#he might have started out displeased

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids (pt.2)

[<- part 1]

"Oh, yeah," John jerks his head up like he just remembered the fact people are supposed to have names at all. He gestures to the kids, pointing to each of them as he introduces, "Daniel, Daniel, and Danielle."

This time, all three kids flip him off simultaneously. Bruce clears his throat, trying to figure out if Constantine is messing with him and, if so, in which parts. Since, so far, everything the man has said sounds like a poor attempt at pulling his leg.

"I don't think they like those," he cautiously says, and the kids whip their heads at him, nodding furiously. Bruce can't help but be just a little enamored with the way they behave.

"Of, sod off, at this point I don't care what they like," John straightens up with a dismissive, albeit weak, wave of his hands, and rubs his face, "They are menaces. Sometimes by accident, but mostly on purpose. Their grandfather thought it would be easier to handle them if they were not teenagers, and while I agreed with his reasoning at the time, I-" he glances at the kids, who all have displeased grimaces of various levels on their faces, "I have been made to reconsider. I swear that ancient bitch is laughing his ass off wherever he is now."

The kids suddenly grin. They are not very friendly, nor polite smiles - if anything, they look a bit nightmarish. An old grandfather's clock in his study makes a very loud ticking noise.

"See?" John whips his head to look at said clock, the expression on his face bordering on insane. His eye twitches.

If Bruce doesn't do anything now, he might become one of the very few people who managed to witness John Constantine, the Laughing Magician, have a meltdown. So he sighs and decides to solve the problems one at a time.

Which means that no matter how alarmed or suspicious he is, his first move would not be to interrogate either the man or the kids.

"You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, I trust you can find it on your own," he tells John, almost softly, as he catches the girl from slipping away from his lap, "Is there anything I need to know about children before you fall unconscious?"

John slumps with relief, so obviously that Bruce almost smiles. Hardships of raising - or, watching, for that matter - kids, he understands.

"Yes," he breathes out with an air of exhilaration and turns to the kids again, pointing to the middle child, "Danny is the original. He is from this dimension and timeline, that is. Dan," he turns his finger to the older boy, "is in the wrong timeline, he's Danny's future evil self redeemed into older bratty brother. Dani," he switches to the girl, "is Danny's clone, made by his arch-nemesis of a godfather. If she starts melting at any point, wake me up immediately. If any of them start floating, sprouting tentacles, speaking to walls in static, or glowing, don't."

Bruce looks down to the kids. So, definitely metas, that would explain the government trying to get them... Or, no, it wouldn't because he is fairly certain no government is going to blatantly ignore the Meta Protection Acts.

"Don't let them raise the dead, and if you give them food, make sure it doesn't have a face. If you find more than three of them, it means one of them has duplicated, don't worry, they will absorb it back later. Absolutely don't let them touch any guns," Constantine is backing down to the door as he speaks, his gaze flickering from the kids to Bruce and back every second. Like he is leaving a ticking bomb in Bruce's lap, and not three children. "Danny is, comparatively, the most responsible one, the other two are up for any dubious trouble they can get to at any moment. Oh, and their memories are wonky because of de-aging, they remember some things but not others, so if they say something particularly disturbing, it's most likely some random piece of knowledge they managed to keep."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. He did get the part about the kids being, well, abnormal in the matters of their origins, but the disjointed set of rules and advices doesn't help as much as Constantine probably thinks it does.

"Allergies, preferences, ages they were before?" He tries to get at least some more info down before John disappears through the door. Actually, maybe he should send someone to handcuff the man to the bed lest he disappears completely.

"None, but don't let them eat cutlery. Danny likes space, Dani has a thing for exploring, and Dan likes violence." The older kid stirs in Bruce's lap and says something in the direction of Constantine. No sound comes out, but the man seems to get what he's trying to say anyway, "Okay, yes, that was rude of me, sorry. Dan likes... exercise," he ends up with, and that placate the boy enough to slump down and cross his arms. John sighs, "They were seventeen, fourteen, and twenty respectively. Now," he snaps his fingers, and suddenly Bruce can hear the girl - Dani - humming a tune under her breath. So, he lifted the silence spell, it seems.

"Good fucking luck," John wishes to Bruce, earnestly, and all but vanishes away.

Bruce sighs and looks down to the kids.

"Are you hungry?" He tries, and all eyes are on him at once, attentive and unblinking.

"Fruitloops," Danny says, and while Bruce is positive that's the name for a cereal, he gets a feeling that's not what the kid meant.

[seasidefallenangel]

gimme, gimme, gimme a man

calling bllk boys your husband while you're still dating ft. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

notes: fluff, banter, down bad loverboys, use of "wife" in sae's but gn other than that, part 2 here

༄ isagi: “... i’ll grab a chocolate shake, and my husband’s gonna get the vanilla.”

✣ freezes on the spot and stares at you with wide eyes. him? husband? you wanna marry him? he was hoping you were in the long haul the same way he was, but hearing those words from your mouth made him even giddier than he assumed he’d be. imagine when you two actually get married? he’ll be in the trenches.

⁀➷  “did you mean that?” he asks when the worker closes the window while you wait for your order. you can practically see the tail wagging behind him as he beams at you with those sparkling blue eyes. when you give a nod and a small smile, he has to stop himself from blowing up with excitement. instead, he kisses your forehead and murmurs, “i can’t wait to marry you one day.”

༄ nagi:

“oh, that copy in the corner! my husband’s been looking all over for it.”

✣ eternal soldier in the idgaf war. you can’t even tell if he heard you because his facial expression doesn’t budge in the slightest. he’s still tap-tapping away at his phone while the shop employee grabs the game case and hands it to you. it’s only once you’ve paid and left the store that he finally puts his phone down and rests his head on your shoulder from behind, staring up at you with those big, brown puppy eyes.

⁀➷ “‘husband’”? he asked softly, curious but not displeased. you nod sheepishly, admitting it just sort of came out before you had a chance to think. he hums softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and snuggling into your neck. cute as it is, you’re still very much in public, and he’s not exactly light. when you ask him to get off, his face shifts into a pout and he mumbles, “can’t believe i’m gonna marry someone so mean.” despite his attitude, this’ll be lingering on his mind for awhile.

༄ rin:

“excuse me? my husband wanted to kn-” “boyfriend.”

✣ is having absolutely none of it. he swears his blood pressure has gotten concerningly high since he started dating you and dealing with all your stupid pranks. it seems like he’s annoyed since he immediately interjected, but it’s more the opposite. he knows he wants to marry you, but do you really think he’s worth the trouble? looking that far into the future worries him, but he’d never let you know that. ⁀➷ a pair of lithe fingers squeezes your cheeks after rin pulls you away from the employee with a deadpan expression. he pulls at your cheeks with narrow eyes, asking you, “what the hell was that about? husband? are you stupid or something?” your lower lip juts out as you express to him that you really do want to marry him someday, and just wanted to hear how it sounded coming from your mouth. he knows you’re playing him as you try not to grin, but the confession is rather cute. he lets it slide with an “idiot” under his breath, and you decide not to mention the slight blush on his cheeks and the fact he has your hand in a vice grip as you walk out of the store.

༄ sae:

“oi. my wife asked for a medium. remake it.”

✣ beats you to the punch. he’s always one step ahead in every aspect of your relationship, but this is too much. how on earth did he know that you were gonna call him your husband to see his reaction? well - he didn’t. he just refers to you as his wife internally most of the time, and occasionally when he’s out buying gifts and tells the employee who he’s buying it for. after all, you’ll be his wife one day. might as well start early.

⁀➷ sae glances down at you, raising an eyebrow at your disgruntled expression. when you bemoan that he “stole your thunder,” he flicks you on the forehead before wrapping an arm around your waist. his lips brush against your ear, making you shiver while he speaks, “you do know that you being my wife also means i’m your husband, dumbass. does it matter who said what?” when you sputter and try to pull out the fact he hasn’t even proposed yet, he tugs you closer, looking irritated that you’d even bring up something so simple. it’s a cold day in hell before anyone else gets the chance, and he informs you as such, saying, “because none of the diamonds i’ve found are big enough,” leaving you speechless while he pretends like nothing happened. you’ll never win against him - ever.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Look at Me Like That Again

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Waitress!Reader

Summary: Bucky desperately needs your attention while you’re on shift in his bar.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: so much longing; Bucky is a man in love; mild alcohol use; bar setting; Bucky being a dramatic kicked puppy

Author’s Note: Oh I enjoyed writing this so much. Thank you for the idea, my lovely!! I hope you like what I made of your cute little prompt ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

It’s the fifteenth time you've passed him.

Fifteen.

And Bucky Barnes is counting.

Because you don’t look at him when you pass.

And it’s been over an hour since you walked in wearing that stupid little apron that hugs your waist and the shirt he hates because it’s too tight and too low and everyone looks at you too long when you wear it. Everyone except him, of course.

Bucky doesn’t look.

He watches.

There’s a difference, you see.

You breeze through the bar as though you’ve got the whole damn place in your pocket, and maybe you do. These guys love you. They light up when you laugh, when you lean in to hear them over the music, when you call them hon in that voice soft enough to sew people back together.

You’re the only brightness in this place and you don’t even know it.

Your hair is already starting to come loose. You are balancing three empty glasses in one hand and a notepad in the other, reciting someone’s order from memory while still smiling, still glowing.

Bucky is leaned up against the bar like a damn decoration. He’s been standing here, useless, for at least twenty minutes. Arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes strained on your every step. You haven’t spared him so much as a glance since the jukebox changed songs, now crooning some worn-out rock ballad from two decades ago. Since the light shifted and the golden hour crawled in through the windows as if it was chasing you.

God, you look good in gold.

He doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He’s cleaned the same spot three times. Cleaned the same glass four times before he realized he wasn’t even holding it anymore. He doesn’t even drink soda but the can of Coke next to him has been sweating beside his hand for half an hour. Warm now. Forgotten.

Just like him apparently.

You walk by. Don’t see him. Or maybe you do - but you don’t stop. Don’t smile just for him.

He can’t have that.

Not when you just smiled for that asshole in booth seven who licked his lips when you placed his beer.

He doesn’t know what his expression might look to others but he doesn’t care. He is sincerely displeased.

Sixteenth time. You float past, apron flaring, pen poised, eyes stitched to your tray or the screen or the sticky table by the window, but it’s never him.

He doesn’t like that. At all. He needs your attention, and he needs it now.

So when you swerve past again, too busy balancing an order for the back booth where one of his patrons is dramatically retelling some story to the others like he isn’t loud enough for the whole bar to hear, Bucky does what any reasonable man would do.

He pokes you. Right in the side.

You jolt mid-step, the drinks on your tray tilting before you balance them out. “Bucky.”

But he doesn’t hear the warning edge in your tone. Because your eyes meet his and suddenly everything inside him goes very, very quiet.

“I've been standin’ here,” he says, calm as ever, trying to sound like someone who isn’t folding from the inside out. “Watching you walk past me like I’m invisible. That’s cruel, sweetheart. Cold-blooded.”

You roll your eyes, though there is amusement tugging at your mouth. “You’re not invisible.”

“Oh, good,” he drawls, leaning forward, eyes shining beneath dark lashes. “Then I don’t have to haunt the place. Thought maybe I died and no one told me.”

You sigh. “You’re a child.”

“You’re the one ignoring me in my own damn bar.”

“I’m working, Barnes,” you emphasize.

He shrugs, a slow, unapologetic shift of his shoulders. “And I’m just standin’ here. Bein’ patient. Watching you ignore me in new and creative ways.”

You step back, turn, face him fully this time. He meets your gaze like he’s been waiting for it all night. Maybe all week. Maybe always.

You stare at him as though he’s something between a hurricane warning and a kicked puppy at your feet.

“You poked me,” you deadpan.

“Did,” he says, grinning. Not even a little sorry. “Would’ve waved, but my hand’s all tired from waiting.”

You huff. But it’s not annoyance. It’s the laugh you’re trying not to give him. The soft kind. The one that lives behind your teeth when he says dumb things with that mouth that should know better.

His chest warms. Truly warms. As though someone struck a match behind his ribs and the light spills into his bloodstream.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you, Bucky. But I do have work to do, alright? So you’ll have to excuse me.” You don’t look that apologetic either when you turn around again and trek down the bar to the booth where people are waiting for you.

But he’s waiting for you too. Tragically so. He doesn’t take his eyes off you when you place the drinks, when the guys thank you, when you smile that smile back, when you turn and walk away, when you are about to pass him again.

Poke.

You sigh as if you expected it.

He leans in slightly, as if he could soak in your heat and keep it. But your smell already makes him dizzy. “I’m not gonna stop poking you until you give me some attention, doll.”

You stare at him as if you want to throw a napkin at his face. Or kiss him. He prefers the latter. Although the former surely would be a privilege since it’s you throwing it.

“I do give you attention, Barnes. I’m literally talking to you right now,” you counter, slightly exasperated, but there is that fond smile forming, you just don’t let it out fully.

But it still does things to him. Hits his heart first, then spreads - to his cheeks, his fingertips, down his spine. That smile is a gift, a spark. It makes him foolish. Hopeful. It makes him dream in full color.

Bucky taps the counter, shaking his head. “You know you’ve walked by eighteen times now?”

“Eighteen?”

“Eighteen. I counted. Steve’s my witness.”

You glance behind the bar. Steve’s got two glasses in his hands and is pretending not to watch. Is pretending not to smirk.

There’s a pause. You’re still close enough to touch. The fabric of your shirt brushes his arm when you move. You smell like citrus and cinnamon gum and whatever soap you use that’s probably way too fancy for a dive like this.

But you don’t belong in places that are easy.

“You’ve been runnin’ around like you’re holding the ceiling up,” he says quietly, not even meaning to. “Just wanted to remind you I’m still here.”

And for a breath - a half-second crack in the wall you’re keeping up - you look at him. Really at him. He might even believe you see the thing he’s too afraid to name, but you don’t run from it.

“I know, Buck,” you say, smiling sweetly. Like a secret sunrise just for him.

And his body shuts down. Doesn’t even let him take in some air. Who needs that anyway when he’s got you?

Your eyes catch and hold. The noise of the bar slips sideways. Everything tilts.

Then someone calls out your name - loud, without the care he uses when saying your name, just another order. You turn with a smile already forming on your lips, moving back into your orbit, back into theirs.

But before you go, you look at him over your shoulder. Just for a second. Just long enough to ruin him for the rest of the night.

He watches you walk seven steps to the bar's edge.

He grins. Leans back. Taps his boot against the counter.

That’s alright, baby.

He’ll be here waiting.

Poking.

Always.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I was wondering if you could write something where reader is in the hospital for something and maybe another doctor or nurse doesn’t realize she’s remus’s gf and is being rude to her. And doctor!remus overhears and saves the day lol<3

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: reader who menstruates, mention (not really description) of severe period pains, healthcare gaslighting

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 632 words

“Have you tried taking pain medications like ibuprofen?” 

You clench your jaw. “Yes, I have.” 

“And how long has your period lasted?” 

“It started on Tuesday.” 

The nurse looks up from his chart, unimpressed. “So it’s only been a few days.” 

“Yes, but the pain started before that. And this has been happening for—” 

“Are you aware that many women experience period pains before the start of their periods?” 

Your skin feels hot. Frustrated tears threaten to clog your throat, and you fight the urge to bend over to relieve some of the pain in your abdomen. “Yes. I know that.” 

“One a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” 

“Eight.” Your voice nearly breaks. 

Your nurse pushes out a sigh. “I’m sorry to tell you, but that’s not uncommon either.” He sets down his chart, leveling with you. “Listen, we treat a lot of really sick and hurting people here. We have lots of patients to get to today, so if you think what you’re experiencing could be normal period pain—”

“Excuse me?” The nurse falls silent as Remus pulls aside the curtain, stepping into your little room. You have to shove down the urge to cry just for seeing him. He looks between the two of you, seemingly confused but obviously displeased. “What’s going on?” 

“Hi,” you offer meekly.

Your nurse turns to Remus with a long-suffering look that’s nearly conspiratorial as well. It’s clear he expects to be agreed with. “Doctor Lupin, sorry to waste your time. You’re welcome to check her out, but after an initial interview we’re fairly certain she’s experiencing regular menstrual cramps.” 

Your face flames at his use of we. You hadn’t agreed to any of that. 

“It’s not a waste,” Remus says, clipped. “I asked her to come here, because her menstrual cramps are abnormally severe and prolonged, and I’ve already ordered an ultrasound to find out why. Are you in the habit of deterring our patients from seeking care?” 

Your boyfriend’s tone grows increasingly agitated as he speaks, and you watch with a guilty sort of satisfaction as the blood drains from the nurse’s face. 

When he offers up no answer, Remus’ expression hardens. “I’ve got it from here. Find me later, please.” 

You barely get to see your nurse leave. Remus steps closer to you, eclipsing your view, the anger in your boyfriend’s expression melding into concern.

“Hi, honey.” His hand wraps around your arm. “How is it today?” 

You feel your face crumple under his caring gaze. “A little better,” you manage. 

Remus makes a sympathetic sound, thumb sweeping gently over your skin. “Still nauseous?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did he ask you to rate your pain?” 

“Mhm.” 

“And what did you say?” 

You shrug. You’re never sure how accurate you are with these scales. “I said an eight. It might be a seven, though, I just” —your voice cracks— “wanted him to believe me.” 

 “Oh, baby.” Remus wraps you up in a hug, cupping your head to his chest. “I’m sorry he treated you that way, sweetheart. It was completely out of order. I’m not going to let it happen to anyone else, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say tightly. “I’m fine, and it’s not your fault.” 

Remus makes a tsking sound like he doesn’t quite agree. “Why didn’t you tell him you were with me?”

You shrug, a bit bashful. “I didn’t want to, like, name drop you.” 

Remus smiles, shaking his head in astoundment. “You’re absurd.” He gives your cheek a loving hold. His eyes lock on yours, steady and earnest. “We’re going to sort this, alright?”

“Oh, don’t involve me, please. Talk to him after I’m gone.” 

“I mean your cramps,” Remus laughs. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “But yes, after you’re gone.”

[dark-fics-4-you]

Dinner Party

Inspired by @thehydraethereal ‘s prompts

Warnings: abusive relationship, physical abuse, emotional abuse, unwanted kissing, choking, slapping, alcohol, drug use

You didn’t have to look over at your boyfriend to know that he was displeased, you could feel his frustration emanating off of him in waves.

Across from you, Topper was jabbering away about some Kook vs Pogue nonsense with Kelce; neither Rafe nor you were listening to them. You looked down at your plate of barely touched food and sighed.

To say that you and Rafe had gotten into a fight earlier would have been a gross understatement; just 3 hours ago Rafe was berating you at the top of his lungs when you showed him your first outfit choice for the dinner tonight.

“Are you trying to fucking embarrass me? In front of my friends, in front of my dad?” He seethed, inching closer to you as you backed away.

“No Rafe, I-"

“You already know that he doesn’t like you, Y/N. I don’t know what in your dumb slut brain would make you think that dressing like that would be okay, but it’s not.” He crowded your space, grabbing at the fabric of your dress, and you squirmed in his grasp.

The truth was, this had absolutely nothing to do with what you were wearing, and you both knew it. Too many stressful days at work recently meant that Rafe had been coming home itching to release his pent up frustration, which usually meant picking fights with you.

“You’re not coming to this dinner half naked, either change clothes or you can stay at home.” His lip curled as he glared down at you, both hands firmly gripping your arms to keep you from pushing at his chest.

Tears were already welling in your eyes from his tight grip and harsh words, and as you struggled to free yourself from his hold, he pushed you too hard, knocking you off balance.

You yelped as you hit the floor, your cheek slamming against the hardwood painfully. For a moment you were too dazed to move, and your head ached as you numbly sat up and gingerly touched your cheek, cringing when your warm skin throbbed in pain.

“Do you know what Ward said to me after our last dinner together, huh? Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you,” you whimpered when your boyfriend’s fingers locked on your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“He told me he couldn’t figure out why I was spending so much time with a ‘piece of Pogue trash.’”

You swallowed hard, uncomfortable under his cruel glare; and the frustration and shame bubbling up in your gut made you feel sick. You couldn’t stop the frown that tugged at your lips or the tears that were now sliding down your cheeks.

“Ward thinks you’re a gold digging slut and that you’re in over your head,” he rolled his eyes as he spoke, but you knew that some part of him did care about what his father thought; and the idea that Rafe might think those things about you too cut you deeper than you expected.

“I know that you’re not,” he added. “but it’s about the way it looks, Y/N, you know that.”

Rafe eyed your cheek, bringing his hand up to touch the tender skin and you cringed, trying to pull away from him, but your boyfriend held you in place, softly stroking your puffy cheek, before placing a delicate kiss there.

Sometimes the way his moods would switch so fast made your head spin, and trying to keep up only led you to be more confused.

“I’m sorry, I… got a little rough. I’ll start a warm bath, and I’ll get your outfit ready for you, okay?” His voice was softer now, gentle even, “Want you to have plenty of time to make sure your makeup is perfect, baby.”

“Y/N, have you been making any more progress with your internship?”

Ward’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and back into the present. You forced a smile as you turned to meet his eyes.

“Oh, yes, I actually just got assigned a new project and my company told me they’re planning on assigning me more leadership roles,” you beamed, finally happy to have something to brag about to Rafe’s father.

Your confidence was quickly shot down however with his next question.

“And are they going to start paying you?”

You could hear the unsaid part loud and clear, ‘so you can finally stop living off of my son’s dime?’

“Um, well,” you stuttered. “Technically it’s still an unpaid position, but this is a really good job for my subject field, a-and the experience will look really good on my resume. Most of the people in my classes are also in unpaid internships.”

Ward gave you a tight grin, one you knew was insincere and you tried not to feel disappointed by his response, but when you glanced over at Rafe, you knew you had only annoyed him more. Your heart sunk, and your mind raced to think of something to say to fix the situation.

“Isn’t Rafe starting a new project soon though?”

Rafe coughed, choking on his drink before clearing his throat and turning to look at you, “nah, Y/N, I think you’re remembering a past project.”

“What are you talking about Y/N?” Ward asked, and you felt your mouth go dry as you looked between him and your boyfriend.

Rafe’s face was even as he took a sip of his jack and coke, but you couldn’t miss the anger in his eyes, and you swallowed before shifting your gaze to Ward.

“N-nothing. Rafe’s right, I was confused. That was what he was working on last summer.” You covered for him quickly, stomach twisting when you glanced back over at your boyfriend.

Now the memory returned to you in full, Rafe telling you over a shared blunt in his hazy room about his plans to score a deal so big he’d never have to work again. The only problem was you’d forgotten one detail.

“Ward can’t know,” he passed you the blunt after ashing it into the tray on the bedside table.

“What, why?” You took a hit, inhaling the smoke deep into your lungs before handing it back to Rafe.

He didn’t answer, taking a long drag of the blunt and then lazily blowing the smoke up at the ceiling.

“He’d freak out if he knew the details, you would too,” he chuckled. “So don’t ask about it, and don’t mention anything to him.”

You pursed your lips, disappointed in the lack of details, but you understood and you had no choice but to trust Rafe, so you didn’t press further.

Ward accepted your excuse, and the conversation moved on to other topics, but Rafe was still simmering with barely disguised anger, and you didn’t miss the fact that he was on his fifth drink of the night.

The dinner was beginning to wind down, waiters soon appearing to remove the empty plates from the table before bringing out desserts. You picked at the slice of pie in front of you, too nervous to eat much of it at all.

Sensing your discomfort and still aiming to pass the two of you off as a normal couple, Rafe leaned in to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and that was when you made your worst mistake of the night.

His finger brushed your sore cheek and instead of leaning into his touch, you flinched, sharply inhaling through your nose as you pulled away from him. Your heart was pounding, pulling you back to earlier that night and you froze in place before suddenly remembering where you were.

To you, the moment felt agonizingly long, though it couldn’t have lasted more than a second. Unfortunately, your reaction didn’t go unnoticed.

“What the hell?”

You turned towards Sarah, forcing a fake smile onto your face as you did. “What?”

Rafe’s presence behind you had you on high alert, desperate to salvage this dinner before it collapsed into disaster, and the way he tensed beside you made your pulse pick up pace.

“What was that?” Sarah asked you before shooting a harsh glare towards her brother.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you chuckled nervously, playing dumb and hoping she would just drop it.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked between you and Rafe, and you silently prayed that your makeup was still completely covering your bruise from earlier.

“You practically jumped out of your chair when Rafe touched you,” she shot back, catching Ward’s attention now.

Topper and Kelce eyed Rafe knowingly, silent smirks growing as they watched from across the table.

You looked between Sarah’s eyes and Ward’s, mouth dry as they stared you down, “I- I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

“Is it a crime to surprise your girlfriend?” Rafe challenged with a chuckle, possessively wrapping one arm around your waist and staring Sarah down.

She was silent for a few moments, her gaze flicking between you and Rafe suspiciously.

“I’m fine,” you reassured her with a small smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes.

By the time Rafe was finally able to pull the two of you away from the table, it was late, and you said your goodbyes quickly, trying to ignore the way Sarah’s gaze followed you on the way out.

As soon as the two of you exited the restaurant, his grip on your wrist was firm, tugging you towards the back of the parking lot and ignoring your protests.

“Rafe- that hurts-”

“You think I care?” He sneered, roughly pushing you up against the door of his truck. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You cringed at his harsh words, eyes low to the ground as he glared down at you. The pit that had been growing in your stomach all dinner felt large enough to swallow you whole.

“Why the fuck would you tell Ward about the deal I’m working on?” His large hand came to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his angry eyes.

“I-” your voice cracked, warm tears misting up your eyes. “I just forgot, Rafe, I’m sorry.”

“You forgot?” He repeated slowly, like you were stupid, and you could feel your throat getting tighter with anxiety. “Nah, that’s the problem with you, Y/N. You didn’t forget, you never fucking listen!”

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to-”

You heard the ringing in your ears before you felt the sting, and it wasn’t until Rafe’s fingers were threading into your hair to pull you upright again that you realized he had hit you.

Rafe forced your head back against the car door, roughly tugging at your hair to keep you in place.

“You fucking embarrassed me in front of my dad and friends ‘cuz you just couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hissed, face so close to yours you could smell the whiskey on his breath. “Sounds like someone forgot her place.”

You whimpered when he tugged your hair again, tears staining your cheeks as he glared down at you.

Rafe’s hand came to your sore cheek, stroking your tender skin before mockingly tapping the soft flesh, “see how quiet you can be after I slap you around?”

“Y/N?”

The sound of Sarah’s voice on the other side of Rafe’s truck made you freeze, and your boyfriend immediately released his hold on you, stepping back as you quickly reached up to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“Yeah?” You asked as you turned to see her, worried that your cheek might be inflamed again after the hit Rafe just dealt you.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course she is.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Rafe.” Sarah snapped, scowling at her brother before turning her attention back to you. “I thought I heard you two fighting.”

“We’re fine, I’m fine,” you lied, plastering on another fake smile. “Just having a discussion, that’s all.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she looked at you and then Rafe.

“You’re sure?”

You paused for just a moment before nodding.

“I just wanted to check in on you and make sure you were okay before-”

“God Sarah, do I have to shove my tongue down her throat for you to take the hint? She’s fine,” Rafe rolled his eyes at his sister, waving her off with one hand before turning his attention back to you, “we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sarah scoffed, clearly wanting to ask you more questions, but when Rafe ignored her only to push you back against his truck and start kissing you, she let out a groan of revulsion before turning to leave.

You barely heard her say goodbye, too distracted by the feel of your boyfriend’s lips moving against yours and his tongue sliding into your mouth. Your stomach churned as he kissed you, a horrible and confusing mixture of desire and disgust mingling in your gut.

Rafe knew how much you loathed PDA, and you had no doubt this just another way for him to exercise his control over you and punish you for embarrassing him at the dinner. After all, this wasn’t even the first time he’d pulled a stunt like this. It was starting to become a habit.

When his hand circled around your throat, you gasped, and he deepened the kiss, devouring your lips as he held you in place. Rafe’s grip tightened, cutting off your airway even harder now, and you struggled against the tight hold he had on your neck and wrist.

He finally pulled away after what felt like an eternity, and you doubled over, falling to your knees as you gasped for breath and clutched your sensitive throat.

Your boyfriend sneered down at you, enjoying the fear in your eyes when you looked up at his looming figure.

“This had better be the last time something like that happens, Y/N, do you understand me?”

You nodded, sniffling and blinking fresh tears from your eyes as you tried to catch your breath.

“I don’t need Sarah or Ward sticking their noses into our relationship.” Rafe seethed, leaning down to pull you to your feet. His hands gripped your shoulders hard, fingertips digging into your sensitive skin, eliciting another pathetic whimper.

You looked deeply into your boyfriend’s eyes, trying to find any glimpse of softness or remorse for his actions, but instead you were only met with hard, cold blue.

"Don’t ever flinch like that again in public, or I’ll give you a real reason to."

[luveline]

Hi love your work. I was wondering if you could do a role reversal of the bombshell!reader under anesthesia? One where Aaron woke up and has forgotten he's married to reader so is shocked at her affection (not in a bad way), he just can't believe this beautiful woman is flirting with snd comforting him?

thank you for requesting! fem

Aaron is woken by a soft, displeased hum. 

He pries sticky eyes apart to peek at the source, a woman his junior with a tray table wheeled in front of her. You have neat hands, clipped nails painted softest pink, a ring on your marriage finger, and a little pearl necklace that’s fallen free of your collar to swing as you pen a letter. No, not a letter. A case file. 

You’re a police officer? 

He turns the other way, hoping for a more familiar face, but the only inhabitants of the room are you, him, and his pounding headache. A groan slips past his lips unbidden, Aaron watching in real time as you look up like he’s shocked you. You turn sympathetic and softer, somehow, your face plucking a weird string in his chest. It’s almost like deja vu, but Aaron would remember being looked at like this. 

“You okay?” you ask quietly. 

He clears his throat. “What happened?” he asks hoarsely. Clearing his throat a second time proves more successful. “What happened?” 

“You were struck hard in the back of the head with a rifle. A few times, actually. Luckily nothing broke, but you have a cut and a bruise like nobody’s business. Try not to touch.” 

“What about the team?” 

He realises with a start that he can’t remember who he means. Were the team actually with him? Dave had been there, right? Derek? 

“Reid sprained his wrist. Everyone else is fine.” 

Reid, you said, and not Dr. Reid. Aaron frowns deeply, the headache a full, eye-deep pain that worsens when he props himself up on his elbows. 

You watch him carefully. After a moment, you push the table away from you and get up, turning to sit on his bed. He doesn’t let his eyes widen, not even as you place your hand on his stomach, imploring in your gentleness, leaning in to see him better. In that moment, you might be the most beautiful woman Aaron has ever seen; his heart does a great whirl, picking up its pace. He has just enough capacity to recognise how lucky he is to be detached from any observational tech. 

“What’s worrying you, Aaron?” you ask, thumb rubbing a line into the skin just below his stomach. A butterfly like a hawk beats behind your touch. “You have that strange pinch between your eyebrows.” You draw a line up his stomach, showing him how they’re pulled up. He must look near tears as you go. “You only get that when you’re scared, but everyone’s fine, I promise.” 

He must know you. You clearly know him, your tone alone settling his heart while his mind races. 

“You won’t be out of the field long, and you know I can do it for you while you’re gone. I’m capable,” you say. 

“You are,” he says. He’s telling the truth, though he doesn’t know how. 

You shuffle further up the bed. Aaron sits properly, forcing your hand to fall. You clasp his thigh on instinct, and that tumultuous zing of deja vu washes over him again. 

“You have the worst luck, handsome,” you murmur, rubbing at his leg, soothing him without thinking. 

“I…” He trails off as he catches sight of your wedding band. Silver-gold, a pear-shaped 3.00ct diamond. He chose it on a whim. Aaron nearly swallows his own tongue as he looks up, the memory of it not quite connecting to you. You. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You’re being so quiet,” he asks. 

“Well, you gave me a bad scare,” you say, leaning in further, unafraid to breathe his air. “I thought I lost you. It was terrifying.” 

The breathlessness in your confession is a barb. He grabs your hand where it lays and squeezes accordingly. “That won’t happen,” he promises. 

You turn your hand into his, slotting your fingers together deftly. “Do you remember me now, Hotchner?” you ask. 

He looks you straight in the eye. He doesn’t remember you, not really. But he remembers the size of your fingers threaded through his, and he remembers how nervous he’d tried not to be when he bought that ring, and he remembers your hand warming his thigh in the car every morning. 

“Almost,” he says. His breath catches. “You’re beautiful,” he says. 

“You said something similar the first time you woke up. I blamed the morphine for your puppy-eyes, but…” You smile at him fondly. “I don’t think you’re drugged enough to say it and not mean it, now.” 

“I mean it,” he says, nodding. “Of course I mean it.”

“I know.” You kiss his cheek. 

“Will you tell me your name?” he asks. 

You do, and Aaron falls in love with you all over again. 

[girl-lostconnection]

Komodo dragons thrive on hierarchy and you are starting to push it. Thin ice there.

Oh? 👀

Continuation to this

@nightunite friend, come eat. Also shout out to them for the idea of Reader not kissing John and using his beard as “seal kiss” to get information instead

John is not amused with how fast you get the ground in his team. John is even less amused with how quickly you manage to wrap all his men around your finger and never think to ask yourself whether it’s a wise move.

Almost like you don’t fucking care what he think about you or your methods, almost like you have no insecurities or cracks he can get a claw in and move around until doors to your head get off the hinges.

John doesn’t like it.

You are seemingly everywhere and all at once — you lunch with Kyle and you train with Johnny and you shower with Simon and you shoot with Kyle and you work with Johnny and you train rookies with Simon and you chat with Kyle and you groom Johnny and you kiss Simon—

You don’t seem to have place for one more person.

You don’t even seem to think about fitting in one more person, like John isn’t even the fucking captain of his TaskForce anymore. Fucking hell.

John furrows his brows at you murmuring something in Kyle’s ear which leaves him dazed and a little lovestruck, his eyes so sharp you could cut to the bone, his eyes so hungry Price would start worrying whether or not Garrick is going to eat you alive.

But seems like for now Kyle only wants to eat you out.

And judging by the looks of it, you have yet to give in — teasing his sergeant like it’s your job, sliding the tips of your fingers between his shoulder blades and offering to rub his aching back after day full of drills.

Kyle preens and shows off, Kyle smiles at you and it would have been fucking deadly if he didn’t like you this much.

Kyle doesn’t like coming in last place.

Kyle is primordial greed and primordial ambition, Kyle is used to being the best of the best of the best, Kyle is the apex predator and the youngest sergeant on the team.

And Kyle dances in circles around you for weeks now with progress taking steps so small John thinks that Kyle is gonna get his fucking kiss from you next spring.

Only because you seem to have so much fun with it.

Still, John doesn’t like the effect you have on his men and he doesn’t like that he himself can’t seem to not like you.

John doesn’t like that he’s waiting for his kiss now.

But you already kissed Johnny and Simon, it’s only fair if John gets a kiss too, right? Don’t you worry that your captain might grow displeased with you?

Don’t you want to check “the vibes”?

But if you do, you seem to do a good fucking job not giving John a single fucking clue other than occasional grin here and there. Drives him up the fucking wall, it does.

He snaps at Simon when he notices that lieutenant is outright smirking, corners of his lips so sharp it’s a fucking miracle you don’t cut yourself on it when you pull Ghost by the scruff of his neck to kiss him again.

It’s not even fucking noon, why would you be kissing Simon now?

John huffs air out, his tail swishing through the air from side to side, his molars aching to bite down on the slope of your exposed neck — to squeeze, to topple, to get you down.

To get his fucking kiss.

He feels ridiculous for wanting it so badly, he’s a grown man for fuck’s sake.

So when you finally lean in a little closer than usually, your face so focused John can’t help but grumble out “need somethin’, sergeant?”, hating the way his heart pounds.

You get closer and John can feel salt on his tongue, high waters threatening to pull him under, currents sweeping him off his feet, your breathing soft thing on his lips.

Only you don’t kiss him.

John blinks, trying to scramble his mind back, trying to force down already blooming bruise of rejection when you nose at his beard instead and hum something unintelligible.

You pull away slowly, like you are coming up after a dive, even your breathing slows down — deep and controlled, you nose away at his chin before finally sitting back.

Price doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t trust himself not to ask you what do you think is wrong with him. Is that the cigar smell? Are seals sensitive to scents? Are you sensitive to scents? What the fuck just happened?

Price doesn’t want to admit but he was looking forward to getting that kiss.

Price doesn’t want to admit but out of the corner of his eye he watches the way you kiss Johnny and Simon — the depth, the tenderness, the licking waves of your intimacy that you seem to submerge his men completely in.

Price doesn’t want to admit, but he keeps imagining himself in their place, thinking how you’d kiss him, playing endless scenarios in his head.

Would you let him get you on his desk and finally get a hold of you thighs, because god, one more leg day and John won’t be able to fucking concentrate. For the rest of his life.

Would you pull him in your lap instead? Would you melt into him like you melt into Johnny? Would you cuddle him like you cuddle Simon? Would you hold him?

But all of these are just endless fantasies, silly dreams that keep tormenting him when you smile with your teeth, when you bent down and he gets a glimpse of your unmarked throat, when you lean a little closer and he can taste salt on the tip his tongue.

On the bright side it seems like it’s not that John is damaged or anything of the sort, he tells himself. After all, you keep teasing Kyle as well — not letting hungry harpy sink his claws into you and tear out some bleeding meat out of you.

So that’s silver lining, right?

So John rubs his face until the image of you grinning under his eyelids is not as vivid and takes the whole team out for drinks after successful mission. God knows they need it.

He needs it.

You sit nestled in between Simon and Johnny, hand of the former is dripped over your shoulders, hand of the latter is squeezing your thigh.

As if you are going to run away if these two don’t hold onto you, anchoring you to the seat of the booth.

Johnny steals your chips, offering his fried fish instead. Steals more than chips, frankly, booze makes Soap needy and you ever the glutton for attention kiss him until lad’s palm starts squeezing your thigh a little too eagerly.

John pretends he doesn’t notice the way Soap’s knuckle traces the inseam of your jeans.

John pretends he doesn’t notice the way Simon’s fingers dip under the collar of your T-shirt, pads of his fingers tracing idle patterns. Simon doesn’t give a fuck how much you kiss his boy if he gets to watch.

Simon doesn’t give a fuck even harder if he gets a kiss as well while his boy watches.

Price down his whiskey and orders another one.

Silver lining starts losing its shine faster than he’d like it, because even though Kyle watches you like…well, like a harpy he is, you just blow him a kiss and then give Simon an actual one.

Ghost licks into your mouth with wet indecent sound and breaks a kiss just to murmur something in your ear. When he turns to his captain and youngest sergeant his smirk is wicked enough to make a grown weep.

Greedy bastard enjoys it way too fucking much.

But Simon excuses himself for a smoke so John pushes the glass away and follows him out. He needs to either break his lieutenant’s jaw or find out why the fuck you deemed him bottom of the barrel.

Why he’s not getting a kiss? Don’t you like your captain?

Ghost watches him like it’s the funniest shit he’s seen in literal weeks and it might as well be, because John feels like drinking some more and calling it a day.

Silver lining, he’s not alone in this boat. Silver lining, he’s not the last of the pick.

Silver lining strains, but shines through when he steps in the bathroom because Kyle is there. And you are there. And fucking Soap is there.

What is it, a bloody convention he didn’t get tickets to?

John kicks the three of you back to the booth, his mind hazy from whiskey, his throat aching with bitterness. It takes him another minute or so to realise Soap’s zipper was open. Takes him one more to remember you had hickeys on your neck.

John gets out of the bathroom, shaking water off his hands and stalks back to the booth, tail swishing, his agitation climbing up.

Silver lining chokes at the back of his throat like cotton, tastes like old oil and stuffs him bloody silent since Simon is back, listening to chatty tipsy Soap without a care in the world.

Simon doesn’t give a fuck who does what if he has his boy by his side.

Simon doesn’t give a fuck even harder when he knows where his other seal is.

Simon grins like a bastard he is, sharp points of the curl of his lips poking at the underside of John’s ribs and says that Kyle went out for a smoke.

John doesn’t ask where you went to when he knows you don’t smoke.

He just stalks out, swinging pub’s back door open and working his jaw because smoke break, his ass.

Kyle has you backed to the wall, cooing something unintelligible, nosing at your cheeks and throat, clicking his tongue at you when you giggle.

Your hands are wrapped around Kyle’s shoulders, pulling him in and closer. Sinking your fingers in the tight muscles of his wings, murmuring something in sergeant’s ear.

You are soft from beers you had, warm with buzz of the pub and tender in a way that makes John’s molars ache.

And all your focus is on Kyle, only on Kyle, ever on Kyle when say “don’t be like that”, when you say “I know, I’m sorry, that was mean. Did I upset you, baby?”, when you say “come here. can I kiss you? I really want to. Can I? Please, Kyle, I’m gonna be good, i promise”.

John’s silver lining cracks and withers away with the chapped pieces of cheap foil shining in the light of street lamps and the glow of your eyes when you pepper Kyle’s face with kisses.

Kyle is half-lidded and hazy on you, Kyle leans closer, almost pouting when you kiss him everywhere but on the lips. Very fucking funny, you see him laughing, darling?

Kyle clicks his tongue when you giggle again but his eyes are so fond it feels more of an act than genuine frustration. Like he can’t help but like you a little too much.

Kyle nuzzles in your palm and presses wet open-mouthed kisses to your wrist, softly nips the thin skin there, laves the imprint of his teeth with the wet slide of his tongue.

Molten, hungry, dangerous.

Kyle could bite down on your wrist and leave you without a hand, Kyle could bite out more than you can give and lick at the twitching muscle, tasting the feverish pump of your heart straight out the box.

But Kyle doesn’t.

Kyle coos something about you driving him fucking insane, Kyle tilts his head so you can kiss him properly and presses you into the brick wall.

His groan when you finally kiss him is the best reward there is, because yes, fucking finally, thank you, darling.

You are kissing him like Kyle is water you’ve been deprived of, you are kissing him like that’s the only thing that matters, you are kissing him and nothing else exists.

And Kyle doesn’t break the kiss, too hungry and greedy he surges forward — your teeth clicking, the wet sounds of yours are filthy enough to make John’s jeans a little uncomfortable.

You wrap yourself around Kyle and choke when he pushes a knee between your legs, drool dripping down your chin because if Kyle could he would have swallowed you whole.

Because you don’t need air, you need Gaz.

John doesn’t know for how long you kiss, but he can tell that for a moment there two of you definitely contemplated whether or not you want to fuck in a bloody alleyway behind the pub.

John doesn’t know what to say when you finally look at him so he just silently stares back, tail swishing behind him, his molar aching when you smile like nothing happened.

“Communication going well, sergeant?”, he asks for some godforsaken reason and tries not to cringe at the way his other sergeant tucks his palm in your back pocket. This generation has no bloody shame.

“I suppose so, sir”, you smile wide enough for John to see the peeking sharp points of your teeth from under your upper lip. “Seal to harpy communication, sir. I’d say we definitely found…a common ground”, you beam and John feels like ramming down the doors to your head.

Fuck looking for cracks, he wants to crack down on you and see what the fuck is in the head of yours.

Why don’t you like him? What’s wrong with him? Why don’t you kiss him?

But John doesn’t ask and just hums before returning back to the pub. His face so grim Simon does the wise thing and stuffs Soap’s mouth with another chip before he can ask anything.

On the contrary you return with Kyle’s palm still in the back pocket of your jeans and a handful new hickeys.

John orders himself another whiskey and says to himself that he is not going to look at you, that it’s just how it is, that he is not going to run after you and beg a kiss out of you.

John looks at you anyway and you send him a wink.

Glass almost splinters in his hand, whiskey slowly dribbling out on the wooden table, John’s tail swishing behind him, John’s molars aching when you smile with teeth.

Komodo dragons thrive on hierarchy and you just toppled the whole pyramid.

Ice is starting to crack.

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mdni][mlw][slight angst?][semi-public][oral f! receiving][sloppy][spitting][petnames][implied age gap][age gap is legal btw][fingering][anal fingering. no i will not apologize.][ass eating.][i won't apologise for that either]

"I had to do Damian's laundry for this so don't fuck it up."

Jason huffs, eyes narrowing at Roy as the car pulls up to the curb outside the restaurant. A cute diner, neon lights flickering over the double doors of the entrance, reading, 'fancy eat-outs' in cursive.

"Name's... A bit on the nose." Roy lets out a scoff of laughter before swallowing and glancing at Jason. There's the tiniest hint of nervousness swirling behind those leafy pools, gingery brows furrowing into a little frown.

"You're gonna do good." Jason reassures quietly, his tone soft and he places a hand on Roy's shoulder.

"I'll be on that roof," Jason motions to the building across, "listening in. It's just like a stakeout, only this time, the stakes determine whether or not you get your dick wet."

A good 20 minutes into waiting, Roy brushes his tongue across his top row of teeth, eyes glancing towards his wristwatch before he leans back in his seat. Muscular fingers card through overgrown strands of clementine, before he swallows.

"She's not coming, Jay." Roy hums quietly, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

There's the heaviest pit in his stomach, aching and uncomfortable, and it throbs with each ding of that bronze bell above the door, that indicates a new patron.

Roy feels pathetic that his eyes keep lifting to see who it is.

He's an adult. He shouldn't be going on dates in the first place. He should focus on being a vigilante, and a father, because he's good at that.

Not at dating. Not at women. Not at anything more than a one night—

"Excuse me, sir?" Your voice is a soft sound, snapping him from his pathetic daydream, and Roy glances up at you through his lashes, unable to keep the little frown from tugging at the corners of his mouth. Although, if he plays his cards and his tone right, he might just seem deeply displeased, instead of upset.

"Mhm?" Roy hums. He doesn't trust himself to talk right now.

"I don't...." You simply shake your head, a sympathetic expression on your face as you clutch the serving tray in your arms.

You've got the prettiest doe eyes, the nicest and softest lips, and he can't deny that those pretty smile lines makes him feel a little better about being stood up.

"Yeah, she's not coming." Roy concedes, letting out a deep breath and his elbows come to rest on the surface of the table, making the slightest fold in the guava coloured tablecloth and you clear your throat.

"Well... We've got a special for this?" You answer, almost sheepishly. And Roy cocks a brow.

"At the start of the new year, a lot of people try to get into relationships and... You know, not everyone's date shows up. So we've got a 'Stood Up' special." You lift the menu from the table, before flitting through the thick parchment, and showing the option.

"A meal, dessert and drink of your choice with 60% off, and you get to talk shit about your date with your server."

And Roy lets out a laugh.

It's a deep, husky rumble that makes your knees the tiniest bit weak, and makes you feel like you've been standing on your toes for an uncomfortably long period of time.

"Sure thing." Roy hums. "So you'll be my server?" He cocks his head, a charming tilt of his lips have you sweating underneath your uniform and you nod your head.

"So what would you like, sir?"

"Depends. You gonna eat with me?" Roy hums, resting his chin in the rough palm of his muscular hand and you wince.

"We're actually not allowed to eat on the job, if it's not a dessert."

Roy lets out a hum.

"Two parfaits, please. One chocolate and the other a flavour of your choice." Roy orders, emerald gaze roving over your features, committing them to memory because he's not gonna take a picture of you for his spank bank. Because that's just... Creepy.

He'll just... Look at you really hard and hope to be able to piece the pictures well enough when he needs to.

"You wanna order two parfaits? You're basically paying whole price." You state, your fingertips tapping on the thin metal tray and he corrects you. "I've got a 20% discount still."

"She sounds pretty, put in the eyepiece." Jason hisses in Roy's ear, the binoculars aren't good enough to see through the structures that seem to permanently obscure you from vision. Like you're allergic to getting spied on.

"I'm not touching my fucking eyeball in a restaurant, you freak." Roy murmurs under his breath, ignoring Jason's curses.

"Oh, like you care about germs, you filthy bastard. Your apartment would look like a dumpster if you didn't have Lian." Jason mocks.

"I will shoot you in the eye. I'm not even fucking kidding." Roy threatens, before letting out a deep breath, carding his muscular fingers through his orangey strands.

When Roy watches you slide into the seat across from him, he can't deny the way the weight lifts from his belly.

The pretty, white ruffled shirt with the pretty pastel waistcoat and a matching skirt. None of the staff wear the same colour, all just pastels. And you smile that fucking electric smile, and Roy feels his cock throb like it's never throbbed before.

His hand cups himself beneath the table, in a poor attempt to ease his ache but he can't even hide the way his breath hitches at the way you carefully slide that decorative silver spoon into his parfait.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Over the entire course of the 'date', Roy's eyes can't leave you. He might just die if they do because God, you're perfect.

He loves the way your mouth forms words, he likes the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you laugh at something, the way the apples of your cheeks turn rosy when he compliments your smile.

God.

You're adorable.

"How'd you meet this girl?" You question, and the softness of your voice shows that you're still the tiniest bit sympathetic.

"She's... A teaching assistant at my buddy's brother's school. So... I did a bit of networking to get her number." Roy explains, eyes glancing towards your expression as he slowly lifts a spoonful of sweet creaminess to his lips, and shoves it in, making sure to flick his tongue against the edge of the spoon.

Your mouth forms a little 'o' shape and you mimic his action, a spoonful of ice cream cooling your tongue.

You take the moment of eating to really... Drink him in. Pretty, dark lashes, leafy green eyes with flecks of gold and blue, the faintest freckles dusted over his cheeks and that sexy scar right at his jaw. He's shaved. Freshly. But the nick on his chin suggests that it's the first time in a while, but he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd have a full-on beard.

Maybe a 5 o'clock shadow.

You don't think too hard before you speak again.

"You wanna key her car?" You question, almost teasingly but there's the cutest glint of mischief in your eyes that make him damn near soak through his boxers.

"I'm gonna come off as a psychotic asshole." Roy snorts. "Even if it is well-deserved."

"Then I'll do it." You shrug your shoulders, unable to hide the twitch at the corners of your mouth when Roy lets out that boyish yet husky laugh.

"I'm not above keying someone's car." You add. "Or even stealing tires. Or gas."

"Wow." Roy snickers.

"You're really, uh... Really something else."

Batman works hard.

But Roy works harder.

Fingers thrust in your mouth, your legs spread almost sinfully wide as Roy's tongue drags wet, sloppy strokes against your cunt, flicking at the hood of your clit. Emerald eyes peer up at you over your mound and hiked up skirt and your expression makes him harder than anything.

Eyes rolling back in your head, brows pinched into a little frown and your wet, flushed lips wrapped around his middle and ring finger, the feel of your tongue against the pads of his digits.

You're trying so hard to keep quiet.

And he has to ruin that.

You let out a low moan, pornographic sound strewn together in a cacophony that bounces off the tiled walls and glinting floors and reaching his ears.

Roy's two digits scissor inside your gummy walls, his tongue working against your pebbled clit as his fingers give lazy strokes, curling against that spongy spot that makes your toes curl.

Manicured fingers thread through his hair, strands of clementine and orange slip from your grasp like shredded silk and he moans at the way your nails brush against his scalp in that sweet way.

Like you're massaging conditioner into his head.

"That's it, pretty girl. Come on my fingers and tongue." He groans. "Use me to feel good."

You moan around his fingers, teeth nearly leaving indentations in the skin as you cum, thighs pressing against his ears, and he hears your blood rush. Your pulse thrumming against his ears, and your body twitching and hips bucking.

He laps at you like a thirsty man.

Throat parched and only you can wash down the bullshit that life's been shoving down his mouth for the past few years.

Roy pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean before he gently flips you over.

Your toes meet the tiles, your tummy pressed against the chilly counter of the bassinet and your cheek presses against the coolness of the mirror.

Hot breaths fog up your reflective image and for the shortest moment, you watch the way Roy palms the flesh of your ass. Globes fill his calloused palms and you barely realise what's going on when he guides your leg to rest along the counter.

"Keep that there for me, beautiful."

Roy's thumb is pushed into your messy pussy, slowly fucking the pudgy digit into your hole, just to get the interior of it. Before he fucks. Hard.

"God, you're so fucking messy." The squelchy sounds are louder than your muffled moans and you let out a sluttiest gasp, looking over your shoulder at Roy as his tongue slides over your puckered entrance.

He taunts the hole, his left hand resting on your tailbone and his thumb teasing the start of the cleft of your ass, before his tongue drags up.

All the way to your tailbone and back down.

His right hand's fingers brush and tease at your clit, his left hand moves lower and he thumbs at your asshole, spitting messy globs of spit at the hole before licking it back up.

You feel like a dirty whore.

A man you don't even know is licking at your holes like a rabid animal, trying to commit your tastes to memory and he tilts his head.

Before pulling back.

"Let me see that pretty hole, angel." Roy coaxes you sweetly, watching as your hands move to spread the plushy globes, exposing yourself even more and he groans.

His cock is scraping against his zipper, leaking precum into his boxers and down his thighs, but he doesn't feel like he should fuck you yet.

At least not on your first date.

You're not some whore.

"Fuck, that's it, gorgeous."

Roy is fucking hypnotised, one hand fucking and adoring your leaky cunt, while the other hand fucks your virgin ass. You're tight at both ends, lips pursed into the cutest frown, hot breaths fogging and steaming up the mirror and your toes curl.

Your cunt trickles all while your orgasm builds, wetness and slippery mess dripping down your inner thighs.

You've never been like this before.

Roy pulls his thumb out of your cunt, spitting at your cunt and spitting on his digits, before three thick fingers fuck into your hole at a god-like pace. While he dips his head lower, tongue out and ready.

You whine and mewl, feeling so full and so good until your knees buckle and you shake.

Thighs shudder and shake, and your muffle your scream in your shoulder as you cum, spurting your messy and slick juices all over Roy's awaiting tongue.

He doesn't waste. Not a single drop as he swallows everything you give him, droplets dribbling down his chin and wetting the collar of his crew neck.

Roy pulls away, pressing a kiss to the flesh of your ass before straightening up and looking at you.

Back arched like a cat, pussy and ass messy with lovebites and spit and he groans, palming himself through his jeans.

"Fuck, I should've brought a condom." Roy groans under his breath, his body nearly melting at the way you look at him through bleary eyes, lips wet and raw from being bitten.

"Don't you trust your pull-out game?" You question, a shaky breath leaving your lungs burning like you've ran a marathon.

"I've got a kid, gorgeous. My pull-out game's as reliable as a knitted condom."

—♱—

Pulling back an arrow, Roy releases the end, watching as the wood thwips through the air, wind pushing it even closer before the metal pierces the target.

"Target neutralised." Roy speaks into the earpiece, his voice low.

"Good job, gorgeous." Jason responds and it feels like Roy's world comes crashing down around him before he lets out a low, disturbed and embarassed groan.

"Yeahhhhhh." Jason snorts. "You didn't turn off the earpiece."

[beatlebvm]

wet dream

summary: after a long night of intense activities, aegon targaryen falls asleep in the arms of his sweet and pretty niece visenya not knowing that in the morning there will be a surprise waiting for him.

pairing: aegon II targaryen x visenya targaryen (rhaenyra's daughter)

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: not proofread, 18+ mdni, language, smut, just filth and little fluff if you squint at the end, oral sex (m receiving), it's con — basically waking him up with head :P. ugly ending :/. ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!!

author's note: this might be the last and only thing i'll ever publish in my life since i still have traumas from my wattpad era of 10 years ago lmao. i feel super insecure about this, it sounded nicer in my head but i hope you like it too!

maybe it was a dream.

such a beautiful dream — as the ones you don't want to wake up from, the ones you want to live through until the last second, the last bit. and it was so good.

too good to be true. visenya's mouth was so warm and welcoming, soft and wet just as aegon liked, and her lips moved eagerly and confidently, playing and sucking him off with the only ways she knew. aegon sighed, his hips shifted and he could already feel himself harden in his state of semi-unconsciousness, between wakefulness and a deep slumber.

her sultry gaze was fixed on him, a mischievous smirk lingered on her pretty lips and aegon just wanted to tear it away with an harsh thrust of his hips, wanted to feel her gag around his cock. but visenya just chuckled at his weak attempt to. gods, why was she so warm? why did it feel so real?

aegon shifted again, the dream was starting to get uncomfortable, his cock was rock hard and borderline painful and he couldn't bear it for any longer. plus, a strange stickiness between his legs seemed to grow and the targaryen was pretty sure that he might've spilled on his bed sheets with just that dream. a fucking dream. how embarrassing if someone found out that he wetted his bed at the modest age of twenty?

he shifted again and again, until the maddening image of visenya sucking his cock vanished in a blurry corner of aegon's mind, much to his displeasure. he could've stayed like that forever. but the discomfort and the wetness didn't leave, his cock still hard.

and the sounds too.

wet sound after wet sound, a few soft sighs and aegon was pretty sure that it wasn't just a dream anymore, and when finally sleepiness was slipping away and he was finally back into the real world, his eyes opened — visenya was there.

laying on his bed, her body still bare in all of its glory and naked from the night before when they indulged in their pleasurable and greedy company, her head dipped on to his lap. but she wasn't supposed to be there. not at that time — weak sunlight penetrated the windows of aegon's chambers, shades of orange and yellow sealed the dawn just creeping over king's landing and also aegon's full attention on the girl in front of him.

it wasn't just a dream. a wet dream. visenya was there, her lips really moving on him and the smirk on her face widened as she realized that her uncle finally awakened up. “good morning.”

good fucking morning indeed.

aegon blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes until his vision was clear just to make sure that his sweet niece was really there, and a rush of pleasure crossed through his body when visenya’s tongue teased and pressed on the slit of his dick. she shouldn’t have been there — by dawn visenya should’ve sneaked out of his chambers and gone back to her own to avoid unpleasant encounters within the halls of the red keep, unpleasant questions about her strange presence at such late hours in those corridors, or why the daughter of rhaenyra targaryen was just coming out of prince aegon’s chambers.

“w-what the fuck are you doing here?”, aegon asked, his voice low and raspy from a deep sleep which sent a shiver down visenya’s spine. but despite his harsh words, aegon wasn’t displeased by visenya’s presence, at all.

he wanted so bad to fuck that pretty face, thrust his hips up her mouth and claim her throat just like they both needed to, but aegon’s body was still heavy and stiff from his slumber — his hand found visenya’s silver hair and gripped them in a weak fist, guiding and following the motions of her head down his cock but not forcing her, jut telling her silently to not stop and continue with the superb and lovely job she was doing.

“isn’t that obvious?”, visenya teased, her voice hoarse too but holding that suggestive tone that always characterized her everytime she was in aegon’s company. her hand stroked him gently, not wanting to overwhelm him and leave him without attention as she spoke at the same time.

aegon whined, his fingers tightened around visenya’s wavy strands as he watched her mouth engulf him once again and swallowing him whole in her warmth. fuck, she was so good, too good to him. he was an asshole, and sometimes he felt he was just using her, taking advantage of her need for him — it was so wrong, sharing the bed and getting his cock wet from who aegon considered a bastard hs entire life, even if her hair were silver and her eyes of pale purple, her other features didn’t lie. but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t pull away, even if visenya was rhaenyra’s daughter. “you shouldn’t be here.”

visenya cocked an eyebrow up, the idea of leaving didn’t even cross her mind when aegon’s protest sounded and came out of his lips more lighthearted than he wanted. he didn’t want for her to stop, she could read well the signs of his body well, no matter how weak they were: the slightest twitch of his hips, the way his hand seemed to push her head down more and more. “do you want me to stop?”

aegon didn’t reply in that moment, a moment of silence followed and only interrupted by the soft sighs and grunts leaving his lips and visenya’s mouth wet sounds. his body reacted once again, his hips weakly buckled up searching for more pleasure — which visenya didn’t give to him, and aegon couldn’t simply take it anymore. he needed her, needed that release. “n-no, fuck—”.

and his sweet niece didn’t need any more words, resuming her motions and giving aegon the good morning she planned to gift him and he was glad to take everything, feeling any resistance leave his body the moment pleasure settled in completely. not that there was some actual resistance. the farce was pathetic as much as aegon’s pretense that it was just sex between him and visenya, that there was no actual feeling growing for his favorite and only niece.

the obscene sounds of visenya’s mouth only grew louder as she doubled her efforts, her cheeks hollowed around him and the sight alone was almost enough to make aegon come on the spot — he couldn’t wait to fill that mouth with his seed, claim it and see her swallow his cum like the greedy and good girl visenya was. he shutted his eyes, and his mind was soon filled with memories of previous night, when visenya rode his cock like her life depended on it and with her pretty tits bouncing everytime their hips met, her moans echoing in the four walls of his chambers.

fuck, it couldn’t be already it… and yet visenya noticed aegon’s body tensing up, his balls tightening up under her warm palm, and she knew that in a matter of seconds and a few other gags around his cock ropes of his cum would paint her throat. and she couldn’t be more ready for it, more eager to taste him and not waste a single drop. “vis, i—”.

and just like visenya predicted, it took aegon a few moments to completely shudder and let the bliss overflow his body and mind, coming and spilling into her welcoming mouth with a single and beautiful moan that made visenya quiver too. aegon seemed to lighten, he buckled his hips up a few times, the tip of his dick kissed the back of visenya’s throat and spurts of his warm cum marked her as his, and he made sure that no drop went to waste. aegon could’ve died right in that moment and he would’ve been the happiest man in the whole world — no better awakening than that one could’ve existed and aegon couldn’t have felt better than in that moment. he was so fucking lucky to have her, he couldn’t believe it.

sadly, to aegon’s displeasure and reluctance the peak didn’t last as much as he desired and the effects of it inevitably subsided but he couldn’t help but groan again as he felt visenya’s thighs straddle his hips and her settle on top of him once again. just like last night. with a satisfied sigh and a greedy lick of her lips, visenya hid her face in the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his torso, leaving a few sloppy and lazy kisses on the pale skin of his throat. aegon sighed too, his arms doing the same with her and let himself enjoy the warmth that her sweet embrace brought. he could’ve done that every morning and never got tired of it — fuck anybody’s suspiciousness.

a weary smile creeped on aegon’s lips as he nuzzled his nose against her soft hair, his heart swelling with content as he heard visenya chuckle lightly at his gentle tickle. his fingers caressed her kindly, with a sweetness that rarely characterized aegon and that he never showed in public, but for a reason or another, it felt right to act around visenya like that, almost unconsciously even. he brought his lips to her hair, tilting her head to kiss her forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks and eventually her lips with chaste but sweet pecks. aegon could briefly taste himself on her soft lips and it almost spurred him on and made his cock to stiffen but he held back, wanting to savour the moment with visenya.

“good morning indeed.”

[strwberri-milk]

can i request the boys thinking mc is cheating bc she’s been acting off and hanging with other people, then they confront her but learn later that it’s something else that’s been going on (like her wanting to keep a problem hidden from them) angsty or fluffy ending it’s up to you im just craving angst 😓

Zayne doesn't want to directly confront you. He's terrified that somehow, he'll mess everything up and that right now, not knowing is better than confirming his fear. He'll just continue observing you for a bit, trying to figure out if there's something that can definitively point towards you actually having an affair. Your behaviour is strange but he won't feel too concerned until you start actively pulling affection away from him. That's when he's going to really start panicking. He doesn't know what he's done or said to make you take such a drastic step in your relationship and this is absolutely going to devastate him.

He'll talk to you one evening after you come home late. He tries to open it up by telling you that if it's something he's said or done to you then he's sorry and he promises he'll do whatever it takes to fix things between the two of you. It's you, and it's always been you. He can't even fathom being with anybody that isn't you. He'll ramble a little for once, not really able to accurately use his words as he tries to express how much he loves you.

You realise very quickly where he's going with all of this, immediately shutting him down as you tell him that you aren't seeing somebody else. He listens with bated breath to try and comprehend everything you're telling him, praying that you aren't lying to him because if you were, it'd definitely break him.

You'd probably have to ruin the surprise if you wanted him to feel fully secure after this conversation, especially since you also were hanging off of people when you normally don't seem to. He might feel a little insecure about your relationship for a while before settling into the routine again with you, but as long as you're wholly honest with him it'll pass fairly quickly.

Xavier wants to follow you around but he also knows it'd piss you off if he did. He'll just start paying more attention to events when the two of you are together and even more attention to things if it seems you're purposefully not inviting him to something. He's trying to understand why and what for, not wanting to directly accuse you but his jealousy definitely ramps up.

You'd have to talk to him as he slowly starts to escalate, becoming more pissy if you have plans with friends or when he responds poorly to you taking calls in his presence. He doesn't really say too much but he does make it very clear just how displeased he is with the look on his face or the way he practically grabs you whenever you're doing things with him.

He gets a little rougher with you overall - not in a painful way, in a distracted, irritated way. He doesn't want to hurt you on purpose and typically you don't really respond to this difference in pressure because it's nothing crazy but you can tell that he's starting to really internalise everything that's happening around him. When you do talk to him he listens with a furrow in his brow, trying to figure out if you're telling him the truth, or this is some elaborate lie for you to throw him off your scent.

He believes you pretty quickly but he is also going to be really skeevy about letting you do things without him for a bit. He just wants to spend time with you after all and after all this emotional turmoil you owe him a few stress-free dates.

Rafayel is not pleased. He makes it clear the second he thinks something is wrong by being colder and less affectionate with you. He isn't wholly above following you and figuring out who you're hanging out with, trying to figure out if there really is a chance that you are trying to have an affair.

You'd get some emotional whiplash from how differently he's acting, how he's making it clear that you've wronged him somehow but he isn't going to talk to you about it. He's avoidant, waiting for you to admit the truth. He's also patient, which means you could be iced out for weeks if you decide not to talk to him about what's happening.

He might spoil the surprise for himself if he goes fully into surveillance after which he'd just tell you that he figured out what you were hiding from him. You'd be a little disappointed but also more concerned as to how he managed to figure it out without tipping you off. He won't tell you at all about how he got the information - just that he did.

If he decides not to stalk you a little you'd have to ask him why he's so mad at you. He'd tell you that he's just treating you the same way you've been treating him, and that as far as he's concerned, this is deserved. You'd have to tell him the truth and why you've been hiding all this information from him - after which he will brighten up significantly. He'll say something about how he's never doubted you, yadda yadda yadda but he's definitely more clingy now than before from his nerves finally starting to settle.

Sylus doesn't want to monitor you either and decides to give you the benefit of the doubt. He's fairly secure in your relationship and knows that he hasn't done anything to make you want to cheat but he does feel himself faltering if you're becoming prone to laughing at your phone or trying to hide it from him. He won't ask for it but you can see that he's starting to get suspicious.

He would leave it alone until you reveal to him your surprise. By then he's still feeling fairly anxious but when you reveal that your behaviour was all just a result of you trying to plan something for him then he'll relax a little, thanking you for the effort you went through. You can tell that he's very glad that you've finally come clean when he holds your hand tightly, practically clinging to you as he thanks you.

He'll plan some more elaborate dates for you after the reveal, making it clear that he's missed your attention being solely on him. You don't really mind though since he's basically throwing money at you, spoiling you silly and reminding you just how much he's willing to do for you.

[fhrlclln]

omg wait acolyte!reader sleeping with Qimir not knowing he’s her master and everytime they hookup, she starts to see him become more dominant and possessive in bed. until one time where he just goes something like, “be a good girl (enter nickname that only her master calls her)” and she just realizes it mid ya know lol. i love you 🙇🏼‍♀️

little star | qimir

SUMMARY -> being with qimir elicited fun and peace away from your duties at hand you do for your master. though, your master might be doing the same when his mask slips in the heat of the moment.

qimir x acolyte!fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> nsfw/smut

WARNINGS -> unprotected p in v, doggystyle & outdoor sex

WC -> 1.01k

a/n: filth! HAHAHAH LUV THISSS

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

“qimir…”

it was a spur of the moment as always.

you breathily moan out his name as you grip the bark of the tree whilst he pushes his cock further inside you from behind. the sound of the local insects in the forest are accompanied by the noise of qimir’s groans and your breathy whimpers as he pounds into you with such vigor against a tree. it was amusing to say how you two managed to get riled up in the middle of a serious situation, in a rainforest of all places. you had found him hanging by a tree and it turns out mae had put him in that situation.

“i should-“ you breathily say but pausing as qimir harshly grips your hips making you groan. he was demanding and more dominant this time and it makes your core clench at it. “i should save you more often… if this- ah!- is my reward.”

the snap of his hips to the plump swell of your ass is even more rougher and qimir chuckles behind you. he bites his lips, staring down at how your flesh ripples with each powerful thrust he does.

“i’d take you like this from now on then.” he slaps one soft cheek and you yelp at the sudden sting. you turn your head back to look at him, loving the way he was so different than the first time you two had hooked-up.

it was like any other day that time, he visited the remote planet you and your master resided on, delivering fresh supplies as per your master had requested for him. your master had left for a particular agenda that time as he said to you, leaving you to deal with him. you always had an eye on the dorky accomplice and you knew how he looked at you. the subtle too-friendly touches there and you even managed to flirt with him for fun until both of you seemingly snapped at that very night when the tension was too heavy. to say, you rode him on your bed until he was a blabbering mess underneath you.

but now, he seemed to want the upper hand this very moment and it makes your cunt clench around him tight.

"you like the thought of that, huh?" he chuckles lowly. "you want me to fuck you like this?" he snaps his hips rougher and faster and you couldn't quip back at him but enjoy how his cock is spearing inside you with such intensity.

you only nod your head dumbly as you gripped the tree trunk with all your might to not stumble forward with how hard his thrusts are. qimir bends forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and torso, lifting you up to his chest with his strength and you grip his arms for leverage as he wetly kisses your neck.

"oh, fuckkk-" you mewl out as his cock hits the right spot from this angle. you wonder now, if your master would be displeased with you for having this quick romp when you really need to focus on is finding mae and master kelnacca. you dismiss those thoughts for now, wanting to enjoy your time with qimir. you have to deal with mae after this as she had seemingly betrayed the two of you when the information of her sister osha appeared. the master would be very much displeased.

"right there. don't stop. i'm close!" you begged the man behind you and he shakes his head as he kisses your cheek.

"not yet." he cruelly whispers to your ear as his hand delves down to rub your clit and you whined at him.

"please." you tilt your head back to rest it on his shoulder, you could feel your high coming and the thought of cumming on his cock is getting you near there along with his slow circles he is doing on your clit.

"be a good girl for me." he nips your neck. "be a good girl for me, my little star."

you gasped as his thrusts went faster and your eyes widened at the sudden nickname he had said that your master has always called between the two of you. you couldn't really process it for a moment as you were focused on not letting go but your heart is pounding and your mind is in a disarray on what you should focus on. qimir smirks as he surges to capture your lips in a heated kiss as he mumbles between your lips the sweet words you are waiting for.

"come."

you cry out his name and you thrashed in his arms as your orgasm hits you. he fucks you through it as his thrusts became sloppy, he was nearing his high and you let him use you. you now come to a realization, mae or qimir nor anyone knew of that endearment your master calls you. unless...

"master?" you call out to qimir and he groans loudly as he pushes his hips forward and cums inside you. you feel warm all of the sudden as his cum fills your cunt, you're panicking now as he lets go of you and you stumble forward, catching yourself as you stand straight and turn to qimir.

"took you long enough." he grins and you stay frozen, the dawning realization that you had been fucking with your master. shame trembles in you and you think for a moment that you should flee. qimir smiles at you as he reaches towards your shook figure. you let him touch you and you blink dumbly as his cum drips down your thighs. he stares at that with a hungry glint in his eyes and your core clenches. and you think for a moment if this is a good idea but your master has other plans as his hand goes down to your messy cunt mixed with both of your juices.

"come on, little star. we aren't finished yet." you hold your breath for a moment when he towers over you.

but all your shame is thrown out the window as he kisses you.

[moonsaver]

Do you think yan!Sunday would act differently if his darling was halovain opposed to them being a normal human?

Would he do cute bird stuff and (forcibly)preen ur feathers n cute stuff like that

Yan!Sunday would probably exploit the HELL out of that lol.

But to be honest, the only times it would be different in approach would only be at the initial stages. For a normal/human darling, yan!sunday might work a tad bit slower at the start with the pushback he may recieve from his Family, or even Robin considering halovians.

If you're a halovian from the start, well.. there's a different kind of pushback from the Family regardless, but at the end of the day all eyes are more on Sunday than on you. He'll figure out a faster way down this route.

Of course, there's behavioral and mannerism differences.

Sunday probably feels much much more intimately connected with a halovian darling. Most bonding activities are related to preening your wings, cleaning your halo, communication is mainly by halo frequencies, even if no one else is around. He probably even forces you to use a different kind of shampoo (the same one he uses) on your wings. Gently brushes them at night while he's holding you close.

If you haven't already, he'd probably love having matching piercings with you. Asks you if you want your wings pierced. If you decline, he's visibly disappointed, and might continually bring it up often to try and persuade you.

However, he doesn't allow you to dye your feathers. Not the bright kind, at least. And he doesn't let you try any strange kinds of patterns – either you have to go for a simplistic approach or color it completely. And again, he doesn't allow any "unnatural" colors, so.. thats off the table. If your wings are already dyed, he won't do much about it, even though you can tell it greatly displeases him, but then leaves you alone if you push back against him.

As for all the "requirements" the Family needs for either a halovian or human darling.. Sunday can take care of it. Don't worry your pretty head.

[oceantornadoo]

where you’ve been assigned to working with john price on a report and the proximity is getting to you both…

(f!reader)

-

late nights pouring over reports in the base conference room with price. he tries to bring you coffee the second night and adjusts to black tea after watching the displeased twist of your lips. you start across the table, a respectful and professional distance, but by the third night, you’re shoulder to shoulder, peering over at each other’s screens silently. the information you’re reviewing is grave, life changing to the folks who live it, but you can’t help your laugh when john struggles to turn a pdf into a word document.

you give up on wearing business professional after the incident. the rip of your skirt as you jumped up from excitement, finally finding a breakthrough in your work. john’s eyes practically burned into your thigh, like the sight of your tights over newly bare skin offended him. you didn’t even notice until he pointed it out, swallowing thickly as he muttered “got a problem there, love.” before excusing himself to bring back more tea.

when you switched to wearing jeans, john started wondering if he had offended some sort of god in the past life. why was there so much bending involved in your work? bending over the table to find a report in the mess of papers, your ass practically wiggling in his face. sneaking past his shoulder so you can see if he’s made any progress, the glimpse of your thigh off the chair reminding him of what it would like if- never mind. he swore your perfume was laced into your clothes, a cloud of it remaining after you went home for the night, your familiar scent searing itself into the back of his brain.

“john?” your voice pulled him out of his trance of wondering how he’d gotten here. it had been a week of this proximity torture with no end in sight. “yeah?” your pen tapped the picture in front of you. “this guy’s copying your muttonchops.” snorting, john leaned over, staring hard at the suspect’s picture as he tried not to focus about being six inches from your lap. “nah, ‘s a different style. mine’s more grown out, his is jus’ a shadow.” you hummed thoughtfully. “didn’t realize there was so much discourse in the beard community. seems a bit confusing.” he laughed, that short bark that made you smile despite yourself.

“‘s not all that confusing. here, y’ can feel the difference.” he grabbed your hand and pulled it into his beard, manicured fingers diving into his facial hair. you scratched it on instinct and were rewarded with a low throaty groan and a fluttering of his eyelids. “so soft, john.” the normally serious captain seemed like putty in your hands as your fingers explored the line of his jaw. it was quiet for a long moment, john’s eyes closed as you took him in without his usual surly stare. “yeah, honey?” his eyes flicked open as you stopped your movement, thumb near the corner of his mouth. your mouth gaped open, the moment broken.

“fuck, i’ve made you uncomfortable.” john pulled away fast, your hand dropping his face as he moved farther and farther away. “i can ask the lieutenant to finish up ‘ere, should only take a week more.” he tried to get up from his seat but you were more determined, beating him to the punch with a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. “john, stop. it’s okay.” you’d never seen him like this: unsure. “didn’t mean to say what i said, love.” you shook your head vehemently. “it’s okay, i just…no one’s ever called me honey before. kinda thought it was a sitcom thing.”

he was doing the math, picking apart every word you said, every inflection of every letter. you could see it in his eyes, the realization that you weren’t uncomfortable. the change might have scared you if hadn’t been so damn attractive. his posture perfect again, thighs flexing as his hands, big calloused hands, laid relaxed against them. he wasn’t grinning but you saw his cheek pull up, the movement of the beard you’d just been touching. it was instantaneous; the captain was back.

“and?” he stood up, your hand still on his shoulder. “and…i don’t mind it.” he was forcing you to look up, a height difference between you that you’d never notice because you both were always sitting.

“c’mere, honey.” you stepped closer, your other arm wrapping around his other shoulder. those hands wrapped around your waist and dipped lower to your upper thighs. he picked you with ease, all protests of your weight dying on your tongue as you let out a squeal. john sat you on the conference table, pushing reports and laptops out of the way to make space for his meal. “fuck, ‘ve been wantin’ you on this table for a week now.” he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs, tracing the denim of your pants. “and these jeans.” you frowned. “you don’t like my jeans?” he shook his head, thumbs exploring your waistline, tucking under your shirt to meet bare skin. “i love ‘em, darling. want t’ see you in them everyday.” he popped the top button then looked up at you for permission. you nodded, lying back on your forearms, restraining your hips from canting.

he chuckled at your confidence, unzipping you then sliding down the denim from your legs and off, along with your shoes. maybe it had been a form of manifestation or delusion, but either way you had worn your favorite pair of lacy black underwear. john seemed to appreciative, growling at the sight as his fingers brushed over your clothed pussy. “were you expectin’ someone t’ see these?” you grinned. “maybe i was hoping.” he brushed over your entrance and your hips chased the feeling, riding up to meet his fingers. “someone’s eager.” he didn’t let you reply, pressing his thumb over your entrance, rubbing up and down around your clit as wetness pooled in your underwear. you whined at his teasing, a coil building low in your stomach. “john…” he dipped his thumb under the fabric of your underwear, tracing the slickness of your slit. “hm, honey?” his low tone sent a rush of warmth into your body, a combination of domesticity and restraint. “want you, please.” he was playing down, putting his thumb inside you but knowing the angle was all wrong, it barely brushing your entrance. “want me where?” he finally pulled down your underwear, leaning his body over you, putting you face to face. “want your fingers inside me.”

john captured your lips with his own, pushing a thick middle finger into you as he pressed his thumb to your clit. you moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in further. “so wet f’ me, baby. you been wantin’ this?” you nodded eagerly, shutting him up with another kiss. he pumped his finger in and out as he circled patterns on your clit, the feeling of it overwhelming. you were so wet and hot, this big strong man panting into your mouth as he made you feel so good. your nipples scratched the inside of your bra as your cunt clenched around his finger. he added a second one, the fullness of it almost overwhelming. “john, i’m gonna…” he gave you another rough kiss. john pulled you closer using those fingers inside of your messy cunt, thumb pressing hard on your clit. it was so possessive and dirty that you could feel the start of your orgasm. “come f’ me, darling. go’on.” you let go, clenching hard around him. he kept going unless you went limp, finally removing his fingers with a pop. his other arm was holding you up as he tasted you on his fingers. “sweet like honey.” you rolled your eyes at his cheesiness. “you’re so full of shit.” he kissed you again, short and loving. “‘m not lyin’.” another kiss, this one to your forehead. “you wanna stay here tonight? ‘s already late.” you squirmed at the realization you were half naked in a conference room, your colleagues fingers dripping with your wetness as he stood fully clothed, his cock straining against his pants. “is that weird? or too fast? i don’t even know what you want or what i want-“ he kissed you again, this time gruff, like a captain. “jus’ come home with me, honey. ill handle the rest.” and to that, you nodded.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Sapor.2

{The Apothecary Diaries / Reader}

《Coming back from your travels, you run into a familiar face...》

[1][3]

-

Waiting by the lake, you wander into the waters without thought. Finding the purple haired male, he seemed rather unhappy having to traverse the lake back to land.

You offer out a hand, turning around as you gesture to your back. "I'll carry you, we don't need ya catching a cold, Sir." You spoke, waiting. "Ah-, t-there's no need-" He tried to dissuade your offer, it was quite strange to him. He didn't require such assistance!

You look at him sternly, "if you keep yappin' then you'll be frozen the time you get out."

He gapes at your brash words, not expecting them. Yet, you apologize, once more gesturing for him climb on your back.

"You did enough, just let me aid you."

Awkwardly, he shifts behind you as his legs dangle on your waist. Hoisting him up, you traverse the water. "Y-You are quite strong."

You nodded, keeping your eyes focused to land. "I've traveled around a lot, you need strength to protect oneself."

Resting his soaked head on your own, you don't mind the water dripping into your face.

"Thank you."

You said among the soft crickets and moths. A silent question rests on his mind, before he had a chance to speak, you start.

"I am... Often worried when Maomao is here. But, if I could ask one favor from you, Master Jinshi. Keep her safe, or the least, keep a eye on her. Please.." "You pause, grip tighter on the male.

"I know she would of ended up here anyway, but... I just wish not under the circumstances that led up to it." Your tone shifts slightly as you sigh.

Jinshi recalled when Maomao had told him of her unfortunates that led her to the rear palace.

You find the grassy shore, you loosen your grip as Jinshi steps down, mind roaring with questions that he wished he had answers to, yet are silenced as he takes a look at you.

No words could describe the feelings in his chest, so he lets them linger like the mud now stuck to your clothes. Still drenched, but at least the warm air helped. The two of you follow the path back to the palace in silence.

-

Raising a brow at the soaked male, you huff out a laugh at the sight. The Enuche, more displeased by the second, scoffs at you. Throwing a harsh glare at Maomao and you, yet you don't mind.

"My hair is still wet!"

Gaoshun shot the both of you a look as Maomao begrudgingly grabs a towel to wipe down his purple locks.

You on the other hand, decided to treat the soaked fellow for his hard work.

Gathering your items, you place down a heavy tray of jar and boxes. Cups, big and small and different shapes. Maomao and Gaoshun eye you in surprise at the sight. 

Jinshi, still unpleased, crosses his arms.

You place down a simple little cup in front of the drenched male.

You take ahold of one of the other cups, pouring in what he assumed, was milk, steam radiating off the cup.

Laying down a small box of cinnamon, you sprinkle some in with a spoon. Before handling another jar. This time, you use the spoon to gather a good bit of the golden honey, then a small pinch of a sweet-smelling fragrance he couldn't name at the moment. Stirring the mix together slowly, you present the drink.

A syrupy aroma sprouting about as you lay a small plate beside the cup. A strange food item placed atop the plain plate.

"Here, this will warm you up."

The male eyes you skeptically, lowering his hand to grab the cup while keeping contact. He sips the liquid, before immediately placing it down. The gentle sweetness and heat from the drink was... Soothing. 

But he didn't want his rage to slip away just like that!

"It's... Sweet." He mumbles, hands itching to grab ahold of the cup once more.

You shrug, "well, I know tea is more of your preference. But I thought this might help more."

You lightly gesture to the flakey pastry beside the cup. 

"This should do you some good too, I was inspired by the bread you made the other day. Thought' it'd be something you'd enjoy." You state as Maomao rose a brow. You always kept an eye on one's efforts, even herself. (She recalled you making her something mixed with wine for her after this eventful day. She couldn't wait to try it!)

Ignoring the comment, he bites into the dish, taste buds erupting at the buttery taste and crunchy texture. He gulps down his gasp with each bite. Enjoying the meal as his agitation lightens. Even if his clothes were still a heavy thing to wear.

"Master Jinshi, your clothes are provided for when you're done." Goashun states, bowing slightly as he nodded to you with appreciation.

Finishing up his meal, he gathers himself. Head held high as his signature smile is back on his face. Maomao stands a bit closer to you as she eyes him wearily. That expression was different, she knew it was. The way his eyes lowered just a bit, as if his gaze was.. Enthralled-!

"Thank you, the meal was delicious, I shall take my leave now."

'Their hair...' Maomao eyes you, hair slightly damp and then noticing your clothes were slightly soaked in the back.

Maomao wwould rather you not be swept away by the males charms. No matter his beauty, she cannot allow you to be heartbroken by him. (Much less be by him.) She dismisses the idea for another time, even if the situation regarding the envoys was over. It still wasn't finished quite yet..

"Maomao." You pipe up, collecting your dishes. 

"Yes?"

"I wanted you to try the chocolates I made, I infused a filling with some wine, I learned the idea from the west-"

Excited at the words, she turns to you slowly. "I'll give it to you once I'm done cleanin' up."

"I'll help." She replied too quickly, a giddy smile on her features. You laugh at the enthusiasm as the two of you finish up.

Maomao goes lost in her thoughts, 'if...I could, I wouldn't mind travelling with them... It wouldn't be so bad. If we could eat such new and creative dishes and discover more medicines...' She blinks at the wistful idea, shaking her head. "Rather, I should just focus on the now."

-

You take ahold of the mallet, sweat glistening on your brow as bits of your clothes hang off of you due to much movement. A excited expression on your face as you swing the hammer down. 

Jinshi, terrified at the sound, hides by the door as he watches Maomao eye your body thoughtfully.

Smiling down brightly at the squishy substance, you continue your work as Jinshi gathers the courage to walk inside. "I see that you're busy.." He hides his tenseness with a smile, trying not to eye your process. Maomao hides her stink-eye, she could literally see him trying and (failing) to watch.

Gaoshun enters right behind his master, rather calm at the sound of your quiet grunts as you slam down the mallet quickly onto the forming mochitsuki.

"Apothecary, I would like to have a word."

"Yes, of course Master Jinshi."

Before the three of them left, they hear a hearty cheer leave you. Catching their attention, you grin wide with mirth

"Haha! It's ready!"

Goashun sighs as he notices his master and the Apothecary smiling at the sight.

-

Notes:

I had a fun time with trying to write with a Senshi! Inspired (Y/N). I have whole types of head canons with them with Jinshi and Maomao. They're just so silly! Also, I hope some of ya'll got the references I added! (Also, Senshi is a character from Dungeon Meshi.) I recommend it! It sorta ties in with the ideas I have regarding these two fics and hopefully more to come!. 

Tags: @teddiiursula @softnightplumes

(SO, another installment! I've been thinking maybe I should start writing for more Shoujo series. Manga, anime or manhwa. But it's all in good fun, let me know what ya'll think! Thanks for reading! See you later!)

[ddarker-dreams]

Hey Lock!!!! How are you doing? Do you have any Chrollo crumbs for us? 👀👀👀👀

i'm doing well today anon, thank you for asking!!!!!!!!!!! ����💖💖 and yes ... i have this chrollo thought that has been floating around in my head rent-free...

chrollo is not a yandere you want to genuinely upset.

he doesn't do 'forgive and forget.' he may appear outwardly courteous, but he's not above being petty and cruel. it's for your benefit that he keeps these tendencies to himself. there are days you can forget who exactly he is, days where he feels more like a pesky ex than an actual threat. deep down in your subconscious, you know you'd never make it far should an escape find initial success. the usual avenues won't be available to you. there's no flagging down a bystander, who in turn will alert the authorities and shuffle you off into protective custody.

there's just you and the dwindling distance between an immensely displeased force.

you're unsure what compels you to do it. perhaps it's paranoia, exhaustion, or sheer desperation from how little you can actively do to prevent what awaits; but you call him. on a payphone, amidst a bustling metropolis. you're seconds away from transit that'd speedily haul you away, should he track the call. your mouth goes dry as each ring sounds. you begin having second thoughts, wondering what exactly it is you're hoping to accomplish—

—when a familiar voice on the other line greets you. the quality distorts it ever so slightly, but your recognition is immediate, as is the way your heart temporarily stops.

he'll ask if you're alright. if you've been resting well, getting enough to eat, taking your medication.

your responses are automatic, like you're catching up with an old friend. he doesn't come across as angry, or upset really; more concerned than anything else. he does care about you. nothing you do will ever change that. he knows your allergies, what you prefer the AC to be on in the summer and heat in the winter, to turn on the subtitles when watching a movie without even asking.

he knows you.

you didn't mean to chat this long. it's a bad idea, potentially the start of the end, yet you can't help asking:

"... are you mad at me?"

he goes quiet.

not much time passes. you think you hear him sigh, but the connection's bad and your brain sleep deprived.

"i don't know, dear," he eventually admits. the pet name lacks its usual warmth. "i'm always pursuing you in some regard, aren't i? and yet... you always turn your back. always evade me, right at the last second. just when i think i finally have you, i'm reminded removing your heart might be my best chance at having it."

another pause.

"don't mind my musings. we both know out of all the lives i'll take, yours is perfectly safe."