#if anyone else does it you won't offend me

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── you, blanket forts and heated kisses

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff!! (and some heated kisses lmao)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: hiii! this is a continuation of this fic right here! you don't need to read that one to understand this, but they're taking place in the same universe. enjoyy and let me know what you think!! <33

“Let’s build a blanket fort.”

Said Hyunjin randomly on a stormy day, right after kissing you stupid and taking away your ability to think.

Unfortunately for him, you later engaged in an activity far different from the one he suggested, so different that he forgot all about his initial idea for the remainder of the week.

Until now, when you’re found in the same predicament – your beloved has come over with the biggest smile, elated to see you after spending the past month apart. Everything was fine and dandy until the sky suddenly darkened and it started pouring, trapping you both inside the apartment and cancelling all plans you might’ve made outside.

At least this time, the harsh weather took pity on your unfortunate soul and allowed the power to stay on.

“Alright, so it says here we can use chairs, a table, or even the couch for our fort.”

“Did you seriously pull up a wikihow article?”

You turn to him, a little embarrassed at being caught, his genuine laughter making heat rush to your face at an alarming pace. No words escape you and he coos, dropping the big pillows he got from your bedroom before stepping over them to hug you from behind, holding you close while his lips pepper sweet kisses from your cheek down to your neck.

“That’s adorable, baby.” Hyunjin nuzzles your neck, placing one last kiss on your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. “What else is your little article recommending?”

“Don’t make fun of me.” You whine, attempting to turn around in his arms with no success, quickly settling on hiding your face and embarrassment in your hands, just so he won't see them.

He’s laughing again, tenderly spinning you around by your hips so you’re face to face. “I’m not, baby. I’m just curious why you thought I don’t already possess all the knowledge we need.” He points to his temple, after prying your hands away from the beautiful face that has started to appear in his dreams almost daily.

“Alright, Bob the builder, knock yourself out.” You nod towards the mess he’s made on the floor, to all the pillows, blankets, and sheets he’s stolen from your room. His wish to build a fort made a lot of sense if you take into consideration his ferret nature he always denies. The tiny animal thrived on alone time, hid away in a secluded place away from everyone.

He gasps, bringing his hands to his chest as if he could really fool anyone into believing he’s actually offended. “I’ll have you know I’m an artist! An architect if you will! That guy has nothing on me.”

Giggling, you can’t help but get closer to kiss his pout away, bringing his smile back instantly. “Of course, you are love. The best of them all.”

“Are you making fun of me?” And just as it disappeared, his natural pouty lips can’t help but jut out.

You shake your head, amused at how the tables have turned. “Never.” Then, with the softest touch, you intertwine your fingers and begin dragging him along to the materials he abandoned in the middle of the room. “I’ve never built a fort before.”

“Never?” The look on his face is incredulous, pulling you by the hand to his chest to tenderly kiss your temple, feeling clingier than usual. “Let’s get down to business then.”

Turns out, building a blanket fort is as easy as reading a wikihow article, especially when your Loverboy does most of the work and knows exactly what to use to make it all happen. With the tripod he left at your place, you balance the sheets, keeping them up and creating the perfect opening to your little den of comfort and secrets. Your U-shaped couch was sturdy, assisting your building activities with the many ornamental pillows that became trusty pillars.

You don’t know how much time passed, absorbed into your current task, laughing away with your beloved and teasing each other in good fun. At some point, you get distracted and as he’s ranting away about something that happened at practice, one of your soft pillows collides with the side of his head. Hyunjin stops dead in his tracks, words dying on his tongue as he slowly stands from his crouched position while you try everything in your power to not burst out laughing in his face.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” You feign innocence, gingerly hiding the pillow behind your back like nothing has happened.

Hyunjin stares you down, the intensity in his gaze almost making you confess. Almost. The obvious glint of mischief in his eyes tells you he has an unused card under his sleeve, one you should not ignore.

Without another word, he stretches his arm and beckons you closer with two fingers, obviously expecting surrender. And the pillow that has now become his number one enemy.

When you shake your head and smile brightly, he pauses for a total of five seconds before stepping closer to take matters into his own hands. That’s your cue to flee, so you run in the opposite direction, laughing loudly when he follows and you begin chasing each other around the apartment like little kids.

He’s letting you get away, pretending to be slower and clumsily stumbling over his feet just so your laugh can continue warming his heart, providing the flowers in his chest with the sunshine needed to bloom to maturity.

Then, out of nowhere, he manages to sneak behind you, arms circling your middle and pulling you to his chest with ease, lifting your feet off the ground as both of your laughter blend beautifully. Hyunjin begins attacking you with kisses all over your face and you stop pretending you want to get away, melting into his embrace and fully accepting your fate.

“Caught you.” He says in a sing song voice, over the moon at having you in his arms once again.

Your hands move over his, pillow falling to the ground with a soft thud as you lean back, head on his shoulder to reach his plump lips and press numerous kisses over them. When you move to pull away, one of his hands instantly comes up to cup your cheek to keep you there, tongue sneaking past your lips cheekily. The air shifts instantly as he hugs you closer, kissing you as he needs it to keep living, strong arms serving as an anchor while your body’s buzzing like you’re intoxicated, tingling all over.

Summoning all of your willpower, you manage to pull away from him for the briefest moment. “Just because I let you.”

Hyunjin smiles but you have a feeling it’s an automatic response, his brain not actually processing any of your words as he dives back in, impatient to feel your lips on his once again.

Kissing Hyunjin was always an experience, full of love and passion that had you weak in the knees – but kissing him after not seeing each other for a while felt like the air in your lungs was running out and him, out of the kindness of his heart, kept you alive by sharing his breath with you.

You turn in his arms, just like earlier, but oh so different, one hand gripping his tank top while the other sneaks its way into dark hair, pulling lightly to deepen the kiss which makes him groan lowly. Hyunjin’s grip on your hips burnt, your whole body on fire as he explored it to his heart’s desire, handling you in the exact way one would a priceless sculpture, a work of art he couldn’t look away from no matter how hard he tried.

He tasted divine, and his cologne made you dizzy, just like everything about him did. Without warning, he begins moving, pushing back and guiding your body expertly, biting down on your bottom lip right before breaking the kiss, to your great disappointment.

“Baby.” His voice is hoarse, breath shaky, a nervous laugh escaping him at the look on your face. “Our fort.”

With a groan, you ignore him in favour of placing sweet, open-mouthed kisses up his neck. “You have been driving me crazy with that fort of yours, Hyun.”

His grip on your hips is a warning, sending you mixed signals as he can’t resist but connect your lower halves, needing you as close as possible while he tilts his head back with a heavy breath. “And here I thought that was my irresistible personality.”

You grin, looking up at him while holding onto his biceps for support. “Nope, only your blabbering mouth.”

The tension dissipates as he laughs, eyes wandering and pupils blown even as you tear yourself from him and exhale, trying your best to calm down before going back to the fort you’ve both worked so hard on.

In the end, after weeks and weeks of waiting, you and Hyunjin are finally in your very own blanket fort, giggling like two children who have somehow forgotten what has just transpired a few moments ago.

“This is nice.” You hum, resting your head on his shoulder, glancing at the fairy lights he somehow managed to hang up. You’re both sitting cross-legged on some pillows, surrounded by snacks and blankets.

“I told you I got this. I didn’t need any help or tutorial.” He puffs out his chest, obviously proud he impressed you.

You nod, eyes almost fluttering shut, his bare shoulder surprisingly comfy. “Good job, Bob.”

The words barely have time to escape before you get a pillow to the face, the soft feathers getting into your mouth and startling you awake. You’re frozen in place, not realizing what happened until Hyunjin starts laughing next to you, delighted at the stunt he just pulled.

You push his shoulder, biting back a smile and he laughs harder, toppling over while hugging the pillow to his chest. A part of the sheet gets caught under him and before you know it, the whole thing collapses on top of you, trapping you under along with all the decorations and food neither got to enjoy.

It’s silent for a second before your laughter joins his as you reach to help him sit up, only for him to lose his balance and fall over you, feeling a little claustrophobic under the restrictive sheet. Holding himself up above you with his bulging arms, eyes two crescent moons and engulfing the whole room in a light that could only be produced by him, you move to squish his cheeks together. Lovingly, of course.

“I love you so much, my little liar. But I’m revoking your architecture license.”

Fortunately, Hyunjin didn’t look disappointed in the slightest.

[bugisastranger]

hey babe 🩷 if you have the time or inspiration to write please consider fake dating to lovers with Clark Kent, like a to all the boys I’ve loved before typa situation

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! sorry it took me a bit to get around to it - i can be a busy busy gal.

"you want me to what?"

clark's voice is unlike anything you'd ever heard from him, his shock nothing less than apparent. you shush him, looking around the hallway to see if anyone's noticed. it's lucky for you that nobody did.

"come on, clark. it's one night! not even! it's like, a few hours at most."

"can't you ask someone else? pete?"

"i don't want to ask pete. he won't be able to sell it."

"and you think i can?" he's exasperated, leaning closer to you as if he's suddenly aware how many people could overhear this conversation. "i'm a horrible liar."

"please? you know how my family can be," you whisper, looking up at clark. he sighs, hanging his head. he does know how your family can be—overbearing—which is exactly why he's hesitant. but you're you, so how can he actually say no?

"okay. okay, fine."

"really?" you ask, nearly jumping out of your skin. your arms slide around clark's neck as you excitedly let out a few small 'thank you's. clark's still frozen in place from his decision, but forces one of his arms to slide awkwardly around your hip. he's in for it, isn't he?

the ringing of the school bell pulls the two of you apart, and you quickly shut your locker, making your way towards your first class. clark keeps his place beside you. "so, what does this mean, exactly? what do you want from me?"

"jeez, clark, that sounds like i'm holding you hostage. it's just a favor."

"yeah, yeah. whatever. what do you need me to do?" he asks, taking his seat next to you at the lab table.

"i don't know. whatever feels natural," you say, bending to the side to pull your textbook out of your bag, a gesture which clark never would've took a second glance at. but today, with your hair falling in front of your face (and then you pushing it away), something's different. he doesn't even notice he forgot to say something in response to you until you glance back at him, confused at his silence.

"uh—" he clears his throat. "how am i supposed to know what's natural? we've never dated before." oops. overly sarcastic.

"have you never even considered it?"

"what?" clark's baffled by your question, but you ask it so casually, like it's not taking the ground out from beneath his feet. it's not that he hasn't considered it. it's that he has. he knows all too well how he wants to walk with his arm around your shoulders, how he wants to have you cuddle into his side as you watch a movie, how he wants to absolutely spoil you—as if he has the money for that anyway. "i—"

"you know what? forget i said that. i don't wanna know," you mutter. "just, like, pretend like you're obsessed with me, i don't know."

"hey, lovebirds! you done?" the teacher calls from the front of the classroom.

as clark starts, "oh, we're n—"

you say, "sorry! we're sorry." and then the both of you, red in your faces, stay silent. you barely even move, feeling reprimanded, even though your teacher was barely offended.

when the teacher lets the class work in pairs, clark decides to use the time to talk to you instead. he could do the work later. "can you just give me an idea of what the night's going to look like, at least?"

you take a quick glance at the teacher, making sure her eyes aren't on you and clark. "you'll come over and i'll introduce you as my boyfriend. my parents won't be suspicious, because i'll start bringing it up today. and they won't be too intimidating. my uncle might, but they'll love you. there's something about you that screams 'good guy' and they'll pick up on it." you twirl the pen in your hands. "it'll be fine. you have nothing to worry about, really." clark feels his heart skip a beat when you place your hand on his bicep—which is supposed to be a comforting gesture. what's happening to him? you've touched him before. plenty of times, actually. this shouldn't mean a thing.

a few days later, and clark is taking deep breaths as he walks down the path to your front door. before he can even meet the porch, you're outside, greeting him. he nearly stops in his tracks when he sees you, your hair half up, half down. the dress you're wearing is baby pink, and something about this sight—seeing you so... girly does something to him, even if he won't admit it.

"hi," you say, breaking the awkward silence. "ignore the dress, i'm trying something a little different."

"no, it's good. you look great," he forces. and then, he remembers he's supposed to be your boyfriend, he's allowed to flirt with you. "you look really pretty." he swears he sees your expression change, like you're nervous. it makes his hand tense, and he nearly crushes the stems of the flowers he forgot he's holding. "oh, these are for you."

"thank you. this is..."

"good enough, i hope?"

"better. i knew you wouldn't let me down."

"can't leave my girlfriend hanging, can i?" oh. oh. that gets you. and clark knows it, too.

"uh—" you start, looking at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and infatuation. "we should go inside."

and as you're walking towards your front door—"i should call you something, shouldn't i?"

"what?" you turn back around, facing him.

"honey," he tries. "no, too mature. babe?" clark watches your reactions carefully, and even though you seem affected, 'babe' doesn't have the punch he was hoping for. "sweetheart?" bingo.

"sweetheart is fine," you mutter, trying to ignore the way your face heats up.

"okay, sweetheart. you ready for this?" you nod, walking towards the door with clark at your side. "what about princess?"

"too much. you can't call me that in front of my family."

"but i can call you that when we're alone?"

"clark!"

"it's just a question, sweetheart," clark teases, fighting back a chuckle. he could do this the rest of his life.

part two coming soon?!

[hoiststowline]

responses to “don’t come over, I look like a mess” [w/ sunstreaker, cliffjumper, ratchet, bluestreak, hound & ironhide]

_

“What? No. What did you say? That doesn’t make any sense, I’m coming over anyways,”:

• Sunstreaker is probably the biggest repeat offender on this one, and he uses it in other situations, too. he suddenly can’t comprehend and doesn’t allow you to explain yourself, though he and you full well know he understands. grumbles the whole ‘you’re breaking up!’ schtick. pretends to drive through a tunnel when he’s forty-five seconds away (where there is no tunnels) just to hang up without letting you say a peep. he won’t leave either, so you comply and come to see him, or you will be hearing his horn for the better part of the evening.

• a second guilty charge is aimed straight at Cliffjumper. somehow, there is never any time to explain and he’s in a huge hurry, and he’s only calling you as a courtesy so you’ll be outside and ready to go. If you even get a word in, mentioning weakly you look like shit or don’t feel up to seeing him, he’ll hang up. He can’t hear your lies if he literally can’t hear them or something like that. but once he pulls up and you aren’t outside, now you’ve done it, though he never directs the frustration at you. but if he’s in such a big hurry, wouldn’t he have left by now? Surely doesn’t have the time to wait around- and he’s yelling that you look fine from the street.

“That suspiciously sounds like you just made that up. at what point has that ever stopped me before?”:

• Ratchet will express that in so many words, but his concern will triumph over most things. He’s worried by your misplaced and unusual deflection, partial to looking for his company when it’s often unattainable. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but in the spare moments he does have, he uses them to see you. So when you decline his request, he’s still coming over, hell or high water. Whatever you’re wearing or whatever you’re doing he’s fine being in the company of, so your excuses are paper thin. You don’t sound sick, but he’s gotta be certain of that...

• “yeah, a hot mess!” Bluestreak tried, you’ll give him points there. “…that’s what you meant, right?” Unsettled and nervous chatter arises on his behalf when you can’t quite articulate why you feel so messy, and he immediately begins pressing for answers. there's a full minute where he thinks he did something wrong, and just when you console him that he didn't, you can already hear his wheels burning rubber in the background. hah, good luck stopping him, he's already halfway to your place, and cannot fathom why you looking a little messy would ever prohibit him from coming over. he'll be wary and uneasy the rest of the ride, wanting to get to the root of your woes.

“You always look beautiful, but if you’re not up to company that’s okay,”:

• Hound sorta understands, yet doesn't quite completely in regards to your explanation. though he's disheartened by a handful of things- one that you don't feel up to par outwardly and think that he cares what you are wearing or how you look in this very moment. you always look perfect to him, and your comment only fuels an unsteady flame that makes him think something else is very wrong. but he won't pry or shoulder his way in, he knows you'll come around when you're ready to talk, being supportive as always. he won't argue, he's straight to the point: no, you don't look a mess. he doesn't have to see you to know that, he knows, and to call him whenever you're ready for his company because he'll be over in a heartbeat.

• if anyone gets it, it's Ironhide. your excuse is garbage and untrue, but he'll kid around and poke fun just to get you to laugh. "What, did you just wake up or somethin'?" He really misses your company if you end up canceling, but he makes sure you know that you always look good to him, no matter what. he ultimately respects your boundaries for a couple of hours, and then he's circling your block to make sure you're still alive in there. radio silence is unforgiving, but as much as he misses you, he doesn't want to cross the imaginary line that is your patience. something else must be wrong for you to disappear into your room for the majority of the day, and he intends to get to the bottom of it by the evening.

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

This started as a shitpost but then after the basketball game/badge vs badge SWAT ep I decided to make it a thing™

Tommy and Rocker twins let's gooo

---

"So... you've met my family, you know my friends... when do I get to meet some of your people?" Buck asked.

They were lounging on Tommy's sofa, making the most of their shared day off, some gameshow on tv that neither were paying much attention to.

"My people?"

"Yeah. Your friends, family, your parents..."

"My dad is an asshole, you know that. And my mother died when I was 12." Tommy replied with a shrug, hoping that was the end of that conversation, but the look on Evan's face told him it wasn't. "I have an aunt and uncle who moved to Michigan not long after I enlisted, a cousin in Vegas and one in New York... and some aunts and uncles in Italy that I haven't seen since I was a kid... And you've met Sal and my crew at Harbor."

"No siblings?"

"I uh... yeah I have a twin brother. He's seven minutes older." Tommy told him after a beat.

Buck sat up.

"You have a twin? Why didn't you tell me? Does he live in LA? Can I meet him? What's his name?"

Tommy sighed.

"We're... We kind of drifted apart over the years. His ex didn't like me much and we're both busy with work and stuff..."

"What does he do? Is he a pilot too?"

Tommy smiled.

"No, he's always preferred to keep both feet on the ground. He's with the LAPD."

"He's a cop?" Buck asked, a mischievous grin spreading over his face. "I'm going to ask Athena if she knows anyone named Kinard." he grabbed his phone from the coffee table. "What's his first name?"

"Donovan. But she won't know him as Kinard. He goes by Rocker. He hated our dad more than me."

"Donovan Rocker?" Buck asked and Tommy nodded. "We were Donny and Tommy as kids."

"That's kind of cute. Do you have a picture of him?"

"Upstairs probably. In the albums from my grandma's place." Tommy told him, making no move to go get them. "Give me your phone, I'll see if I can find a more recent picture of him."

Buck handed his phone over and waited as Tommy typed something and scrolled.

"There. That's him. In the middle. That's his team."

"He's SWAT?"

"Yep. I enlisted, he enrolled in the police academy. He's married to the job."

"Sounds like someone else I know." Buck said with a wink.

Tommy tried and failed to look offended.

"He's even more married to the job than me. Ever since he took over as team leader a few years ago, he's put everything into it." he explained. "He texted me a couple of months ago saying his divorce had finally gone through and we went out for a beer. It was nice to catch up."

"Did you tell him about me?" Buck asked with a grin.

"I hadn't met you yet actually. It was a few days before Howie called me."

"And you didn't invite him to the medal ceremony?"

Tommy shrugged.

"It was no big deal. He probably had to work. And when we talked he mentioned he was seeing one of his coworkers but they were keeping it on the down low for now." another shrug. "I didn't want him to give up time with his new love. His ex was crazy, he deserves to enjoy this."

Buck nodded, deciding not to dig into why his boyfriend thought getting a medal wasn't a big deal or something to invite his brother to.

"So let's invite them over here for dinner sometime. I'll cook, you get to scope out your brother's new girlfriend, and I get to meet my boyfriend's brother."

Tommy smiled.

"You've got the whole thing planned out already haven't you?"

"Maybe... But is that so bad? I want to meet your brother, I want to get to know your friends... Your people..."

"I'll ask him." Tommy promised and got up to grab his phone from where he'd plugged it in to charge. "Oh. That's right." he mumbled when he unlocked it. "The badge vs badge thing is coming up."

"The what now?"

"LAFD vs LAPD. Sports events. To raise money for charity." Tommy explained. "They're doing this now instead of the calendar."

"Oh the firefighters calendar? Did you know Chim got picked for that a few years ago? Eddie and I both tried too but only he got picked. Mister April."

"Yeah. I was June."

"What?! You were on the calendar?"

"Yeah. Lost a bet. Kind of." Tommy shrugged. "There's a basketball game on the 17th. I don't know if Don... Rocker is playing. I'll ask him which events he's doing. Maybe we could meet up with him there and grab a beer after."

"Sure. Sounds good. I promise I won't try to break anyone's ankles for getting too close to you." Buck joked. "Now please tell me you have a copy of this calendar and I won't have to ask Chim for his."

---

[astridthevalkyrie]

me getting into a new character: how neurodivergent am i allowed to go

cw: fluff + a few mild horny thoughts

Rafayel has this little quirk where he's practically incapable of acting like a normal boyfriend. Or a normal person, honestly. Where other people would just take your hand walking down the street, he holds it out with a too-happy, beaming grin so that he can see you take it yourself. Where other people would just sit down at a fancy restaurant, he makes mock offended noises if you try to sit before he can make a big show of pulling your chair out for you.

Where other people would kiss you, he likes biting.

"I'm thinking," he muses, nibbling on your earlobe, "what about a diamond necklace?"

You sigh, burrowing yourself further into him, back against his chest. You're quite comfortable, and you could even fall asleep if it wasn't for his constant yammering. "No."

"Come on," he complains, sinking his teeth into your cheek this time. You let out a brief sound of exasperation, trying to bat at him, but he remains steadfast, tongue poking out to soothe the minor indent he leaves into your skin. "How'm I supposed to prove myself if you won't let me?"

"How would you buying me a diamond necklace prove anything?"

One of his hands slips under your shirt, resting right under your chest. His fingers knead whatever they get in contact with—it's not painful, actually it feels pretty good, not that you'd ever admit it to him. Though you suppose, turning around in his hold and silently indicating to him to pull you closer may just be admitting exactly that.

"It'd prove I'm not cheap, for one thing. I'd be able to tell everyone, whatever my girlfriend wants, she gets! You're so strange, not wanting anything. Do you even know how rich I am?"

"Tell you what," you mumble, burying your face in his neck and completely melting in his arms as soon as his comforting scent fills your senses, "you buy me a quesadilla tomorrow and I'll tell everyone you're practically my sugar daddy."

Rafayel scoffs. "Like anyone would ever believe you were a sugar baby. You don't have the constitution for it."

That might be a new lead in the top ten strangest insults you've ever heard from him. Shooting a small glare up his way, you bite back, "Are you going to let me sleep or are you gonna keep talking?"

"Keep talking," he answers without hesitation, then barrels forward before you can protest. "Hmm, maybe I should just fill my place up with amenities for you. Cheese plates in the kitchen. Exfoliators in the bathroom. A butler to take your coat."

The ridiculous idea of him hiring a butler just so someone could occasionally take your coat from you when you come over makes you laugh, which in turn puts a pleased smile on his face and accidentally encourages him to continue.

"What's that kids' movie you like? Twelve Dancing Princesses? What if I just repaint this room with the floor design from that?"

Now hang on. This one actually interests you, the idea of playing out your childhood fantasies out by dancing around in Rafayel's room. If you asked, you're sure he'd hire someone to replicate the same dress the main character from that movie wears too. "Wouldn't that be embarrassing? Anyone who comes here would see it."

"Yeah, something tells Thomas won't care. And if anyone else does come here, they'll probably write a boringly long article meant to flatter me. Renowned artist is super nice and generous to his childish girlfriend—"

"Says the guy who cried during Island Princess," you fire back, "also, it's nice to know you're only trying to spoil me for acclaim."

"Hello? Did you miss the part where I said boringly long? I'm trying to spoil you because I want you to spend my money."

"Why? It turns you on or something?"

"Maybe," he grins, pretending to lean in to kiss you, then sinking his teeth into your cheek once more the second you purse your lips to meet him halfway. With a quiet growl, you kick at his feet, and he only laughs against your skin. "Come oooon, I'm serious. Tell me at least one expensive thing I can get you."

Finally, you open your eyes, looking up at him with all your sincerest conviction. "Raf. If you wanna ruin your reputation and renovate your floor into the Twelve Dancing Princesses one just to prove a point, go for it. But I'm warning you, I'm gonna have to give you the best head of your life if you do that."

Rafayel groans, the hand that's not up your shirt tangling into your hair. "Don't tell me that, you're gonna force me to be selfless and turn it down. This isn't transactional. I give you my card and tell you to go wild, and then you just do it. Nothing in return."

Ah, yes, the Raf classic. Say the sweetest possible thing in the most irritating way he possibly can. Well, two can play at that game.

"If you give me your card and expect nothing in return, I'm going to strictly buy paint supplies in all your favorite brands, all your favorite colors—"

"I don't have favorite colors—"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, you press on. "And your weak attempt to spoil me will fall flat because not only will I only buy things you like, but I'll wire you the entire amount of what I spend the next day."

He lets out a dramatic half-whine, shaking you a little. "Man, you're so embarrassing!" Tugging you closer, he drowns out your complaints with his own protests. "So clingy, stop getting so close to me! Oh my god," he moans, holding your hand tighter the more you try to fight him and pull back, "get away from me, stalker. Let go!"

"Holy shit, you're so annoying—"

"And you're so obsessed with me, it's concerning."

For once, you're the one pouting at him. "I'm trying to sleep. You're really warm. Can you please push my limits later?"

An affectionate smile lights up his face. "Yeah, okay. As long as you agree tomebuyingyouapradabag."

"No."

Rafayel snorts, tucking his face into your hair. "And you think you could handle being a sugar baby."

[thesehandsfic]

okay i got three (3), count ‘em, three, asks about this exact same thing so FINE. you've forced my hand (not really, i was always gonna answer). this meta has been peer reviewed (thank you to @neurosses and @parrishwife) and is backed up by certain things in canon that can be interpreted a certain way.

i will preface this with the disclaimer that i’m not trying to say maggie sat down and wrote a D/s dynamic on purpose. i’m not saying everything they do has a sexual undertone. i’m not saying this is the only correct reading of canon. i’m not saying anyone has to agree with me. i’m not saying they engage in a “lifestyle” dynamic involving total power exchange or 24/7 scenarios. if you think i said these things, i didn’t. i'm not even going to run this through the lens of daddy kink, even though i really could and really want to, but we'll stick to the basics: one of them's The Boss.

it’s a general rule of thumb that any relationship between two people has an inherent power dynamic. an intimate sexual relationship involving emotional vulnerability and cohabitation will have a more pronounced power dynamic. it is my opinion that ronan is submissive to adam in their dynamic, and that is they way they both prefer it. ronan is not that way because adam is domineering and he just doesn’t want to argue. adam is not the boss because ronan is lazy and spoiled and won’t take initiative. ronan likes to feel he has someone he can answer to. it stabilizes him to feel as if he is under someone else’s control. adam likes to feel he has someone he can wield control over. it’s gratifying to him to know that he can always go home and boss ronan around. it’s irrefutable this is their dynamic in canon, i just also think it happens to become sexual as their relationship develops.

i don’t want to say “if you’ve never had D/s sex then you just wouldn’t get it”, but if you don’t understand or haven’t experienced a D/s dynamic, then it might be more difficult to see where i’m coming from.

with regard to adamronan, there are some things in canon we can point to in order to support my hypothesis. some highlights:

adam is saved in ronan’s phone as MANAGEMENT

adam behaves possessively towards ronan in public in front of their peers/his friends

ronan lets adam take the lead in many scenarios, including most of their decision making as a couple (even if he doesn’t always like it, re: greenmantle scheme)

adam is described as the instigator/active partner during the laundry room scene in opal

“ronan likes being told what to do, and adam likes to tell him what to do” “adam likes being with ronan because it makes him feel like he’s in charge”

ronan becomes like a henchman to adam (greenmantle plot, the cabeswater team up, sleeping on the floor by his bed, standing between him and the world in a way that won't offend adam's need for independence)

adam is able to set aside some of his more extreme tendencies with ronan, and relax into a dynamic where he is secure in knowing that ronan won't try to usurp or control him

it is additionally noted by several characters in canon that ronan is a follower. he is easily manipulated and turns to men he respects for guidance, even if they are not capable of or have no interest in providing it. they do not have to be good or smart men for him to respect them; they simply must possess a few of the qualities ronan finds appealing.

some specific ronan “tells” regarding his submissive tendencies:

ronan says to gansey “i’ll be waiting right here for you to tell me where to go”

the whole ronsey master/dog dynamic is crazy, actually. ronan responds to simple verbal commands, comes when he is called, acknowledges a snap or a shout as an order, thinks it’s funny when it’s suggested he should be leashed, and it does not bother him (in fact, he is proud of it) that others know he is subservient to gansey. i think ronsey is a nonsexual dynamic, but gansey still fills a stopgap role in ronan’s life when he is in the space between niall’s death and adam’s introduction

declan acknowledges to another character that ronan prefers to be led/guided

he refuses to comply with anyone he hasn't assigned a dominant role in his life, and sometimes pushes back against those he considers "in charge" of him in order to be reminded of his place/the security afforded to him in knowing he doesn't have to be The Boss

there are definitely more but i don’t want to go on about this forever. ronan plays a submissive role in his own life because he was raised to do so. (in the same family, and in stark contrast, declan is the opposite: he plays an overly assertive role in his own life because he was raised to do so.) ronan is submissive to niall, and losing niall so young in such a traumatic way leaves an enormous hole in his life: nobody is telling him what to do anymore, and it becomes a more immediate, pressing need for him to replace that figure. he is also submissive to bryde. in both cases, he is more powerful than the men he allows to control him: niall was afraid of him, and ronan is the reason bryde is alive. bryde's existence as a "dominant" figure for ronan to emotionally roleplay with is undeniable: he was tailor made by ronan’s imagination to fill a gap during a time when he felt alone, absent a domineering male presence (niall still dead, gansey gone, adam on campus, declan in DC).

i also think ronan is a masochist (the tattoo, the constant thrill seeking behavior that results in pain, when ronan was hit he was more alive, etc etc). pain = sensation = pleasure. but that is not what you asked. i just think it's neat.

on the flip side, adam is manipulative, and actively seeks control in most of his dynamics. he constantly butts heads with gansey, and detests declan (initially, specifically for declan's casual shows of power/status). he is sexually attracted to power and assertiveness (blue, greenmantle, ronan). adam is not looking for a doe-eyed pushover to drag around on a leash. he is looking for an equal that he can keep under his thumb. he wants to take someone in a position of power and put himself above them. some specific adam “tells” regarding his sadistic and dominant tendencies:

“i want to take off all your clothes”

“they were both hungry animals, but adam had been starving for longer”

his internal monologue is often about physical desire, though we see it mostly with blue: he wants to make out with blue, he wants to touch blue, he likes blue’s legs and other features. he thinks about them constantly and entertains fantasies in which he gets what he wants from a person he finds attractive.

greenmantle refers to him as a teenage sociopath, TGM refers to the gangsey as “adam parrish and his merry men”

he scries into a dog bowl, he is tied up, ronan basically says “next time choke me in a sexy way” (which could be read as him simply trying to make adam laugh; it works)

he mentions a few times that he knows ronan is attracted to him, and while he isn’t sure at first how he feels about ronan, he knows how he feels about the attention, and he likes it. he holds a power over ronan because of ronan’s feelings, and adam is drawn to that

he daydreams about ronan being a teacher (authority figure) as a means of projecting an inverted power dynamic onto their relationship

i think adam’s a horny little freak, basically. a lot of his narrative is about power and control. adam has virtually no power or control over anything beyond his grades, and even that sometimes escapes him: the abuse causes him to miss class, and ronan is better than him at latin. he can’t change these things. he spends a lot of time coping with his helplessness by daydreaming about when he will be powerful and successful and in charge. i think it gets him off that ronan is basically a cosmic entity who could dream up an atomic bomb big enough to level the eastern seaboard. that is power, and adam is technically the one who controls it: ronan would do whatever adam asked him to do. it’s mentioned in the series that ronan is a weapon/tool, and in the wrong hands he's dangerous, etc. with regard to adam and ronan’s dynamic, ronan is able to fully submit to adam because he is secure in the knowledge that adam wouldn't abuse this: he rarely asks ronan to dream things for him, he is aware of ronan's power and never tries to harness it for himself, he thinks it's impressive and he likes it. i’ve said this before, but imagine what an ego stroke it must be for adam to know he’s literally having sex with some sort of god. adam is in awe of ronan because of what he is capable of, he doesn't seek to use ronan for personal gain.

just because ronan is aggressive does not mean he is dominant. he is textually passive when it comes to things that really matter. all bark, no bite. he is waiting by the door for his master to get home. adam is textually flirtatious, manipulative, and power-seeking. he will hold something in his teeth and shake it until it stops fighting back.

also not for nothing: submitting feels so good. like the relief a submissive person gets from it is crazy. i find it hard to believe that’s not something ronan really enjoys. i think adam also likes that he can’t genuinely hurt ronan. ronan’s a little bit taller and a lot stronger. there’s nothing adam could really do, and even if he did, ronan could and would stop him. with blue we saw adam holding back and hating himself for his outbursts and his temper and his instincts, and with ronan he doesn't have to do that. they are both aggressive people who find aggression cathartic and sexy. i think ronan likes to be told he’s a good boy and i think adam likes to make him cry and then tell him he’s a good boy. put yourself in adam’s shoes and live that for a second: you have total physical control over someone, you hurt them or push them to their limit and make them cry (or otherwise overwhelm them) and then you reward them and tell them that you love them and they were perfect for you and you’re so proud of them. i find it really hard to believe that’s not something adam’s weird little brain would want.

i think the power/control distribution in their relationship is pretty interesting. ronan is wealthy, a bit taller/stronger, placed more highly in society because of his class, has living family that love him, etc, but he doesn't want control. adam has drive and initiative and not a penny to his name, and he wants, more than anything, to belong somewhere. the open space in ronan's life is where adam fits. again, i don't think they have a master/slave dynamic or a 24/7 TPE lifestyle, but i think they both find comfort in knowing that they can give each other what they both need.

kink is theatre; kink is roleplay; kink is wish fulfillment. kink is something people engage in because they get something out of it that they can't necessarily get anywhere else.

tl;dr ronan likes to get ordered around and adam's into ordering him around. and also sometimes he probably ties him up and makes him cry. both of these things are because neither of their fathers loved them in the right way, which left them both unfulfilled and psychosexually stunted, and now they've got complexes so vast and far reaching it's really too bad freud is dead 'cus he'd have a blast with these two freaks. thank god there's gay people and sadomasochism

genuinely am sorry this is so long. if you want the essay about daddy kink, then you know where to find me.

[nocreativityfornames]

Mammon: Oi, does anyone know what the hell's goin' on with Lord Diavolo?

Lucifer: *raises an eyebrow* What do you mean? What happened?

Mammon: He just praised me! And like, in the weirdest way possible!

Levi: Wait, you too?

Mammon: *shock* He did the same with ya?!

Levi: Yeah, he gave me a pat on the back and told me he was proud of me for coming to RAD today.

Asmo: What?!

Beel: Oh, he did something similar to me and Belphie too. He said that he appreciated how passionate I was about Fangol and that he-

Belphie: Thought I looked adorable in my sleep...

Everyone: *speechless*

Belphie: *narrows his eyes* It was awful, and I hated every second of it.

Beel: *chuckles* Well, I thought it was quite nice.

Lucifer: I-

Satan: Well, that's certainly all very...strange.

Mammon, what did he say to you?

Mammon: Told me I was "good at scammin' and gettin' caught". It made me feel more offended than anything!

Levi: loooool

Asmo: I can't believe it!! How did Mammon get praised and I didn't?!

Mammon: Hey!!

Lucifer: Asmo, that's not the point-

Barbatos: *chuckles*

Lucifer: *turns to Barb* Barbatos, do you happen to know anything about this...?

Barbatos: Ah yes. *smiles* Well... the Young Master saw a video this morning about the importance of showing appreciation for others and making them feel loved. I assume it made him want to go out praising everyone.

Satan: *cringes* Oh... I'll make sure to keep my distance from him for the remaining day then...

Asmo: Wha, don't say that...! Why wouldn't want to get praised by Lord Diavolo?!

Satan: WHY WOULD I WANT TO GET PRAISED BY LORD DIAVOLO?!

Lucifer: *shakes his head and sighs*

meanwhile somewhere else at RAD:

Diavolo: Ah, MC, I must thank you for helping me with these boxes, you're a very good-

*freezes, struggling to find a gender neutral term*

MC: ...?

Diavolo: *sweating* You're a very good...

MC: 🤨

Diavolo: *laughs nervously* A very good... h-human...?

MC: 😶

Diavolo: 😅

MC: 😶

Diavolo: 😅

MC: Please don't ever say that again.

Diavolo: I won't. 🥲

[melanieph321]

Kenan Yildiz x Reader - Claim Me Part 2/3

+18

Part 1

Summary - Reader is Dusan Vlahovic sister and is dating Kenan. However, Reader has yet told her brother of the relationship as he is very protective of her.

Enjoy!

For lunch with the team and their families, you chose to wear pants. Levi's jeans, to be specific. Somehow, Kenan had managed to arrange the seating at the restaurant so that the two of you would be seated right before each other. You were thankful that he had been eager to tell you about his achievements before your arrival at the restaurant. It allowed you to prepare for the worst, like your boyfriend attempting to play footsie while you tried to enjoy your food.

It was pretty funny. His reaction as his foot went up your legs, expecting to feel your bare thighs, only to be met with the rough fabric of your jeans.

"Whatta..."

You had to look away not to burst out in laughter.

"Behave."

Your behavior earned you an elbow from Dusan, who, God forbid, despised laughter around the table. Or laughter in general.

"Are you twelve, or what?" He hissed, to which you were quite offended by. Kenan must have noticed this because his face went from playful to leathal in just a matter of seconds.

"It's okay." You nodded assuringly. However, he was not happy with Dusan and had to excuse himself to go use the restroom.

"Hey?"

There wasn't much you could say to cheer him up. However, he seemed to appreciate the fact that you came looking for him after he had been gone for a while.

"Hey?" He said, meeting your reflection through the mirror. "You know this is the men's restroom, right?"

"Really, then why are you in here?"

He chuckled.

You came up behind him and rested your chin on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist. "It's getting kind of boring out there. What if we ditched this thing and went somewhere else?"

"Won't your brother notice?"

"Nina can cover for me. She always does."

Kenan turned around, forcing you to shift your arms to wrap around his neck, your forheads pressed together.

"I love you." He said.

"Love you too."

"I mean it Y/N. I've never felt this way about another person."

"Felt what?" You raised your head, your nose caressing his, only then did you notice that Kenan's eyes were closed.

"I guess I just don't want to lose you." He sighed.

"Baby." You shrugged his shoulders. His eyelids opened. "What makes you think you're gonna lose me? I'm not going anywhere."

Kenan shied away, the two of you letting go of each other. You kept an eye on the bathroom door as anyone could burst in at any moment.

"I know that." Kenan nodded. It was difficult for him to express his feelings at times. "Like I said before, I want to be able to hold your hand without looking over my shoulder for Dusan. I think it would be better if we just told him the truth. Rip off the bandaid, I mean."

"Kenan I don't..."

"I get it." He nodded. "It's not as easy as I believe. But what if it is?"

You felt for him. You really did. But more than anything, you admired Kenan for wanting to tell Dusan that the two of you were seeing each other. He wanted to do so despite the fact that it could jeopardize the teams dynamic. Not to mention the ridicule and cold shoulders he could face from his other teammates. Still, Kenan thought that you were worth the risk.

"Have I ever told you how good you look in a suit?"

Kenan looked up from where he had been standing by the sink. He saw you scowling him up and down, a devious smile on your lips. "No, but try me." He grinned.

"You look hot." You said, approaching him were he stood. "So fucking hot."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. You can only imagine what it's doing to me right now, seeing you all dressed up."

Kenan's raised a curious brow. His hand went to wrap around your waist as you stood before him again. "Tell me." He whispered. "What exactly is it doing to you?"

Your lip was caught between your teeth. You bit down hard. Even more so, feeling Kenan's hand slip down the length of your back to the curve of your ass. He squeezed it, pressing you against his growing erection.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now."

"In here?" He frowned, questionably looking around the Men's restroom.

You nodded. "In here."

You grabbed his tie, pulling him towards one of the bathroom stalls. As the door trapped the two of you inside, the explicit kissing began.

It was filthy and primitive beyond measure. You had managed to cover up your last hickey with make up, but as Kenan got busy nipping at your cleavage, licking and sucking your breast, you feared that you had no way to cover up those future bruises.

"Fuck Y/N, you're unreal." He groand and slipped a hand down your jeans, feeling the heat from your damped panties. "I want to fuck you until you scream my name."

You smiled. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Kenan paused to look at you,  not sure if this was you giving him his full consent to fuck your brians out. Nevertheless he went for a more tender approach, wanting to please you all the way, without rushing.

You moaned as his fingertips slipped under the fabric of your panties, brushing the bed of you pubic hair, searching for your opening. Once he found it, he slipped two fingers inside, sensing that you were more than ready for it.

The back of your head hit the stall, with a hand covering your mouth to smother your gasping moan.

"Yes baby,  you like that?"

"Mhm." You nodded, fighting back tears in your eyes. He kept a steady paste, thrusting his fingers in and out of you in angles that hit every right spot.

"Don't be shy, baby." He talk you through it, the erruption of your orgasm. "You can come for me. Please, baby, come all over my fingers."

You stood on your tippy toes, climbing the steep hill of your rising orgasm. "Kenan,  I'm gonna..."

"Yes baby, let it go."

It was unbearable, your panties pushed to the side, Kenan's braud fingers deep inside of you, lubricated by the liquid that help spark the flame of the craziest orgasm that you ever experienced.

"Fuck."

You crumbled against the bathroom walls. With Kenan slipping out of you to reach for your jaw, pulling your face towards his, rewarding his good girl with a gentle kiss.

"You did good baby. So fucking good."

You smiled weakly and allowed his helping hand to get you back up on your feet.

"I want you to feel good to."

He smiled. "You already do."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Looking down the bulge in Kenan's pants gave him away. It was your turn to pleasure him.

"Y/N, you don't have to..." He protested, seeing you lower yourself to your knees. "The floor is dirty, baby. I don't want you to..."

"But Kenan..." You whimpered, your eyes big as you looked up at him. "I want to."

"Yes?"

You nodded, "Yes."

His hand went to the back of your head, gripping your hair. You were eager, licking your lips as you reached for his zipper, the bulge in his pants more than ready to be set free.

"Y/N, is that you?"

You froze.

Outside of the stall, the door to the restroom flung open, followed by heavy footsteps.

You looked up to see that Kenan shared the same look of panic in his eyes.

"Y/N!" Dusan hissed, your body trembling with the anger in his voice. "I can see your heels. I know you're in there. Who's in there with you?"

Your heart sank. Not like this, you thought. He will kill him. Your brother is gonna kill your boyfriend.

Part 1

[cosmicsomethingorother]

I think it'd be really funny if Dick Grayson only ever Batdisappears on Roy Harper. Like, Dick is nice enough to stay for the whole conversation before disappearing... As long as you aren't Roy.

He would stay through the most boring conversation with Garth, he'll stick around when Wally's rambling, he never even considers it when Donna's talking. But Roy's there telling him about some super cool mission he crashed of Oliver's and Dick gets a minor alert from Jason or Barbara and Dick's outta there. Mid sentence, Roy looked away for a second and Dick's gone. Poof.

Roy: so like, I was in Star City and Oliver kept trying to get me to try this gross new pizza he found. I don't know why he's so obsessed with it or why he won't just give it to Dinah to try? Basically I went with Ollie to the stupid pizza place and this sauce villain comes out of our pizza?

Dick, getting a buzz that Babs wants him to come over for a girls night and now sufficiently distracted: uh huh

Roy, drops the arrow he was holding and bends to pick it up: have you ever heard of a pizza villain? He apparently wanted us to stop harming his brethren. What is that?

Dick, gone:

Roy, looks over to where he's supposed to be: Gotham's weird, you must have some villain like this right, Dick? Dick?

Roy:

Roy: Oh for the love of-!

The thing is though, no one believes him. Cause Dick never does it to anyone else, it's only him. Roy will try to complain about it to Wally and Wally's all like "what are you talking about? Only Bats does that, not Dick" and Roy's screaming into his pillow. He doesn't know why he's the only one. He thinks he'll never know.

It's because Dick figures Roy won't be a jerk about it or be offended by it. Also because Jason has a crush on Roy and as the older brother Dick needs to put Roy in his place. That Dick's baby

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream? 

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together. 

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

 You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you. 

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open. 

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t… 

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears. 

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves. 

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage. 

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?” 

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together. 

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say. 

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you. 

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today, 

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff. 

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does. 

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw. 

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily. 

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you. 

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

[actual-changeling]

See, but there's something about the first fight in episode 1 that just doesn't really. fit. It very much feels like we are missing information here.

I have been thinking about this show all day, as one does, but in particular why Crowley gets angry enough to shoot literal lightning at a nearby building. We have experienced him upset before, but never to that specific degree, and their disagreement over Gabriel just does not explain it for me.

My hypothesis: a big, important fight happened right before season 2 picks up that left Crowley feeling rejected and Aziraphale neglected.

The biggest clue is the snippet of conversation about myself vs. ourselves.

"I thought we had carved it out for ourselves"

He almost sounds offended when he says that, yet Crowley reacts with equal parts hurt and anger, like he is referencing something that we, the viewer, do not have any knowledge of.

"So did I"

However, Aziraphale seems to understand whatever Crowley is referring to and does not respond with anything in return. Yet whatever wound they just opened keeps bleeding, and when Aziraphale tells him, packaged nicely, to fuck off, Crowley seems more sad than upset to me.

The to go? is almost said softly and with an initial confusion that hides a LOT of unspoken pain. Plus the HAND MOTION? The gesturing between the two of them while saying "oh, so this is how you wanna do this?" - call me insane, but to me that very much sounds like "oh so this is how you want to break up?"

The funny part is, if Aziraphale had simply shut up after saying "I want you to help me take care of him", I can GUARANTEE YOU that Crowley would have begrudgingly agreed. But he doesn't. He keeps going and this is the first moment this season where he is genuinely and truly bitchy.

"But if you won't, you won't" with the demonstrative sit-down and turning away from him, eyes forward. It pokes at whatever wound is still open and bleeding between them. Aziraphale wants Crowley to jump over his shadow and come help him, ignoring his boundaries. Meanwhile Crowley feels fundamentally misunderstood and rejected and wants Aziraphale to SHOW that he cares about Crowley more than he cares about fucking Gabriel of all people.

That he cares about them more than about heaven.

And now we have finally reached Crowley's breaking-point. he is so deeply hurt by what Aziraphale just said and did, choosing heaven over them, that the pain turns into anger because he has no other way of expressing or feeling it in the first place.

You're on your own with this one.

That last look is filled with such disappointed heartbreak, he turns around simply to give Aziraphale a chance to ask him to stay, to apologize, something. Yet again, he does not. He doesn't even meet his gaze, he is looking away.

To me, he seems almost spiteful, like this entire argument is only superficially about Gabriel but about something entirely else deeper down.

Which - that's the point, isn't it?

Crowley comes back and apologizes because Aziraphale matters more to him than stupid arguments or choosing sides, keeping him safe is the only thing he cares about when it comes down to it. He swallows down his hurt and betrayal and does what Aziraphale wants: ignoring the entire argument and pretending nothing ever happened so they can continue like before.

Only that they can't. The entire season shows just how much they cannot go back to their arrangement, no matter how hard Crowley tries to mold himself to Aziraphale's will. Their final argument simply reflects all of that and more. The same wound that first one was about gets reopened very violently and they're bleeding all over each other with no way to stop it because they're too fucking stubborn to admit that it exists in the first place.

Aziraphale and Crowley can only fix their relationship when they acknowledge the reason the rift between them opened up. Until then, Crowley feels truly rejected and Aziraphale feels entirely neglected, and there is nothing anyone can do to make them confront that.

[megistusdiary]

omg i just read and reblogged so many of your posts and read through so much… thank you for the amazing writing 😊

with that being said, i have a request 🫣

how do you think arlecchino (or anyone else you want to write for) would react to a reader that isn’t very vocal in bed? well ofc unless they can coax sound out of her…

also are you accepting anons and if so can i be 🐙?

again tysm for the amazing pieces!!

hi omg that's such a good idea!! personally, i am very quiet, so this is something i can relate to 😁

also, of course!! always accepting new emoji anons ♡♡♡ happy to have you here. i am really happy you've been enjoying my content!

(nsfw utc)

arlecchino always treats you so well. her touches are so sweet despite her more volatile nature. you are her lover, after all. she wants to make you feel good.

which is why you have to warn her.

"i am not exactly... vocal in bed." you tell her one night, laying beneath her in only your silky nightgown. "i do not want to disappoint you-"

she hushes you with a finger to your lips, pulling you up to sit on her lap. she leans in, breath brushing over the shell of your ear. "do you not think me capable of pulling out pretty noises from you?"

your brain short circuits for a moment, lips opening, yet no sound leaves them. "i... do not mean to offend you. i just want to warn you."

she scoffs. "we will see if your 'warning' holds true, won't we?" her hand slips down to your chin, tugging you into a more heated kiss. her tongue slides right over yours, enjoying how eager you are for her touch.

true to your word, you are quiet. even when her hands wander. yet it doesn't seem to deter her, much to your relief, as she lays you down, stripping you bare for her.

her hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. you squirm a little beneath her, only softly gasping when her lips wrap around the right bud, fingers pinching the left. her eyes flit up to yours, watching closely as you bite at your inner cheek.

she treats you tenderly, moving on to eat you out, but never does her tongue slide into you, merely staying on your clit, teasing you with precise movements until you cum for her.

yet she keeps going, pushing you into overstimulation as her fingers slide into you, rubbing your g-spot.

"arlecchino-" your voice is quiet, breathy, legs shaking on her shoulders as she crooks her fingers. your breathing picks up, softly panting as she drags you over the edge once again.

and she doesn't stop there. she continues to lap at your clit, watching your eyes tear up, hearing you suddenly begin to moan softly, fingers twitching against her head while you grip her hair tightly.

you start to whimper and whine so cutely soon enough, feeling her hum, clearly satisfied into your pussy while she wraps her lips around your poor, abused clit.

when she finally pulls away, you sigh, relaxing into the bed only for her to scoff. "you didn't honestly believe we're done, did you?" she questions, yanking you towards her, enjoying your soft squeak of surprise before sliding her cunt over yours.

and, finally, you loudly cry out her name. her head falls back, sliding her clit over yours as your hands feebly grasp onto anything they can, tears threatening to fall while you let out constant whines.

"good. very good." her lips quirk up, eyes narrowing as she continues her movements, quite eager to draw more pretty sounds out of you just to prove you wrong ♡

[hoffmansgirl]

Honestly, I’m getting tired. It’s literally bts pics from a tv show. He’s not even playing Jesus in the show. People are just looking for a reason to hate him at this point and it’s really pathetic. I was not okay with him posing with those guys and I felt like people had a genuine reason to be upset with him, but I also thought double standards were rearing its ugly head again. Let’s get mad at nick for posing with guys dressed as Lyle and Erik but let’s like and repost thirst edits of Nick and Cooper made up of scenes from a show where they play … Lyle and Erik Menendez. People are holding him to a standard that other celebrities aren’t held to. He can’t do anything without people picking him apart and “canceling” him. It’s honestly annoying.

YES YES YES 🗣️ louder for the cunts in the back!

nicholas chavez is not problematic.

so. i actually feel so bad for him because it must be so hard. he's just gotten popular how long ago... a month? two? and people are trying to cancel him so bad.

he can't do ANYTHING without getting hate - first people started bringing up his love life - since when is it anyone's business? calling him a bop, a man whore. people are feeling way too comfortable nowadays.

next ━ "nicholas doesn't support the brothers", "he doesn't give a fuck" ━ how can YOU know that. he doesn't owe anyone a ny thing. he doesn't need to be as vocal as cooper is about it ━ as i wrote in here aaand here. i honestly won't even talk about it anymore after this post because it's fucking annoying.

the picture with the dicks dressed as menendez brothers ━ disgusting. i'm not gonna defend this one because well. he could have refused to take it. he's a grown ass man, for gods sake. although, as i mentioned before, he is HUMAN. he is LEARNING how to be a big star, what he should and should not do. let's not pretend we are all angels, bffr. we all make mistakes, and sometimes we don't even realise we do something that might be considered wrong.

now... the (hot) god damn pictures... can we stop being so sensitive and fucking annoying!!!!!! 😁 i saw that post and thought that he looks so good, the brat dance made me smile sooo much ━ then i saw the comments... he is not. mocking. religion. he is not mocking your beliefs or your god.

"cancelling" an actor for being an... actor is fucking embarrassing. i just have to laugh.

why is everyone so obsessed with this man, with everything he does? why are haters the first ones in his comment section? god, even i am not that fast and i'm fucking obsessed with the guy. come on... people just hate to hate.

and! surprise! he doesn't owe you an apology ━ if you're offended by the pictures ━ because it's just the show. people think he dressed up as jesus for halloween... do your fucking research. read the caption. stop harassing the poor man i swear 😭

in this house we don't hate on nick ━ of course he needs to be held accountable for the menendez brothers picture, no explanation needed ━ but nothing else.

it's kinda funny because my man is just working, being an introvert and people think he's a soulless narcissist.

i guess people just hate rich, popular and hot men that live their best life... i kinda feel sorry for them, ngl.

and one more thing before i finish... nicholas' love life. the insults i've seen online are so concerning. why are people so comfortable to comment on other people's relationships? why do people believe everything they see on tiktok or twitter? calling him a "man whore" is wayyyy too much. like let this man breathe around another woman? or have female friends? god forbid talk to another woman...

i don't want to comment on his girlfriend because... i want need her man, why would i even talk about her 😭 i have my own opinion but lemme just not...

woof woof i'm yapping. but yes anon, i agree with you. 100%.

and finally! if u wanna talk about it (or just talk about nicholas...) then my dms are open!

and remember!!!! to treat people with kindness ♡ 🫧

(celebrities are also people).

[gotham-daydreams]

Weird to say, but I think I'm pretty forgiving of Damien. Yeah, he's rude and ignores the reader, but he probably does the same to everyone else lmao. With Dick who pays careful attention to everyone, it's a betrayal that he would neglect the reader because he should have been an older sibling. Plus Damien is like ten, it's kinda hard for me to hold him accountable when he grew up without knowing better and he's just emulating older members of the family. I'm pretty sure this is how youngest sibling privilege works lol

Yeah, I completely agree! Even then, it can be difficult to know that what you're doing is wrong when you see the people you admire and respect doing the same thing.

Like you said, Damian, in reality, is probably rude to everyone else and ignores them from time to time too. Though for the sake of the "Not [ ]" series, he just so happens to ignore the reader a little more when compared to the rest of the Batfam. Which can still be chalked up to him just following the mannerisms of the family without even thinking much about it.

Regardless, neglect is still neglect and what happened to the reader still isn't right- but I do kind of agree with you that Damian probably holds the least amount of capability. He's young, and you can't really expect him to fully be aware of the effects his actions have on other people, especially when that person:

1. Hasn't expressed how negatively the whole situation has effected them, and they don't exactly appreciate their entire existence getting ignored by so many people. (Which is valid and understandable! Because how can you expect someone who's been ignoring you for so long to not only listen to you, but even acknowledge you enough to notice you have something important to say? How can you expect someone so seemingly set on ignoring you, to care? You can't. So the reader stays quiet, but it is something worth pointing out, I feel.)

2. Again, sees that everyone around them pretty much does the same thing. So it's more of a "if they're doing it, it must be for a reason, so I'll do it too" (since Dick and Bruce are also ignoring you, and Damian actually cares about both of them).

Damian is the least aware that what he did was wrong to begin with because no one told it was, and those around him almost seemed to enable that behavior by continuing to do it themself.

I'd like to believe that maybe his behavior would've changed if he knew how badly it was effecting the reader, but that's also to assume that the others wouldn't. Though who knows?

As for everyone else? They're way past old enough to know that what they're doing is wrong. The neglect as a whole was a "team effort", and even if they won't consider it that, it basically was. All of them neglected you except for Alfred, and they all did it over the course of nearly the reader's entire stay at the Manor. If anyone should've known, it should've been them, and depending on your interpretation of the situation and everything - some are more at fault for neglecting the reader when compared to others.

Especially if they seemingly didn't ignore and tried to spend time with/bond with other members of the family, but the reader just didn't make the cut time and time again.

Like you said — Dick is easily one of the worst offenders simply because he's loving and all this stuff to the Batfam, but just not to the reader —and especially when compared to Damian who was just none the wiser for the most part.

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

God I love me some possessive men-am thinking about HSR daddies with their Omega mate that suddenly goes into heat while their in public/crowded area. (๑/////๑ " )

Them being both worried and protective bc other alphas are starting to take interest. While their poor spouse is just there, clinging for dear life.

Imagine this was before they bonded- free real estate for other alphas to swoop in to woo the poor thing.

IMAGINE IF SOME OF THE ALPHAS DO CHALLENGE THEM ONG (⸝⸝˃ ་། ˂⸝）

Blade would probably be the worst out of all of them. Bro would be pissed as hell. He's ready to fight the world.

Jing Yuan probably would either be very calm, Instead trying to get you someplace safe, or freaking tf out & growling.

Welt, my poor bby would be very concerned (♡´𓋰`♡) prioritizing his mate's wellbeing first. But would he step up if another Alpha would challenge him?

Kyaaaaaaaaaa >-<

I am entertained by your emoticons and your stunning mind :o

Including Luocha cause I keep leaving him out of things.

CW: omegaverse, violence and death mention.

-------

Blade

All he has to do is release his scent and that'll be enough to send anybody running, if not that then seeing the blood lust in his eyes and the sword by his side will.

If anybody is foolish enough to challenge him it's their last day breathing. They better enjoy the scent of his omega while it lasts.

Doesn't escort his omega to safety but does have them hide and close their eyes as he deals with the idiots who thought they could claim them. As soon as he's done he's taking them back home where they'll be safe and checked for any wounds.

If their scent sours because of the violence he might regret killing those other alphas but only because it upset them. Cleans them and himself up of any blood and wraps them up in his sheets before wrapping them up in his arms.

He's struggling a bit with his Mara and his rage at being challenged as an Alpha so he doesn't have the energy to properly take care of them besides this for now. Give him a moment or two and he'll be ready to tend to their every need and comfort them better than he is at the moment.

Jing Yuan

As soon as he smells them he's ordering the nearest soldiers around to clear a path so he can escort them to safety. They follow even if they too are bothered by their scent, they know their place and not to dare lay a hand on his omega.

Everyone knows who the General's omega is, with or without a claim mark, so it'll be surprising for some brave(read: foolish) soul to try and challenge him of all people.They must be some foreigner with no clue on who's in charge of the Luofu and or they don't care.

Point is they've challenged not only their General they've threatened the safety of his omega and he and his people won't stand for this. He doesn't have to lift a finger or look in their direction as his soldiers drag the offender away and focuses on getting them both home.

On the occasion it's just him without any soldiers nearby it takes seconds for him to knock down the competition as soon as they reach for his omega.

Once they're both somewhere safe he's sticking by their side, looking them over for any injuries and checking their medication to see if they've missed taking it or something to explain their sudden heat.

If they allow him he's more than happy to help them out but he'd prefer to make sure they're feeling safe and secure before he's willing to help.

Welt

His priority is to get his omega somewhere safe before dealing with any threats, they can wait but they can't.

He escorts them to a room, such as a bathroom or somewhere else where the door can be locked from the inside and tells them to stay there and to not open the door for anyone until he calls them.

Let's say one of the Alphas follows him and challenges him for his omega thinking with his old age they could do so much better. He doesn't hesitate to put them in their place through words alone, letting them know that clearly they aren't a good match if all they can do is think with their dick and then some.

If the other gets enraged he'll deal with them promptly with his powers until they and any stragglers flee the scene. Once he's sure the coast is clear he gives his omega the signal and finds the quickest route back to the Astral Express or their hotel room.

As soon as their safe he does his best to take care of his omega by giving them the space or comfort they may need from such a stressful situation. Will help them out with their heat if they like but their mental, emotional, and physical health comes first.

Luocha

Since people tend to think of him as an omega as well they might try to come after him as well. Doesn't mind the attention as he can deal with them easily but with his omega struggling to stay standing he's got to prioritize their safety first.

Releases his scent to get most of the other alphas to back off before taking his omega into his arms and cutting past anyone who tries to stop him.

If an alpha decides to pursue not getting the hint they're not wanted he's taking them out, zero hesitation. They might not be dead but they're gonna wish they were.

As soon as he's got his omega to the safety of their shared room he's giving them all the attention they could want in the world. He might have to take a break away from them to reschedule his meetings and the like but that's nothing, their health and well being matters far more than some business.

[konigsblog]

Konig with a darling that's constantly trying to give him a diagnosis

"Nein nein im not-"

"Yeah looks to me like you have anxiety and show signs of bipolarity disorder."

bring back therapist-reader and obsessive-könig. :(

cw: narcissism, god complex, coercion, manipulation, toxic-könig.

you try so desperately to explain to him that he's not well, that he's displaying narcissistic tendencies and behaviour, as well as other mental health conditions like depression and anxiety. he doesn't like to admit it though, perhaps he's terrified of admitting the truth – that there's something wrong with him – but, he doesn't want to believe it. i mean, he's perfectly fine, his expression of love and adoration doesn't seem abnormal, or at least to könig himself...

he talks to you about his struggles when it comes to his line of work, talking about the soldiers in a demeaning way, as if they don't hold the same amount of value as he does. sometimes he'll distract you and attempt to talk about his admiration for you. you treat him so well, why won't you accept his hugs and kisses at the end of the appointment? you're breaking his heart, little lamb.

könig may also attempt to seduce or coerce you into having sex with him, as he says, ‘it's a coping mechanism’. he's so depraved for you, he'd drop to his knees for you, and gets offended when you decline him. alright, so you don't think he's important? when he asks about your love life, he cannot control his rage hearing about another man. perhaps he shouldn't have asked, but he simply can't wrap his head around you not wanting him.

his god complex is obvious, that he doesn't view anyone the same as him. könig believes he's more important than anyone – that no one should receive the same amount of love as him, believing he's more worthy of respect than anyone else.

no regards for anyone, but himself. :(