#is wrong we have to voice that one and submit a new request and i explained this in my email and said what i was going to do re: asking

[leadmeastraylittlefairy]

.

[gloomwitchwrites]

LOVED the sit down fics. Please consider: US telling THEM to sit down. What are they going to do? Argue and sleep on the couch? (Love your works!! Always makes my day when I see a new one)

AHHHHHHHHH! ANON OMG! I love this. I giggled and kicked my feet the entire time I was working on these. I had so much fun jumping back into the Imagines Series after Kinktober with this prompt. While I'm still working through the 3.5k Spooky Bingo event, I am returning to my usual content.

For those curious, THIS is the fic that Anon is referring to.

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, suggestive themes, flirting, arguments, swearing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“John. We have to talk about this.”

“We are talking.”

“No. We’re arguing. And you’re not listening.”

“Of course I’m listening, love.”

“Then what did I just say?” you ask, exasperated.

John opens his mouth and then pauses. He loses steam, the gears turning as he realizes he’s wrong. He takes a deep breath and then holds up his hands. “If I’m being honest, love—”

“Fuck. Sit down, John.”

Your tone is sharp, and John drops into a chair, completely silent, his gaze locked in on you.

“If you are not going to listen to me, then I’m ending this discussion. We can come back to this later. When we’re calm.”

John is always the steady one. He’s your rock, but for whatever reason, this one discussion has transformed into an argument.

There is silence after, and you have no idea what John thinks of your sudden authoritative demeanor. His face is blank, and then his mouth turns up into an amused smile.

“What?” you ask, suddenly flustered.

John relaxes into the chair, spreading his thighs wide in invitation. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re angry, love.”

“Don’t distract me, John,” you mutter, the irritation beginning to melt away.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"We're having this out," says Kyle, grabbing your upper arm. He tugs you against him, head tipping forward in an intimate gesture.

"I don't want to argue with you," you reply.

"And I'm not done." His tone is calm but firm. Whenever Kyle sets his mind to something, it can be difficult for him to change course.

"Well, I am." Kyle's hold on your upper arm tightens a bit. It's not painful, but he draws you closer. "Now, sit down."

"Wha—"

"Sit. Down."

Kyle draws back, startled. His hold loosens and descends to grasp your wrist as he sinks onto the sofa. You rarely assert yourself, but you're frustrated with him.

“I am done fighting about this. Either we find a compromise, or we end this discussion.” Kyle breathes deep, his gaze intense as you continue. “You can sleep out here if you won’t budge.”

“I sleep beside you,” replies Kyle.

“Then talk to me. Don’t push me around.”

Kyle’s hand on your wrist softens, his thumb gently caressing the inside of your palm. It makes you shiver, and Kyle pulls you closer. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, voice soothing.

"Can we talk now? No fighting?"

"No fighting," he agrees.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Irritation bubbles under your skin, creating a buzzing sensation that puts you on edge. You and Simon rarely fight but the two of you always circle back to the same issue.

“I’m sick of talking in circles. We have to figure this out.”

The corner of Simon’s mouth twitches. “I’ve already told you how I feel about it,” he says.

“I understand but we have to find a compromise.”

“I’m not willing to budge on this.”

“Simon—"

He pushes in, invading your space. “You’re the one that’s undecided.”

You hate being bossed around, and you hate it more when Simon flaunts his dominance during a disagreement.

“Sit down,” you growl.

Simon blinks, startled. “What?”

“Sit. Down.”

Simon’s gaze narrows, the middle of his brow creasing. But he sits, settling on the sofa.

“I understand how you feel but I need you to listen to how I’m feeling. This is a big decision, and I want us to talk through things. I’m not just going to bend over and take it.”

“But you like it when I bend you over.”

“Simon Riley!”

Simon smirks “Need to let out a little steam?”

“Yes,” you mutter, flustered. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Arguments with Johnny almost always end in sex.

He’ll use his tongue, his fingers, and then eventually his dick until you’re blissfully fucked out of your head.

“You are not distracting me,” you say sharply as Johnny moves in, a sly smile on his face.

His hands settle on your waist, gripping tightly. You know if you don’t get a handle on this now, you’ll be face down in the bed with ass in the air in moments. It’s Johnny’s favorite position.

Placing your hands on Johnny’s chest, you give him a bit of a shove, creating space. “Sit down, Johnny.”

Johnny’s eyebrows rise suggestively. With a sauntering sway, Johnny sits on the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless and wearing grey sweatpants. They hang dangerously low on his hips.

You cover your eyes. “We need to have a conversation that doesn’t end in sex.”

“I don’t see the issue.”

“Of course you don’t,” you mutter.

“I like it when you boss me around.” You can feel his heat just before his arms slide around you.

“Oh my God,” you groan, pushing at his chest. “Sit down.”

Johnny teasingly nips at your neck. “Only if you sit in my lap.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@umno-yeah @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[jo-speaks]

Hi sorry I just sent in that Kirby request and forgot to add the emoji so I’m submitting this again lol but 🎂, Kirby Dach, “can we try something new” & “we shouldn't ... ah, we shouldn't be doing this” 🤭 friends to lovers energy pleaseeeee

warnings: oral (f!reciveing)

celly masterlist

It felt wrong.

The man in between with his head currently in between your legs was the boy you had grown up with, your friendship having limits neither one of you had dared to push. 

“Kirby, we shouldn’t-” You cut yourself off with a moan as his tongue circled your clit, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He ignored your words, his mouth never slowing down or stopping as he savoured your taste, eating you out like he hadn’t had a meal in days. He didn’t stop until your juices were literally dripping down his chin, your hand tugging desperately at his hair until he finally gave you some reprieve. 

You were too busy catching your breath, completely spent from the previous orgasms he had pulled from you to realize exactly what you had gotten yourself into. You and Kirby had been friends since your first year of school when he stood up for you after a boy pulled on your pigtails. He’d always been protective of you, steering you away from guys he got a bad feeling from. And if anything, steered you closer to him.

“Can we try something new?” He asked, voice pleading. 

Reaching up, you carded your fingers through his hair, “Have we not already been doing that?” He let out a soft laugh, leaning his body forward to be close to you. Your lips were mere inches apart, “Can I kiss you?” The whole situation was funny. He had gotten his lips on your most sensitive areas before even kissing you on the mouth. 

You didn’t say anything, simply pulling him to close that distance between you. As sweet as the moment was, it was hard to ignore the feeling of him rutting against your bare pussy. 

“That something else you wanna try?” You teased, speaking against his lips.

Kirby nodded eagerly, “You have no idea.”

[michixoxo]

ONG HIII YOURE BACK

i missed you so much i kept rereading your old posts lol

so can i submit a request 🥹 so uhm can you do like a one shot where we argue with arlo and it gets resolved😍 so like a hurt to comfort please💗

aww!! i'm so glad to be back too!!!

also arlo practically runs my blog now huh

"i told you!", you almost can't fucking believe it. "i told you, and you didn't listen. now look!", he rolls his eyes, groaning as he tangles his hand in his hair. you follow him as he walks down his apartment corridor and takes out his keys. he practically shoves the thing inside the lock, "i knew you'd be like this.", he mutters under his breath.

he opens the door with more force than necessary, leaving it banging against the wall as it flies open. you step into the apartment after him and slam the door shut behind you. "why wouldn't i? after i told you, i told you, not to fuck with john!" he groans feeling a headache coming on already. sure, you were right. you did tell him not to. when you questioned him about why he, of all people, was hanging out with the "cripple" and he told you his plan, you told him not to do it. that it wasn't fair to john, that it was cruel, that the undue damage he'd cause wasn't worth putting john "in his place". did he listen? no, obviously. and now—

"—now we have a fucking joker running around the school brutalizing people! are you proud of yourself?!" no, he wasn't, but that doesn't mean he's in the mood to listen to you berate him as if he doesn't already regret his actions. "you think this is what i wanted? what i expected? god, you act like i knew he was some kind of ticking time bomb."

you can't fucking believe it. he always does this. always dismissing your concerns and acting as if everything is just fucking peachy, just all a part of his plans, when it's not.

you remember stumbling into doc's office, needing a tonic or something for a bruise you got over the weekend. there, you see your boyfriend, the king, sitting behind the curtain of one of the patient beds with scratches and dirt marks on his face. the vague outline of a shoe imprinted on his cheek is still burned into your memory. a turf war gone wrong? maybe a fight that got out of hand? at least, that's what you thought. and that's what he told you, brushing your concerns under a rug. but you'd be lying if you said there wasn't a small voice in your head that told you there was something deeper going on.

it was only until you got a hold of elaine that you were able to figure out what happened. the girl was practically dodging you, well, after news of you and arlo's relationship came out, it wasn't like that was an uncommon occurrence. either way, once she told you that arlo called her to heal ventus, meili, and him in a turf war arena, it was like the dots connected themselves.

"what the hell is wrong with you?!" you shout, watching as he fills up a coffee cup with his back turned to you. "are you some kind of psycho? is that it? are you just so blind to the feelings of others?" you hear him scoff as he sips his coffee. he turns to you with a sharpness to his tone, "since when did you start caring about others? huh? acting like the patron saint of all cripples. or fake cripples, now that we know he isn't one. if i'm a psycho, then you're a wannabe low tier activist who's little more than a loud bystander."

you grit your teeth, "go fuck yourself, arlo." you turn around, the click of your shoes on his hardwood floor makes you feel smaller, stupider than ever before. you whisper, voice shaking, "fuck me too for ever caring about you."

the sound of his mug against the marble counter precedes the grip of his hand around your wrist as he stops you in your track. his steel like skin serves as an odd contrast to the flesh of your hand. "babe, wait, I just— I—" he sighs, glancing away from your glare as he takes a moment to rearrange his words. "listen... i know, i was wrong. i didn't listen to you when i should have. and now... now i've lost everything." he looks back at you, "i don't want to lose you too."

you stare at him for a moment and, like melting ice, your gaze gradually softens. you let out a shaky breath, "you know how easy it is for people to die, don't you? god-tiers have so much strength... just one wrong move, and he could've killed you.", your breath hitches, "do you even know what i would've felt if that had happened? if i lost you?"

he pulls you in gently by your wrist into a hug from behind, his arms wrapping around your torso and his face settling into the crook of your neck. he mutters against your skin, "i'm sorry." you sigh, wiping away unshed tears. your hand moves to rest against the back of his palm, your fingers stretching to interlock his and yours.

"i don't know how to fix this..." his words flutter onto your skin, softer than you've ever known him to be. you sigh, squeezing his hand, "it'll be okay. we can do it. together." you promise. he hugs you tighter, whispering, "i love you." a small smile manages to creep its way onto your weary face, "i love you too."

[quodekash]

i ran out of images in the first part (to no ones surprise) BUT IM HERE NOW, CONTINUING THE EPISODE

...All The Times They Didn't Kiss - AU Edition?

"you might as well submit a love request" PLSSS GUN HAS SO MUCH MORE CONFIDENCE THAN TINN COULD EVER HAVE

that's the wrong finger, buddy

HELL YES MV TIME

...well thats kinda boring

they just growl lightly at each other instead of the chinzhilla tribute

THANK YOU PORRRR

EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU POR, TOGETHER NOW

THANK YOU POR

HIS LITTLE "whee" AS HE JUMPED DOWN- BRJDFG I LOVE HIM

HIS NEURODIVERGENCE IS STRONG

i can see inside gun's brain rn

hes like 'dont freak out dont freak out dont freak out this is normal this is fine I WANT TO KISS HIM- no shhhh, calm calm calm you are calm breathe in and out, in and out, aaaaAAAAAAA-'

"it makes you feel warm as if im hugging you all the time" GERJDGN

I LOVE HOW MUCH CONFIDENCE THIS TINN HAS

soundwin standing next to each other 👀

i love the recreations of some of my favourite lines but from different voices, this is very funky

hes so... cool now. there's no other word for it.

SOUNDS SILLY LITTLE HEAD BOP GJERNDGJ I LOVE HIM TOO MUCH

TINNSOUND HEADBANGING!! GEORSGL

I LOVE SEEING TINN JUST BEING SILLY AND DANCING AROUND THE STAGE AND HAVING A GOOD TIME

hes too precious

we need to protect por at all costs

i love him so much

pls it takes me so long to watch these, im on 2/4 and its already 12:40am

Neurodivergent Bird Sit

TIW FIDGETING WITH HIS HOODIE BLANKET

this is so strange

tinn being reprimanded

por and gun standing on the side of the principal's desk

gim the principal

photjanee the concerned and awesome mother

sound standing at the desk next to tinn

win standing behind, part of the group but not really, kind of new to this, keeping a stoick expression with his arms crossed

its strange

bro if people would start randomly playing live music during class time i think most classes would celebrate

i know i would

live music is awesome

and that song is a banger

THE MOTHER SOLIDARITY OMG

WE HAD MISSED OPPORTUNITIES FOR PHOTJANEE/GIM FRIENDSHIP

I WANT TO SEE THEM GIRLBOSSING AND SLAYING AND BEING INCREDIBLE AMAZING MOTHERS AND WOMEN

PHOTJANEE WAS ALREADY ICONIC AND NOW SHES EVEN MORE ICONIC I LOVE HER SO FREAKING MUCH

"i needed to close the shop to handle you here! you keep causing trouble. i told you, didn't i? do whatever you want but dont put me in trouble" HONESTLY? GO OFF QUEEN

"wont you fight for me mum?" "i wont! im not as kind as those mums in the series!" im so sorry maam, i hate to break it to you, but you... you're a mum in one of those series

KIND PRINCIPAL, STRICT MOTHER, I LOVE THIS

CLOSING THE CLUB FOR ONE YEAR???? JEEZ DUDE, NEVER MIND ABOUT THE KIND PRINCIPAL THING

gun's very vague plan which is the exact plot of the canon series, but bc hes gun hes explaining it very haphazardly to por and its very funny

"your baby" "...why are you so eager to speak in english?" "why? i can do so. im good at it, whats your problem" first of all, iconic. second, yes youre very very good i love you youre amazing and better than most english speakers (i know he only said two words, shut up, i need por to know hes doing good). third, im desperately hoping this is somehow related to something tiwpor

im rly rooting for more canonical tiwpor in this au

maybe some handholding

perhaps a cheek kiss

possibly even a kiss kiss (PLEASE P'AU)

"love while lighting the candle is like going to school in the rain" did the quote change or was this a translation error. cos thats not what tiw said.

OHH OKAY POR SAID IT WRONG

"it's the same anyway. i just said it backward, not a big deal. it's a mix of languages, you know. im not good at thai, im not fluent" interesting (picture the fish on my icon stroking my chin) very interesting

THE OTHERS' INSTRUMENTS

i think

are those all just gun's dad's?

i mean tinn's dads

this is confusing

in this scenario is tinn's dad still an author aspiring musician?? or is he a musician? or is tinn's dad dead in this scenario but gun's isnt?? explanations pls and ty

or is that sound's electric guitar and yo's acoustic and stuff

gosh freaking darnnit im tired again, why does my body keep doing that to me

im gonna post this and go to bed and finish it like. tomorrow afternoon.

gejbsegdh i really feel like im gonna feel like im missing out but i cannot keep my eyes open

goodnight folks, i hope you all enjoyed the episode! bye byeeeee

[rpcpositivitea]

there's not a single shred of positivity in this community. look how slow this blog is compared to tattler. I've been submitting things since positivitea opened and I feel like I'm the only one now. what the heck, y'all. be sweet.

with that I wanna say: hey positivitea. you're a light in this community and I love you, whoever you are.

I wasn't sure if I was going to post this, because the beginning was a little pessimistic, but I ultimately decided the good outweighed the bad for the message of requesting more positivity. So... Be the change, right?

Hey, Nonnie. Thank you. I love you too. But to be honest? You're wrong, and I say that with nothing but love in my heart. There is so much positivity in this community, if you know where to look. Let me point some out to you:

Say what you will about the admin teams that consistently open sites together... But the point is, they found friends that they could staff with. Staffing isn't easy! We all have a horror story or two. They found comfort, like minds, friendship and they stuck by it. Loyalty, friendship, especially across great distances like the rpc offers is a huge positive. It's worth cherishing.

A staffer made a decision you don't agree with? You can leave. You can voice discontent. You can make a whole new site. You can join a whole new site. You don't ever have to write with them, literally ever. We have so much freedom in this hobby, and that's a powerful thing.

Think about the worst thread you have ever written, and I mean the worst thread. That was practice. I know, I know, but really. That's valuable. You learned what not to do, that's a big thing. You took that and think of every better thread you've written since. Every better character, every better sentence even. That's important. And besides, it's just one thread, with some stranger in a sea of strangers in a for fun hobby. It's roleplay for a reason, let it be fun.

I'm asking you to add your own positivity to this, through comments or reblogs or whatever. I'm begging you to spread a little kindness, a little joy. Shout out a friend, even if it's private. Do something this week to remind yourself why we're still in the RPC at all, why it still sparks joy. Do something for yourself, even.

I love you, RPC. We got this.

[nmikaelsonimagines]

Glass Half Full: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: Hey I love your imagines and was hoping you could do one where Klaus goes to the grill and the new bartender is who is super sweet until customers become rude in anyway with and he is amazed with her but they get off on the wrong foot please and thank you!🖤🖤🖤

Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x 

Remember to submit your quote and your favourite imagine for Imagine 200 here x

To most people, Klaus presumed, she would be seen as quiet and unassuming. A small town girl, probably, with a knack for good customer service, her mind full of big dreams, only having taken this job to pay off her student loans. They probably wouldn’t take any notice of her large eyes, of the intensity of the smile she gave customers, of the lilt in her voice when she asked the patrons of the Mystic Grill what they wanted.

To most people, Klaus presumed, the new bartender was a glass half full kind of girl. But he knew better than anyone that there was always more to a person than first met the eye.

It wasn’t long until he was proved right.

Klaus had been finding excuses to the visit the Grill for about a week now. He was pretty sure his siblings thought he was on his way to becoming a pertinent alcoholic – he was also pretty sure that particular train had been boarded about eight centuries ago. Not that he cared what they thought – again another train that had been boarded a few hundred years ago.

All he cared about was discovering what was hidden behind the beautiful smile of the woman behind the bar. Y/N, according to her name tag.

Y/N always had a smile on her face when she dealt with customers, was always kind, had even smiled at Klaus a few times as she poured him his seventh – or maybe it was his ninth – Bourbon. It was endearing, Klaus admitted, but he was waiting. Waiting for the moment she would snap. Klaus had a tendency for noticing the darkness lurking in a person, and Y/N reeked of it.

He sat up as he noticed a rather indignant-looking man approach the bar. Here we go.

“Is there a problem, sir?” Y/N’s voice was as sweet as ever, sliding over Klaus like syrup.

“We’ve been waiting half an hour for our food. Where is it?”

“I’m sorry sir, I’m a bartender, not a waitress. But I’ll – ”

“You’ll what? It doesn’t matter what you are, you’re here to serve. So do it.”

Klaus watched as Y/N seemed to consider the man’s point. It reminded him of himself – the way he would contemplate just how to deal with people who annoyed him. It usually resulted in death, but Klaus had a feeling it wouldn’t end that way with Y/N.

But it would be just as exciting.

Again, it wasn’t long until he was proved right.

“You’re right, sir. I’m so sorry. Let me just – ” And with that, Y/N picked up the cocktail she had been mixing, and poured it over the man’s head. Klaus couldn’t stop himself from laughing, just as the unfortunate customer called Y/N something unseemly.

As Klaus got his breath back, he watched as the man lunged for Y/N. Using his preternatural speed, he was over there in an instant, grabbing the man’s arm. “I wouldn’t do that, mate.”

“And who are you? Her boyfriend?” Klaus didn’t answer, and let go of the man who glared at both of them. “Well, good luck with a woman like that.”

Klaus watched him leave, before turning to Y/N. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but whatever it was, it was much nicer in his head than what he got.

“I didn’t need your help. I swear to God, I’m sick and tired of men thinking they can either insult me or need to run to my rescue.” Y/N untied her apron and slammed it on the bar. “Someone tell my boss I came over ill and I’ve gone home,” she said to no one in particular.

Well, that was unexpected.

Klaus paused for a moment, before following her. He found her against the back wall of the Grill, head between her knees. “At the risk of repeating myself, are you okay?”

Y/N looked up at him, and glared. If reaching out to her was to be a challenge, then Klaus welcomed it. He continued. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry if I offended you, those weren’t my intentions. In fact, I think your act of aggression in there proved that you definitely didn’t need my help.”

Y/N looked at him. “I’m sorry too. It just gets too much sometimes, you know. I only took this job to pay off college fees, and I thought I’d try and make the best of it. Glass half full and all that. And then you just get people like that who think they can treat you like crap, and it gets to you. Sorry again.” She held out her hand. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Klaus took her hand and smiled. “Klaus.”

“Can I get you a free drink to apologise for being such an asshole?”

“Well, that would be nice. But maybe at a different bar.”

Y/N didn’t know why she had felt the need to make it up to Klaus, nor did she know why she ended up telling him her entire life story over a few whiskies. In fact, she wouldn’t know the answer until a few years later when, after dating for quite a while, he bent down on one knee and asked her to marry him.

Klaus, on the other hand, started to believe that maybe he should start looking at life from a different perspective. Glass half full, and all that.

Masterlist

[why-bless-your-heart]

Blessed Mother:

Not quite organized and I’m not trawling through Biblegateway to pull out all of my sources for the dozenth time, but here’s the gist of it.

Since Jesus Christ was fully God and fully man, Mary is the mother of God. God did not originate from her, nor did she precede God, but she bore God Himself in the second person of the Trinity. She is unique among all humanity for the way in which she was called to participate in the life of the Trinity as daughter of the Father, mother of the Son, bride of the Holy Spirit. This relationship is above anything that any other human ever has been or ever will be granted.

Sin is, at its simplest, rebellion against God. Grace is, at its simplest, participation in the life of God. The two are antithetical to each other. Where there is sin, there cannot be grace, and where there is grace, there cannot be sin. Original sin is inherited from our first parents, Adam and Eve, which means that human nature was in a state of rebellion against God and cut off from His grace. We are not able to be granted grace except through Christ: specifically, through the sacraments (Baptism, Reconciliation, Eucharist, and Confirmation especially), outward signs instituted by Christ for our benefit. However, the angel Gabriel hailed Mary as “Full of grace.” For that to be the case, she could not have been in a state of rebellion against God. She would have had to have been without original sin. Unlike the rest of us, who are born with original sin and brought into grace by baptism, Mary was brought into grace by God preserving her from original sin.

We are told that Christ submitted Himself to His parents, Mary and Joseph. This could only have been the case if, from the age of 12 years old to the age of 30, Mary and Joseph had never once asked anything of Him that was opposed to God’s will. For Mary (and Joseph!) to have been so aligned with the will of God speaks of a sanctity above that of any other biblical figure (with the obvious exception of Christ Himself.) Mary’s will was so aligned with God’s that Christ performed His first public sign — beginning the road to the Cross and elevating Marriage to a sacrament — at her request. The final recorded words we have of Mary’s are “Do whatever He tells you.” Whenever we look at Mary, she points us to God. Her soul magnifies the glory of the Lord.

We know that Jesus had no siblings because he scolded the Pharisees for allowing children not to take care of parents in their old age, but He entrusted Mary’s care to John while on the cross. This would have been wrong if Mary had had any other children. He also told Mary to behold her son. Giving the one apostle at the foot of the cross to Mary is also an entrustment of the Church to her: she is the mother of all Christians, just as Christ is our Brother and God is our Father.

The ark of the covenant bore within it signs of God’s covenant with Moses: Aaron’s staff, the tablets that the 10 commandments were inscribed upon, and manna: the power of the priesthood, the law, and the bread from heaven. Mary bore within her the new priest, the new law, and the bread of life from heaven. The ark of the covenant was so holy that even to lay a hand on it meant death. David, in joy, danced before the ark, and, in awe, asked “Who am I that the ark of the Lord should come to me?” John, in joy, leapt in the womb at the sound of Mary’s voice, and Elizabeth, in awe, asked “Who am I that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” If the old ark of the covenant was too holy for the touch of man, how could the new ark of the covenant be less holy?

[sukirichi]

true gift

A god like Naoya is about to see how his little mortal is hiding a true gift.

REQUEST.  deity au + virgin sacrifice for naoya + reader with worship kink

CONTENT/WARNINGS. virginity loss, naoya isn’t nice, mentions of blood,  murder, abduction, praise kink, slight degradation, fingering, overstimulation, slight breeding kink, creampie, orgasm denial, mentions of slavery, face fucking, reader is willingly consenting to pain, reader is a masochist, naoya is a sadist 

NOTES. ah...it feels so natural to write naoya...also can someone send me some good erotic hentai panels, yay <3

Today is the day – the one you’ve been prepared for ever since you’ve forced to make acquaintance with the blinding darkness and smell of rust.

What time is it? Is it morning, night...maybe somewhere in the middle?

There’s no telling, not when you’ve been staring at the pitch black darkness for what seems like forever. It’s been too long, so long, that you’ve forgotten what the world looks like. It’s like one day you’re helping your family tend to the farms when rough hands grabbed at you, and you’re shoved in a cold, dark cellar before you could even say good bye.

Oddly enough, the servants – or at least that’s what you assume they are, since they’ve been nothing but tight lipped and inherently obedient to a faceless figure – have taken extreme care of you.

Twice a day, they’d open the cellar, the sound of keys rustling and nearly muted footsteps like music into your ears. The slight sliver of light passing through from the outside is immediately concealed within a split second, a black smooth material wrapped around your eyes before they strip you off. Normally, you’d complain and fight back, but you’ve lost all the will to even defend yourself at this point.

You’ve given up a long time ago, and life’s been a lot more tolerable ever since.

Today isn’t any different. Maybe it was hours ago, two servants had came in to wash away the grime and dirt from your body before you felt something combing through your hair. Then, you felt it. A smooth, cold blade running up and down every inch of your body, rendering you immobile in fear even breathing could cut you open.

It didn’t. If anything, you felt a lot smoother, lighter, and freer.

“Is she bare?” an old, croaky feminine voice echoed in the small room, equally wrinkled hands removing the strap of your bra off before she lathers a rose-scented cream all over your body. “Naoya-sama prefers his slaves hair-free, you know that. Not even stubble is allowed, do you understand? Keep shaving her until she’s spotless.”

Naoya-sama.

So that’s where you were. It all made sense now.

For as long as you could remember, that name’s been spoken with terror, the slight tremble of voices and darkened eyes pooled with fear never absent in the presence of his name. You’ve never seen him, but you know enough to understand that he’s a prominent figure especially in your little village. He’s not human, but he’s not exactly a god either – at least, not one that people would willingly worship.

You’ve heard telltales on how his beauty alone had women dropping to their feet, the malice in those eyes of his enough to make even the strongest warriors stick to his side in fear of what he’s capable of.

He’s as old as time and as strong as the steady flow of the river you and your people have always bathed in. It doesn’t make sense that someone as fearsome as he was is living at the mountains where nothing but quiet, peaceful people rejoiced, but the more you think about it, of course he’d prefer his people submissive, heads always ducked in fear and shaking in terror.

This whole time, you thought you’d been sold off to a neighbouring clan head because your clan didn’t have enough funds to pay for the latest trade.

In a way, you’d feel a lot luckier if the former had happened instead, because there’s really no proper way of making sound of the fact you’re sacrificed to your own deity, Naoya Zen’in, after not completing your offerings to him for ten whole moons.

It’s bad, horribly so, and you should be shaking, should be crying, should be wishing for death instead, so then why are you deferential? You don’t complain when two rough hands pull you from the ground and keep your arms tight in shackles at your lower back, vision still obscured by this cloth as you’re guided somewhere – someplace that all the sacrificed women for your deity are received.

Your feet are sloppy and smacking against the hardwood floor, heart pulsing in your tongue for all the wrong reasons. Faintly, you can smell a rose-scented candle and water splashing, but it doesn’t register until you’re immersed under it.

You gasp, hair flattening onto your skin while you look around blindly, struggling to clutch onto something as your feet keep slipping into the tub.

You’ve never been into a tub before; much less recognize the soft, paper-like objects floating into the water with you. Head swaying side to side until water is sprayed everywhere, a firm hand keeps your head in place just as a pumice stone is scrubbed into your skin. It’s not painful, but the rough scraping sensation feels sensitive from your skin that hasn’t been exposed to normal, breathing air for who knows how long.

“Stop moving,” that same elderly voice commanded, and her assistants, most likely, move quickly into extending your limbs until you’re sprawled out everywhere. “We are to make you perfect, presentable, lavishing in front of our deity himself.”

“B-but —”

“You have no right to speak!” You’re left stunned as your cheek bruises red, lips wet from the water as you pant. The sting on your skin becomes more pronounced, but you dare not speak, opting to keep your lips shut instead. The elderly woman takes notice of your behaviour, humming before she makes you stand up, that same blade swiping down your exposed regions. “You learn fast and submit well. I think we have a worthy sacrifice for tonight.”

“She is gorgeous too, my Lady.”

“She should be,” comes a retort, your jaw clenched as you keep still. She forces your legs further apart until you’re embarrassingly exposed, the rose petals in the water sticking into some corners of your skin. “If she was not, she’d be dead already. It’s her pretty face that’s keeping her alive at this point.”

Everything is a blur after that.

One moment, they’re shaving you, the next you’re thrown from one body to another. They perform all sorts of things – towel drying your hair, exfoliating your skin, plucking your eyebrows to perfection before applying a shimmer to your cheeks and something sticky and glossy to your lips, then finally you feel the warmth of silk robes you could never afford even if you work yourself to death caressing your body.

After that, you’re locked inside a much bigger room, the blindfold falling off your face slowly.

You blink in surprise.

The room isn’t that dark, but dim enough, and your heart beats louder in your chest when you see the size of the room. It’s ten times bigger than your village meeting point, a large tatami bed sat in the middle. From one side, a window is open, allowing you to see the white illumination of the moonlight that looks hauntingly romantic.

Candles are lit on either sides of the room, and your gaze lands on odd whip-like weapons placed proudly on the walls.

Your legs are wobbly as you stand, life just coming back into your unused muscles. Making your way towards it, you reach out to touch this...weapon that’s still somewhat coated with the stench of blood. It’s immaculately clean and the leather is shiny, though it’s clear this has been used for far more gruesome situations before.

I think we have a worthy sacrifice for tonight.

You recoil your hand that’s a breath away from coming into contact with it, terror plaguing deep into your bones as you take a step back.

You’re a sacrifice, an offering, sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice – you’re brought here to die, and your god would kill you himself. Others may have considered it an honour to have died from the mercy of his hands, your oh-so divine lord who’s brought prosperity and wealth into your land, but you turn away, breathing hard as you make a break for the door.

But you never made it.

Your back lands into someone’s chest, a slight gasp falling from your lips before you’re pummelled into the ground, strong hands pinning your arms above your head. Eyes widening, you come face to face with your deity, his fox-eyes lined with dark kohl sharpening his already predatory features, ears pierced with tiny skulls and black dots.

His knee nudges your leg open and you groan, the sound making his eyes dart at you in warning before he smirks upon seeing you make no move to get away from him.

“As I’ve heard,” his deep voice cuts through the eerie silence of the room, the night so mute not even birds or insects cricketed at the presence of your deity’s need to have you for himself. “You are a compliant little lamb sent to the slaughter,” you shiver as his fingers run to caress the side of your face, his free hand undoing the knots that keeps your modesty. Naoya hums deep in his throat when the cloth falls to the sides, revealing perky nipples that pushed closer and closer to his awaiting lips at each heavy breath you took.

“You are stunning,” he praises, using a thumb to graze over the hardened bud. It’s barely a touch, but you’re sensitive, wholly new to this that you whimper. The sound is humiliating and utterly pathetic, your teeth coming down to capture your lips.

This displeases him entirely and Naoya taps your lips open, glaring at your wide, fearful yet aroused gaze. “You do not ever conceal such shameful sounds when I’m above you, do you understand?” You nod shakily, freeing your lip from its confines. Naoya snickers, chest puffing up with pleasure before he leans back to his calves, pushing the rest of your robe to the side until you’re completely exposed to him.

Your breathing grows more laboured when Naoya spreads your legs open, smirking as you whimper at the stretch of having your knees flattened by your sides. Legs placed on top of his knees, your elevated posture gives him more access to your bare pussy, his gaze zeroing in on the gleaming arousal that’s beginning to form on your lips.

“So fucking wet,” he comments, using both his thumbs to pry your pussy apart. You moan at the sensation of him pressing down on a part of you that you don’t know existed, and Naoya laughs, the sound sinister yet erotic. “You’re a virgin.”

It’s not a question – it’s a statement he takes pride in, especially because he knows he’s the chosen one to take something precious away from you.

“I’ve always loved virgins,” Naoya’s hands roam all across your body, slowly, sensually, passionately, the rough, calloused hands running under your legs to hitch them up behind his broad back, to cup your soft ass before he cups your pussy, groaning into your neck when he feels you leak and he’s barely touching you to begin with. It makes his ego swell when your hands wrap around his neck; he hates being touched by mere, lowly mortals like you, but you are undeniably gorgeous and so wanting of him that he allows you just this once. “Always so sensitive – do you want to be good for your deity? Hm?”

“Y-yes!” you cry out, eyes snapping shut when he suddenly inserts a finger in.

The feeling is foreign yet not totally unwelcomed, but you grimace anyway at the slight sting his digits bring. Naoya pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy to coax your arousal to drip further into the sheets like a waterfall, your nails digging into his robes while he watches you with a smirk. He laughs when your eyes widen at the second finger pushing in, thumb rubbing over your clit until your legs tremble around him.

“Virgins are always so gorgeous once they finally learn of pleasure,” he scoffs to himself.

You look at him straight in the eye, mouth falling open while small gasps fall through at the speed he’s pushing into you at.

Something begins to form in your lower bally until your body grows utterly warm, something...something close about to snap when he pulls his fingers out of you, throwing his head back in laughter when you cry for the first time that night.

Naoya stares at the way your gaze darts from his cum-soaked fingers back to your drenched core, brows raised cockily before he stands up, his figure looming over you. “What? Got something to say?” you only whimper in response, closing your legs as you try to provide answers to the brooding confusion punching at the back of your skull.

The sound of faint rustling brings you back to life, your eyes snapping to witness your god undressing himself, the robes falling from his shoulders too wonderfully that the mere sight of him has you clenching around nothing.

Fat cock standing tall and proud, tip red and glistening with pre-cum and a body carved by fellow gods himself, the rumours were right.

He is beautiful, and it’s no lie that his slaves aren’t really slaves to begin with, not when all of them have been so eager to please him, just to have a taste of this divine being that stands before you. Naoya easily reads your face; from the slightly parted lips, thighs rubbing together and hands looming dangerously to your core – you look so needy it’s actually fucking pathetic.

He’s slow in his movements, languid and taking his time because he’s got time and more in this world that he never cares about wasting something he has a plethora of.

Naoya makes himself at home above you again, basking in the way you’re struggling to breathe even without his hands on you. It doesn’t take long before he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, clenching his jaw when you open your mouth submissively, innocent eyes blinking up at him as you take your juices into your mouth.

You’re a natural at this, he observes, tongue expertly swirling around his digits until you’ve licked it clean. Naoya pats your cheek affectionately, his own way of applauding you for your work.

Under him, you grow shy and abashed, arms covering your bare breasts because he’s a god, why should he be pleased with you?

Naoya doesn’t give you enough time to think before he’s hauling you upwards, your shoulders shoved back onto the ground. You kneel below him in prayer and he tugs at your hair, forcing you to look at him, or rather his cock that’s slipping past your lips. You gag when he pushes his length all the way inside, the tip of it hitting the back of your throat.

Naoya sighs at finally being taken in – you should be grateful he even fingered you – his hands guiding your head to bob up and down him.

You do well at pleasing him even through the tears, clutching at his thighs while you suck in his length and swirl your tongue around the prominent veins. Naoya watches with hooded eyes as your cheeks hollow just to take his whole length in – and again, you’re a natural – so eager to please him too when you keep pushing and pushing, his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat.

His muscles ripple above you while he lets out a long, drawn out groan, nails scratching your scalp. You feel him twitch inside you and that’s when he takes over, snapping his hips ruthlessly until you’re left gagging and sucking his cock helplessly.

Your saliva is dribbling at the edges of your mouth, looking so fucked out and whore-like while he pushes himself to the edge. He doesn’t care that you’re choking and your eyes are zooming out of focus from not being able to breathe. He doesn’t care that you could die from asphyxiation, he doesn’t care because you’re his sacrifice – if you can’t even do this simple thing, then how else could you prove you’re worthy to live?

You know this too because you force yourself to breathe through your nose instead, wanting to show that you are worthy, that you can please and take him however he pleases you to.

Naoya isn’t stupid, he can see what you’re doing and can read your mind even in his lust-driven state. Nothing edges him more than a good, submissive whore. Now that he knows you’re willing to do anything without complaints, Naoya pulls his cock out just seconds away from orgasm, pushing you back into the mat with a grunt.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he hisses and pushes both your legs to the side, your body bent and pussy left open for him.

Naoya groans as he slides himself inside you. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but your virgin cunt is still too tight and new to this that you scream around him, subconsciously clenching around him harder.

“You’d do anything for me, yeah?” he challenges, cupping your face while he rams into you hard, uncaring that your walls are beyond abused and a ring of blood is already coating his cock. This isn’t the first time he’s taken someone’s purity, but this is the first time he’s had someone look gratified that he’s hurting them, fuelling him to fuck harder into you despite the steady stream of tears down your face. “Look at you – so obedient,” he pinches your nipples and rolls them between fingers, growling at the way your pained moan sounds more like an encouragement for him to go harder. “You want to please me so bad you don’t care I’m hurting you? Are you so eager to worship me that you won’t even stop me?”

“N-no, my lord,” you manage through the pain, regulating your breathing as you completely break down in tears. Naoya is hitting a spot deep inside you that makes your insides feel like they’re about to burst, and he takes note of this, pinching your clit just to get you to clamp down on him. “Please – use me however you want – please.”

Naoya smirks, pressing your knees flat on the ground before he hovers above you, forearms planted beside your head. At any other given moment, he prefers to fuck his sacrifices with their face planted on the ground because he can’t bear to see how disgusting they are, but you – you’re so damn beautiful it puts his fellow gods to shame.

Now yours is a face he’d like to keep looking at, so he roughly grabs your cheeks and squeezes them with his fingers, kissing your puckered lips and nipping at them.

You taste heavenly too; his servants did a good job of choosing honey as a gloss. Naoya greedily licks your lips until he’s shoving his tongue inside your mouth the same way his dick is ramming inside your walls, tight, puffy lips wrapped happily around his base.

You’re moaning inside his mouth as he squeezes your breast painfully. Never in your whole life have you thought that pain would feel so good, enticing you to moan louder when the sting finally subsides, replaced with the mind-numbing sensation of his thick length rubbing against every ridge of your walls. Naoya pulls his face away from you, his cum and your saliva sticky on your face and he chuckles, the sound stuttered and breathy, brows drawn together.

He looks down to watch the way you accommodate him; this is by far the tightest and wettest cunt he’s ever fucked – ever will fuck – that he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with any random whore’s pussy anymore.

Naoya frowns as anger bubbles up inside him, hatred making his cock swell inside you because how dare you make him wish he won’t take anyone again.

He wants more – want to kill more people, want to fuck more virgins, want to have more blood showering his skin until he’s bathed in glory and gore, but even though you’re the one he’s destroying, he’s slipping on the edge, too lost and hypnotized at the way your tight walls suck him in. Your moans don’t help either; they’re breathy and whiny, so defeated yet so eager to have more that Naoya grips your hips tight enough he might’ve cracked a femur from his godly strength.

Your scream this time is that of pain and loss, grappling on the sheets while white bursts through your eyes. Your orgasm comes crashing down on you overwhelmingly and you fall limp to the sheets, your translucent cum soaking his cock along with the previous blood, but Naoya doesn’t stop.

He keeps slamming into you until you’re mute from oversensitivity, hands cold with sweat and eyes empty while he uses you as his own fuck toy.

He gets there eventually, the room painted with his groans followed by a feral snarl, the rhythm of his thrusts turning sloppy and unbalanced. Naoya stills inside you after burying himself to the hilt, his crotch angrily rubbing at your pelvic bone as he cums. You whimper at the feeling of his warm seed spilling inside you in thick spurts. Naoya pulls out with a slight wince, scoffing at the mess you’ve made on his precious dick, but he’s forced to soften a little when he sees both your cum spilling out your hole in a messy puddle, the liquid coating your ass.

Meek as always, you don’t move a muscle when Naoya spreads your legs open, inching his face close enough to watch the way your pussy stutters and legs tremble in front of him.

You’re absolutely ruined – the puffy lips spread out and hole still pushing out the remnants of his cum. He doesn’t bother pushing them back in, uncaring if he’ll get you pregnant or not because it’s not like matters to him. You are nothing but another body to fuck and dispose of under the river once he’s satisfied with you, but he surprises both you and him when Naoya suddenly pushes two fingers inside of you, his eyes dark as he insists on keeping his seed right where they should be nurtured.

Now that he’s sure that will make your belly grow and provide him with a half-mortal heir, Naoya retrieves his robes and walks out the room, the slamming of the door shut similar to an impending doom of an imminent death.

But not yours.

You’ve fulfilled your duty as the death curse bearer of your clan; the greatest and most formidable weapon they’ve been carving to perfection the moment you’re born. The cracks in your bones and bruises on your body immediately heal as you turn to your side, chanting under your breath a hushed whisper of the words of your ancestors who’ve perfectly planned the death of the Zen’in God who’s made his people suffer for thousands of years.

They would be proud of you.

And as a body crashes outside the door followed by the frantic screams of his confused servants, you smile to yourself, falling into a deep sleep upon using your true gift.

[theladyofdeath]

The Viscount Who Loved Me {Six}

TVWLM Masterlist

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain (I said what I said) Feyre x Rhysand Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

Summary:

As the season begins, a new Diamond is named. She catches the eye of a prince whose feelings remain unrequited. However, the man who catches the eye of the Diamond remains off the market, refusing to get married as a jab to his late father.   Meanwhile, the Diamond of the Season’s sisters have found themselves in a bit of a quandary. The elder is pushing the younger to get married to help her move on from the horrid disaster that happened last season, but in the process, the elder catches the eye of the younger’s match, even though she is considered to be an old maid and far past her time to be wed at the age of six and twenty. As they say, all is fair in love and war. 

A/N: Let us know what you think!

Tag list is at the end. If you’d like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)

My lovely readers,

I love a Saturday promenade, don't you? It is simply quite lovely to see the people of the Ton out and about, engaging in conversation without the stress and expectations of a ball.

Everyone seems a bit more relaxed as they walk by the Sidra. A little too relaxed, even. It is the perfect place to dwell in a healthy dose of scandal. You may not be within the confines of a ballroom, but do keep your wits about you.

If not, I'll see it.

Yours Truly,

The Suriel

<.>

As the door of the expansive Archeron manor swung open, Cassian wasn’t surprised that their father was known as the Prince of Merchants. The home was so massive that he was sure that if the stoic doorman hadn’t been leading him to the sitting room, he was certain he would have gotten lost down one of the many hallways and stairwells he passed.

As they paused before a set of double doors, Cassian looked down at the bouquet in his hands. Crocuses and peonies and lilies and lilacs and violets. He wasn’t able to tell which flowers were which, but he’d asked the florist for the most beautiful flowers in bloom and he felt that the man had fulfilled his request.

The doorman stepped into the room, announcing, “Miss Elain, you have a visitor.”

He took that as his queue to enter and stepped around the balding man.

“Lord Nazari,” Elain said, smiling brightly, setting the stitching aside she’d been working on and standing to greet him.

He returned her smile, extending the flowers towards her. “For you. Not nearly as lovely as you, but nothing is comparable to your beauty.”

Elain blushed, but the legs of a chair scraped across the floor and he looked over to find Nesta standing. There was a book lying open, face down on the table in front of her, next to a cup of tea.

“Lord Nazari,” Nesta said, voice cold, even as she greeted him. 

“Cassian, please,” he said, looking from Nesta to Elain. “Lord Cassian, anyway, if you must. I’ve never been too fond of using my surname.”

“Lord Cassian,” Elain said, smile softening as she took the flowers from his outstretched hand. “These are lovely, my lord. Thank you.”

She handed them to a maid to put in water. 

“You are welcome,” he said, then turned to Nesta. “Miss Archeron, lovely to see you as always.”

Nesta didn’t return the compliment. “Shall we be going?”

“Of course,” Cassian replied, cordially. “Whenever Miss Elain is ready.”

“Will Feyre be joining us?” Elain asked, looking at Nesta.

Nesta’s lips formed a thin line. “Yes, she says she’ll be waiting for us in the foyer. She was painting and had to clean up.”

“She paints? And you garden,” Cassian said, nodding toward Elain. “What is it that you do, Miss Archeron?”

“Nesta is an avid reader,” Elain said, cutting Nesta’s snide remark off. “It often leaves her antisocial, but she seems to enjoy it.” 

“Nothing wrong with losing yourself in a good book,” Cassian said, nodding to the one she’d left on the table. “Just as long as you remember how to find the way back to yourself when it’s done.”

He offered his arm to Elain and she led him back to the foyer, where Feyre waited for them. Nesta blinked after them, not sure what she’d been expecting to have to say about her reading, but certainly not…that.

As if he saw through her, saw the reason she loved to read so much. To escape the life she was shackled to. Swiping her gloves off the table, she hurried after them, hearing voices from the foyer. Not just Feyre, Cassian and Elain, but a fourth voice. Another male voice.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she found her sisters and Cassian engaged with conversation with Prince Tamlin. She bowed when she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Your Highness, we weren’t expecting you.”

He nodded his greeting to Nesta, but addressed Feyre as he said, “I was on my way for a walk by the Sidra and thought to invite Miss Feyre. It was a happy coincidence that you all are leaving for your own promenade. I was hoping to join you.”

Feyre smiled, but it was Cassian who answered, “Please, Your Highness, it would be a delight.”

Prince Tamlin nodded his thanks and then they were off. 

They hopped into their carriages and rode the short distance from the manor to the Sidra. Once they were out, Cassian had Elain’s slim arm looped through his, yet again. Feyre and the prince walked ahead of them, while Nesta made herself comfortable in the back.

Cassian could feel her eyes on him, staring, speculating. 

“Lovely weather,” Elain said. “I’ve always admired the Sidra, how the sunshine makes it sparkle.”

“The only thing lovelier is when it’s the starlight reflecting on the water,” Cassian agreed. “Don't you agree, Miss Archeron?”

There was a pause before Nesta’s begrudged, “Yes, my lord.”

“You can see the starlight beautifully at my country home,” Cassian said, smiling down at Elain. “Perhaps you and your sisters will join me there soon?”

“Truly, my lord?” Elain asked, excitement creeping into her tone. “I would like that very much.”

“Then it’s settled, we shall plan a trip at once,” he said, guiding her along the Sidra, smiling and nodding at those he passed. “I am growing fond of you, Miss Elain. I do hope the feeling is mutual.”

“Yes, my lord,” Elain said, brushing a gloved hand along the arm that held hers. “Wouldn’t that be lovely, Nesta? A weekend at his home in the country?” 

“That sounds lovely,” Nesta replied, mustering a smile for her sister as she turned around to look at her. “We would love to visit.” The second Elain had turned back around, the second she was smiling up at Cassian once again, Nesta’s bland smile vanished.

She was quiet as she watched and listened to her sisters, but listened closer to the prince and baron. Cassian hadn’t hesitated to take Elain’s arm, which Elain had freely given. Feyre, however, had her hands clasped in front of her. Prince Tamlin either didn’t have the balls to take her arm on her own or Feyre had rejected him, politely, if the smile still on his face was any indication. Nesta’s money was on the latter.

“Ah, Vanserra!” Tamlin called out, waving at a red haired man, just up ahead. He turned towards their group and raised a hand in greeting.

Feyre had to stop the gasp that fought to break free from her lips.

The brutal scar was jagged across his face, reaching from his jaw to his hairline, right over his eye. And one his eyes…

It was solid gold.

But the smile on the face of the man that approached them was not one of pain, humiliation or disgrace. No, he was well aware of the mark maring his tan, handsome face. But he acted as if it did not exist.

“Your Highness,” the man said, bowing as he approached.  As he straightened, the prince gripped his arm and pulled him into a friendly embrace.

“It’s good to see you, my friend,” Tamlin said, smiling brightly. He gestured to the man. “This is Lord Lucien Vanserra. He’s a son of Autumn, but has been residing at my palace in Spring with me for the off season. Let me introduce you to my companions.”

One by one, he named them, getting every title and familial reference right. He clearly saved his most important introduction for last.

“And this,” he said, resting his hand on the small of her back, “is Feyre Archeron.”

Lord Lucien Vanserra bowed, his smile bright and genuine. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” When he came back up, he smiled at Elain. “All of you. A lovely day for a promenade, is it not?“

“Quite,” Tamlin agreed. “Care to join us?”

“I’d love to, but I’m here with my mother,” Lucien said, voice gentle.

The light in Tamlin’s eyes dimmed a little as he nodded. “Very well. Will you at least be in town for the remainder of the season?”

“I will,” the auburn-haired gentleman smiled. “I plan to attend the next ball, in fact.”

“Good,” Tamlin beamed, smiling at Feyre and the others. “He’s one of the most graceful dancers I’ve seen.”

“Perhaps we can meet on the dance floor, then,” Feyre said, politely, and Lucien bowed once more. 

“It would be an honor, Miss Feyre,” he said, and smiled at Tamlin. “I must bid you good day. Enjoy.”

They said their farewells, and it was Elain who said, “He seems like a lovely gentleman, Your Highness.”

“Indeed,” Tamlin replied, looking over his shoulder at Elain. “His mother has just gotten over a terrible illness. It’s nice to see her out and about.”

Elain’s hand was placed gently over her heart in solidarity, and Nesta couldn’t believe how much she could feel for utter strangers.

Tamlin tried to take Feyre’s arm, yet again.

This time, she let him.

<.> 

Rhysand walked with Azriel along the Sidra, and although it was a beautiful day, he had been complaining for a good ten minutes.

“Just go see her,” Azriel said, at last, exasperated. “The sooner you meet with the queen, the sooner she will leave you be.”

“But she’ll want to ask about my considerations for a wife,” Rhysand muttered. “It’s pointless. Besides, she always gets too handsy. Makes my skin crawl.”

Amarantha’s throne was hers by marriage, no matter the fact that her husband was often not present in the palace. And he surely didn’t attend social events. She was far younger than him, had bore him a few heirs and was now free to enjoy herself in whatever ways she wished.

And her eye had been on Rhysand since he stepped into his family’s title.

“Secretly, I think she’s glad you haven’t married yet,” Azriel said, squinting as he gazed out over the Sidra. “As soon as you take a wife, she can no longer get away with those lingering touches.”

Rhysand snorted. “Maybe I should take a wife then, if it’ll get her off my scent.”

It was said in jest, but Azriel hedged. “You really don’t plan to ever marry?”

“I don’t.” His tone was firm, and Azriel knew better than to push him. He knew why.

But he still did it anyway.

“What if you one day find someone who—”

“I won’t,” he replied, voice clipped. “What is it that every pretty girl of the ton yearns for, aside from a husband and money?”

Azriel was quiet as he thought about it. “A family.”

“Exactly,” Rhys said, not looking at his friend as they continued walking. “There will be no children. There will be no family. So there will be no wife.“

Azriel didn’t say anything for a moment. Their steps were quiet, one after the other. 

“Rhys-.”

“Can we not talk about it?” Rhysand asked, nudging Azriel in the arm. “It’s a beautiful day, full of-.”

His words dropped off as he looked across the clearing ahead and saw Feyre on the arm of Prince Tamlin. He was laughing, but she was staring at the path ahead, eyes blank.

“You alright?”

Rhysand blinked, looking sideways at Azriel. “Hmm?”

“You’re staring, my lord, and that is impolite,” Azriel crooned.

Rhysand chuckled, crossing his arms as they continued on their walk. “I’m not staring. I would never.”

When he got the nerve to glance back at them again, he found that Feyre Archeron apparently had no qualms with staring.

She was looking right at him.

As soon as their eyes connected, she looked away, turning back to Tamlin, walking beside her. She laughed at something he’d said and placed her free hand on his arm. Rhysand’s focused narrowed in on that hand.

Azriel cleared his throat. “Once again, you’re staring, and I think they may notice this time, seeing as we’re approaching them.”

Rhysand threw his brother a look that promised trouble, but he sighed as they met Tamlin and Feyre on the walkway. A polite smile in place, he bowed to both the prince and the lady. “Your Highness, Miss Feyre.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Azriel do the same. “Lovely day for a walk, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” Tamlin replied. His own smile was tighter than Rhysand’s. “It’s a shame you had to leave Spring so abruptly, your Grace. You did not even inform us you were leaving.”

A tight smile from Rhysand. “My apologies. I had an emergency that I needed to tend to.”

The smile no longer reached his eyes. “Of course. I hope whatever came up in Adriata was easily handled.”

For a moment, the two gentlemen stared at one another in a tense silence. It was Feyre who broke it. “I hear Adriata is lovely, my lord. I’ve never gone.”

Rhysand’s charm returned as his eyes met Feyre’s. “Oh, it is, Miss Feyre. You’ll have to find yourself there one day. Perhaps your husband can take you.”

Feyre’s eyes narrowed but it was so slight that he was certain he was the only one who noticed. “Perhaps he will, whoever my husband will be.”

“You like to travel, Miss Feyre?” Prince Tamlin asked. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” Feyre asked, smiling up at him. “My father is so busy traveling for work that we have not had many opportunities to travel for leisure. I would like to one day see the world.”

“The world should see you, Miss Feyre, for you are too lovely to keep hidden in a corner of the world,” Rhysand said, eyes flicking to Tamlin again, whose smile had faltered, his eyes growing hard.

It wasn’t that Rhysand hated Tamlin. He hadn’t known him well, although their paths had crossed on multiple occasions and they had spent many events falling into tense conversation throughout their lives.

Rhysand just didn’t care for the man. At all.

And it seemed the feeling was mutual.

“Your Highness, Your Grace.” A voice distracted them, drawing their eyes to the newcomers. Ianthe Hamadi and her mother approached, a lace parasol perched on her shoulder. Feyre had never understood the practicality of the worthless things when they were made correctly, much less when the fabric did nothing to shield the carrier from the sun.

Ianthe’s golden hair was loose, curling down her back, the headband she wore every day keeping it out of her face. The decorative stones atop it glittered, the largest, blue stone in the center seemed to glow in the sunlight. She was a few years younger than Nesta, though she’d only had her first season the year before. Her mama was the one who had spoken and was the one to continue. “Such a pleasure to see you both. You were both so busy the other night that I didn’t have a chance to approach you.” Tamlin, not aware of the reputation of the two women, smiled at them politely, as any courtier would do.

Rhysand, on the other hand, did.

“Your Highness, may I introduce my daughter, Miss Ianthe Hamadi?”

Ianthe’s teal eyes sparkled as she bowed her head and curtsied low. As she stood, she extended her gloved hand to him.

Tamlin dropped Feyre’s arm and took her hand. Rhysand looked at Feyre, at the slightly raised eyebrow, the only reaction she’d show to her afternoon being interrupted.

After allowing Tamlin to kiss the back of her hand, beaming, she turned to Rhysand. Her mama went on, “And Your Grace, you remember Ianthe?”

That hand was still extended out and Rhysand’s eyes flicked to it. He didn’t move, his own hands still deep within his pockets. “Nice to see you.”

Ianthe slowly lowered her hand, the matching eyes of her and her mama narrowing at the rejection. The air became tense and Azriel, catching the eye of Helion, took that at his cue to quietly make his exit, leaving Rhysand with Feyre, Tamlin, Ianthe, and Lady Hamadi.

Tamlin, ever the courtier, fell into conversation with Ianthe and her mother, leaving Feyre to stare out over the Sidra, fanning herself with the fan in her hands.

“Are you warm?”

Her eyes snapped to Rhysand. “What?”

His eyes left her face, only for a split second before returning. “Your chest… it’s flushed.”

Glancing down, Feyre saw that her chest was indeed tinged with red. Her cheeks and ears were sure to match now, though not from the heat. She wasn’t used to showing so much of her bosom, and cleared her throat, increasing the speed of her fanning. “The sun is rather hot today.”

Rhysand’s cheeks were showing the signs of the heat, thanks to his every day all black attire, but his eyes were…impossibly darker. “Should we find you some shade then, Miss Feyre?”

That look in his eye sent chills down Feyre’s spine. “I assure you, my lord, that I’m perfectly fine where I am.”

Rhysand’s eyes flickered to Tamlin so quickly that Feyre hardly tracked it. “Are you certain?”

Tamlin was laughing at something that Ianthe had said when Feyre replied, “I’m not sure what you’re implying, my lord.”

“You know very well what I’m implying, Feyre darling.”

“Don’t call me that.” The words came out as a whisper but she had hoped they would come out more forcefully than they did.

Rhysand’s grin widened. “I do not wish to offend, Miss Feyre. I only enjoy the way that it sounds.”

It wasn’t only what he said but the tone he had said it in that had Feyre at a loss for words. 

She glanced over at Tamlin, to see what he thought of the Viscount’s tone, but he didn’t seem to notice as he looked off at something Lady Hamadi was pointing at across the river, engrossed in their conversation. When she looked back to Rhysand, he had stepped closer. Her breath caught as he leaned in and whispered into her ear, “Where’s your sister, Miss Feye? On a promenade with the Prince without a chaperone? Whatever would The Suriel say?”

Feyre stepped back, snapping her fan closed. She scoffed, “We are surrounded by half of the ton. I do believe if something untoward was taking place, your Grace, then—”

“Rhysand.”

She blinked, not expecting the interruption. “Excuse me, your Grace?”

“My name is Rhysand,” he said, gazing down at her and she thought she very well might combust under the heat of that gaze. “Though I was bestowed a fancy title, it is not all that I am. So please, no more of the bullshit titles. Call me Rhys.”

She hadn’t realized they were so close together until she found herself having to tilt her chin up to look into his eyes. Those exquisite eyes that glimmered like the night sky.

Swallowing, she said, “Your language is horribly filthy, Rhys.”

Rhysand’s lips parted in a sly smile and her eyes tracked the motion as he wet them. Slowly, his eyes dragged to the side, but Feyre kept hers on his face. She took in the strong lines of his jaw, his sculpted cheekbones, and lips that looked softer than they had any right to—

“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Feyre, your Highness, it seems my companion is ready to move on,” Rhysand said, drawing Tamlin’s attention back from Ianthe and her mama. All at once, Tamlin — and Feyre, for that matter — realized how far Feyre had moved from him. He stepped away from Ianthe, closer to Feyre, but she felt none of the heat that she had with Rhysand.

With deliberate slowness, Rhys took Feyre’s hand in his and pressed his lips to the back in a soft kiss. They may have lingered longer than necessary. “Until next time, Feyre Darling.”

At that, Rhysand was walking towards where Azriel waited, a small package tucked under his arm. Fresh charcoal, no doubt.

“Ready?” He asked, clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “I think a drink is in order.”

Azriel was opening his mouth to reply but before he could get out a word, Rhysand was dragging him away.

He looked back once before they were out of sight only to see Feyre, her arm in Tamlin’s, watching him go.

<.>

“What is this stuff?” Azriel asked, feeling like his words took twice as long to get out of his mouth.

Rhysand chuckled, sipping from his tea.

His special tea, that is.

“Got it in Adriata,” Rhysand replied, simply, his body a little more used to it than Azriel’s. “A beautiful city full of beautiful things.”

“Beautifully immoral things,” Azriel said, but laughter bubbled out of him. 

“I’m in love!” Both of their heads whipped around to see Cassian bursting into the room, his hair that was once tied back now a crazed mess. “Elain Archeron shall be my wife. She’s coming to my country home next weekend, which means that you two fools will be joining us, as well, of course.”

Rhysand’s brows shot up and Cassian slumped down in the chair across from Azriel, making a cup of tea for himself. “A weekend with the Archeron sisters? Sounds lovely.”

Azriel was staring blankly at Cassian to the point that Cassian had to ask, “Too much tea?”

“Hmm? No,” Azriel said, words fumbling. The words kept repeating through his mind. My wife. “I just…Elain, Archerons, weekend, yes. Yeah. Sounds lovely.”

“Good,” Cassian said, manners long forgotten as he propped his feet up on the chair beside him, opposite of Rhysand. “What’s that?”

Azriel’s eyes trailed to the envelope sealed beside his tea cup. “Oh, it’s…nothing.”

“It’s his letter from the Academy. He’s too nervous to open it,” Rhysand explained, raising his glass. “Hence the tea.”

Cassian took a healthy drink from his cup before filling it back to the top and setting it next to him. He held out a hand to Azriel. “Give it here.”

Azriel crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

Laughter bubbled from Rhysand’s lips, having drunk almost twice the tea Azriel had. “You look like a petulant child.”

“It’s my letter,” he said, looking between the two, “and I’ll open it when I’m good and ready.” He nodded his head once to punctuate his sentence.

Rhys just tilted his head to the side and looked at Cassian. Cassian, still gloriously stretched out between the chairs, smirked and raised an eyebrow. Rhysand nodded. 

Far quicker than he should have been, Cassian was outbid his chair and snatched the letter up.

“Cass, don’t you dare,” Azriel warned, standing and advancing on him.

“I just want to know,” he replied, popping the wax seal signifying the letter had come from the Velaris Academy of Art. “I promise, I won’t tell you what it says.”

Azriel hesitated. “What- why?”

“Now you want to know what it says?” Rhysand asked, standing between the two of them, hands raised as if one would attack the other.

“I, well…” Azriel shook his head. “Yes! No. I don’t know.”

Cassian laughed, pulling out the letter and tossing the envelope aside, letting it fall to the rug. He unfolded it and began to read, his brows furrowing, lips pursed.

Azriel felt like he was going to puke. “What? Why do you look like that? Why are you reading it like that?”

“Hmm.” Cassian began pacing as he read, and with each theatrical step, he made another sound of interest.

“Just tell me what the bloody thing says!” Azriel yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

Cassian stopped and slowly turned to face Azriel. He folded up the letter and set it gingerly on the table beside him. 

Rhysand’s head swiveled between Azriel’s bewildered expression and Cassian’s grim stare.

“Well,” Cassian began, shaking his head as he crossed his broad arms. “Sorry, brother.”

Azriel stopped breathing. His body went slack as Rhysand’s arms fell to his sides. “I didn’t get in.”

“Oh, no,” Cassian said, sighing as his head fell back. “I was talking to Rhys. Sorry, because we’re going to be seeing a lot less of you. A shame for us, truly.”

Azriel blinked, and Rhysand was laughing, once again. “Wait, so I did get accepted? They’re letting me in?”

“You’re enrolled in the summer lessons,” Cassian said, flopping back into his chair and drinking more of his tea. “So it seems that after we return from the country, Rhys will have no choice but to spend time with me and the eligible young ladies of the ton, as you’ll be otherwise engaged with your studies. Maybe he’ll find a wife after all.”

Cuffing Cassian on the back of his head as he returned to his own chair, Rhysand said, “Highly unlikely, but you can futilely keep trying, my friend.” He sat and turned to Azriel, who had picked up the letter and was reading it silently to himself. Once Azriel looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth open, Rhysand said, “Congratulations, Az.”

He averted his eyes and swallowed, clearly trying to hold back whatever emotion this had stirred in him. “Thank you. This is…” His words trailed off and he cleared his throat as he found his own chair again. “Speaking of finding a wife, Rhys, you seemed to be having quite an intimate conversation with Feyre Archeron today.”

Cassian nearly sprayed the drink of tea he’d been taking out of his mouth. “Scandal?” He asked, putting a dramatic hand to his chest.

Shaking his head, Rhys pointed at Azriel. “You’re a busybody.” Leaning back in his chair, he sighed and crossed an ankle over his knee. Looking out the nearby window, he said, “It was not an intimate conversation, I was ensuring she wasn’t overheating in the sun. Prince Tamlin certainly wasn’t going to notice how flushed she was.”

When he looked up at his brothers, they both had looks on their faces that told him they knew he was full of shit.

“We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about Az,” Rhysand said, refilling his cup. “Congratulating Az, actually. This is a huge accomplishment.”

“But Feyre-.”

“Miss Feyre and the Prince are bound to marry and I won’t hear any more on the matter,” Rhysand said, and his tone had the smile fading from Azriel’s mouth. When he looked to Cassian, he was watching Azriel intently, waiting for a reaction.

Azriel slowly set down his cup before sitting back in his chair. “You don’t get to be a prick to us. You can push away the ladies of the ton, but you won’t do the same to us.” 

The room was silent, the only sound the clattering of Rhysand’s cup as he gently placed it back on the saucer. Unnervingly gentle.

“This is not some sudden news that I’ve suddenly sprang on you two.” His words were calm, like the sea at night before a storm. “You’ve known for years of my plans. Any delusions you’ve held onto regarding any other course of action is on yourselves.”

The two glanced at each other and then back to their brother. It was Cassian who said, “Rhys—”

“This is not up for debate!” His voice echoed through the study, the shake and rattle of his cup and saucer as he set them on the table by his chair. He stood, looking between them both, Azriel first and then Cassian. “Just because you’ve found a purpose in life and you’ve finally decided to become an honest man does not mean I’m required to do the same.” 

Cassian and Azriel watched, waited, their own temperatures rising.

Azriel stood and took a step toward Rhysand. “Your father-”

“My father will not be spoken of in this house,” Rhysand spat. “And you both will do well to remember that.” 

Cassian said his name, but Rhysand was walking out of the room. When Cassian said his name again, Rhysand left and slammed the door shut behind him. 

For a moment, the room was completely silent. They had pushed him too far, not that it was the first time nor the last. Rhysand was a good man but he was temperamental, especially when it came to his future, or lack thereof.

Slowly and calmly, Azriel sat back down, filled his cup of tea, and opened his letter to read it once more. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝘽𝙊𝙔𝙁𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙉𝘿 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗 (18+)

∘ request(s): I am in love w all of you and i'm getting to the others when they fit :)

my personal favorites:

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (minors dni), smut, choking, fingering, slight domination

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

a/n: my incentive for getting these done (when they're fuffy) is listening to 21st Century Vampire in a dark room for four days, in case you guys were wondering.

Your tongue felt like sandpaper as you chewed the inside of your cheek. "No, uh… I think I need some time…" you trailed, your eyes flashing to his. "... To think…"

He nodded slightly, taking one last look at you before slipping out your front door, the lock clicking shut behind him.

Your heart hammered in your ears. You took a seat on your couch, carding your fingers through your hair as his face flashed into your mind, the somewhat confused expression boring a hole in your heart. You’d led him on, you knew it. It wasn’t that you weren’t into him, but the cold fear of what the two of you had vanishing after assigning labels flushed through your body. What if it was only as strong as it was because you weren’t stuck to each other? Was the fact that you were choosing to sleep with him and him alone not enough? What more could he want?

Then it dawned on you; what more would it be? The two of you were already attached at the hip a ridiculous amount of time, you already knew more about him than you cared to, and obviously, the two of you were already past the awkwardness of building a sexual relationship.

So what the fuck was wrong with you? Would it be so awful to be his girlfriend?

You avoided him for a few weeks, your mind burning with guilt and indecisiveness. As soon as you had straightened your thoughts and favored one reality over another, it was like buyer’s guilt persuaded you the other way.

Lectures were quiet, even lonesome for you without him around. That would add to your Pro Karl list; he was great company, especially in public, when he knew people were watching the two of you. Would that element be different when the two of you were dating?

You hadn’t realized how apparent your moping had become until your roommate brought it up one night. You were tucked into your favorite spot on the couch, mind racing with how to solve your problems. “I called Karl. I’m sick of this weepy, self-loathing bullshit. Man up and tie him down. I know you want to,” she stated bluntly, tugging open the curtains in the room to get to the windows. The night breeze wafted in as if it’d been knocking against the glass for an hour. “He’s outside.”

You blinked at her as she pulled you out of your seat. “He’s what?”

She pulled you behind her, slipping on her jacket. “I’m going to Clay’s. Work this shit out and let me know if I need to vacate for the week,” she jested, making you roll your eyes as she pushed you out in front of her. As she headed down the stairwell, Karl was on his way up, greeting her brightly as he usually did.

He smiled at you gently as he stopped in front of you, fondness and allure playing in his eyes. Even if you looked disheveled, he still looked upon you with pride and admiration. His hair was longer, but despite that, he looked exactly the same way you’d left him. You cleared your throat, the wind bringing his scent towards you. “We need to talk,” you mumbled. “You were right.”

He pressed his back against the dividing wall, tucking a cigarette behind his ear that he had between his fingers and looking out over the railing behind you. The city lights reflected in his eyes. "I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. I just..." He looked at you softly. "Fuck, I really like you."

You crossed your arms, hands rubbing against the sleeves of your hoodie to generate more warmth. You were so torn. Most of you, wanted to wrap yourself up in him and give in to his offer while the ugly, nagging thoughts in your brain told you to run. "What about after we cool down then?" You asked, making one of his eyebrows feign to furrow. "Are you still going to be attracted to me after I'm… domesticated?"

He smiled slightly. "I'll probably be attracted to you even when your tits sag to your waist, baby." You rolled your eyes at his joke and he crossed the space between the two of you, shoes dragging against the cement. He pushed his fingers into your hair, settling his hand against your neck so his thumb brushed against your jaw soothingly. You leaned into his touch. "I just want to be locked down by you," he chided. "... Officially."

You let out a small wheeze. "You're not gonna be into my friends next week, are you?" It was a joke, but it came out as more of an insecurity.

He fought not to grin. "You're fuckin' serious?" He used his other hand to separate your arms gently, stepping into your embrace. "When I'm with other people, all I can think about is how they're not you."

He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, eliciting a pleasant sigh from between your lips. You tightened your arms around him, basking in the warmth of his body as you threaded your hands beneath his jacket. "Even your mom?"

He snorted. "Don't make this weird," he jested, making you laugh softly. He pulled your body completely against him, digging his face into the crook of your neck as you sighed tiredly, your cheek pressing against his shoulder.

The bathwater was warm against your skin, Karl’s arm wrapping around your shoulder to pull you closer to him in the small tub, making you giggle slightly. You paused what you were doing as he dug his nose into the crook of your neck. You struggled to shrug from his grasp. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna mess up your nails,” you wheezed, before he surrendered, leaning his back against the porcelain.

It was a brighter color than he usually wore, but the hue still gave him the dark appearance he prided himself on. Goosebumps peppered your skin as he drew absent-minded shapes into your back with the pad of his finger. “I missed you,” he hummed. Despite having your back to him and concentrating on not smearing his nail polish, you could hear the content smile in his voice. “And now, I’m your boyfriend,” he mocked, eliciting a snort from you.

You screwed the cap on the polish when you were satisfied with your work. “I feel like a middle school girl every time you say that,” you grumbled, jokingly.

He snickered. “Me too.” You could feel him watching you carefully as you blew on the nail polish, his fingers to your lips to test their dryness. He curled around you again, pressing his lips to your neck, his other arm curling around your torso. His breath was sweet against your skin, mixing with the steam from the water. “Stop it, or I’ll get too excited,” he groaned, making you smile.

You moved his hand to rest in the crook of your neck, fingers threatening to demonstrate his true strength. He swapped hands, his fingers dipping beneath the water towards your heat. His other hand wrapped around your neck, waiting for your first moans until applying pressure. Your head tilted back against his shoulder as he rubbed circles against your bundle of nerves, a sigh of pleasure spilling past your lips as his teeth nipped gently at your shoulders.

Your knees peeked out above the surface of the water as you leaned further back against him. He pressed his lips to the skin behind your ear. “Look at my girlfriend, so needy so quickly,” he moaned in your ear, slipping one of his fingers into you. His name fell from your lips as if your life depended on you repeating it. He pumped another finger into you, basking in the way you reacted to him. You hated how well he knew your body.

Before you knew it, your back was pressing into your sheets, Karl hovering over you. You dug your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly on his locks as he pushed himself into you with a moan. His hips rolled against yours, his forearms resting on either side of your head, pressing his lips to your shoulder. It wasn’t long until he was thrusting in and out of you, teeth printing his mark on your skin. “All mine,” he moaned as your fingernails pressed into his skin.

You smirked slightly, rutting your hips against his. “Oh, right there, Todd,” you moaned almost pornographically. Karl stiffened slightly, struggling not to laugh as you giggled.

His teeth dug into your neck, shutting you up with a moan. He pushed your hands above your head, intertwining his fingers with yours while his other hand moved to wrap around your throat. “He fucking wishes,” he hissed through gritted teeth, making your toes curl. His pace slowed, focused on driving himself deeper into you, reaching your sweet spot with each of his thrusts.

You moaned his name, pressing your lips to his shoulder as he dug his nose into the crook of your neck. He muttered pet names into your ear, coaxing you over the edge with his declarations of ownership over you.

The next morning, you wrapped your arms around Karl’s waist, pressing your cheek against the middle of his shoulder blades as he stirred whatever he was making. Your hands looped into the front pocket of his hoodie. The kitchen was humming with life as the radio hummed softly in one of the corners and the two of you lightly conversed.

You moved to lean against the counter beside him, attempting not to completely gush at the sight of his messy hair and lazy smile as he made you breakfast. “So, do I get to wear your letterman’s jacket now?” You joshed, making him smirk.

He flipped a pancake. “I mean, you can if you’d like, I think it’s at my mom’s,” he answered, soft tones of sleep still hanging in his voice. “You can twin with your pal, Todd. We went to the same high school.”

Your head tilted at the news, mouth slightly ajar. “No way. Please tell me you’re joking.”

He shrugged. “We lived down the road from each other growing up,” he recounted, making you chuckle at the irony.

You wet your lips slightly. “Now that we’re official, do you wanna have a threesome with him?” You asked sarcastically.

“If Todd’s dick comes anywhere near me, I’m moving to Iceland,” he finalized, making you laugh.

Tag List: @mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx @chxrrymilkshake @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu @theholycakehole

[atlabeth]

hey! i love your zuko fics so much and was wondering if you’d like to write this, because the idea just popped up: maybe a zuko x reader fluff that takes place before/during LOK? maybe they’re reminiscing about their past adventures w the Gaang while helping out the new Team Avatar? idk it’s just that every time I see old zuko it makes me soft and emotional 🥲🔥❤️ anyways, much love! (and don’t feel pressured to do this at all, I was just thinking abt who I could submit this request to, and obvi my first choice was you 💕)

reminiscence - zuko x fem!reader

summary: just because you and your husband are retired doesn’t mean you don’t have amazing advice for the new team avatar.

a/n: this is so cute omg!! thank you so much for requesting this and thank you for much for your kind words i'm honored <33 im so sorry this took so long

sorry im posting so much lately im trying to stop slacking and publish things that have been wips for over a month sdkjfh

wc: 1.3k

warning(s): none bc i choose to ignore the news of zaheer’s plan right after this scene

-

Retirement was… nice.

You had spent your childhood fighting with the Avatar to end the Hundred Year War, a feat that was only made more difficult with your Fire Nation roots and connection to the banished prince. But all that’s well ends well, and you ended up getting your happy ending together — you had to fight hard for it, though.

You married Zuko at nineteen, three years after he ascended to the throne, and spent the subsequent years balancing your duties as Fire Lady and taking care of your daughter. Ruling the Fire Nation was a lot, but you knew you could get through anything with your husband at your side.

When he told you his plans to abdicate the throne, you were more than supportive. One of Zuko’s biggest fears was becoming his father, and by giving up his position willingly to Izumi, it guaranteed that he wouldn’t fall victim to the power-obsessed ways of his ancestors. It also gave him a well-deserved break after decades of being Fire Lord, and you were more than ready to get out of the world of Fire Nation politics. You had sat through enough meetings to fill multiple lifetimes.

But just because the two of you weren’t as involved in every day affairs of the world didn’t mean that you were completely out of it. No, that was far from the truth. You and Zuko were still some of the most important people in all of the nations, which meant it wasn’t a rare occurrence for your husband to be called off on some sort of mission.

One such mission was stopping the Order of the Red Lotus for the second time; Zuko had been part of the team that stopped them from kidnapping Avatar Korra as a child, so it was no surprise that he had been called to help for a second time. You knew even in his old age that your husband was powerful, but you couldn’t help but feel concerned about everything he was doing.

This concern was ultimately what led you to join Zuko on his trip to meet with Chief Beifong and Chief Tonraq in the Misty Palms Oasis. He had originally been against your involvement, claiming that the Red Lotus was far too dangerous, and he didn’t want to risk you getting injured in any way. You, of course, weren’t having it. “The Avatar’s in trouble, and I’d like to think I know a few things about getting out of trouble.”

One thing was certain after you arrived — it had been far too long since you had ridden on the back of a dragon. You truly adored Druk, and you felt bad for everyone that would never have the opportunity.

After conversing with Lin and Tonraq inside, you all exited to greet the new Team Avatar. If what you were told was true, then they had been through quite a lot since leaving Zaofu. For as long as you had been involved in foreign affairs, you had never met Avatar Korra nor her friends, so you didn’t know what to expect — an awestruck boy that could barely speak wasn’t at the top of your list though.

“Oh my gosh. It’s Lord Zuko and Lady Y/N. I can’t believe it!” He stared at the two of you with wide eyes, his voice getting higher and higher as he whimpered. He looked like he was going to fall over until another black-haired boy pulled him out of the way, his tone apologetic.

“Uh, forgive my brother,” he said as he put his fist against his open palm, his brother following suit. “We’re just really honored to meet you both.”

“It’s no problem,” you smiled as you and Zuko returned the greeting. It had been years since someone had reacted that way towards you, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t amuse you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

The two boys straightened again as the taller one gestured to them each in turn. “I’m Mako, and this is Bolin. We’re Korra’s friends.”

“Ah, she’s got her own Team Avatar?” You inquired with a twinkle in your eye. “You know, I traveled with Avatar Aang years back along with my husband.”

“Of course I know!” Bolin exclaimed. “Oh, I’ve heard so many stories about your adventures, they’re all so amazing!” His eyes widened and you actually thought that he was going to fall over. “Oh, oh, could you tell us about some of the things you went through?”

“Bolin, we really shouldn’t bother them—” Mako started, but you laughed and waved it off.

“I assure you, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s not often I get to relive my journeys to such avid listeners. What would you like to hear about?”

He thought for a couple seconds then shot back up again. “What was it like when you escaped the Boiling Rock together? You guys were the first people to ever break out, right? That had to be amazing!”

You and Zuko both laughed as you shot him a look. “It was… interesting,” he said.

“By interesting, he means it was a complete disaster,” you corrected. “Everywhere something could’ve gone wrong, it went wrong. They had originally come there to rescue Sokka’s dad, but instead they found Suki and I. Then Zuko got found out and thrown into prison, our first escape plan failed, Sokka almost got found out, Azula showed up… it was honestly a miracle we made it out at all.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” he protested. “Getting thrown into prison was part of the plan, we wouldn’t have been able to get the cooler out if I hadn’t been found out.”

“I guess I can’t complain,” you chuckled. “I did get to punch you a couple times.”

“They are so cool,” Bolin whispered as the two of you went on in the background. He elbowed Mako in the shoulder and gestured towards the couple with his head. “Come on, ask them something! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

“I’m not going to ask them something, Bolin—”

“Excuse me, my brother has something he wants to ask too!” Mako shot him a dirty look which quickly disappeared when you and Zuko turned to him attentively.  

“Oh, um…” He coughed and scratched his head. “I guess.. is there any advice you have for us? With this whole Team Avatar thing, I mean.” You smiled at Mako and took Zuko’s hand.

“The friendships you forge during your journey are the most important thing — they’re the things that will keep you going during your darkest moments, and they will last a lifetime. There will be mountains and valleys, ebbs and flows, but no matter what, you will hold an unbreakable bond.”

You felt Zuko squeeze your hand and turned your smile on him as you returned the sentiment then nodded for him to continue. “Never take anything for granted, and trust in fate. You’re where you are for a reason — everything will end up working out in the end.”

You grinned and kissed him on the cheek, humming in agreement. “It did, didn’t it?”

-

After a few more minutes of talking with the two brothers, they went off to join the rest of their group. It was strange being on the outside of it all after how intense your childhood was, but it was… refreshing not to have the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore.

“The world’s in good hands with them,” you murmured as you leaned your head on Zuko’s shoulder.

“They all have that same fire you had when I first met you,” Zuko chuckled. You watched the four of them conversing and a smile graced your lips.

“Oh? Then I think the world’s in very good hands.”

-

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin

[marveicinematics]

cupid (natasha x reader, smut)

Summary : Sam thinks you should have some fun, and tries to figure out which of your team mate would be your type.

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x female reader.

Words : 1,704.

TW : Smut. Masturbation, fingering, tribbing, dirty talk, public sex (kind of).

Note : Based on readers’ requests. This is my first F/F one-shot, I hope you will like it. Please let me know if you enjoyed it.

I’m open for request, just check the submit new stories button on my page. ♡

“I know. Steve.“

“I swear, Steve isn’t my type.“ You answered, tilting your head as you watched the Captain pass by, giving you a nod. “Come on. Steve is everyone’s type!“ Sam shot back, laughing at this little game. He had been teasing you and trying to guess who, from the team, could be your type of person to flirt with. Apparently, Sam decided that you needed to relax and had some fun and offered to help. You didn’t need his help. You didn’t even��want to date, or flirt, or have sex. At least, most time, you didn’t.

When Natasha walked by, wearing her tight black costume, she didn’t even pay attention to you. Yet, you tilted your head, biting down on your lower lip for a single second while admiring her body — and she was gone. “No way. Natasha.“ Sam said, staring at you. You had forgotten he was by your side. “What, Natasha?“ “She’s your type!“ He wasn’t wrong, but you wouldn’t let anyone know that you were fantasizing about Natasha’s gorgeous body. “Just shut up already.“ You said as you shook your head. But it was too late. Sam stood up, following the red-haired woman in the corridor while calling her name. “Hey Nat! Come here!“ You couldn’t hear the conversation for the next seconds, only distant voices that matched Sam’s and Natasha’s. But he must have convinced her, because they walked back into the room you were sitting in, approaching you. “This better be serious, Sam. I really need to shower.“ “Ok, ok. I just have one question. Do you like Y/N?“ You frowned when you heard your name, shaking your head again. You wanted to scream at him to stop this game already, but you stayed speechless. If a stare could kill, Sam would be dead by now. “Yeah, of course. So does everyone.“ “No, I mean— do you like… like her.“ At his words, Natasha’s eyes widen and you wanted to vanish for a few hours, or a few years. The woman stepped closer, willingly checking you out from head to toe, which made you blush immediately.   “If the question is ‘Would I fuck her?’, the answer is definitely yes.“ And you blushed some more as she smirked, winking at you before turning back and leaving the room again. Sam stared at you, visibly happy with the answer. “See, I’m good at this!“ He bragged while looking at you. “I have to go.“ You said as you stood up, and walked straight to your room with red cheeks. He must have thought that you were upset at him, but you weren’t. The only thing you had been thinking about was the way she looked at you, the way her eyes seemed to look at every details of your body — especially when she checked the naked skin of your legs, under your skirt. When she said she would fuck you, you swore you would have moaned out loud if Sam hadn’t been in the same room. Closing the door shut, you leaned against it and slide a hand between your legs, over your panties. You were soaked. Natasha had made you more wet than you had ever been with a man before, just by staring at you. Way too frustrated to stay this way, you decided to take care of the matter yourself, and your fingers found their way under the fabric of your underwear and against your clit, massaging it slowly. All you could think about was the way she stared at your body, the way she said she would fuck you. You thought about how rough she would be with you, how wet you would be, how hard you would cum on her fingers or her tongue. And the more you thought about her, imagining her curves without any clothes or thinking about how she’d make you moan her name, the harder your fingers were working inside your panties. “Oh, fuck!“ You moaned loudly as you arched your back, reaching a strong orgasm that made your legs tremble. You let your body rest against the door, panting, as you slowly came down from the heights of your pleasure. The times you were thinking about Natasha where always the ones with the strongest orgasms. Later that day, you were walking back to your room after a hot shower, your towel around your body, hoping you wouldn’t meet anyone in the corridor. “Hey.“ You’d recognize this voice anywhere. Turning around, you saw Natasha walking towards you. Shit. It had to be when you were so exposed. “You’re still up?“ You asked, knowing most heroes were usually asleep when you came back from the showers. “Can’t sleep. You?“ “I like to take hot showers at night.“ You said casually, shrugging. This information apparently amused your friend, who smiled at you. But it didn’t last long, and soon enough, Natasha was doing it again. Her gaze slowly dropped from your face to your naked body, only cover with this stupid towel, but you could swore she had a secret superpower that helped her see through fabrics. Her stare aroused you, and it didn’t take long for you to start getting wet, as your legs were tickling. How was it that every time you met, you wanted her a little more? “Why did Sam ask me this question, earlier?“ She asked, eyes coming back to your flushed face. “I— We were talking about… people I found attractive.“ You decided being honest was the only way to go, because Sam would probably tell her the whole truth if you didn’t. But she didn’t seem to disapprove, since her smile widen. “And you said I was attractive?“ “Yes.“ Silently, Natasha stepped closer to you, and you felt your heart racing in your chest. “He— He saw me checking you out. I always thought you were gorgeous.“ “Oh yeah? So do you like… like me?“ She asked, smirking.

You knew she was expecting the kind of answer she gave Sam when he asked this exact same question. But instead of finding your way through words, you stepped closer and closed your lips to hers. Natasha didn’t take long to kiss you back, slamming your back against the wall as her tongue found yours. She was aggressive and you found it extremely hot. You let her kiss you harder, winning small whines from you when she freed your mouth for a mere second, before attacking it again with sensual kisses. You slowly felt one of her hand slide under the towel, brushing against your skin before you felt one of her finger entering you, making you moan louder. “Oh god, you’re soaked for me.“ She groaned against your lips. Her finger was already moving in and out of you, making your back hit the wall behind you harder with each thrust. You grabbed her shoulders tightly, feeling your whole body shiver and deep into pleasure. “Oh my— fuck! We’re in public space, Nat.“ You tried to control your moan as you were getting wetter and Natasha’s finger was working in you harder. Soon enough, she let another one inside you, making your eyes roll back as you moaned again. “Someone’s going to hear. Fuck, it’s so good!“ “Everyone is asleep and you know it. Plus, you’re already so close, there is no way I’m not making you come.“ And she wasn’t lying. You were clenching around her fingers already, juice dripping on your thighs as you tried to catch your breath. She was making you reach heaven faster than anyone before. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, I’m going to—“ You didn’t even finish your sentence, interrupted with a loud moan that Nat silenced with a sloppy kiss. You climaxed on her fingers, shaking against the wall. She didn’t even let you catch your breath, grabbing your hand to drive you to your room. She closed the door shut and took her shirt off herself, while you let go of your towel. Natasha pushed you towards the bed, and both of you settled down after taking her pants off. You were naked, she was in sport underwear, which was an extremely steamy look on her. But you wanted her— no, you needed her to be naked and fucking you again. You finished undressing her, taking time to check her curves while she smirked. “Like what you’re seeing?“ “Fuck yes.“ You whimpered, before kissing her again, deeply. Natasha knew exactly what she wanted, and after caressing your still-wet pussy for a minute, she pinned you down to the mattress and straddled you. It was the most erotic thing you had ever seen or experienced before. Placing her pussy against yours, you could feel how wet she was, too. And when she started moving against you, she moaned softly, as if she had been waiting for this forever. “Oh, right there.“  You silently hoped that she was loud during sex, because you needed to hear her moans. You weren’t disappointed — with each move, she started to moan a bit louder, mostly swearing and sometimes calling for your name. You grabbed her ass, pushing her body against yours harder as you moved your hips against her. It was heaven. Feeling bold, you gave a small slap on Natasha’s ass, which made her arch against you and cry out. “Fuck! Again, harder!“ So you did, harder, a second and a third time, and she was sliding her pussy against yours faster each time. “It’s so good! I’m going to come so hard for you!“ Her dirty words were driving you closer to the edge, and you felt this warm feeling at the bottom of your stomach again — you were so close. “Nat, I’m going to come again…“ You moaned, head falling back on the pillow behind you. “Oh god! You’re fucking me so good! I want to come with you!“ She wasn’t moaning anymore, she was screaming for release, which made you almost come immediately. In a last hope that it would help both of you climax simultaneously, you smacked her ass once more, harder, before feeling your orgasm rush through you. “Oh!“ Natasha screamed and started shaking as she grabbed the sheets, before collapsing on top of you. “Did you..?“ You asked, after you had time to catch your breath. “Hell yes, I did.“ Both of you looked at each other and laughed at the expression of bliss on each other’s face, before you pulled her closer into your arm, letting her rest against you for the rest of the night.

[thefanficmonster]

Unlucky

Part 2: ‘Lucky Me’

Corpse Husband x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Corpse decides to email back a person who has sent him quite a few creepy stories. She never seems to run out of scary encounters of both sorts: paranormal and stranger-danger. He gets suspicious that the stories are all made up so she can grab his attention, but he’s in for a surprise.

U/N - username

Requested: No

Corpse’s POV

I’m looking through my most recent emails from fans. They are all of scary encounters they’ve allegedly experienced. By now, I’ve read so many, it’s easy to decipher which are real and which are just made up nonsense. Some, I must admit, give me chills. Big props to the people who write those, especially if they are made up. If you can make someone’s skin crawl with your twisted, frightening imagination, you have one, for lack of a better term and in the most positive way, fucked up mind.

My cursor lands on the familiar username I see almost every other week. U/N. They have been sending stories consistently for about three years now. They, and I’m saying they cause you can never be sure who’s hiding behind the username, are either the most unlucky person to walk the planet or the one with most twisted imagination and story telling skills. I’ll admit, sometimes I narrate a story just because it’s well written. Believability is not the only thing I go by, I also reward creativity. And this person, U/N, has had their spot in many of my videos in the last three years. I’m honestly hoping they are made up, or at least some of them, because not only are there too many of them, but none of them fail to give me that eerie paranoia after I read them or the chills while I read them.

Once again, they have submitted a downright terrifying story. It would be a shame if I didn’t narrate it.

It would be a shame if I....

If I never actually meet them.

This many run-ins with people with malicious intent, always getting away by some miracle, what if they one day don’t make it out alive to tell it.

My heart sinks a little at the thought. I feel like I know this person, like we’ve known each other for three years now. They know the things the whole internet knows about me, and I, along with my regular watchers, know their stories. That’s by no means enough, now that I think about it.

My next action is really out of character for me. I decide to reach out to them. My fingers fly over the buttons on my keyboard too fast for my rational side to try and stop them. Deep down, I know I’m doing the rightest wrong thing I’ve ever done. My previously sunk heart is now in its assigned spot again, beating quickly.

You don’t know what you’re doing

I maybe don’t, but knowing isn’t what’s important right now. I just wanna do it.

~ Hey, this is probably, what, your twentieth story so far. I’m just curious, how many of these are made up? By the way, your stories are amazing and I’ll probably keep narrating them even if they aren’t real. They’re just that good.

I send the email before I can talk myself out of it. I get up from my chair immediately afterwards, putting as much distance between me and the computer as possible, silently promising myself I won’t be checking my mail every five minutes.

Y/N’s POV

I anxiously refresh and refresh my email inbox, waiting for the dreaded email back from my professor. Being halfway through the college experience, I know how tough this professor’s class is and how much I suck at it. I sent him my completed assignment last night, barely making the deadline mind you, so now I’m sweating hardcore, staring my computer screen down.

After refreshing for the millionth time, I’m met with a new email which makes my heart stop for a second or two, my stomach dropping. Then I take the time to read the sender’s name, the subject and the first sentence of the email, and all the previous changes in me reverse. My heartbeat picks up speed, going faster than a galloping horse and my stomach turns, making me feel the sensation everyone calls ‘butterflies’.

Nah, man. This shit ain’t real. It can’t be.

But then again, what if it is. What if I’m about to full-on ignore my favorite youtuber because of my paranoia. Well, it’s not exactly unsupported. My life has been a shit show of unfortunate event and situations I’ve literally had to claw my way out of in order to stay alive. Now, when something of the sort happens, it’s just another weekday. However, I still wanna share these encounters. Not only because they are proof of the dangers girls have to deal with on a daily basis, but they also get narrated by one of my favorite people ever. What more can a girl ask for?

~ Listen, I’m really not looking forward to getting catfished. Please leave me alone

It’s short, not sweet, and to the point. It’s easy to understand, and it clearly states that I’m not falling for it if it’s a scam, but if it’s real....someone call 911 cause I think I’ll faint.

~ I get it, you have trust issues. But that’s understandable. From the creepy guy messaging you on all your social media. To the stalker you had from you high school, or even that teacher that turned out to not be a teacher at all and just a pedo, I see where the lack of trust is coming from. But I assure you, they only thing I wanna do is chat.

The shock and happiness overwhelm me when the reply arrives not even ten minutes later. 

Holy shit, this is him.

I start typing and then erase the typed half-sentence at least three times before receiving another email from him. From Corpse Husband. Corpse freaking Husband. How the fuck am I supposed to compose myself enough to reply to him, let alone sound cool and leave a good impression.

My hand shakes as I click the newly received email.

~ You probably don’t know what to say. Either that or you just don’t wanna talk to me. If you’re just baffled and surprised, reply with your name. If you want me to fuck off, ignore this email completely.

The smile I didn’t realize was there grows into a grin as small bursts of laughter escape me. Laughter caused by disbelief and shock. The type of laugh you let out when you score a good mark on the test you thought you completely fucked up.

~ Y/N. My name’s Y/N. 

PS: The stories are all 100% real. All happened. In the order I sent them too. And before you ask, I guess I’m just unlucky, but you are proving me wrong right now.

I don’t know where that confidence at the end came from, but I don’t care really. All that matters is that this might just actually be happening and it might be the best thing to ever happen to me.

~ Man, you’ve had it rough. Tell me, is there an easier way to access you than email. Like Insta DMs? I feel we have a lot to talk about and email is not the most convenient.

At this point, it feel so much like a fever dream that I decide to treat it as though it is. I just go with the flow.

~ Yeah, but first.....am I really not being catfished right now?

The email I receive as a reply to this message is empty of text but there’s a file attached. Not gonna lie, I am a bit hesitant to open it, but I decide that if this turns bad, I’ll just have to deal with it. In the meantime, I’ll believe it’s not a scam.

It’s an audio file: “No, Y/N, you are not being catfished.”

That voice. That god damn voice. It could convince me of anything. 

And now it’s convinced me into believing him. And finally letting out that squeal I was holding back before sending him my Instagram username.

[moxfirefly]

Good afternoon, this has been in the works for a while now and I finally got around to finishing it and being pretty content of it (this is gonna go up on AO3 soon along with the others that aren’t request) but I wanted to post it here first. Enjoy!

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

“Wish you were here right now

All of the things I'd do”

Gaming was always an escape.

From childhood to adulthood. There was some gaming equipment in your hands, controls, handhelds, keyboards and so on. There was just something calming about entering a fantasy world and immersing yourself in scenery and stories that made you stray from bad days and long nights.

For Donatello it was the same.

On one of his many supply scavenges Splinter had found a dumpster near a toy store that was going out of business. It was a memorable haul for them. What they expected to be routine things mixed with some type of groceries had turned into literal Christmas in July. Stuffed animals, board games, action figures and even a few gaming consoles with some cartridges and cd’s. Noticeably they were considered damaged or improperly manufactured, but they didn’t care and for Donnie he had spent a good week and a half fixing up the Nintendo and Play Station 2 consoles back into working conditions.

That alone had been plenty for him but nevertheless Mikey being so excited about playing wanted him to join him. They had played for hours and each disc or cartridge they tried out held a new story, a new set of controls to learn, new visuals and such. He was immediately hooked.

When he had gotten the first parts to start building a PC from scratch he knew there would be another world of possibilities for games.

Now gaming is a leisure for Donnie. Something he does for enjoyment and an escape when his projects become too much. The world of online gaming allowed him to also explore the possibilities of chatting with others though, the humans they were not allowed to see or speak to (with the exception of their Hogosha) but needless to say it wasn’t like Donnie broadcasted his identity and whereabouts. More so these people only came to game and speak game.

Donnie absolutely does detest the unnecessary sexism that gaming brings. Many a time he had read on chats or heard on his head set such derogatory comments thrown at female players. Never the one to stand such misogynistic behavior (he was raised better and had heard enough horror stories from April) he always shot that shit down quickly. Given his status as being far above his gaming peers he had developed respect and none of them ever shot back at him.

That’s how he runs into you.

On the opposing team nonetheless.

Once your female voice ran through the ears of the group he had been stuck in, the comments began to rain down. Some colorful, some lazy and some downright disgusting. Donnie had had enough and with some of his more illegal methods, had managed to push out the players in his party and send the audio recording to the email of the developers.

On exceptionally petty days he did far worse.

You had been stunned, wondering why the gang of immature boys had suddenly disappeared. Only one of them remained with the gamer tag specifying ‘Don_DuzMachines’ you couldn’t help but giggle at it.

You had asked if the sudden disappearance had been a weird glitch and if Don (as you assumed you should call him) had anything to do about it.

“Let’s just say I’ve got my ways” His soft voice rang through your headset.

“Well it’s hardly the first time I’ve had a gang of prepubescent boys tell me to suck their dicks” You started to move away in the map but stopped abruptly.

“Hey do you wanna play something else?” You asked tentatively. “Figured the least I can do is thank you” Donnie sat back pensively, well there was no harm in that now was there?

And so it started innocently.

Co-op games even the occasional match against one another. Each game you two always spoke through your headsets. Mostly banter about strategy or directions for who to do what or the occasional friendly jabs. You hadn’t revealed much that wasn’t the nickname you used as your gamer tag, and well Don had basically done the same.

That is until you decide to poke a little into his life. “You go to college?” You had asked, fingers gliding over the keyboard as you both partook in a raid. Donnie hadn’t expected such a question and he didn’t necessarily want to divulge much, he opted for a more ambiguous response. “I do my own studying, sort of like home schooling if you will?” Well he wasn’t wrong, Splinter had been both father and teacher to them, Donnie had just excelled more quickly and soon enough he was teaching his brothers on the academic side.

“You broke too, huh? Trust me it’s not worth the insane debt you’ll develop in six years that’ll take forty years to pay off” You chuckled with a hint of bitterness, Donnie couldn’t help but laugh and snort.

“That’s cute” You said sincerely. Donnie smiled, heat creeping up his neck.

How innocent things had been at the start.

For six months the two of you divulged little to no information. You never asked to video chat and Donnie never asked for your socials. It had just been a mutual agreement to keep the mystery that just wasn’t verbalized. Maybe it was for the better, because surely what had began as a gaming buddies situation had escalated to, well Donnie couldn’t really explain.

The first instance the two of you had been stuck on a map solving intricate puzzles. It was one of the more relaxed games the two of your partook in together when you didn’t want to deal with other players in a lobby.

“Dating apps are a nightmare, they’re only worth it for getting dumb funny stories” You had been playing but also checking some of the matches you’ve gotten on a site. Donnie swallowed, why did that settle so oddly in his stomach?

“Well any funny ones you’d like to share?” Don asked curiously hoping he wasn’t over stepping any boundaries. “One guy wanted me to cover my feet in marmalade, I really almost hit fuck it and did it” You couldn’t help but smile when Don choked, coughed and bursted out laughing.

“What kink is that even related to? I mean I know people enjoy feet but marmalade?” He was bewildered. “Come on Don don’t kink shame the poor guy, who are you to police his eclectic culinary desires?” Now the two of you couldn’t help but burst into another fit of laughter. Both your avatars were idle standing, the game somewhat abandoned in favor for the conversation.

“Hey I’m not kink shaming, we all have our weird kinks” Donnie smiled sitting back on his swivel chair. You clicked out of the dating site, chin resting on your hand. “Are we finally having this conversation? Cause I love this shit, it’s my bread and butter” You sat back in your gaming chair, tucking your knees.

Donnie felt so shy but the barrier of mistery the two of you had built urged him on. He was curious, like stupid curious what you looked like and while he had everything to figure out exactly where you were, it wasn’t morally correct for him. So why not just indulge in the conversation?

“Well it’s not feet, sorry to disappoint” He heard you laugh, an infectious sound he had grown to enjoy so much. “Feet are so passé anyways, what about bondage?” You spun slowly in your chair, the sounds of Don adjusting and clicking on the keyboard ringing in your ears.

“Bondage is a go, especially sensory deprivation” He was checking some documents April had forwarded to him in regards to a case they were dealing with, but he could multitask. You made an approving noise, nodding while taking a sip of your drink. “Into that D/s stuff?” You asked wanting to see what else he might like.

“Well yeah, but I do enjoy more um... Fem Dom stuff” He finished up the email he wrote out for April and hit send. “A man with taste, not something we get often” You chuckled but decided to add. “I wouldn’t mind having a guy submit to me” You bit the inside of your cheek a little shy suddenly.

Something about that statement made heat spread south for Donnie. The concept of being dominated? By a woman? He peaked a look behind him, pushing one side of his headset down to hear what his brothers might be up to but he heard only music and chatting voices.

“What’s your favorite thing?” He inquired almost too softly.

“Erotic ASMR” There was no trace of embarrassment in your voice and that somehow made Donnie hot.

“Maybe we frequent the same sites for that” Don boldly threw out. You made an approving face before sitting forward and typing on your keyboard. A beat or two later Donnie saw an email notification from you on one of his many burner emails. He opened it finding links to audios from various sites all catered to erotic audios. Donnie whistled, this was a gold mine and true to his predictions you did indeed have some of his favorite sites to peruse.

“It’s not just male audios by the way, there’s women too” You sat back once again, nervously playing with your hair. “Thanks... Well I do like hearing both” Donnie confessed, voice avoiding a stutter.

You grinned. Oh he was even more fun that you could’ve expected.

Curiously enough that had been the tamest experience into yours and Donnie’s sex talks. Because it hadn’t really stopped at that, they progressively escalated little by little. Fave kinks had turned to fave sites, fave sites had turned into fave videos. Donnie never pictured he’d share his hidden folder with a stranger no less.

You nor Donnie could really say how the two of you had ended up one late night, with yet another abandoned game, talking about weird but satisfying cyber sex experiences. Some of your stories had been on the more comical side but a few had riled Donnie up to the point that he couldn’t ignore it. There was a shift in your voice as well, an allure that enticed him.

“Can I be honest?” You licked your suddenly dry lips. Donnie tensed momentarily, not sure what to expect. “Of course, please” You squeezed your thighs together, ‘please’ shouldn’t sound so good coming out of his mouth. You trace lazy circles on your thighs, something pushed you. “I’m kinda turned on by this...by talking to you about all this stuff” Maybe this was overstepping it, surely there was nothing wrong between two adult friends discussing such matters.

There was no need to tell Don that you had yearned to put a face to the name. But his hesitance spoke of insecurities and you could understand that.

“I am too...” Donnie looked up at what he called a ceiling in his home, the darkness of the sewer system and concrete. He’d never have a chance with you, it was a deeply rooted desire for intimacy and if virtually he could obtain it then so be it.

For all your boldness you felt a wave of bashfulness hit, crashed around your self confidence. Then Donnie steps up and you feel your toes curl in excitement. “Do you want to have a better experience?” Donnie runs both hands down his face, who was he to provide better experiences, he’d never even physically had a partner. The slow sigh that escapes your throat is comforting static in his headset. “Yeah, yeah I really do actually” You feel a smile etch itself on your lips.

“You can call me Donnie” It’s the closest to his name, and truthfully he really wants to hear you say it.

“Y/N,” You say to which Donnie makes an approving noise, he finds your name to be pretty. He rolls it in his mouth, testing the syllables, he can envision moaning it, well he wants to moan it if he can be completely honest. He wants to put a face to that name but he quickly pushes the thought out. There’s a pregnant pause where neither of you engage or make the first attempt. Not wanting to let this mood flee, Donnie swallows and closes his eyes. The hum of the abandoned game grounding him.

“Say my name again” It’s not a forceful demand, all the contrary he wants to hear the pitch in your voice when you say it, he wants to picture how each tone would variate depending on what he would do or say. “Donnie...” You smile to yourself when you say it, a hint of desire nestled in it and Don notices that and wants more of it.

There’s a lengthy sigh from your behalf, hands wandering up your thighs towards your chest. “I’d like to be there right now, would like to say it against your lips” Your bold confessions makes Donnie’s pulse quicken. He runs a ghosting touch up his plastron, the vision of a delicate hand doing it. The imaginary weight of you on his lap grinding down on his hard member. Donnie grips himself through his shorts a soft groan escaping his parted lips.

“Want you to kiss me” He swallows dryly, the approving noise you make pushing him forward. “Feel your lips all over, feel your mouth around me...” He lifts his hips, hand cupping himself and the small hitch in your breath is a sound he wants permanently recorded in his brain.

“God are you big? I bet you are” You kneed your breast, thumb and forefinger pinching the sensitive nubs until they’re perked. Donnie smirks to himself, freeing his aching member and looking down at himself. Mutant genes aside he feels somewhat shamefully proud of his cock, he wonders if you would like it... deeply buried within you. “Yeah I am, I think you can take it something tells me” You catch that teasing tone and the urge to swallow him whole and make him see stars is too much.

Your hand finds its way into your underwear, the warm wetness making you moan as you tease your middle finger between the lips to find your sensitive nub there. You bite back another lengthy moan but recover enough to breathlessly say, “oh fuck, Donnie” and that very sound makes him shiver. Never did he think he’d hear something so temptingly good, said with such sincerity. God the things he would do to smell your arousal right now, to taste the wetness. “Push two fingers in slowly” Donnie almost pleas, his voice shakey, hand pumping his cock at a steady pace. You do as he wishes, your gutted moan making more precum gather at the tip of his member.

“God-shit- you sound so good, wish you were riding my big dick right now” He wants to chastise himself for saying something like that, but he can’t deny that statement shakes something in you. He can hear it, the sound of your fingers mixed with a continuously rising string of moans. “Ohmygod” Words tumble out strewn together by your pleasure. “Donnie please, please fuck me harder” That alone makes him sit up and push forwards, one hand on his desk as the other works himself up in upward twisting strokes.

Donnie can’t erase the idea of slamming into you right here on his desk, maybe bent over, maybe you’ll let him cum on your face...

He pushes the idea away, he can’t envision your face now, not right now, not when your moans have you sounding this deliciously in need. You’re plunging two fingers into your core as your free hand runs firm circles around your clit. “Christ Donnie you sound so good baby” You moan, perspiration covering your body and Donnie can only groan his approval.

There’s a few minutes where it’s just the two of you lost in your own pleasure together. The constant chants of ‘fuck’ and ‘god’ and ‘yes’ mixed between the two of you. “Say it... again” Donnie groans out, hand quickening, briefly gathering some saliva and letting it fall on his hard member for better traction. “Don-oh, Donnie cum in me!” You’re so far gone, not caring what comes out of your mouth. The wet sounds in your head set and a vibration you figured could be static mixed with his groans was all you heard.

Donnie’s hips twitch, feels that request swim inside of his brain and the image of burying himself as deeply as you could take is all he needs. Just as your moans rise in crescendo he feels the first twitch and relief of his orgasm overtake him. He’s never felt it hit him this hard it knocks the wind out of him, each rope shooting out onto his hand and floor. In his minds eye though, it’s your suffocating heat taking it, milking him until he’s a shivering mess. It plays perfectly like a movie, he swears he can even feel your lips at his neck and arms holding him tight.

Your sounds are enough to keep him stroking, the way your voice pitched up with the sound of his name entwined, forever recorded in his brain. Your entire body tensed to the point of uncomfortable but it was impossible to stop abruptly when he sounded so lost in you. Your leg shakes and stiffens and it takes every inch of control to not become liquid and slip away into comforting bliss.

Eventually the sounds of heavy breathing slowly but surely settling are the only things the two of you can hear in your ears. There’s a mess, for you and for him. The understanding of things transpired crossing each of you two’s brains. Should you speak first? Should he?

“Um, you with me?” You settle, skin sweaty and mouth dry. There’s movement on the other line, a quiet cuss here and there and you smile. “Yeah, sorry just... made a mess” His voice has that sheepish tone and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Great thing about being a girl, we can conceal the evidence better” You stretch your aching legs enjoying each joint pop. “The female anatomy never seizes to amaze me, trust me” Donnie leans back in his chair, napkin cleaning any other soiled spot.

The silence was somewhat comfortable, the buzzing of good chemicals slowly settling.

“Was this okay?” He asked, hesitant tone in your ears.

“More than okay if you ask me” You kept it light not wanting him to feel odd or even ashamed.

You ventured on slowly, forming the question in your brain and bouncing it back and forward with a swallow. “If, and I mean if you want to, we can maybe do this from time to time” You worried a thumbnail between your teeth. Donnie’s gaze watching the idle screen of the abandoned game, he thought hard but briefly.

“I... yeah I would” He smiles to himself, even if the nagging thought that this might not last clutches the back of his mind. Why ruin a good thing? This was good more than good and you suggested to continue.

He doesn’t want to preoccupy his brain with scenarios, or if that dreaded ‘let’s meet’ sentence decides to cross your lips. If this is the inch of intimacy he gets to have and it’s with you, who he has grown so fond of, then he’s selfishly taking that inch and guarding it with his life.

Mutely you both remain on the line, no words spoken from the agreement, just simply enjoying that the two of you were present.

Even if not physically.

[admiringlove]

“wait, am i allowed to call you ‘love’?”

— welcome to sam’s brewery, where we commemorate reaching 500 customers! this event lasts for one week, and will only take up to twenty orders(as above that can become quite overwhelming).

+order: hi 🥺 could i request “wait, am i allowed to call you ‘love’?” w shoto from bnha? askdskj thank you and i love you and your writing bubba so congrats on 500! [submitted by anon]

+word count: 0.8k

+author’s notes: pretty sure i fell in love with him all over again after this. and thank you so much anon, ily too <3 here is the link to the event masterlist.

Dating Todoroki Shо̄to was new. 

He was never seen as a person who'd be doing normal things—well, none of the students at UA High were normal per se, but still. Todoroki was seen as a person who had a purpose and never deterred from it, but here he was, completely in awe of his feelings for you.

You, that was a couple of inches shorter than him(he'd make jokes about it, and seeing you pout made his heart flutter). You, whose smile made his day a thousand times better. You, whose voice instantly lets him know, that even if he was on the verge of dying as he fought, he'd get back up. 

For you. It was as simple as that. The boy was in astonishment because of his own feelings for you and when talking to his friend Momo, he learned that this is probably what love feels like. 

He doesn't know what love is. He probably has never known. His past clouds his judgment and emotions, but when he's with you, those clouds tend to dissipate into a drizzle, and there's just the two of you left, dancing in the rain while soft jazz plays in the background.

He doesn't know the first thing about dating though. He seems to be enough to make you smile, laugh, and blush all in one conversation(you often tell him his humor is a little dark and ironic, and honestly, he doesn't get what you mean). He hasn't even kissed you yet, because he's scared that he'd do something wrong. 

He's grateful you still stick by him though. Whether it be studying together or walking to class, you always made sure to fit yourself into his schedule whenever he had time, and he was surprised that you stayed with him. At first, he'd get afraid that you'd leave him after finding him boring—but now? He trusts you so blindly that he knows you'll never leave his side. 

You're in front of him at the moment, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows as you look at your notebook in confusion. You scribble something with your tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth, and his heart just melts at the sight. He's stopped completely, just staring at you with his fond heterochromatic eyes, as his face rests on his palm. He doesn't know he's been looking for too long until your eyes are blinking back at him. You giggle a bit, and he's the one blinking now as he asks, "Something the matter?"

"Oh no, Sho, you looked really pretty while staring at me like that," you smiled, and then in a split second, your eyes glinted, "Ah! Wait, I think I got the problem I was trying to solve!"

"Could you teach me too?" he says in an instant. His eyes scan your paper, and he knows that he's finished it already, but he quickly flips to a new page and writes down the problem again—just so he can hear you talk to him more. Your voice seems to have this... effect on him that makes him lose his ability to think straight. 

If this is what love feels like, then Todoroki never wants to fall out of it. Because being in love with you had become part of the oxygen he breathes to get through the day. 

"You're supposed to be the smart one, aren't you?" he hears you say as you scoot closer to him. His body stiffens as your hand takes his book away and begins writing on it; it's happening again because now he can't focus on the trigonometric equation you were explaining to him, and instead, his mind is filled with only your voice and your eyes as you patiently tell him that cotangent is the reverse of tangent. He snaps out of his entranced state when you ask him if he understood, but he lies straight through his teeth, saying, "I'm sorry, could you repeat that, love?"

Your eyes widen as you sit next to him, rosebuds growing beneath your cheeks as you turn to look at him. Your eyes are pretty, blinking back at him with an embarrassed yet full of love emotion. You blink a few times as you whisper, "L-love?"

He's sure his heart just skipped a beat. You, with your messy hair and completely flustered face, are looking up at him with inquisitivity in your eyes. And he's taken aback because he just called you love.

"Wait, am I allowed to call you ‘love’?" he stammers, looking away from you because he can't take it anymore. He's never felt this way before; he's sure his heart is going to burst any second with the speed it's beating at. He wants to look at you more, to see your gorgeous face, but you reply, "Y-you are. I liked it."

"Oh," he smiles, but he's hiding it with his hand. 

(Todoroki Shо̄to is definitely in love. He's just hiding it from you for a bit. Don't worry though, he'll tell you soon enough.)

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