinking at the screen instead. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can leave. Sounds of tapping keys fill the air again, but he stops after a few moments again, rubbing at his eyes. He hears a sigh, and then your voice again, haughty but somehow concerned.

“You’re not supposed to rub your eyes, it makes it worse.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, “I don’t need you lecturing me about the importance of eye health.”

“It seems like you do, since you’re still doing it.” you reply derisively. He’d be rolling his eyes if he isn’t too busy rubbing them.

“Here,” you say, “Catch.”

Confused, he lifts his head, only to flinch as something hurls right at him. “What-” it hits his desk, then bounces off.

“Oh, look what you’ve done, genius.”

“You threw it at me.” his lips are pulled into a tight line of disapproval, “A head’s up would have been nice.”

“I did, genius, I said catch. You just have the reflexes of an eighty year old.” your voice is tinged with annoyance.

To his surprise, you’re up and walking to his desk, heels echoing in the empty bullpen. He watches as you gingerly kneel on the ground, bending down, and his eyes grow wide. The image of you bent down like this is surprisingly enticing, your skirt straining against the soft curve of your hips, hair falling down your shoulders like a curtain of the night sky. You’ve gotten close enough that he can smell your perfume, something citrusy and clean, and he subconsciously leans closer.

Mouth dry, he manages to croak out, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the damn eye drops.” you snap, an arm extending towards him and for a moment he holds his breath, waiting for contact. Instead, you grab something from the ground, “There it is.” 

He watches as you straighten, lifting your torso upright, but still kneeling in front of him. An image flashes through his mind, your face between his thighs, those large eyes staring up at him, but he banishes it quickly lest his thoughts begin to stir his body. 

“Here, these should help.” You say, finally standing back up and placing the tiny bottle on his desk. A filthy part of him wishes you’d get back on your knees. He catches the tilt of your head, the confusion in your eyes, “Reid. Are you still with me? Has your brain finally short circuited from all those statistics?”

Oh his brain is short circuiting, all right, just from a different cause.

“I’m - yeah.” he replies, and then he rattles off the first thought his frazzled mind could come up with, “Did you know some people have used eye drops as a method for murder? Not these ones, but there are specific brands that contain—”

“Tetrahydrozoline,” you finish for him, “Yeah, I know.”

He blinks. There you go again, proving your intellect, your value, somehow matching his even though he’s pretty sure you are no genius, not in the same way he is. Still, perhaps it’s the late night, or your offer of relief, but the sting of being bested doesn’t resonate tonight. A softer feeling unfurls in his chest, something warm and addictive, something like understanding. He smiles, “That’s right.”

You nod, curls spilling over your shoulders again, “Mhm. Well… These are for your eyes, I’m not trying to poison you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.”

A scoff, “Please, I’m not dumb enough to attempt murder in the office.”

His brows lift and he finds himself grinning, “So you’ve thought about it?”

“I will neither deny nor confirm.” you’re smiling now too, and he lets his eyes roam over the pretty lines of your face, memorizing how lovely you look in this moment, guards lowered and smiling at him with ease. He thinks he sees something flash in those pretty eyes of yours but he’s not sure. Reading people has never been his strong suit, regardless of his profession.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” you gesture at his glasses, and he immediately obeys, pushing it back up to nestle on his hair. He holds his breath as you come closer, bites his lips when your hand comes to his chin. It’s soft, unbelievably gentle, and you tilt his head back. From this angle, he can see the way your lashes curl, the soft hint of shimmer swept across your lids. Eyeshadow, he remembers from what Penelope and JJ have told him, and it highlights the shape of your eyes, making them appear brighter.  

He blinks as coolness hits his eye, and then you’re tilting his head to the other side, and he’s trying not to panic, trying not to be a creep, but in reality, he hasn’t been this close, this intimate to a woman in so long that it’s messing up his ability to inhale, to think, to function. Your hair flutters gently around his face, and the scent of citrus is stronger now, heady, and he feels so light headed he’s afraid he’ll faint.

The same coolness hits the other eye, and before you can pull away, before he can think it through, he’s curling his own hand over your wrist. He lifts it up, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, admonishing any thoughts of germs and bacteria, and instead relishing at the tender flesh beneath his lips. He kisses your palm again, lips gently tracing the lines, before moving down to the inside of your wrist, before pausing.

He dares to peer up, waiting for a reprimand, a cutting sentence that would have him lashing back at you, but there’s none. There it is again, the flicker in your eyes, and now he finally knows the word to attach to it: desire.

He kisses the inside of your wrist again, and feels you pulse fluttering beneath his lips. Fast, to his surprise, almost matching the quick succession of thudding in his chest. 

“Reid,” you whisper, and he waits again, allows you time to pull away. You don’t, but he’s apprehensive now, afraid he’s crossed a boundary. He definitely has, but he would do it again if you express the desire to do so, to tumble into whatever this is with him. He just needs confirmation, one verbal acknowledgement that you want this too, because he doesn’t trust his ability to read you yet, not when he’s spent so much time despising you.

But you’re just looking at him, and the embarrassment is almost painful. His cheeks heat up, and he drops your hand.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, sinking back on his seat. He’s about to turn to his monitor, intent to forget about this, forget everything even though his memory would make that impossible, but he finds his face being tilted up again, cradled between impossibly soft hands, and then there’s lips against his own, your lips, oh god you are kissing him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, following the movement of your mouth to the best of his limited ability. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lets out an involuntary whimper, his body jerking at the sting. He feels you smiling against his mouth, cocky even in the midst of a kiss, in the midst of the most heated kiss he’s had since - since - he can’t even remember her, the brief dalliance he had with an actress once upon a time, because all he can think of is your mouth, and your hands, nails scratching at his scalp, and every single thought is expelled from his mind when you climb on his lap.

“God,” he moans in between kisses, his breaths ragged, but he would gladly drown in you before stopping.

“Not god,” you correct him and nip at his lower lip with more force this time.

“Mhm.” he whines, and kisses you again, shifting so you’re more comfortable on his lap. He wonders if the chair is creaking from your combined weight, but then you’re grinding directly on his cock and he’s lost in a haze of white hot pleasure. 

Apparently, Spencer Reid cannot multitask, because his lips fall slack as you grind against his hardening cock. Your laughter tinkles in his ear, before your mouth latches on his jaw, down his neck, open and wet and sticky. He knows you said you aren’t god, and he’s never been religious, but he swears this must be heaven. Fitting too, in the same way he’s never thought he’d reach some place he doesn’t even believe in, he’s also never thought he would have you—beautiful, infuriating, untouchable you—grinding on his lap with a desperation that borders frenzy.

Recognizing that your need burns you just as his is making him reckless, he manages to whisper, “Tell me— tell me what to do. How do I make you feel good?”

You giggle, taking one of his hands away from your waist and leading it under your skirt. The fabric has bunched up over your thighs, and he grips the smooth flesh greedily. But you have other ideas, and he’s eager to learn, so he lets you move his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers brush against moist fabric.

His mouth goes dry. You’ve soaked through your panties. 

“Like this?” he dips his fingers past the lace, his mouth falling open at the slick that’s gathered at your core. You have your face buried at his neck, lips and tongue still assaulting the tender skin there, but he feels you nod, feels the shudder that runs through you, and he takes those as a good sign. His touch is exploratory, gentle, fueled by an intoxication over the fact that you’re here and you’re enjoying it, you’re making those sounds for him. 

He’s awestruck rather than cocky, and when he slides his fingers into your pussy, he’s immediately trying to figure out a rhythm that would draw out those pretty noises from your lips. When he finds it, he sticks to it, greedily drinking in your moans, no matter how muffled they are against his neck.

There’s a sense of degeneracy to this whole thing. Fingering his coworker in the office, right there on his desk, he could get fired should this get out, they both could. Still, he’s never truly had anyone want him so unabashedly and he simply cannot stop. You had been the one to kiss him, after all, the lines in the sand had been completely trampled by the time you had climbed on his lap. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper, and he feels you move, riding his hand shamelessly, and he has to bite your shoulder to keep himself from whining again. The sight alone nearly undoes him, and you’ve barely done anything. He’s been actively providing you with stimulation this whole time, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, and somehow, he wouldn’t change a single thing. 

“Yeah?” he asks, pupils blown wide, wanting, needing the assurance that he’s doing good, he’s making you feel good.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” your voice grows sharper as he curls his fingers with every thrust. After a few moments of fumbling with your panties, his thumb presses against your clit and he’s rewarded by another groan from you. 

He draws figure eights against your slick core, finding a rhythm that has you tugging at his hair wildly, and he’s whispering into your ear, pleading, “That’s it, please come for me, please, let me see how good you feel, please, please—”

“Spencer!” you groan, and then you’re shuddering in his lap, and his fingers down to his knuckles are wet with your slick. 

He grins, helping you through your orgasm, pressing kisses to your hair, the FBI issued office chair creaking so much he’s afraid the two of you would break it if you don’t stop. The image is hilarious in its absurdity, making his grin widen, and you must have taken it for arrogance because he feels a slight smack on his shoulder.

“Don’t get cocky.” you mutter.

He takes you in, the flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, mascara now smudged along your lash lines, and he’s reverential instead of arrogant, grateful that he has brought someone so stunning and capable to the throes of pleasure, has taken you apart so much you’ve ruined your normally perfect facade. 

“You’re beautiful.” he tells you, his own eyes glistening with an unfocused daze. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and he’s seized with a desire to keep you hear and bury his fingers inside you over and over again until you believe him.

“Your turn.” You chuckle, hands unwinding from his neck and travelling down the length of his abdomen, coming to the buckle on his belt.

“Wait, I—uh,” he turns beet red once again, clearing his throat, “Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”

You tilt your head, as if the idea of a man walking around without a condom is foreign. Perhaps it is, but Spencer simply never assumed he would have any use for it. He turns away, teeth worrying his lower lip, but you pull his face to you again.

“I have hands.” you say as you resume undoing his pants. You shift, then slink away from him, and he whines at the loss of your warmth, but he sees you on your knees once again, and this time it’s not just his brain making up lewd, inappropriate thoughts, “And a mouth.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.”

“I know,” you grin, pretty as the devil and twice as tempting, and as your hands wrap around his engorged length, thumb circling at the tip, “But how can I not, when you’re this pretty?”

He blacks out, he swears he does, there’s no way this isn’t a perverted dream, no way that you’re actually stroking up and down his throbbing cock. Somehow he comes to, only to feel a warmth, a wetness, enveloping the swollen tip, and his hips buck up instinctively. He whines when your hands push at his thighs, holding him in place. 

“Please,” he gasps, babbles, really, “Please, oh god, that feels so good.” 

You take him further down and he throws his head back so violently the glasses slip past his ears and clatter onto the floor. He feels your laughter vibrating against his cock and it almost has him keening. He whines, wriggles against your hold with no real desire to break free. He finds that likes the force of your hands on him, nails leaving harsh indents on his flesh as he struggles. The pain is delicious, heightening his already frazzled senses.

You bob your head up and down, your hair swaying gently, and he manages to will his hands to move, gathering the soft tresses in his hand so they won’t impede your movement. Your eyes flicker up, meet his own, and he swears there’s a thank you in the glint of them. He cannot do anything else. 

Slack jawed, he watches you hollow your cheeks, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth as you give him the best head he’s ever experienced. Never mind that it’s his first one, and that he doesn’t have a point of comparison. He’s convinced this is the best, you are the best, and he’s never been more thankful for his eidetic memory until this night, knowing that he cannot, will never, ever forget the way you look as you knelt down and sucked his cock like you were being paid to do it. 

“God, you’re so pretty, oh my god, yes, just like that, please, please, yes.” he’s aware that he’s whining, and there’s an amused twinkle in your eye that tells him he would never hear the end of this after. 

He knows you well enough to know that you would dangle this over his head any chance you get, that you aren’t above playing dirty. Instead of dread, it makes his stomach roil with another gush of desire, and he knows that that is even more concerning than whatever you were going to do.

(It never occurs to him to do the same, that he could tease you back and point out that he has had you on your knees and sucking on his cock like you were made for it simply because his brain cannot fathom ever associating the sight of you kneeling before him as something to be ashamed of.)

He’s drawn from his thoughts as he feels your hands cupping his balls, stimulating an entirely new area that has him thrusting up. He feels his cock brush against the back of your throat, and he pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry as you gag around his length.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby you can stop if—”

But you do it again, soldiering past your gag reflex and taking him all the way, and he can hear someone saying oh fuck oh fuck I’m cumming agh, please, I’m cumming, and he thinks its his own voice but he’s unsure. His eyes are squeezed shut, colors exploding behind his lids as he feels your tongue swirling over and over his sensitive cock, before the cool air surrounds it, telling him you’ve stopped completely.

When he opens his eyes, you have your head on his thigh, cheek pressed against the fabric, a lazy smile on your ruined lips.

“God,” he whispers, reaching for you, wanting you close, “That was—wow, you—come here, please.”

He watches as a flicker of surprise flits over your face, before you mask it with a giggle, “Good?” you murmur, tucking his soft cock into his pants before climbing on his lap again.

“Incredible.” He holds you tight, your slick only half dry on his fingers, the taste of him still on your tongue, “You’re incredible.”

You’re quiet, contemplative, and he presses a kiss to your neck, wanting to bring you out of whatever funk you’ve gone into, “Hey, what is it?” He’s almost terrified of the answer, worried you would pull away and leave him cold.

“I just didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.” you reply, eventually sinking into his arms. Your voice is soft when you say, “Most men aren’t.”

The thought of her having experiences doesn’t bother him; it’s the fact that they callously left her after that makes him tighten his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”

“For the entirety of shitty men? You’d need more apologies than that,” you chuckle, fingers absently curling into his hair, “But thank you. This is— this is nice.”

“It is,” Spencer nods, leaning into your touch, eyes shut.

“You lost your glasses.”

“I did.”

Your laughter fills the air, “Hey, are you sleepy? You still have Morgan’s reports to finish.”

His eyes flutter open, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Why’d you have to remind me?”

“Because the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can do this again.”

Spencer laughs, kissing your shoulder as he relents, “All right, all right.” That’s more than enough incentive to brave staring at the monitor again.

[menagerofmischief]

could you possibly do a mark webber nsfw alphabet? i hc he's secretly a dirty old man lmaoo

nsfw alphabet -> mw2

masterlist

nsfw alphabet (a-z)

mark webber x fem!reader

a/n: I was already planning on doing one for mark when I got this request, so perfect timing. likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

He'll always stroke your hair and pepper kisses all over your face, praising you for how well you did and offering you water and snacks. Will usually drive you a bath, or carry you to the shower but if it's been a long day you'll both just cuddle up and fall asleep.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Mark is pretty satisfied with the way his body looks, and hasn't really thought much about what his favorite part is. Maybe his arm.

When it comes to you, he absolutely adores your tits. No matter the size, he's obsessed. Constantly squeezing them, pinching your nipples, groping you ... Once he even offered to let you use his hands instead of a bra while at home.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Mark is dirty, sue him. While he loves cumming inside of you, watching it run out and then scooping it up and pushing it back inside - he also loves cumming on you. Especially on your face and tits.

He's pretty satisfied either way, so he'll leave it up to you, grunting out a "Where do you want it, sweetheart?" as he pounds into you like a feral animal.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

It's not as much of a secret as he thinks it is, but he keeps a collection of your nude polaroids you have given him over the years and uses them to jack off when you're not together.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

He's not as experienced as some other drivers but definitely had his fair share and been around.

Still takes his time to learn all the ways to make you fall apart, because his experience in handling your body is more important to him than any previous one he's had.

F= Favorite position

Loves doing it in doggy, gives him easy access to slap your ass or pull your hair. Also loves cowgirl because he can lean up and suck your nipples while you ride him.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He's not goofy at all. It's either intense or super intimate but he's definitely not cracking jokes or being funny.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He keeps it trimmed but doesn't fully shave it off. When it comes to you, he's okay with whatever you choose to do as long as you feel comfortable.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

He really gets deep into the mood, no matter what the mood is. It all depends of the events of the day, if it was a long or particularly bad day it's more romantic and slow.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Doesn't do it very often as you two are together most of the time but when you're not, he's like a teenage boy entering puberty. Will jack off to your photos or video call you so you can masturbate together.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Definitively exhibitionism, some light BDSM, and has a bit of a daddy kink.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Anywhere, anytime. He likes your bedroom the most because that's where he can really take his time but he's down to go pretty much anywhere.

M= Motivation (what gets them going)

He's a dirty (old) man, anything you do is enough to turn him on. Just say the words and his pants will be on the floor.

N= No (something they won't do)

Will not share you. He's just not up to bringing someone else into the bedroom, no matter their gender.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

You know that video of him talking about the Australian kiss?

Prefers giving, especially if you're riding his face. Will spend hours between you legs, working his tongue over your most sensitive spots and making you cry from overstimulation. If he suffocates, he'll die a happy man.

P= Pace (do they prefer it slow or fast)

Usually it's fast and intense, messy kissing, desperate pounding and deep groans as he fucks you like an animal in heat. But on lazy days or bad days it's more of a slow passionate love making.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer quickies or taking their time)

While he does prefer to take his time with you and draw multiple orgasms from you - he is absolutely down for hickeys. Will fuck you no matter how little time you have left or how risky the place is.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

He's open to trying anything you want to experience. Is definitively a bit of an exhibitionist so he loves doing it in risky places with high chances of someone catching you.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go)

I think now that he's older he really only cums once, maybe twice on a good day. But that doesn't matter you won't be getting multiple orgasms, because the order of things goes: his mouth, his fingers and mouth, his cock.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Definitively had a stash of toys hidden in a box under your bed. Multiple different kinds, from dildos and vibrators, to gags, plugs and clamps. Loves using them on you and if you're good maybe he'll let you try a few out on him as well.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Mark loves to tease you to the point you're begging him to do something, anything. He loves when you get whiny and desperate and it makes him tease you even more.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

As soon as his lips part open it's dirty talk flood. He groans a lot and you'll catch a few moans slipping.

W= Wild card (random headcannon of any sort)

Once upon a time Sebastian had a crush on you. Once upon a time (post Multi-21) Mark fucked you in Seb's driver's room and made him watch.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in those pants)

He's about 8 inches, and he knows how to use it very well. It's not that girth-y but it's still a bit of a stretch. The tip is dark pink.

Y= Yearning (sex drive)

Mark is insatiable, he could happily go at it the whole day with short breaks and it would be his personal slice of heaven. Ready all the time, horny 24/7 and absolutely will make it your problem.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

He does start nodding off but will only fall asleep after you have. He finds it comforting to listen to your breathing fall into a rhythm as you curl up into him and fall asleep.

[r0-boat]

Helloo, can you do marbas NSFW alphabet next? thanks so muuch

I love doing alphabets so much

Marbas NSFW Alphabet

Cw: daddy kink??? (he really likes to take care of you), kidnapping, bondage.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Marbas will kill a fucker if he here's any devil that doesn't do aftercare after sex. he doesn't care how gentle he fucks you. You👏get👏aftercare👏👏👏

Sometimes you even get carried away, like eating you out then checking for bruises as if His tongue assaulted more than just your dick/pussy. Let's just say he's a little too excited to take care of you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your legs. He gets a neuron activation when he The ropes he ties you with squeeze just enough for your thighs to bulge slightly.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes to paint your body with his cum so then he can have the excuse of taking a shower with you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to tied up, chained down whatever. He wants to keep you as his little prisoner as he dots and takes care of you despite the ropes and chains. You won't even know that he's holding you captive.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Yes, He is a professional after all.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that's good with any kind of bondage he almost exclusively uses.

And any position where his hand could easily reach the whatever that's binding you to tug loosen or fasten whatever he sees fit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

No, unless you're speaking you're safe word you better not joke with him or else he'll just gag you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He shaves almost daily.

But when he is in shaved, when he's so busy he doesn't have time You can see a little happy line beginning to grow

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He doesn't see himself as a romantic guy, He doesn't really overthink on over the top romantic gestures especially during sex, However pampering you is a different story

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Ever since He hasn't met you his hand no longer does it for him... And it's frustrating because he's always so pent up from his job and his mind running wild with the most filthiest thoughts of you on your knees for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves roleplay especially when he's playing a caretaker role because It feels so natural to take care of you.

Heavy bondage in any kind of restraints? Yes please!

Has a guilty pleasure for chastity.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers doing it in the bedroom but he can be easily persuaded to do it anywhere EXCEPT His place of work no matter how tempting you are; it's fun to watch him short circuit when he sees you and cute nurse outfits or handsome doctor coats. Just to take you home and absolutely destroy you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeling you wearing anything tight! Anything that hugs your body juuust right. Leaving nothing to the imagination.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If he can't pamper you after sex then he's not going to fuck you. Aftercare it's the second best part of sex for him after all.

He will leave you bitten and bruised choke you and spit on you but if he can't rush to give you a glass of water kiss you on the forehead and run his fingers through your hair as he dabs any wounds with a q-tip soaked in rubbing alcohol then he's not going do it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He rather be giving than receiving. I'd rather be the one to make you shudder shake and scream underneath him. He rather be the one to restrain you to watch you squirm and struggle underneath your restraints as your cum floods his mouth. But that doesn't mean he doesn't like when the opposite is true when he feels leather tight on his skin as your warm wet mouth milk him dry.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to start off slow and sensual, before treating you like a fuck doll.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

(Read the letter N)

He's about 50/50 on quickies...

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Of course! Happy to experiment! Especially if it's something you want to do to him. Especially if it's bondage of any kind

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Despite being a devil he actually tries not to go exceed your limit unless you ask him. After both of you finish he still wants more But you will always come first in his eyes.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yes! Fuck yes! Stuffing your poor hole full with a vibrator while your tight up where you have no choice but to accept his cock in your mouth.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

As much as he likes to tease, he's not cruel, all you have to do is beh in that sweet voice of yours and he'll give anything you want.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's loud, and he's embarrassed that he struggles to stifle his moans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Marbas Has a collection of different types of ropes, hand cuffs, and bindings he's itching to try. His favorite to use is ribbons, it makes you look like a cute little present all for him to eye-fuck.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Monster cock... Aaaah! like same size as Lucifer, thick and vainy too, thick and tight balls.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very, he just doesn't show it. He yearnes for your body so much it hurts. His mind filled with images of your lewd face and plans of what he can do to you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Nope aftercare comes first and waits for you to fall asleep.

[weenwrites]

hiiiii! I was hoping you could do headcanons for the decepticons (any of your choice) and how they would react to finding out that a young human has somehow got onto the nemesis (nobody knows how and nobody ever will🥸) and started causing trouble, like stealing stuff for their little hoard and drawing on the walls. You don't have to do this if you don't want to, but I hope you do 😊

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]:

Soundwave

As the "eyes and ears" of the Decepticons, almost nothing escapes his watchful gaze, save for you. He doesn't know how you've managed it, but you've gone ahead and made yourself a cosy little home somewhere within the confines of the ventilation system and even mocked him with these nonsensical scribbles on the walls.

He doesn't miss the way vehicons poke fun at him now that a pesky little human has somehow slipped his watch, and though you prove no serious threat to them, even Megatron finds himself a tad disappointed with the blatant deterioration in Soundwave's skills. First a human, then what? Are they going to start missing Autobot intruders stalking the halls?

Soundwave resolves to handle this himself, as now he has a personal vendetta to deal with on top of proving himself still worthy of his position to his lord and master.

Megatron

He's found humans to be quite the interesting bunch, a true mixed bag. On one hand those pests that the Autobots risk their lives to protect have been one of the biggest pains to the Decepticons, but on the other hand, CYLAS wasn't all that impressive once he ran out of assets to use. Yet you've proven yourself to be resourceful, relying only on your own skills to evade the watchful eye of one of the most skilled members of the Decepticons.

Were you on the Autobot side, you could've proven to be a concerning inside-threat, and that's where it hits him. Weaponizing a human in a more under-handed manner is something the Decepticons haven't tried yet. He issues word to the entire Nemesis to capture you upon sight, yet he's not exacting holding out hope that no one's killed you yet, nor is this idea of his worth getting too excited for.

Shockwave

You may have gotten a little too cocky. Shockwave may lose himself to his research and projects at times, but the moment he's aware of his surroundings it doesn't take long for him to pinpoint what's out of place. One of his rotary carvers are missing, one of the vent covers are missing a few screws, and that drawing on the inside of one of the table's legs isn't as discreet as you'd think.

It's clear there's a pest running amok. Nothing worth reporting to Megatron, and nothing to linger over for too long. He simply rigs one of his tools with a rudimentary trap, not his best work but it's not as if you're worth anything fancy. He leaves it out and walks away without sparing it another thought.

You were none the wiser and practically fell straight for it. It looked unassuming too, it looked as if it had fallen off the edge of the table and he had forgotten about it, so no one could really blame you. But the moment the trap was sprung, your limbs were bound yet no one came.

The other Decepticons know better than to poke and prod around in Shockwave's laboratory, or anywhere he turns into his general working area. And Shockwave was either busy with a long-term project that would take days to complete, or just knew to spend his time on more productive pursuits than checking the trap every now and then. Either way, it took around 2 days before Shockwave came to check on his trap.

Even upon seeing that he caught something, he paid you little mind, let alone acknowledged you in the slightest. He simply shoved you into the hands of some vehicon and asked them to "dispose of the waste in the incinerator".

[purplesoulcollection]

Hello!!!..I want to tell you that I really like how you write Llyod Frontera!!..Can I make a request for Llyod Frontera x reader?..Reader told Lloyd that she can hug the world so Llyod told her to prove it so reader hug him with a cheerful smile..

I'm sorry to bother you..It's okay if you don't want to

Wow Anonym, Your suggestion is gave rise to an unusual idea that I would never have thought of before, probably because it was my free day too. so thanks.

So let's hop to the story

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Princess and The Beast.

That's the sarcastic term used by nobles to discuss Lloyd and his partner, using a term that sounds polite but is actually quite presumptuous, making it seem like they’re not insulting either of them.

Why, you ask? Because here's the problem. Lloyd managed to pull off a (Somehow) clever trick to win over a stunning woman like Name, whose his appearance could easily be mistaken as a servant. When he misbehaved, he could even come off as devilish, leaving all the nobles and the queen herself in shock to this fact.

Y/N, with a captivating beauty that turns heads and draws both admiration and envy from women, standing next to Lloyd is a sight that baffles them.

There are no reports of an arranged marriage or any business dealings behind their relationship. Heck, even his parent's loudly said that they fell in love by themselves at a party where Lloyd's parents were invited because the nobles wanted to interrogate Y/n and Lloyd's relationship

However, the nobles refused to accept their love as the genuine one and began to spread rumors that strayed further from the truth.

The gossip ranges from claims that Lloyd enchanted Y/N, luring her in with promises of wealth and power, to suggestions that Y/N was unable to resist Lloyd's intimidating presence. In these tales, Lloyd is always portrayed as the villain, while Y/N is depicted as the helpless, weak, and greedy one.

so the pinnacle of this tale, they used the quote 'princess and the beast' to describe the two of them.

They truly are a remarkable couple, a rare gem that one would be hard-pressed to find anywhere else in the world. They stand alone in their uniqueness.

Lloyd, who prefers to avoid mingling with nobles unless it’s for business, enjoys spending his time relaxing or working on projects. This means Y/n has to take on the responsibility of interacting with the nobility and fostering good relationships.

The Frontera family, having ascended from powerless nobles to true nobility, certainly faced resistance from the established high-ranking nobles who had held their positions for a long time.

Thanks to Lloyd's revelations about the misdeeds of the nobility, these powerful figures were not keen on allowing the Frontera family to gain any more influence and instead sought to complicate their rise.

Lloyd's parents aren't particularly skilled in the realm of politics; instead, they are simply a genuine couple who excel as loving parents. They don't possess the ability to navigate political situations with a forced smile or maintain an air of sophistication when faced with unspoken judgments from the elite.

But Y/n is different; she hails from a family that values profit and excels in both business and social interactions. From a young age, she was groomed to be the heir, especially after her younger brother was born. Those lessons have shaped her into the strategic mastermind behind the Frontera family.

"Hey, Lloyd. The nobles are saying you coerced me into this marriage. What’s your take on that?" Y/n asked as she walked in to find Lloyd and Javier deep in conversation.

"Y/n, you really need to stop getting caught up in the ridiculous gossip from the nobles. I told you to ignore it!" Lloyd replied immediately, clearly frustrated by the increasingly absurd rumors, startling both of them until Javier quietly moved closer to join the conversation.

"Madam, the rumors are merely a reflection of their envy towards you two. They’re jealous of Mr. Lloyd for being with someone as stunning as you, while they can’t even come close," Javier said, his words genuine yet tinged with a hint of sarcasm aimed at Lloyd, who took offense at the implication that he was unattractive, especially coming from someone as handsome as Javier.

"Javier!!"

"Are you upset by what I said, young master?" Javier feigned innocence as he looked at Lloyd, who was biting his lip, struggling to contain his frustration and the urge to cry.

Lloyd realized that any reaction from him would only amuse Javier, who was undeniably more attractive and would only inflate his ego further. Even if he has to death, Lloyd didn’t want to be the reason for Javier’s growing narcissism.

Those of us who witnessed Lloyd's struggle and couldn’t respond to Javier’s taunts attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"They also claimed I’d be better off with someone else?"

My comment interrupted their discussion, creating a brief silence before both men turned to me, their faces reflecting a shared irritation.

"They have the audacity to say that? As Frontera knights, this is absolutely unacceptable!" Javier's mind raced with thoughts of how he would confront anyone who dared to utter such words, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword.

"Y/n, do you mention this to make me scared?"

"I brought this up to gauge your reactions. You two are as tight-knit as always." The voice of Name chuckled to herself, amused by their responses.

Lloyd and Javier exchanged resigned glances, silently communicating about Y/n's knack for pulling pranks on them.

'Here we go again, Javier.' 'It's because she's a woman, young master. They're incredibly unpredictable.'

"Are you worried that you're not enough for me, Lloyd?"

"Nope!" Lloyd replied in a tone that suggested he was indifferent but his gaze averted, jaw clenched, and hands shoved deep in his pockets, gripping tightly as if to ward off a looming fear tells different story.

"You know I could embrace the whole world right now, right?" Y/n said like telling the new fact that nobody will know what the answer, feeling increasingly frustrated with Lloyd's unwillingness to be honest with himself.

Still avoiding eye contact, Lloyd responded flatly, "Go ahead and try!"

In an instant, Y/n wrapped their arms around Lloyd's waist, burying their face in his chest. The familiar scent of Lloyd caught him off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless as he stared at Y/n in surprise.

With a bright smile, Y/n looked up into Lloyd's eyes, saying, "You are my world, Lloyd. So there's no need to worry about me cheating. Even if others are more handsome, I will always choose you."

As an imaginary mark appeared on Lloyd's forehead, he gently cupped Y/n's cheek and began kissing their face in many part of her before finally land lips in response to those heartfelt words.

"Please find your own rooms, young master and madam," Javier interjected, looking at them with a mix of disgust and reluctance to be part of their moment.

The end

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 1

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 2.2k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 1: The understatement of the century

To say Roronoa Zoro was intrigued would be the understatement of the century. The straw hats had arrived at the peaceful island the day before. It was by far the most boring island they’d visited on their voyage. The small port town was serene, seemingly untouched by the chaos of the outside world. It was a refreshing change of pace for the crew after the usual turmoil of their adventures. They’d decided to spend a few days on land while the log pose set the way to their new adventure. They’d relax a little, take the time to stock up on provisions and perhaps even enjoy a bit of leisure time.

At first he’d thought it was a fluke. He’d been seated at the bar when the bar tender whipped out a black bladed knife to cut a lemon. It couldn’t be, could it? And yet as he continued to examine it from afar, the more certain he’d been. It was most definitely a haki infused blade. His eye had narrowed as he’d taken in the old pudgy bar tender. No. He was normal. There was no way he’d infused the blade with haki. Whatever. He’d given up on the mystery for the night. He was here to drink, it didn’t matter.

It was the next morning as he reluctantly accompanied the silly cook for his errands that the mystery hit him again. The merchants were all using haki infused tools. Hell, even the farmer they’d crossed was raking with a haki infused rake. This should in no way be possible. It took years of battle for haki to infuse permanently with a blade. One was a fluke, there was an insanely small probability that maybe a kitchen knife could be infused with haki through generations. But this? This was not a fucking fluke. He’d felt something drop in his stomach at the realization. There was someone on this island infusing every scrap of metal they could find with haki.

The sudden awareness of the sheer amount of haki infused objects on the island ignited Zoro’s curiosity like a blazing fire. He had to know. That evening, he asked the bartender. “Oi, that blade. Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, this old thing?” The portly man answered casually, as if it were the most ordinary knife in the world.

Zoro nodded encouraging the old man to continue.

“The witch made it,” he chuckled.

“Witch?” he asked incredulously.

“Well… She’s not exactly a witch. It’s just how the children refer to her,” he laughed heartily. “I bought this knife from our resident blacksmith. She can be a bit abrasive, but you won’t get a better knife anywhere else.” The old man twirled the knife in his hand, a fond look in his eyes. “I’ve had this one for years now, never had to sharpen it once. It’s just as sharp as the first day I used it.”

“Huh,” Zoro grunted in response.

“That’s right! They’re really amazing! If you want one of those, young man, you should go up the mountain to see her,” an older lady joined in to the conversation.

“Yes! It really is a must! You won’t find anything else like it,” another middle aged man sitting next to him added. “She always has a few good knives in stock.”

“She might chew you out though,” a younger woman added behind his back. “You never really know with her. It’s always a fifty-fifty chance,” the whole bar laughed at the comment. Clearly invested in the conversation. Comments and funny stories about their interactions with the ‘witch’ flowing through the tables.

“Up the mountain, huh?” Zoro muttered more to himself than anything.

“Aye, lad,” the bartender answered him. “But heed that warning. With her you never know whether she’ll sell you the knife or throw it at you.” Another wave of laughter went through the bar. Acclamations of ‘that’s right!’ and ‘true, true’ in agreement flowed around him.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He downed his drink, a half-smile quirking his lips. He’d decided he’d find this ‘witch’. He had questions and he would get answers.

The next morning he’d woken up early. Robin had quirked an eyebrow in surprise as he’d entered the kitchen, sun still low on the horizon.

“Oh! Zoro!” Luffy had said between mouthfuls. “You going somewhere?”

Zoro grunted in response, his mind already set on the task ahead. “Yeah, I’m heading up the mountain” He replied tone resolute.

Luffy paused mid-bite, his expression shifting to curiosity. “What for?” He asked interest glinting in his eyes.

Zoro couldn’t help the faint smile twitching at his lips. “I’m gonna find a witch,” he said cryptically.

“A witch?” Robin inquired, setting down her book, evidently intrigued.

Sanji, who’d been quietly preparing breakfast, perked up at the mention. “You mean the blacksmith girl?” he interjected, a smile playing on his lips. “They say not only she’s talented but she’s a true beauty,” he added, hearts almost coming out of his eyes.

A ‘tsk’ escaped Zoro’s lips at the pervy cook’s reaction. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“You better not spend all my money on some fancy blade,” Nami cut in, opening the door to the kitchen.

Zoro grunted in response.

Luffy with a full mouth asked “Can I come with?” He was clearly bored of doing nothing.

“Me too?” Robin added.

Zoro nodded in response. It didn’t really matter to him. He just had to put this mystery to rest.

Luffy swallowed down the mountain of food before him in one go. “Alright! Let’s go!” He declared excitedly with his signature grin marking his face.

“Don’t get lost!” Nami had screamed from the deck of the ship as the three of them made their way to the mountain path.

The trail was an arduous one but it wasn’t too hard to navigate. The air growing crisper and colder as they ascended. Robin led the way, chuckling at their captain’s tone-deaf singing. The scenery was nice, the quiet rustle of leaves and distant hum of birds accompanying their journey.

“Oi, Zoro, why do they call the blacksmith a witch?” Luffy asked along the way.

“Dunno,” Zoro replied.

“I heard some children say the witch puts magic in the metal she forges,” Robin answered instead. “Some of them say they could see black things floating around when she works. Others say it’s only the product of children’s imagination” She continued. “It’s a mystery really.”

“Ehh! “ Luffy interjected. “Magic huh, sounds interesting” he mused.

“It’s probably just haki,” Zoro added.

“Most likely, after all not everyone is able to see it” Robin agreed. “You see, Luffy, what’s actually the mystery is the concentration of haki infused objects in this town,” She carried on, all attention on her. “In archaeology, haki infused blades are an extremely rare find. They are very few and far in between. Zoro probably knows more than me on the subject,” She eyed him a small smile on her lips. “But it takes a lot of skill both from the person forging the blade and the swordsman wielding the blade for it to become permanently infused with haki.”

Zoro nodded, confirming her suspicions.

“Now what is actually strange here is” She took a pause, trying to find the right words. “While haki infused blades are found here and there, haki infused daily objects have never been heard of.” She stopped in her tracks, looking at Zoro, a serious look in her eyes as she finished. “And this town is practically overflowing, with haki infused objects. Knives, rakes, sewing needles, even nails. Name it it’s probably there. It makes no sense really.”

“Is that so?” Luffy said. “I’m not sure I understand, but it sure does sound interesting,” he continued ahead on the path. “I wonder if she’s a good witch or a bad one,” he mused, Robin’s explanation going right over his head.

Zoro and Robin exchanged an amused look. A small sigh escaping their lips as they continued up the mountain.

It didn’t take long for Luffy to scream back at them. “Oi, I see a house! Hurry up you guys!”

As Zorro and Robin rejoined Luffy, they spotted a tall frail looking woman exiting a building. Something was clearly wrong, she had a hurt look in her eyes, her pace slightly off. Before they could stop him. Luffy was already shouting, “Hey! You! Are you the witch?”

The interruption seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she’d been in, blood coming back to her rosy cheeks. A soft smile plastered her lips. “Me?” She asked, amusement clear in her voice. She laughed, a clear cheerful din travelling in the crisp morning air. “Gods, no. That would be my sister.”

“That so? Why is she called a witch?” Luffy asked, no tact as usual.

She chuckled. “I’m not sure” She pondered. “Maybe it’s because of her temper, maybe it’s because of her skills as a blacksmith. Not everyone can see her magic after all.” She added in a sing song. It was clear to Robin that the young woman was the one entertaining the children’s fantasies.

“Is she here? I realllly want to see a witch,” Luffy probed. “I’m Luffy by the way. I’m gonna become the king of the pirates.”

“What?” The young woman laughed, incredulous at the captain’s antics. “I’m Mary.” She answered the introduction. “My sister is in her workshop, I wouldn’t recommend going in there though, she’s in a really bad mood today.”

None of the straw hats heard the second half of the sentence. Following their captain in the workshop instead.

To say the past few months had been hell to you would be the understatement of the century. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream. Your hammer clanked against the block of steel you were working. You were in a really bad mood. Enraged, would be more appropriate. You were aware your strikes were a touch too hard, risking the steel to settle wrong. You didn’t really care; anger clouded your eyes. Tears of fury threatening to blur your sight.

At first it’d been a captain from the navy. He’d offered some kind of contract from the government. You’d politely refused him, you were no government dog. But the bastard had simply turned away and said they’d be back. Then it had been fucking pirates. One after the other, you’d refused them. Ain’t no way you’d serve under thieving assholes either. But then. Then, a fucking admiral had shown up on your door. You scowled as his sleezy smile made its way in your mind. You’d told him no. He’d told you he’d pick you up in a month. Before he’d gone, he’d given you a wanted poster with your face on it. 1 Billion berries, it said. Dead or alive, it said. The threat was clear, refuse the government’s offer again and they were going to make sure you’d regret it. AND THEN. As if that wasn’t enough, a Yonko… A FUCKING YONKO, had strolled in your workshop as soon as the sleezy son of a bitch had left and asked you to join his crew. Admittedly you might have snapped, thrown a few knives and foul words his way. But the red-haired jerk had simply laughed and said he’d be back soon.

The one-month limit was nearing the end. You sighed.

“(Y/n)! Are you listening to me?” Mary, your sister, asked, sitting on a stool at the other end of your workshop.

“What?” you snapped at her not stopping your work. The rhythmic clank of your hammer on steel the only thing keeping you sane.

“I’m just saying, maybe you should reconsider that last offer. He didn’t seem like a bad guy, and you know the next time the Navy docks here, they won’t give you a choice.” She tried to plead with you.

“I’m not going to serve under a fucking Yonko,” your answer was final and she knew it. Still, she flinched at your tone, brows furrowing angrily.

“Why are you always such a bonehead,” she shouted at you. “At this point, your stubbornness is going to be what’s going to kill you. You need to leave this place!”

The next clang of your hammer was definitely too hard, leaving a deep dent in the hot steel. You didn’t stop even though the block was most definitely ruined. You’d have to re-melt it later. It didn’t matter. The outrage you felt at the situation started to border on fury. The air around you felt heavy, red crackling lightning-like filaments joining the threads of black flowing around you and into the steel.

“(Y/n),” You heard Mary plead. You saw her start to sway a little, her face beginning to blanch. “Stop! You know I can’t breathe when you get like that” She tried to calm you.

You couldn’t. The only thing in your head was that poster. 1 Billion berries. Fuck. You almost wished you could hand yourself in for that amount of berries. The sleezy asshole would be back soon. The atmosphere around you crackled more intently. The rage simmering under your skin threatened to boil over.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Then.” You answered, each word punctuated by the clank of your hammer.

Even looking only from the corner of your eye, the hurt was clear on her face. The pace of her footsteps was uneven, threatening to crumble under the oppressiveness of your haki. You sighed, guilt temporarily flooding your heart. You’d apologize later.

Next Chapter →

Masterlist

[underratedbreadcrust]

Love languages — Lost Characters HCs

Characters: jack shepard, james “sawyer” ford, kate austen, sayid jarrah, and charlie pace

Warnings: some cursing and slight suggestive language sawyer.

a/n: this show has been consuming my being and i need to talk to someone about it or i’ll explode. i have been so preoccupied with school i kinda got distracted from this account and writing but i'm going to do my best to get back on track.

Jack Shepard

He has always felt the absence of his father, whether he wants to admit it or not.

He struggles with being vulnerable, but when he does truly care about someone he wants to be as present as possible because he knows what it feels like to be alone.

He really likes touching you. not like that weirdo

He needs you to know that he'll always be there for you, and he does this by constantly reminding you physically.

Whether it be a kiss on the forehead, a prolonged hug, or even a brush hands, he wants to cement the idea that you can always count on him.

Also, this man definitely lives for words of affirmation.

I mean look at that wet cat man, he’s never been given any positive words that didn’t have a second motive.

Having lived his entire life surrounded by false praise, the first time you compliment him, he sighs internally just waiting for you to ask him a favor right afterwards.

So, of course, it throws him off when you don’t.

I mean, what other reason could there be for your kind words.

And it’s not the last time either, you continue to encourage him, expressing your admiration at his skills and the way he always knows what to or what to say in every situation.

The way you spoke of all of his actions, was enough to slowly break down his walls.

Eventually, when he gets comfortable enough tell you about his past, you are there to listen intently, hanging on to his every word.

Once he’s finished, you reach your hand out to hold and his and offer him words of encouragement, telling him he’s a better man than everybody gives him credit for, and he needs to stop pressuring himself to fix everything.

He has no idea how you always know exactly what to say to leave him comforted, but he knows that that is what he loves the most about you.

James “Sawyer” Ford

His main approach to getting another person’s attention is through a sly smile and sexual innuendos. It’s what has worked so well in the past.

But the real way he expresses his affection is through gifts.

The man hates giving anything he considered “his” to anybody, so whenever he does consider it a sign.

Believe it or not, he is a very active listener.

If you happen to casually mention a small detail, like you’re craving a certain food or are needing an extra blanket, expect for him to have it within the hour.

Sawyer is awkward when it comes to expressing himself through words sincerely, and he considered himself too clumsy to do anything else.

So he figures the best way to show that he cares is by giving you whatever you want.

Don’t expect him to be sweet about it either though. He’ll definitely make some jokes about you needing to pay him back and you’ll do it gladly.

Receiving wise though, he appreciates anybody that is willing to give him the time of day.

Before the island, the idea of spending quality time with anybody he wasn’t sleeping with was absurd.

However, after meeting you, his thoughts quickly changed.

He knows that he isn’t the easiest person to deal with, so he treasures you going out of your way to be with him more than you realize.

Nobody was ever willing to spend more time than necessary when it came to being around him.

Your persistence is what allowed him to fully open up.

At first, he does everything in his power likebeingalittlebitch to get you to stay away.

Once it dawns on him that his actions won’t be enough to get you to leave, his appreciation for you grows.

Needless to say, once you get him to care enough about you, you’ll never be needing for more.

Kate Austen

Kate hates having to stay anywhere longer than she has to.

Which is why, if she makes an effort to be around you, for no apparent reason, then it’s most likely that she’s attached.

She has spent a good chunk of her life running. Including from responsibilities, confrontations , the law, she doesn’t know the meaning of slowing down.

With you however, she wants nothing more than for time to stop so she can appreciate the full extent of your company and enjoy quality time together.

She never thought it to be possible for her to find a person that made her feel like she was at home until she met you.

Beware though, being around you and trusting you are two different things.

After being losing all the most important people in her life (betrayal or otherwise) she is still extremely wary of being vulnerable with others, regardless if she cares for them or not.

It will take a lot of work on your part to show her that not everybody who is close to her is bound to leave.

Which is why she needs constant verbal reassurance of your affection towards her.

Don't be too direct with it though, or else she might think you're trying to take advantage of her in some way.

However, if you slowly build your relationship to her while affirming her how much she means to you, then her walls are bound to come down.

Your positive words combined with your sincerity will have her falling for you so hard she won't know that to do with herself.

Whether you know it or not, your words to her are a lifeline.

Sayid Jarrah

ASKSNWKDB I LOVE THIS MAN

If there's anything this man knows how to do is be at the service of others, which is exactly how he shows his love.

Being in the Republican Guard conditioned him to automatically fix any problem within his sight and follow the orders of his superiors.

As soon as he got on that island, he fell back into that role like second nature, following the guidance of Jack while still commanding orders in his own way.

From the moment he realizes his feelings for you expect for him to become your personal bodyguard.

He isn't the type to baby you but like hell if he'd let you get yourself in any danger.

He would do everything in his power to protect you from the island's hazards.

Not to mention he's a complete romantic.

It doesn't matter if he currently has any other duties you will always be his first priority.

You have a problem with your tent, he's already fixed it. You feel the need to get away from the rest, he'll take you on a private walk on a secluded part of the beach. You're hungry? Oh wow, how did this five course meal find its way here!

Tender touches and physical touch are his favorite way of receiving love.

For years, the only times that his skin touched another person’s, was to torture them.

Believing himself to be undeserving of compassion, he chose to isolate himself.

Also fearing he might lose those he cares about if he were ever to open himself up.

Then you come along.

Your outgoing yet gentle nature, were enough to almost knock his feet out under him.

Being the friendly person that you are, it was common for you to be touchy-feely with the people you considered close.

Doesn’t mean it still didn’t throw him for a loop the first time you did it though.

The both of you were sitting next to each other around a fire during dinner, when suddenly you leaned your shoulder against his.

Despite it being such a simple gesture, he couldn’t recall the last time he was on the receiving end of such a casual touch.

He is insanely touch starved, so as the relationship between the two of you flourishes, he’ll start to long for the feel of you.

It comforts him knowing he has tangible proof to remind him he’s not alone.

Charlie Pace

This man will always speak what’s on his mind. For a long time, he’s been criticized for not measuring his words more carefully.

So don’t expect him to sugarcoat how much he cares and loves you.

He knows that his big mouth has put him in a lot of problems, but he will continue to use it because it got him your attention.

From the minute you catch his eye there's no way he's going to stay silent about it.

Hell, don't be surprised if he ends up writing a song about you.

He's aware that sometimes he says things that result in him being the butt of a joke, but he will always tell you the truth of his love for you.

In fact, he will go above and beyond to have you know that you're the only way he could ever care for.

What do you mean you feel insecure as if you don't have the beauty and grace of a goddess?

One thing he neglects to mention is that he's a spoiled little brat that loves gifts.

No matter how small or worthless you think it may be, to him it means the world coming from you.

Having dealt with addiction he's never maintained any object that held any financial value because he always sold it for a couple of extra bucks.

That is why your gifts serves as a physical reminder that he has changed and that he is allowed to be happy.

Things ranging from a flower to an item of personal value that you've given him he will guard with his life.

That includes your heart which is the greatest treasure you could've given him.

p.s. can you tell who my favorite character is based on this lol

[beloved-belittled]

Gods/Titans x Sick! Reader

Characters: Shinnok, Raiden, Fujin, Liu Kang, Cetrion, Kronika 

A/N: Did not have the brainpower to work on my other stories so I drafted up this instead. Influenza is a bitch.

TW: Implied yandere, mentions of drugging, kidnapping, death, SFW

18+ to interact

Shinnok 

Can probably detect that you're getting sick before your symptoms show. You know how some people can smell sickness? It's like that with Shinnok. Thankfully, you don't have the waft of death he's so accustomed to being around. He's not worried about you dying from this. Still, he'd rather not his plaything be ill.

He's a bit confused on how you got sick in the first place though. He doesn't exactly take you outside once he's kidnapped you, and it's not like he's affected by any mortal disease so ???. It's especially puzzling if this happens while you're trapped in the amulet. At least in the cell you came into contact with demons who may have carried something. 

Regardless, at this point Shinnok realizes his arsenal of healing magic is rather… Lacking. He's much more adept at rending flesh than mending it. But he's a skilled sorcerer so it takes him little time to learn a healing spell. A few test subjects later and he feels confident at curing your cold.

All this takes less than 24 hours for Shinnok to achieve. You're probably bed ridden at this point with all the chills/fever, coughing, and weakness. Speaking of beds, I think this is one of the few times he'll have you sleep in a bed rather than your cell. He wants you to recover after all. The only way you’re dying is by his hands and not some petty mortal disease. 

His magic works better than any herbal healing or medicine tbh. One moment you're on death's door and the next you've completely recovered. No sign of illness anywhere in your body. Even though being Shinnok's darling is not desirable, it does come with a few benefits like this.

Raiden 

Raiden doesn't know you're sick until the symptoms show. Might not discover your illness until 2-3 days of you being under the weather due to his busy schedule. He likely hears about your condition from a monk he's trusted to watch over you. Man immediately teleports to the Sky Temple to see how you're doing. He finds you laying in the bed barely able to move. Wearily, you greet him only to immediately fall into a coughing fit.

Unfortunately, he can't fry the disease out of you with his electricity. So, herbal healing it is! You drink more tea this week than you have your entire life. Seriously, you have to beg Raiden to stop because your stomach is about to burst. He does, only to immediately pursue some aromatherapy. Your room smells strongly of flowers and eucalyptus afterwards.

Would frequently check on you nearly every hour. If there's an extremely urgent matter that calls for his attention he'll leave his most trusted colleagues to look after you. Right after he's done with business he'll ask the person if your status has improved. 

He's super mindful of making sure you don't get bed sores or any other complications from laying around all day. At the same time, he only wants you getting up to bathe or use the restroom. You're essentially stuck in one place until he can 100% guarantee you've recovered. 

If your condition worsens he would hire a doctor to come see you. If the doctor suggests you go to a hospital, Raiden will take you there. I imagine the admission process would be a bit awkward though. He has no idea how all this works so you're left doing most of the speaking. You get admitted in though, and no his constant visiting doesn't stop even now. The hospital staff would likely have to kick him out.

Overall, he's praying that you'll make it through this.

Fujin

Well, Fujin actually lives among mortals so he has more knowledge on how to take care of you. Like Raiden, whenever he's on important business he hires someone to watch over you. I could see him having a phone unlike his brother. Definitely more hip with the times. Anyways, because of this he probably gets a worried text from your caretaker that you've fallen ill.

He arrives back home ASAP. Seeing you in this condition pulls at his heartstring the most. Out of everyone he's the most worried, as he's had his most favorite mortals pass away from illness. He wastes no time getting into Dr. Fujin mode.

He has you on a liquid diet until you heal. Tea, soup, broth -that's all you're eating for the next week. He’ll get whatever you need medicine wise. Got a headache or cramps? He'll get some painkillers pronto. Are you coughing with an irritated throat? Have some cough syrup/drops. He's very attentive in giving you a balance of home remedies and prescribed drugs.

It pains him every time you cough or groan in pain. He wants nothing more than to cure you right now. He hates seeing you suffer from illness. You can expect him to keep you company for as long as necessary. He'll also bring whatever entertainment you want, long as it isn't too expensive. 

Again, if your conditions worsen he'll take you to a hospital. It's a smoother process getting in with him though. He also understands the concept of visiting hours, but best believe he's taking full advantage of them. He'll only leave your side if he has to and will be back the next morning.

Liu Kang 

He doesn't have an ability to detect disease but he does have impeccable intuition. Something just changes about you before you fall ill. He's not even sure how he predicted it, but sure enough you're bedridden a few days after his spidey senses tingle.

He tries not to be too worried about your cold. He hasn't crafted your destiny to be one where you die from disease. But, there are some externalities even he can't control being Keeper of Time. So, it's off to the Wu Shi's medbay with you!

The Fire God checks up on you regularly, but not as often as Raiden or Fujin. It's not that he cares less, but rather he understands boundaries more. You don't need him breathing down your neck while you're recovering or sleeping. He makes an effort to see you every day though, giving you updates of what's going on at the academy. 

If you're suffering from chills though at least you're in luck! He'll keep the room more than warm enough with his fire powers. It's like having a heated blanket around whenever he's in the medbay. At the same time, if you have a fever you may find his presence to be a little too warm. 

I believe if you don't get better he'd take you to a sorcerer skilled in healing. Luckily, there's a whole multiverse at his disposal so it's extremely easy for him to find someone to cure you. You won't die under his care. You're far too precious for him to lose.

Cetrion

Can detect your sickness way before symptoms show. Honestly, you probably wouldn't even realize you're sick before her magic heals you. With her around you don't have to worry about such mortal afflictions. 

If there was an illness that her powers couldn't heal… Well tbh you're probably going to die. But, I think it would leave her spiraling into a pit of worry beforehand. How did you get this disease? What can she do to help you? I think she'd try a lot of home remedies like the other characters here but doesn't have as much faith for it working. After all, no mortal medicine can surpass her powers as an Elder God.

If you pass away from this she'll likely just keep your soul in Heaven with her. If she's Keeper of Time she may just restart the Timeline. Although, I can't imagine it'd be too hard for her to just put your soul in a surrogate or artificial body. Regardless, she's not going to let an illness take you away from her. The consequences be damned.

Also, in a weird way I could see Cetrion getting you sick on purpose. Drugging whatever you eat/drink with just enough poison to make you lethargic and sleepy. Or manipulating the timeline so you're purposefully born with a weak body. It feeds her ego to take over a caregiver role for you. Having you completely dependent on her love and attention gives her a much needed dopamine boost. It's very unfortunate for you.

Overall… Probably the best person to have if you get sick. As long as she decides to heal you immediately of course.

Kronika

Is even more confused than her son about how you got sick. After all, she had you trapped in a pocket outside of time. Even if you caught a pathogen, it wouldn't be able to progress due to time being paused there. And not only that, you've been in there for far longer than the incubation time of any disease. Briefly, she wonders if your safety inside the bubble has been compromised. She dismisses that idea though. No… No one has the ability to tread that space without her permission. Not in her New Era.

Fortunately, she can just reverse the “age” of your body to before you got infected. She's reversed time on your body several times at this point, so she's not the least bit worried about doing so. A wave of her hands later and you're cured. And feeling a bit younger too.

Not much else to really say here. I doubt she would intentionally get you sick. Also with her being a Titan and succeeding against Liu Kang/Raiden in this timeline, the arc of history really does bend to her will. So basically -you're not getting sick on her watch.

[thepepsislvt]

I’m finally home from a trip.. what if hear me out.. nsfw alphabet for my favorite bgs either Kid, Killer, or of course Barto

-Tulipp 🌷🌷🌷

(acc still doesn’t work)

I DID IT AND I STARTED IT BEFORE U EVEN ASKED BECAUSE YOU MADE ME THINK ABOUT KID AND KILLER RELIGIOUSLY

also evryone istg im alive ive just been violently sick WAAAAHHH

anw here you go braincell sharer Kid and Killer nsfw alphabet

@tulipp-again

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Kid tries his damn hardest to at least clean you up but usually hes conked out within 3 minutes

Killer on the other hand is a trooper. He will run you a bath, get you water, a snack, anything you could ever think of he does. Hes so sweet about everything

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think we all agree that Kid is an ass man. he loves to grope it, bite it and smack it

Kid likes his arms and hands with how strong they arms. He loves how he can easily bend you over anything and fuck you from behind

Killer likes your collar bones with how easy he can bite them and leave a mark

On him Killer also likes his arms with how easy he can carry you around if needed

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Kid cums A LOT okay? its thick and fills you up so much. He loves to cum on your face the most

Killer’s is also thick but he doesnt shoot as much as Kid. He especially loves to cum all over your stomach

D: Dirty Secret

Kid really doesnt have any secrets, if he wants something hes going to announce it

Killer really wants you to top him. He sees how snappy and mean you get with Kid when you are bickering and he wants you to do that to him. he just doesnt know how to ask

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Kid slept around a lot when he was younger while trying to deny he was gay for Killer but he eventually got over his ego and just went for it. When you joined the relationship you often called Kid a slut for being so skilled

Killer didn’t have any experience outside of you and Kid but he sure knows how to make you feel good

F: Favorite Position

ANYTHING WITH YOUR ASS POINTED TOWARDS KID! Kid really likes your ass and never hesitates to let you know how much he loves it

Killer loves to hold you close so he usually has you in his lap with your back against his chest

G: Goofy (Are they more serious at the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

They both agree that Sex is serious and shouldn’t be taken as a joke

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Kid either doesnt know what grooming is or he really doesnt care. hes untrimmed and yes the carpet does indeed match the drapes

Killer really doesnt care either but he does trim a little bit. he will do more if you really want him to

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Kid tries but just know degrading is his love language. He does kiss you a lot but its usually rough and sloppy

Killer is way more romantic than Kid in everyway. He constantly tells you how good youre doing and checking up on you. he whispers a lot of praise and ‘i love you’s at least 90% of the time

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Kid is a big man with a big sex drive. so much so he has to rub one out a lot if youre “to busy” or “not feeling it” (even though he has literally drug you away from your work several times before

Killer isnt much into having to Jack off unless hes really desperate but most of the time he just holds out

K: Kinks (One or more of their kinks)

Kid loves spanking you. hes an ass man, you got a nice ass its just common sense according to him.

Killer loves hair pulling. Theres just something about the extra pain that is slowly soothed when you rub his scalp that just adds the cherry on top for him.

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Kid will do it anywhere he doesnt care he doesnt have any shame but you do so you convince him to do it in at least a semi public location which isnt much better but youll take it.

Killer likes it anywhere in private since he is more of a private person himself

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Kid is turned on by literally anything you do. all that anger quickly gets turned to horny when you or Killer walk into the picture

Killer gets turned on most when you kiss his neck it ear

N: No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

they both wouldnt do anything that would seriously hurt you other than that theyre pretty open to trying whatever

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Kid Prefers to receive hes a little whore who only thinks abt himself

Killer doesnt mind giving or receiving as long as youre happy

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Kid is Fast and ROUGH and its not hard to believe at all

Killer also likes to be fast and rough but still takes it easy on you

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Kid will take it if thats all he can get but prefers to take his time fucking you brain dead

Killer isnt fond of them but if you need it then he’ll do it for you

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Kid is all about risks because he runs on that type of adrenaline

Killer also isnt too opposed but likes to play it safer

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Kid can last up to 5 maximum before telling you to fuck off and then falling asleep

Killer can go as many as you want, he’ll stir up as much energy as needed to make you happy

T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

i wouldnt think so but if yall do have any toys its made from Kid himself

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Kid is a GOD at teasing, he loves to be in control and to tease you until are crying for him

Killer also loves to tease even more so than Kid, you would never expect

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Kid is loud, he doesnt shut up, he groans and growls, mf laughs when he degrades you shut shut up man

Killer not loud he just lets out a few grunts and small moans

W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)

Killer is the only one who has ever topped Kid

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Kid is rlly thick and girthy. like oh my god you gonna need a few minutes to stretch out around him

Killer isnt as thick but he is long omg

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Kid is up ready to go at any given moment all that pent up anger gotta go somewhere

Killer isnt as hyper sexual as Kid but he still enjoys it at least 3-4 times a week

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Immediately after for Kid, like bro will nut and then you hear his loud ass snoring

Killer doesnt fall asleep as fast as Kid mainly cause he needs to calm down first and catch his breath. he also loves to clean everyone up so yall not sleeping all dirty

[fangirlofallthefanthings]

heard you have headcanons on ody and dio meeting again after he returns. how does that go? how does penelope feel?

Ooooo!!! Boy, do I have ideas [insert shakey turtle of excitement here]

So, it's a little bit complicated, and I don't want to give too much away since it relates to what I'm currently working on, BUT!

I GOT YOU, FAM!

Basically: after Diomedes gets kicked out of Argos (it's very sad, the poor man), he realizes he has nowhere else to go except literally anywhere but the Eastern Mediterranean. So, he sets off for Hesperia (aka modern Italy) to start a new life there. But in this time of heartbreak, he's missing Odysseus even more (they had a sad goodbye on Crete; it's a long story), and he decides to stop at Ithaca on the way to get some supplies and maybe visit Ody. But when he gets there, he finds that Ody is MIA and Penelope is running things. So he hangs out for a while and gets to know Pen and Telemachus (who is about 11 or 12 by this point), and quickly figures out why Ody would talk about her literally any chance he got. She's beautiful, yes, but she's also just as cunning and wise as Odysseus is... The same qualities Dio fell in love with. And Pen is curious about Dio, too. She's heard many stories and news about her husband's schemes with Dio, and she starts falling for him a bit, too. But Diomedes doesn't want to dishonor the Bro Code by getting with Penelope. Ody loves Penelope! Dio could never hurt Ody like that. So... He leaves. He says goodbye to Pen and Telemachus and heads off to Hesperia. He and Penelope wonder what could have been since they believe they will never see each other again.

BUT THEN ODY RETURNS TO ITHACA!!! YIPPEE!!! Diomedes hears this news, but he has his new city to run, so he doesn't return immediately. After a few years, though, he gets usurped and kicked out again, so he's like, "Welp. I have nowhere else to go," and he goes back to Ithaca. He and Ody reunite and there's hugs all around and it's really sweet. Dio soon finds that OdyPen had another kid, a daughter (I haven't figured out a name for her yet, but she's two when Dio shows up). This part of the story is very loose, but I do know they all put two and two together about all their feelings eventually (Odysseus is very happy about this as you can imagine lmao!) It's little slice of life stuff from there. A little hc I have about the three of them is that Dio teaches OdyPen's daughter how to box because she's a little firecracker and needs to get rid of excess energy somehow, but she can't stay still long enough to weave (plus she's really little and doesn't have the fine motor skills for that yet). Dio and Ody also work together to hone Telemachus's and Diodotus's skills (who Diodotus is... you'll know soon enough lmao). I also hc that Pen frequently tricks OdyDio into wrestling each other so she can watch for her own entertainment. She's just sitting to the side, eating her bowl of table grapes, enjoying the show okasdfhsdugif- I also hc that... Once OdyPen passes on, Diomedes leaves again. The kids don't want him to go, but he can't stay. He wants to honor Ody's wish for Tele to be king. If he stays, people will think he wants to take over. He doesn't want a war among Ody's people so... he leaves. He establishes one last city in Hesperia and feels his life coming to a close. He climbs a nearby cliff by the sea to enjoy the view, looking east. Then Athena shows up, and he accepts immortality. Sorry... Got sort of sad toward the end there, but that's a few things! I have a lot of thoughts, but I'm very scattered rn. If you have more specific questions, feel free to ask! I don't bite, I promise! :D

[skzoologist]

Will you stay?

word count: ~1.8k

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

summary: Old wounds are torn open, but Bae has someone by his side, always.

a/n: I am not back yet, I won't pretend I am. But I can offer this short fic, if anything.

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

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Bae didn’t know what to feel.

In one moment he was just having a relatively good time, joking around with the others and watching as Minho was once again chasing around Hyunjin for whatever the weasel had said. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for them, the group loud and energetic even when they weren’t in front of the cameras. And he truly enjoyed that, even if he was the black sheep amongst them, with how quiet he usually was.

But then the next thing he knew, his sight grew slightly blurry, the softest of tremors running through his hands. He was holding his phone, feeling it vibrate in his pocket. So naturally, he fished it out of there, not wanting to miss out on anything possibly important.

The first row of the message in itself was enough to make his breath stop, even though it was only a few words that popped up in the notification.

Glancing around, he saw that everyone else was busy, nobody paying him any mind, thankfully. Bae was also glad that he’d decided to sit alone this time, not squished between two of his bandmates on the sofa. He loved them, he truly did, but because of their closely-knit friendship he knew that they would immediately notice if anything was off with him.

Thus, he unlocked his phone and opened the message with a simple flick of his thumb, eyes quickly reading over the several, long rows of words. With each sentence a weight was added onto Bae’s shoulders, his chest constricting painfully.

Why would he get this? And why now?

It had been long months since he had heard from the person who had sent him this message, someone who Bae had called a good friend of his in the past. The two had hit it off back when they had been trainees, finding solace in sharing their hardships and helping the other grow their skills. Friendly chatter had flowed easily between them whenever they’d met, so much so that Chan and the others constantly teased them of being long lost soulmates, even if only platonically.

And Bae would have agreed back then.

But suddenly, that connection started suffering, becoming strained between the two. It was inevitable to a certain extent, since his friend had failed to stay by Bae’s side, leaving the company and chasing after another dream. Still, they kept in touch, telling stories to each other over text or at a rare café visit. And while there had been a slight rift forming between the two friends, it was still easy to jump over, something Bae had tried to fix.

It was all useless, in the end.

That rift had merely grown in size, so much so that fixing it felt like throwing down buckets of water into the endless stomach of the abyss. It was greedy, swallowing up everything, no matter what he’d tried. Every text had only gotten a dry response, the conversations dying out quicker and quicker with each attempt.

And after a while, Bae had stopped.

It felt useless, chasing after somebody who didn’t even slow down so he could catch up. But Bae came to peace with it. It hurt, yes, seeing those ghost conversations still sit in his phone, but people come and go. Such was the way the world worked. Besides, he had 8 boys now to always have by his side, becoming his second family.

So why?

Why was a goodbye letter blinking up at him from his screen, completely unprompted and talking as if he was the one who’d left his friend?

Why?

The air felt heavy in his lungs, each intake a little harder to perform. His hand had automatically shut the device off it held, knowing that if he hadn’t placed it down, he would look even more obvious to the others. It was hard as it is to hide the tremors running through his body, memories he’d buried long ago resurfacing and tearing open old wounds. Those things happened long ago, each and every single one something he had tried his best to forget and never relive. It had already taken him so much effort to reach where he was these days, to not question every little thing, to believe in others and their words.

Yet everything felt like it was crumbling down, years worth of effort just turning into dust, mocking him to rebuild it all again.

He wasn’t sure he had it in himself to do so.

By the time he’d snapped back to reality, Felix was by his side, concern clearly written on the young boy’s face. Bae didn’t hesitate to plaster on a smile, hoping he would buy the fakeness of it.

“I’m fine Felix, don’t worry. Guess ‘m just a little tired from today’s practice.” - he muttered out, flashing a smile at the boy’s direction before standing up, excusing himself.

He couldn’t bear to be there anymore.

Not when those loathed voices were coming back, making him question if they would eventually leave him too, just like everyone else had done so in the past. Would they find him boring after a while, once his cold facade broke away, his loving yet scared self finally revealed to them?

He didn’t want to think about it.

The door closed with a soft click behind him, the lock shifting in place to ensure his solitude. A deep sigh left his chest as he leaned against the door, too exhausted to try and keep those loathsome thoughts at bay anymore. He didn’t have the energy for it, not when his limbs ached and joints screamed, not when his mind was already filled with worries about their next project and comeback.

This one thing was the last drop to break him, his body shaking as tears rolled down his cheeks, staining his clothes and skin. He was usually strong, always there to provide comfort for the others, but tonight, it felt impossible. As if a weight was crushing his whole existence, not allowing him to continue on his path, binding him in place like a chain secured to the depths of the ocean.

All he could do now was to sit there, face buried in his knees, hands tightly wrapped around his shaking form. A hiccup escaped through his lips, loud in the silence of his room. He tried his best to not let any sound escape him, to ride these emotions out alone, not wishing to disturb anyone, but it was useless. He could only pray that no one had heard him, that none of the boys chased after him.

His prayers were left unheard as a soft knock echoed through the space, the vibrations running down Bae’s back. He stilled, unable to even breathe from the shock, only hearing the shifting of clothes besides the loud drumming of his heart.

A few beats of silence passed before a sigh could be heard, yet there was no frustration behind it.

“Dal, baby, I know you’re in there. I can hear you. Please let me in, it hurts to know you’re hurting.” - pleaded Chan, voice so soft Bae couldn’t believe the man was talking to him.

No reply could be heard as Bae’s silent tears continued, shocking him when a loud thump could be felt from behind, the door gently rattling in place once.

“You don’t need to tell me what happened, or what’s wrong, just… know that I’m here, yeah? I’m always here if you need me, always have been. Or so I’d like to believe.” - Chan chuckled, his voice turning into a hushed whisper near the end.

Bae slowly wiped at his eyes, a soft sniffle letting Chan know the boy was still awake and listening.

“You know, I’ve always admired you. Even when we were just young trainees, hardly knowing each other. If someone had a hard day you tried your best to put your differences aside and lended them a shoulder. Even me, no matter how hard I was on you in our training.” - a soft sigh could be heard, one filled with mirth and memories.

Bae remembered those days clearly, being one of the first ones to join the group. He was standoffish and cold, often getting into arguments thanks to that. But at the end of the day, Chan always stuck to him, adamantly chipping away at the walls he had built up.

“I know you might not believe me, especially with how stubborn you are, but we care about you. We all do, me included. Your pain is our pain. And knowing that you’re on the other side of this door, suffering, it pains me. Please, Moonlight, let me in. I can’t bear to hear you cry any longer…” - the elder’s voice cracked at the end, filled to the brim with emotion and hurt.

Clothes shifted and the lock clicked, their leader not hesitating to tear the door open and scoop Bae into his arms. The younger clung to him desperately, hands looped around Chan’s neck, face buried in his chest. The waterworks never really stopped, silently flowing even while the older had been speaking.

The door slowly clicked shut, the two now laid on the soft sea of blankets and pillows.

For a while, Bae just laid there in Chan’s embrace, hiding away from the entire world in his hyung’s steady hold and gentle touches that nearly lulled him to sleep with each stroke over his hair and skin. But he couldn’t sleep, not yet, not when doubts continued plaquing his mind constantly, feeding his fears until they grew impossibly large.

A question left his lips, so quiet that not even Chan could make sense of it.

“What was it, baby? Could you repeat that for me?” - he asked, gently drawing Bae’s face away from his neck to look at him.

“You… you won’t leave me, right?”

Nothing could have prepared Chan for that question, his eyes widening in pure shock and disbelief.

It only took a second longer for his own eyes to water, those warm nebulas looking at Bae with such emotion that it nearly broke the boy.

“Of course not. I’m here to stay, now and forever.”

The two fell asleep in each others’ hold, Chan curled up around Bae as if he was trying to shield the boy from the entire world itself. And for once, Bae let himself be held, desperately clinging onto the other, as if he would disappear in the blink of an eye without any prior notice.

[angelsdxmise]

LUSCIOUS

Request: Hi! I love your writing so so much it is so good! I was wondering if you could do a bakugou x fem! Reader where the reader makes sweet treats (like cookies, brownies, stuff like that) and everyone loves them except bakugou, so she makes him a special batch that are semi-sweet (or like kinda spice idk) and he starts to develop a crush on you? If you can't it is total okay! Can't wait to read more of your work, it's fantastic!!

Contains: fluff fluff fluffff

a/n: wc is 0.9k, made this right after the pt2 for orphic, and thank you so much for this request! Enjoy 💕

“Guess what I’ve got!”

Your fellow classmates rushed into the kitchen at the sound of your voice. You baked another tray of cookies which many of them drooled over. 

Many except Bakugou. Unfortunately, he didn’t care for your sweet treats and often walked right past them. Anytime you made an effort to give him some, he’d deny it and forcefully shove it back into your hands. 

You sighed as you didn’t catch sight of Bakugou anywhere within the crowd, instead, he had stayed seated on the couch. Kirishima did make an effort to get him to try some, but he yelled in his face saying, “I don’t like that sweet shit!”

Oh, right. He doesn’t like sweets. You focused back on your friends as Sato tasted one, praising you for your baking skills. You left the tray with them as you took one and headed back to your dorm. 

You did love baking a lot, and everyone seemed to love what you managed to stir up. It struck confusion in you when Bakugou didn’t even want to taste it. Mina did always yell about how it was sugary and delicious, so maybe he doesn’t like overly sweet pastries?

You got the idea to ask Kirishima since he was the closest out of everyone to Bakugou.

As it got later into the night, you hopped up off your bed and made your way to Kirishima’s dorm. A yawn left you as you stepped out of the elevator. Eventually, you made it and you raised your fist to the door, gently knocking.

It didn’t take long for him to open the door. He peeked through the crack before opening it, his eyebrows raised in a sort of surprise. “Hey, L/n! Didn’t expect you to be here. Did you need something?” He questioned as his head tilted down quite a bit to look at you.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind! I see you always take a liking to any pastry I bring down, but I can’t help but notice that Bakugou never does. I was wondering if you knew why that is?” You reasoned, and he seemed to be in thought as he placed a hand on his hip. 

“I know Bakugou does enjoy a lot of spicy food. He's never really been spotted eating sweets. Sorry, L/n.” He sighed for you, as you blinked in disappointment. “That’s alright, thanks Kirishima!” You gave him a wave as you walked off, and he returned it as he was closing his door.

Kirishima had done just enough for you as by the time you reached your dorm, you knew exactly what to make him. You had some leftover ginger and frosting, so why not just add a little more extra than what a normal person would be able to call enjoyable.

By the time you finished, you really didn’t want to taste the cookies as if they were a success, your head would blow off at the spice rate. But again, anything for someone to have a delicious pastry.

You made sure to have two water bottles on standby as you carefully picked up the ginger cookie, letting out a short breath in preparation. “I can do this.. I can do this..” You muttered affirmations to yourself.

You carefully took a small bite of the cookie, and as soon as you began to chew it a tear came trailing down your cheek as you spit it out. “This is definitely ready!” You cried out as you chugged the water bottles, one after another.

A grin didn’t leave your face not once since you woke up. You wrapped the cookies in a dark red baggie and made your way to class. As soon as you opened the door you let out a sigh of relief that Bakugou wasn’t here yet. 

You quickly made your way over and placed the baggie on his desk. “Hey, what’s that?” Kaminari asks from behind you, scaring you a little. “Oh, I’m glad you asked! I made special cookies for Bakugou since he never took from my usual pastries I bake for you guys.” You explained, and Kaminari seemed to get envious.

He sighed and dramatically rested his cheek against his palm, “Why don’t I get special cookies..” You chuckled as he came in, and immediately set his eyes on you. Kaminari shivered as he made his way over. “What the hell is this?”

He picked up the baggie and opened it, “I don’t want your stupid cookies.” He sneered at you which emitted a frown. “Come on, please just try them! I’ll never make any cookies ever again if you don’t like them.” You heard gasps from behind you as Mina and Kaminari were watching with intent, seemingly begging Bakugou to at least pretend to enjoy them.

He slumped into his seat. “Whatever,” He grabbed a cookie and put it in his mouth, reluctantly taking a small bite. His eyebrows rose as he chewed, and he took another bite. This made you beam with happiness. He totally likes them!

“Tsk, not half-bad extra,” he praised, “Make some more later, four isn’t enough,” he demanded as he shoved the last cookies in his mouth. You were positive he loved them since he scarfed down four cookies in nearly fifteen seconds.

Mina and Kaminari gave each other a high five while thanking Bakugou for liking the cookies, and scolded you a little for your proposition. You giggled and turned back to Bakugou. “Sure, I’ll make you some more tonight!” You exclaimed as you walked away to your seat.

As Aizawa came in to begin teaching, Bakugou’s face was getting warmer and warmer as he thought about what happened. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t get to see any more reactions from him.

The only person who noticed was Kirishima, and he assumed your cookies were a success from the blush on Bakugou’s ears and cheeks. He made a mental note to tease him later.

pls dont post anywhere w/out my permission ❤️