#nothing would piss him off more than the idea that the answer is actually nothing. that there is no answer. that would drive him up the wal

[volo-omnia]

The Hero Isn't Special

This is inspired from my convos with @girasolen because it got me thinking, because boy oh boy I love me some narrative foils.

This is an entirely headcanon idea, but I really like the fact that for the entire game, this question is never answered.

Even long after you complete the game and defeat Arceus and complete all the quests and stories, this question is never answered. Why are you, after all, chosen to be Arceus' champion? Sure in the real world it's a video game and it has to be broad and appealing for all gamers, but I think there is answer as to why you're more special than Volo:

You aren't.

Volo is actually just as equally qualified to be a hero as you are. Hell, probably even more. He's a native of this land and it's culture, he knows the history, hell- the guy can use 8 pokemon in a battle. The guy is more than qualified by miles.

But why are you chosen instead of him? What's the secret to you being the chosen avatar of the all-encompassing deity?

There isn't!

It's you.

Now hear me out, what the hell do I mean by that? I mean that you yourself are special because you believe you are capable of being special. You and the rest of the people in Sinnoh believe you are special. In that belief that you can accomplish anything, you in a weird turn of self-fulfilling prophecy, become the champion of Arceus.

This is going to sound cheesy as hell, but the clearest comparison I can make is from the ending of Kung Fu Panda: where "there is no secret ingredient" to being a hero. Even in the face of an opponent who is infinitely stronger than you, if you take that leap of faith in your potential you could (hypothetically speaking) accomplish anything.

Without making this sound like a manifestation mantra for girlbosses, a better way to describe it is the concept of The Fool's Journey. The Fool is essentially an archetype in stories, most notably the tarot, where they are an inexperienced hero who essentially knows nothing.

You, a person who fell from the space-time rift, are a fool in this world. You come here with essentially your memories more or less gone, with nothing to your name but the shirt off your back. You are the fool, the hero, who is essentially starting from ground zero. But with that nothing you also have potential to grow and learn, to learn about this world you fell into and all that it encompasses.

Volo is (somewhat) a foil to this. While in his eyes he does go through his own "hero's journey" (which I'll elaborate in a post another time) he is canonically a character who is curious to a fault of learning the truth about the world and the nature of the universe. He is cunning, silver-tongued, and a skilled wielder of pokemon. Volo is not The Fool. He is a character who is knowledgeable and prideful in his own skills.

Volo is The Magician.

In terms of tarot, The Magician is essentially a master of his craft, one that bends his will to manifest his skills in ways that amazes those around him. However, The Magician is the card that comes after The Fool. The Magician may seem a master in most eyes, but at the end of the day he is deceitful and full of tricks. It's all show. Volo is a character who very directly told to be someone who seeks the truth, the answer to everything. And being his name is literally the translation for willpower, that ambition is reflected very blatantly in his final battle.

The Fool, the hero, has nothing. They have no special skills. But through that nothing their potential is infinite. That is why you are chosen instead of Volo. You aren't special. But because it's you, that makes you special.

[balteredsworld]

cha cha chase, gregory house

🥼🩺 | house finds out you're a dancer.

masterlist: greg house n all

tags! house being house, fluff of sorts? house x reader def

"aww that's cute," house tilted his head in amusement, eyes twinkling with signature mischief. you were going to hate this. in fact, you were already dreading it. "we can all give foreman a lap dance."

you rolled your eyes, prepping your dearest ex-friend's arm for a transfusion. "did you have to say all that?"

"what? people should know you were a dancer, especially with a boss like that," she sweetly and very innocently shrugged, before looking at house with pride. "she's got killer mo—"

"—alright!" you jammed the needle roughly, shutting her up. "you'll fall asleep in right about... now."

she dozed off, but not before catching you with a triumphant frown about your lips. oh you were pissed, at least she didn't need to deal with it until after the treatment.

you would've cooled down by then. but you were also in trouble. why? because of that stupid grin house had on his stupid face.

"so you used to dance."

"and you used to walk."

"ouch. low blow!"

"i can blow even lower."

you cringed. the words left your mouth sooner than you could think.

"you definitely have the knees for it," house chuckled, practically looking up into heaven with an extremely exaggerated grateful look.

"shut up. and don't ask."

his brows shot up, face contorting a theatrical face of an innocent. "how could you assume the worst in me!"

"my bad," you deadpanned. "i think it's just your track record with insanely inappropriate jokes."

you slipped swiftly out of the room, keen to get house off of your hair. but for a cripple, he was insanely fast. this man could do more than he let out, but that was only to make people like yourself, his victim-of-the-day fellow, miserable.

house was a smart man, but his aptitude was used for the worst. nothing was a viable escape, he was going to hold this over you until the day you die.

"i ask first," he snarked, making a gesture with his finger. "uhm, i have something inappropriate to say. can i say it?"

you glared at him over your shoulder. he was hot on your trail. if only you could get to the flight of stairs quicker.

he blinked all cutesy, innocently batting his lashes as you two turned the corner. "were you a stripper?"

you threw your head back, eyes rolling back to the point it felt like someone was gauging them out. house looked excited at the prospect. even if you weren't, close enough.

finally, you turn to him with an unimpressed purse about your lips and an angry furrow to your brows. house towered over you, all but amused at your well invited and justified anger. he thought it was cute.

"so?" he cocked a brow, still twinkling in mischief.

"answer's no," you half-calmly answered, titling your head, formulating a wicked idea.

you grabbed house's wrinkled collar, standing on your tip toes, snaking your hand on his shoulders.

"but i am a dancer," you whispered, mustering a sickeningly sweet voice. you trailed your fingers along his neck, letting your breath fan his ear as you crooned your head slightly, just as how you would with your dance partner.

some part of you had a daring inkling to knock his cane over, still unnerved over his shenanigans that last christmas he duped you into getting him a pricey gift.

fortunately for house, you weren't him.

but you maintained your hold on him, before letting out a hum at the same time you descended back to the soles of your foot. an innocent smile creeping on your lips, lashes batting the same way he'd done seconds ago.

"that's right, dancer..." house trailed, with a gaping mouth, still in a childish drawl.

"doctor, actually. the id says m.d., but thanks," you remarked nonchalantly, whipping away in a spin to dash into your escape. "you hired me remember?"

"because you had nice legs!" house shouted in a last ditch effort to win, seemingly paralyzed on the spot. "and even nicer knees!"

you had outrun him for now, although you knew it wasn't long before he revived into an ever meaner bloom. and you were right to dread it, because hours later, house was sitting with a triumphant smirk about his face. he somehow found a video of you dancing embarrassingly online, no doubt with the help of lucas, and forwarded it to any and all.

that only strengthened your resolve for revenge. house was fucked, but he welcomed your challenge.

who knows? maybe he could just get a lap dance out of it.

[letoasai]

dp x dc 2 Mother Gotham

 I had... zero intention of continuing this.... and i still.. have zero intention of continuing... lol i don’t know how this part 2 happened XD Please enjoy or feel free to take it   ~

Part 1      Master List  Constantine stared. 

He’d had very, very little time to learn everything he thought he needed to know about the Ghost King through his contacts and as an adult, he didn’t like what he’d heard so far. He might not be the most responsible bloke but damn it, he wasn’t okay with a fourteen year old taking on so much pressure after what was likely a traumatic death. 

He learned very little other than how young he was, how well liked he was, and how he’d not only earned the respect of many ancients, but befriended them. A good section of his contacts refused to answer any questions about him at all, stating at they didn’t want to cause trouble for the king. 

It was commendable but fucking frustrating. He had to find his boy and his sister and take them to both Lady Gotham and Batman. He’d had a headache all night. 

Constantine wasn’t a stranger to the occult, not by a long shot. He was rather the Justice League’s resident expert, but his lack of knowledge surrounding Amity Park was inexcusable. He had no idea how an entire town went unnoticed but he was going to find out. 

The amount of liminals in one place was ridiculous but he’d have to actually go there to gather more information on these teenagers. As things were, he was waiting at the Gotham welcome Center at the appointed time and was always startled by the amount of activity there. People coming and going. Gothamites were unfazed by the gloom of the city and newcomers were often transfixed by their first taste of a city that harbored so many curses. 

Few were able to understand that it was Lady Gotham stretching her non-corporeal limbs. 

He’d only been there an hour, and he had no description of these teenagers. He should have just asked Bruce. The man had probably somehow already tracked down everything on these kid right down to their favorite colors, but he hadn’t honestly thought he’d need anything like that. Turns out... he was right.

Constantine had just lit another cigarette when the room got cold. He glanced around the room, eyes zeroing in on a hooded figure, a NASA logo printed across the front. He slid up to a vending machine, pushing a dollar in and punching in the numbers for whatever snack he wanted. 

The kid was so unassuming. He could have been any random teenager. The strangest thing about him was that he had a thermos dangling off his belt and stars had been drawn on his shoes in what looked like marker. 

He bent to pick up his snack, but when he turned, he was already pinning Constantine with a stare. 

He wasn’t used to a kid being the one to pick him out in a crowd, but this one…well… Constantine wasn’t about to question his qualifications as royalty. When Constantine did nothing, the teens head cocked to the side in confusion. It was a far too long moment where they did nothing but stare at one another from across the room. 

The staring contest was broken when a red headed young woman exited the nearby bathroom and slid up behind her brother, a hand on his shoulder and a question on her lips. She was definitely liminal, and not as human as they both likely had been once. Not that that mattered to him. It was just one more piece of information to file away for later. The Ghost King silently nodded in his direction, and now there were two piercing gazes in his direction.

 There was something about the sister he couldn’t put his finger on but it would be a bloody cold day in hell before he purposely pissed her off. She was definitely the type to be her brothers keeper, and someone with that kind of sway over the Ghost King was no one to fuck around with. 

He inhaled once more, enjoying the smoke filling his lungs before he hauled himself off the bench he’d been occupying to head towards them. 

“Welcome to Gotham. I’m your one man welcoming committee.” He greeted.

 “Who sent you?” The redhead asked. 

“Got a name?” The Ghost King asked right after. 

They were paranoid, but he didn’t blame them for that. Whatever had them running likely wasn’t friendly. The boy's eyes were rimmed with dark circles and there were bruises along his jaw and neck. His sister wasn’t injury free either. She was holding one of her arms to her chest. Possibly a dislocated shoulder or elbow. “John Constantine. Member of the Justice League Dark.” 

He never would have introduced himself like that normally but he was dealing with a King and well... spooked kids. 

“Dark?” The brother and sister exchanged a look. 

Constantine grunted. “We deal with the magical nasties and what not. I was summoned to Gotham to greet you, Majesty.” 

The Ghost King didn’t wince, but there was a tick to his jaw.  “Danny.” He corrected. “This is my sister, Jazz.” 

“Who was it who summoned you?” Jazz asked, her good arm wrapped around one of her brother’s. 

Constantine nodded to Danny. “His mother. Dunno your full story, but i was led to believe this was your actual mother.” 

Danny’s lips pinched. “That is what Clockwork said…” He muttered to his sister who nodded, though she didn’t look overly trusting. 

“And you have no connection to the GIW?” She bulldozed right through. 

Constantine’s eyes narrowed. “Bloody fuck is that?” 

They exchanged another look. “The Ghost Investigation Ward.” 

“The fuck?” He inhaled again, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth. “What’s their problem?” 

Danny’s brows lowered, a soft, quiet, and mostly certainly deadly sort of anger in that look. “Hunting and experimenting on my people for sport.” 

Constantine tsked, but it did nothing to truly betray how pissed off that made him. “Sounds like a couple of pretenders messing around in my neck of the woods. Thanks for the tip. I’ll be looking into that.” He paused to pull out his cell phone and make a note of them. “No, I’m a right bastard for sure but meddling with the Infinite Realm is a major no-no.”

The Ghost King’s ire lessened somewhat, but the faint glow to Jazz’s eyes hadn’t yet waned. “Why were you picked to escort us?” 

“Probably because i’m one of few around that could hear the call. Your mother has been making arrangements for the both of you. I’ll take you to her first and then to where you’ll be living.” They weren’t a very trusting pair, but he had to assume they had every reason to be cautious. 

Danny finally heaved a sigh and took his sister’s hand. “Fine. It’s a leap but only a lunatic would claim to be in the Justice League when they weren’t.”

 Constantine didn’t react to that, he didn’t want to worry the kid about how many lunatics there actually were. The laugh he’d have over this kid looking like Wayne adoption bait would have to wait. 

“Besides, one wail will take out a good chunk of Gotham, so i’m sure you won’t do anything stupid.” Danny continued. 

“Noted…” Constantine said dryly. He was getting shitfaced tonight. 

~

 Danny rather liked Gotham. Sure he’d barely seen any of it but the ambient ectoplasm was more than enough to sustain him. There weren’t many people who could say that kind of thing energized them but Danny sure could. Jazz could to a lesser extent. It was almost like home, except hopefully less volatile. 

Constantine showed them to his car that smelled like alcohol, cigarettes and magic and took off with them. He didn’t even seem to mind Danny opening and eating his bag of chips. He knew Jazz wasn’t in a trusting mood. He wasn’t either but Clockwork had told him bits about his mother. Had told him to follow his core and he’d find his mother. So far… he was satisfied with the direction they were headed. 

He stifled a yawn but tired tears sprung to his eyes anyway. He had no idea what time it was anymore. Gotham was so dark but there were people out on the street. It could have been noon or midnight and he was too lazy to even pull out his phone and check. It didn’t matter when his master plan was to get himself and Jazz somewhere safe and then sleep for hours. 

When Constantine finally pulled his car to a stop and got out, it had started to drizzle just a little. It wasn’t enough rain to even really get them wet, it was just vaguely annoying. The streets were startlingly vacant compared to the ones they’ve driven passed before and this was obviously an older section of the city. 

Having just arrived, Danny and Jazz didn’t know all the districts in Gotham yet but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that this wasn’t main street. Constantine headed towards an old bridge, pieces of it having crumbled away from age but the architecture had obviously once been top tier. 

“Where are we?” Jazz asked, keeping close to Danny, her voice only just above a whisper but Constantine heard her. 

“The meeting point.” 

Danny frowned, but he held out an arm to keep his sister behind him. His core fluttered in his chest, and he recognized that something was coming. He tried to pinpoint exactly what it was but the feeling was something altogether new though it reminded him of Clockwork or Pandora. 

With a gentle wave of power, she appeared. A woman, cloaked with gargoyle like features. She could have been made of stone but she approached them cautiously. “Daneil.” She whispered, and he felt her voice wash over him with emotion. Pride. Pride. Pride. Regret. Pain. Joy. 

Confused. Relaxed. “Was that my name?” he asked. He’d been so terribly small when the Fenton’s had caught him but he could see how his name could have gotten twisted around at some point. “Are you…?” 

Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. 

“This is Lady Gotham.” Constantine said, probably for Jazz and Danny’s benefit. 

She moved, fazing in and out of existence and stopping just out of reach. “Son…” she whispered, the emotion nearly dropping him to his knees. All of her attention was on him. When was the last time he’d had that from a parental figure? 

Danny stared back at her, her green eyes so familiar. He reached up to touch his cheek under his own blue eyes. It was a wonder she could even recognize him. Sure he felt the same but he was half human. Half alive. That didn’t matter to her? 

Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. 

Danny exhaled shakily, falling into his shift. The rings of light circled around his middle before spreading out and revealing his ghost half. White hair topped with a black crown and green eyes matching the spirits. 

Constantine cursed softly under his breath, taking several steps away. 

“Oh, don’t be a wuss.” Jazz chuckled. “He’s not after you.” 

“Not taking any chances with all that,” he said. 

Danny couldn’t help his faint smile at that. “Daneil.” Lady Gotham reached out slowly, cupping his face. She didn’t feel like stone for all she looked like it. She was cool to the touch and he wondered what her core was. She felt familiar. Like he’d met her before. That made sense if she were his mother but after all this time, there was this connection that clicked into place.

 I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Lost you. Lost you. 

Here now. Here now. “It’s okay.” Danny muttered, barely even registering that the bruises on his face were disappearing. “It’s not your fault.” He dared to move, stepping into her space to hug her. She trilled in affection, holding him tightly while Danny chirped his automatic response. When was the last time Maddie had hugged him? 

Jazz could make him purr or chirp in affection but had his parents ever? He’d known Lady Gotham for all of a handful of minutes and already he felt safe in her haunt. It was far safer than his in Amity. 

Welcome. Welcome. Missed you. Missed you. “Daneil.” She said his name like a prayer. Voice quiet but filled with affection. 

“Guess i’m staying here for a while.” He muttered, his core humming. He pulled away from the hug, silently wondering if he’d ever grow horns or something like Lady Gotham when he glanced back over at his sister. She was waiting patiently, still cradling her arm. He’d managed to pop it back into it’s socket but it was terribly tender. “What do you think?” 

“I’m staying if you’re staying.” Jazz said simply. 

“Good child.” Lady Gotham whispered. She vanished from in front of Danny and reappeared next to Jazz. Thank you, Thank you. Thank you. 

Jazz couldn’t always make out the words in emotions but she felt them all the same. Her smile was warm. “He’s my little brother. I love him. I had to come along.” 

She hadn’t. She could have lived a normal life. She could have left him behind. She didn’t have to act as his shield when their parents found out about him. She didn’t have to but she did. She’d never abandoned him. 

Welcome. 

“We’ll figure it out, Jazz. Promise.” 

Lady Gotham reached slowly, taking Jazz’s hands. Thank you. Her immense power shifted again and Jazz gasped in surprise. Danny raised a brow but grinned at the drop of Gotham’s power that flowed into his sister. It sped her healing up, taking away the ache in her arm. He guessed Jazz would become a stronger liminal than she already was. 

Constantine cursed again. “This just doesn’t happen…” he muttered. 

Danny could tell though, his mother was amused. 

“Jasna.” Lady Gotham spoke clearly, pleased with herself. 

“Wait… what?” Jazz looked confused, trying to read the emotions that were being sent to her. It was a mouthful, and amounted to… The sister of my son is also mine. 

“Renamed by an ancient…” Constantine was shaking his head, pulling out a flask from his jacket pocket. Names were powerful… you couldn’t just hand them out… But he was not about to argue with Lady Gotham. 

Danny snickered. “You can still keep your nickname, Jazz.” He felt… calm. He was happy to be here. He liked Gotham because it was safe and his mother was here and everything suddenly felt like it would be okay after all. He and Jazz could start over. 

“Jasna…” Jazz repeated, testing it out. “Thank you.” After everything that had happened.., she could use a mother figure.

Lady Gotham seemed so satisfied. She turned back to Danny, hugging him again, even the wings on her arms fluttered with delight to have her child back. 

My son. My son. 

Danny smiled, wondering if it was like this for all ghost children when their parents were near. He’d have to call Ellie and have her swing by to see if she felt the same way he did. “We’ll figure everything out…” He paused and looked back at Constantine. “You were taking us somewhere else too?” 

“Yeah.” He was flicking his lighter on and off, likely considering another smoke. “Lady Gotham is entrusting you to someone who will also have a hand in keeping you safe. She hand picked him and everything.” 

“We just need an apartment… and…” Jazz frowned a little. They’d talked about it a little and Danny had hated the idea of his sister giving up on school for even a week. 

“Not necessary.” Constantine said dryly. “You’ll be fine.” 

“Where…are we going exactly?” Danny asked, looking at his mother again. He was so strangely pleased that they had the same eyes. 

She laughed, actually laughed. He felt her excitement in her bones. She pointed up into the air and only a few beats later, the bat signal was spread across the sky, glowing against the smog and clouds. 

“That’s…” Jazz blinked, who could have planned for this? 

“No way.” Danny stared at the glowing signal. Everyone knew what that meant. He looked to Constantine again who only nodded his confirmation. His mother was still laughing, enjoying the moment. “We’re staying with Batman!?” ~~ ~~

I really didn’t intend to continue this, i’m not sure it’ll happen again. I have no confidence in writing for the Batfam. If anyone is interested, go for it. 

Tag list. 

@meira-3919 @choppedphantomsweets @kisatamao @thewondersoflebanon @emergentpanda-blog @epilepticnerd @paroovian @blep-23 @addie-lover-of-stories @phoenixdemonqueen @bianca-hooks123 @crystallicedart @observethevoid @jaytriesstuff @skulld3mort-1fan @icedbluesoul @rosecinnamonbun @nixthenerd @oterion @lexdamo @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @villian-lover7899 

[ivestas]

a good shot

Summary: König had a staring problem, so you confront him about it. 

Tags: sniper!fem!reader x konig, platonic!141 x reader, barely edited, awkward, unintentional confession(?)

Word count: 1.1k

Note: my mw2 obsession is real. been trying to deny it but its all that occupies my brain.... send some reqs?? i have such a bad habit of saying that then not following thru but i promise i will LMFAOOO (nah but fr tho im working on ur guys’ requests, just veryyyy slowly since, again, mw2 brainrot) also sorry if this seems rushed, i just wanted to get this idea out of my head hehe

König had a staring problem. 

You really didn’t know why, but whenever he was near, you could practically feel his gaze burn a hole through your skin. 

You weren’t one to care for stares—you were used to it, especially in your early years as a merc. Most would just be curious why a woman was wearing a bullet vest, especially civilians. 

But... König’s eyes were intense. Nothing like the curious—or even hateful—looks you were used to. 

You were sure you hadn’t done anything wrong; you barely spoke, never really caring too. You kept to yourself. You didn’t particularly stand out next to your flamboyant peers. 

So... why? 

You’d first asked Soap about it: he was a people person, always seemed to know someone’s intentions in an instant. 

However, he was confused. “He stares at you?” 

"You hadn’t noticed?” 

“No? I barely see the lad in general, always skulkin’ in some shadow.” 

“Seriously?” You frowned. “Then you think you’d know why?”

“Hmmm... here, maybe if I get my crystal ball and ponder for a bit I can find out!” 

"Shove the ball up your ass instead.” You snorted. Soap laughed, probably at his own joke than yours. 

Getting up, you headed to your next target: Ghost. 

You found him in the mess hall, taking apart his rifle on one of the cafeteria tables by himself. Without a second thought, you slid beside him. He didn’t acknowledge you.

Propping your head up with a hand, you look at him. Despite it being night, he’s still wearing his balaclava and shades. You decided it’s best not to make a comment about it since you’re trying to pry answers regarding the Austrian Colossus. 

“You’ve noticed König staring at me, right?” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Do you think you’d know why? I’m sure I hadn’t done anything to piss him off, but he’s always just... you know...” you widen your eyes, leaning in. “Doing this. I don’t know whether to be unsettled or flattered.” 

Ghost carefully puts two pieces of his rifle together, a satisfying click resonating in the air. “Maybe he’s surprised why the 141 got a clown for a sniper.” He intoned. 

“Says the guy wearing a skeleton balaclava and tinted shades—scared the enemies are gonna find out you’re actually just a loser with nothing to his name?” You said the words too quickly, and when Ghost looked at you, he probably knew the thought was bubbling in your head. 

"...” 

“...” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that crawled out your throat, and you noticed that the corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkled. 

“...So you don’t know?” 

He snorted. “I’m no psychic.” 

Sighing, you rose from your seat, leaving Ghost once more in his own bubble. 

You really didn’t want to, but you realized you were gonna have to ask from the source itself—König.  

Now, you didn’t consider yourself a shy or anxious person, but there was something so imposing about König; maybe it was the fact he literally towers over you like some Goliath, or maybe it’s the fact he only speaks in raspy monosyllables, or, maybe, it was the fact that he just always stares at you, but you couldn’t deny the nervousness that writhed in the pit of your stomach. 

But curiosity shined over it, because just why would he just stare? 

So, you decided to head to the shooting field: it was an open secret that König often lurked there at night, shooting away at the targets from the day. No one really complained since he’d replace the targets with new ones at the end of every session.

The walk was short; just a quick turn through some halls and out through a door and you’re in the range. 

König was some meters away, hunched over a stack of crates and a sniper under his arm. His back was to you. 

You stepped on a stray stick just beside your foot. His head shot up. 

He turned around in an instant, sniper tight in his hand. 

They were right. He’s antsy. 

“Hey, König.” 

“...” 

You slowly approached as though he were a frightful deer... but perhaps a cautious bear would be a more accurate descriptor. He could kill you in seconds. 

Like anyone can. It doesn’t scare you. 

Admittedly, it’s a little exciting.

“Can I talk to you about something?” 

“...yes.” 

 “Your eyes—uh, you stare. A lot.” 

His gaze flickered away. 

“Just wondering why you just... stare. I’m pretty sure we’ve never spoken, either—”

“We’ve spoken,” he cut in. Rough and light, as usual. “Mostly on missions though.” 

“Oh... well, I’m just wondering if I pissed you off, somehow? Earned your ire? I’m dumb, I forget and I can be socially unaware—”

“No, no, no!” His eyes rounded, the sniper loosened in his hands. “No, you didn’t! I just, well...”

“...well?” You echoed, prompting him to continue. 

He did. 

“You’re nice to look at.”

Your brain froze. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“I’m sorry, is that weird?—it is, isn’t it? I apologize, I—”

“No, wait, I’m really flattered, I just—” you laugh breathlessly. In disbelief. “That’s just really fucking flattering.” You can feel your face light up with heat, and all the neat composure you’ve built wash away completely. 

Now, you’re reduced to a blushing schoolgirl at a complete loss for words. 

What were you supposed to say? What does that even mean? Is that an admission of some crush, or were you just eye candy to him?—and did you like that, like his attention or are you just that deprived of contact? 

You force your eyes to his, and you realize he’s hunched over, rubbing at the metal butt of his sniper with a thumb, eyes everywhere except on yours. 

"So...” you rubbed your wrist. “What now?”

He finally looked at you. “Huh?”

You were this far already, you weren’t gonna back down yet. Even if your heart was slamming against your chest. “You just called me pretty? And I have a feeling you’re easy on the eyes too—maybe this is too quick—but wanna hang out then? Like, talk and stuff... because... I’m pretty?”

König stared for a moment before breaking into a laugh. “It would be an honor.” 

“Then let’s hang out right now! Stay here, I’m gonna grab my sniper and we’re gonna shoot shit till bullets’re covering the ground!!” 

König extended his sniper. “Use mine. I want to see how you shoot.” His eyes fluttered, gaze awkwardly averting yet again. You were beginning to find it endearing. “You’re a good shot. And I’d like to get better.” 

“And watching me will help you?”

“Yes,” he said the word with earnest, eyes bright. 

A crooked smile pulled at your lips. Fuck, you weren’t used to this. 

But you liked it. You liked it a lot. You just hoped you could eventually make him feel the same. 

AO3

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[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 6

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: you go to the coffee shop with elijah, making you miss your meeting with evan. he has many questions the next day, which means some feelings are revealed.

word count: 3.1k

previous chapter

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A/N: i have nothing to say other than i love how this turned out. enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, inexperienced!reader, race inclusive!reader

The next Tuesday, you’re at the coffee shop with Elijah like you planned, and he will not stop asking you questions. You happily answer them at first, but the more he asks, the more ridiculous his questions get, until you’re explaining the most basic points of the class to him. You’re also a little pissed off because you were supposed to hang out with Evan today, but it was long past the time you were supposed to meet him, and you had to text him and tell him you wouldn’t be able to make it.

He’s talking so much that you don’t even have time to read Evan’s texts, asking you where you are and if you’re okay. As bored as you are, you don’t want to be rude and check your phone. You have a fake smile plastered to your face as you listen to him speak, chiming in every now and then, but your thoughts are completely on Evan.

“I really appreciate you helping me out. I’ve been meaning to talk to you since the start of classes.” Elijah tells you after a couple hours, leaning closer to you across the table as your eyes widen slightly. The smile drops from your face. Evan was right, you think, maybe this isn’t about class at all. You’re not used to this kind of attention, so you’re surprised at his words.

“Oh?” you ask in a soft voice, nervously, as if speaking quietly enough would make him drop the subject. You aren’t looking forward to this. If you hadn’t met Evan, you’re sure you would’ve been giddy at the idea of Elijah wanting to talk to you, but he hardly compares to the stupid blue eyed man you’ve gotten to know. Plus, Evan’s words about not wanting you to go out with him are currently echoing through your head.

“Yeah. I was actually wondering if you wanted to hang out again? No class work. Like, a date?” he asks, his voice full of hope as he looks at you expectantly. You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to think of what to say.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I liked helping you out, but, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” you tell him softly with an apologetic smile on your face, as if raising your voice any more would make your words any more harsh. He clears his throat, looking down at his empty coffee cup as he nods.

“Yeah, right. Of course. No problem.” he says awkwardly. He starts packing up his stuff quickly as he stands up, and you watch him with guilt in your eyes. As happy as you are that you can finally leave, you feel bad.

“I’ll see you in class?” you ask, starting to pack your stuff up, giving him a small smile. You don’t want him to feel bad, and you dread the awkwardness you’ll have to endure for the rest of the semester. He’s nice enough, but you just can’t get your mind off of Evan.

“Uh, yeah, right. I’ll see you later. Thanks again.” he says quickly, giving you a nod before leaving the coffee shop. You get up slowly, giving him a minute before you leave and make your way home. You were supposed to meet Evan over an hour ago, and he’s probably already at home by now. You don’t want to make him walk back to campus to meet you, so you decide not to text him. You’ll see him tomorrow, anyway.

“Why couldn’t you hang out yesterday?” Evan asks immediately when he sees you, falling into step with you as you walk out of your class, his brows furrowed. He’s learned your schedule by now, and he knows where to go if he wants to talk to you. And he desperately wants to talk to you about this. You haven’t cancelled on him in the almost 4 weeks you’ve known each other, and you didn’t give him a reason when he texted you. You told him you were sorry, but you didn’t feel like typing out your whole explanation over text. Knowing him, he’d probably call you immediately, wanting to know every. single. detail.

And you really didn’t want to deal with that over the phone.

“I went out with Elijah, he had a lot of questions, we stayed late at the coffee shop.” you tell him, rolling your eyes with a smile as you see his jaw clench instinctively. He raises a brow and gestures for you to continue, hoping this story doesn’t end how he thinks it might. He really hopes you staying late doesn’t mean that you were having a good time, and he was losing you.

“He, uh, asked me out.” you mention after a moment, ducking your head slightly as you keep walking, waiting for his reaction. He’s probably going to say “I told you so,” and you don’t want to hear it.

He stops walking and grabs your arm to stop you too. He spins you gently to face him, ducking his head slightly to match your height better.

“What did you say?” he says through gritted teeth, his jealousy bubbling up as he thinks about you alone with Elijah. His hands on you, rather than his own.

“I said no.” you tell him, biting your lip as you wait for his reaction. You assume he’ll be relieved, having clearly stated his dislike for the guy, but you selfishly want to pretend he cares about you not going out with him for more reasons than just a general dislike for him.

“Why?” he asks after a moment. He’s staring at you intently, eyes trying to search for any sign of you actually liking Elijah.

“You said you didn’t want me to.” you state, shrugging as if that was the only reason you needed. He lets out a quiet sigh and looks down, nodding slowly as he shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling slightly relieved.

“Was there any other reason?” His eyes dart up to your face again, licking his lips as he waits for your reply. You shrug, biting your lip as you avert your gaze from his, your skin heating up as you think about what to say. He takes in your nervous stance, and the gears are turning in his head as he tries to figure out what you’re thinking. Maybe he was right before, he thinks, maybe you did like him, and that’s why you’re so nervous around him. As you start to stutter out a fake response, he grabs your wrist and tugs you into an empty classroom.

“What are you-” you get out before his lips are on yours, using one hand on the back of your neck to guide you up to him. He’s holding you firmly, but gently enough that you can pull away if he’s painfully wrong about your feelings for him.

Your lips meet his in a dizzying kiss and his other hand moves to your hip, pulling you flush against him. He groans softly as he feels your chest and tummy push against his torso, and he tilts your head further up into the kiss.

It takes a moment for you to kiss him back, eyes wide as you realize that his lips are on yours. You close your eyes after a moment, kissing him deeply. He bites down on your lip gently, making you gasp softly, which allows him to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your mind goes blank as you kiss him, and you’re unsure of what to do, other than put your hands on his chest and kiss him back. He’s resisting every urge to take you in the middle of this classroom, and after a minute, he turns you and pushes your back against the door he kicked closed after he pulled you in. You whimper softly as your back hits the door, trailing one of your hands up his chest to his jaw and arching your back slightly as you try to somehow get any closer than you already are.

You continue to kiss him for a little longer, until you feel his hands slowly going from your hips to your ass, squeezing it roughly. You suddenly realize where you are and what you’re doing, and pull back with wide eyes, looking up at him nervously.

“We can’t.” you whisper. You trail your hand back down to his chest as you look up at him, noticing the lust in his eyes.

“Why? We’re alone, no one is around.” he teases softly, slowly leaning back in again to meet your lips. You push him back softly, shaking your head with a small laugh.

“Not here.” you whisper, feeling your stomach fill with a newfound nervousness. Location aside, you’ve never done anything like this before, and you feel you’re just now remembering that. As much as you want to keep kissing him, you’re filled with dread. Scared that you’ll do the wrong thing.

“Then where, princess? Where can I have you all to myself?” he asks desperately, itching to have his lips back on you, pulling soft whimpers from your pretty lips. He ducks his head as your eyes wander down to your hands on his chest, smoothing the fabric down to keep yourself grounded.

“I don’t know.” you reply, voice barely audible.

“I wanna take you back to my place. Now.” he tells you roughly, the hand on the back of your head moving to your jaw and tilting your head up. You can’t help but smile at his eagerness, but you can’t ignore the way your stomach is churning.

“I have class in an hour.” you try to reason. You really do have class, but you’re mostly just too nervous to continue this right now, and you figure it’s an easy way out. You feel like you need to hype yourself up to what he’s alluding to.

“Skip it. It’s only the fourth week of classes, you have some time to catch up. I can think of something else much better for you to do than sit in class, anyway.” he purrs, lowering his face to your neck, kissing it softly.

“You’re a bad influence.” you tease softly, but you can’t help but tilt your head back as he kisses you. You move your arms to wrap around his neck, resting your forearms on his shoulders as your hands dangle behind his head.

“You have no idea, princess. Just wait until I get you alone in my house. You’ll see just how bad of an influence I can be.” he whispers in your ear, smirking to himself. You may be stubborn, but all he’s thinking of right now is how you’d look sprawled under him on his bed, and he’s dying to get you to agree.

You bite your lip, trying not to let a noise escape your mouth as your heartbeat quickens. You’re fighting the urge to give in, and you know you should push him away. He seems to pick up on you trying to keep quiet, too focused on his mouth on your neck to respond, and he leans back to meet your gaze. He sees the unsure look in your eyes; your eyes wide and pupils blown as you look up at him, speechless.

“You’re so damn cute when you get all shy, princess, but don’t think that it’ll save you when I take you back to my place.” He knows this will make your breath catch in your throat and stutter out your words, and that’s exactly what he wants. It’s becoming clear to him that you’re not completely used to this type of attention, and he wants to make you squirm.

“Save me from what?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. Your brain is so fuzzy from the kiss that you can barely think, his suggestive tone going completely over your head.

“From everything I plan on doing to you when we get there. I have a feeling you’ve never been properly taken care of before, and I’m going to change that.” He smirks down at you as your eyes widen slightly before you look down. He knows you’re on the edge of giving in, so he asks you again.

“Please tell me you’ll come with me now.” he all but begs, a sense of urgency in his voice. He feels the stiffness in his jeans, and he would do just about anything to get you to go home with him. Now.

You feel your hands shaking slightly as he looks down at you, waiting desperately for your answer. You swallow and let out a shaky breath as you weigh out the options in your head. On one hand, you want to go with him so bad, imagining how his hands would feel on you. But on the other hand, you really do have class, nervousness aside. Your nerves are at an all time high as you think about being alone with him in his room, trying to keep up with his very obvious experience. You close your eyes for a moment before opening them again and speaking.

“I can’t.” you whisper as you look back up at him, feeling a little bad when you see his face fall. He nods after a moment, clearing his throat and backing away from you.

“Okay.” He’s not angry, far from it. He’s a little disappointed, but he can sense your nervousness, feeling the way your hands were shaking slightly while they rested on his chest. He isn’t going to push you into it. That’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Are you still good to go to the library later?” he asks after a moment, trying to ease your nerves by pretending that everything is normal. He smiles softly when you nod.

“Good. I better go, I was supposed to be in class 10 minutes ago. Got distracted,” he says with a grin, winking at you. “See you later, princess.”

He turns and opens the door, but stops suddenly as if he forgot something. He turns back to you, grabbing your chin and bringing your lips to his for a quick kiss, then pulls back and turns back to the door.

You nod mindlessly, still thinking about the way his lips felt on yours. You blink slowly and lick your lips, feeling yourself lower back to reality once you can’t feel his presence anymore. You’re still reeling from the kiss, and your knees feel weak as you slowly make your way outside to a picnic table in the courtyard. You pull out your laptop and try to do some work before your next lecture, but your thoughts are consumed by how he felt pressed up against you.

When you meet at the library later, you’re finally able to calm your nerves, but your heart starts to race as soon as you see his face. You’re not sure how to react around him now. This is completely new to you, so you try to act the exact same as before he kissed you.

He tries to go at your pace, resisting the urge to kiss you as you try to focus on your assignment, but it’s hard. His eyes keep making their way down your body, and he can’t seem to take his eyes off your soft tummy. Your whole body makes him weak, but he thinks he likes your belly the most. He likes how it moves when you laugh, and how he can see its soft imprint when you’re wearing something more form fitting. All he wants to do is touch and kiss it until you’re giggling and squirming under him.

You try to ignore the way his eyes are moving down your figure, as it’s making you even more nervous and shaky, but it’s almost impossible. You keep your eyes on your laptop, as he speaks to you, pursing your lips as you try to remain as neutral as possible.

“What’s got you so jumpy today, princess?” he teases, resting his head on his hand as he leans on the table, body angled at you.

“Nothing.” you say, trying to keep the smile off your face as you see his smirk from the corner of your eye. He parts his lips slightly as he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, eyes glancing down to your lips yet again.

“That’s harsh.” he teases, which makes you laugh softly and shake your head. You momentarily forget that you’re supposed to be nervous, and you turn to look at him with a glint in your eye.

“Do you have to be like this all the time?” He chuckles softly, shrugging.

“You love it, and you know it. I like making you squirm.” he affirms, leaning closer to you. You look back at your screen, laughing softly, until you realize the time.

“Don’t you have practice soon?” you alert him, which makes him groan and tilt his back. His mind is so occupied by you that he completely forgot about practice. He knows he can’t miss it. His coach would kill him if he skipped, but he wants to stay here with you.

“Yeah, whatever. I guess I should go.” he huffs after a moment, taking one last opportunity to check you out. You let out a sad sigh. You know he has to go to practice, but you really don’t want to part ways with him yet. You start to pack up your laptop, standing up as he does.

As soon as you exit the library and are about to part ways, he stops you, making you look up at him.

“Good luck kiss for the road?” he asks in a slightly teasing tone, but his eyes are hopeful. You laugh softly, nodding as you lean up on your toes and giving him a quick peck. He tries to deepen the kiss by putting a hand on your jaw, but you pull away, looking around campus in slight embarrassment about your PDA.

“Go to practice, Buckley.” you tell him sternly, but he knows you’re not being serious because of the smile plastered to your face.

“Yes ma’am.” he replies smugly, giving you one last peck before he takes a few steps back, winking before he finally turns and walks toward the stadium. You watch him for a moment with a smile before you turn and start walking toward your apartment. You can’t wait to tell your roommate about your day, knowing you won’t be able to hide it from her for long.

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[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Reacting To Your Symbiote

Requested: HEYY ive been eating UPP your head-canons for rhe boys, i would like to request one on how they would react w/ a reader that has a symbiote (venom basically) except it’s not like butcher’s case, but spouted from comp v when they were injected at a young age :D - anon

A/N: This idea is cool my love!!!! I hope you like it!! I did base it off clips from Venom/the Wikipedia just bc it's been ages since I saw the movie lol so apologies if anything is wrong!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Butcher thinks your symbiote is both gross and a great thing to have on the team. You didn't tell anyone about them, fearing you'd hear the same responses you'd always heard growing up. He interrogates you about your powers. You promise you would never hurt anyone, that it's pretty bad in terms of looks, but that you have everything under control. That's not good enough for him. He wants you to show him. After more yelling and assumptions, you snap. It's only your arms that you allow to be taken over, but it's enough to leave him feeling sick. Afterwards you're pretty quiet, avoiding him as well as you can. The look on his face was exactly what you were trying to avoid. Eventually he grows a little more used to them and even apologized, though it's a poor one at best. When he really sees you in action he's left speechless. The team needs you, both of you. You're strong, and powerful, and scary in the best way possible.

Hughie was pretty freaked out the first time you showed him. You begged him to run, to save himself, but mostly you wanted him gone so he wouldn't have to see. When he didn't, you had no other choice. Your symbiote took over, giving you just enough control to apologize before, quite literally, annihilating your attackers. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. He knew you were a Supe, you were pretty upfront about that, but you'd never gone into detail about what you could actually do. He understood why. Your symbiote was the thing of nightmares. It was malleable, and throbbing, and it could be as large as it wanted. It swallowed you whole, making itself a set of knife-sharp teeth. It smiled at him, telling him he was safe, which would have been endearing had it not been you standing in its place moments before. He has a lot of questions, all of them you're more than willing to answer. He deserves to know, especially coming face to face with them. You're an open book, the both of you are.

Annie was pissed. You never told her you were a Supe in the first place. You couldn't tell her. She was everything good about Supes and you feared you were everything bad. You were afraid of her judgement. You had enough of that from M.M. You made sure no one told her, not until you thought she was ready. And then she watched you save Hughie. She felt like an idiot, watching them take over your body, in awe and horror. She felt lied to. Technically, you think but dare not say, it wasn't lying because she never asked you, she just assumed you were human. You apologize anyways, knowing it wasn't right. You show her your symbiote bit by bit, introducing them slowly, telling her as much as you think she can handle at a time. You've been told, if you wanted, you'd be a perfect villain, you'd fit right in with Homelander. You didn't want her to come to the same conclusion. Annie could come to rash decisions at times. You figured you and your symbiote were no exceptions.

M.M isn't the biggest fan. It's nothing personal. Being a Supe is enough not to make him like you. On top of that you've got this thing inside of you that has a mind of its own. It could be capable of anything and you'd have very little control over it. You know this. You've been dealing with it since you were a kid. You and your symbiote grew up together. You've reached a level of mutual understanding and maturity that they aren't just going to start running around and rob banks or hurt people. That's not who either of you are. Still, he can't shake the feeling, the worry, that they could turn on your team at any moment. Your symbiote knows M.M. doesn't like them and, much like a dog, wants to give him extra attention because of it. You've had long talks about what not to do around him, keeping them in check so that you can gain just an inch more of trust. Anything helps to show him that you're not a monster.

Frenchie is probably the most comfortable around your symbiote out of all The Boys. He has a lot of questions for the both of you, especially about your childhood. For many years you thought you were a monster. Your family was expecting powers that could save people, that would get you into The Seven. Instead there was this thing that took over your body, this creature that could control their child. They thought it was gross, unsightly, and forbid you from letting them out. Of course you didn't listen. When you fell off your bike and skinned your knee, they fixed it. When you couldn't reach something, they helped you. They weren't all bad, they just weren't willing to learn that. Still, there was a lot of shame and even now, you struggle to open up about them. There's absolutely no judgement from Frenchie. He's fascinated. Awestruck. He tells you constantly how cool and powerful he thinks you both are. He doesn't want you to think of yourself as some kind of monster or abomination. Ever.

Kimiko watched your symbiote take over the first time you were really hurt. Homelander pushed you off the roof and you fell, breaking your bones, gasping for air, but magically alive. If she could have, she would have screamed. Your symbiote, as gently as it could, wrapped itself around your body, resetting your bones, putting your insides back together. It was excruciating. It only takes a few minutes before you're completely healed. She watches in awe, eyes wide, unsure of what the hell just happened, but eternally grateful you were okay. She stands you up, unsure of what to say. That night, you tell her everything. She's the first to really appreciate them. They're not the most attractive and have a wicked attitude, but they care about you. They saved you. Anyone who loves you that much is good in her books. She gives them names, asking how Kevin is or if Susan might be able to help her with something. It always makes you smile, knowing she isn't afraid of them or thinks of you any differently.

Bonus! Homelander thinks your symbiote is disgusting and weird. He refused to have you be a part of The Seven, but without any other candidates, he eventually gave in. You do a lot of weird things that truly make him uncomfortable. Arguing with your symbiote is a big one. Only you can hear them when they're inside, so it just looks like you're talking to yourself all the time. He hates when you're "saving" someone and they come out, but only partially, like a hand or leg. Something about that, you and them together, makes him queasy. When it's one or the other, that's a little better. When he gets uncomfortable he gets angry, which is bad news for you. Like The Deep, you've become a scapegoat for Homelander. If anything goes wrong, it's your fault. Your symbiote doesn't like him and, as hard as you try to keep them in check, they make it known.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Return to sender - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[graphic descriptions of violence/injury]

SUMMARY: Someone from your past keeps sending you unambiguously romantic letters. While you think of them as nothing beyond an inconvenience, Kaz has a different opinion.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.9k

A/N: I'm going through the first editorial correction for my novel and as it turns out, I can't speak my own mother tongue lmao

Kaz has an eye for details. Whether it’s a pattern or an overlooked design, he always notices. That set of skills, either he learned them or was born with them, made it painfully obvious to him that your foul mood coincided with correspondence he never saw you actually read. The letter usually ends up in the nearest fireplace, its secrets never uncovered and you maunder around the club looking for a fight or a strong drink. A much bigger problem, however, was the fact that if you were in a sour mood, Kaz would become exceptionally chippy without an apparent cause. ‘Care for my investment’ he calls it, which makes a rather amusing euphemism.

In any event, he knows that the letter should arrive today. Exactly seven weeks had passed since the last time some mysterious correspondence pissed you off and the sender, as far as Kaz has noticed, is like clockwork. Strangely enough, he can’t recall a day when the letter should arrive that you’d come to the club already annoyed as though he has become privy to a rather obvious pattern that you remain oblivious to. If so, he has even more advantage - he can solve this inconvenience behind your back, in case you’d try to dismiss him. He wouldn’t listen anyway, of course. Not when it comes to you.

Knowing very well that you have a habit of arriving shortly after Inej, he’s quick to find the thief before you even get a chance of catching wind of his scheme. She’s fixing her clothes when she spots him hastily limping towards her with his face turned nearly into a snarl. A hand brushes through his hair. He’s agitated. But Inej knows better than to make the first move against the unmovable mountain. Kaz sought her out, after all, and if he means business, he won’t waste time.

And he does just as she thought. Speaking in a low tone, Kaz makes her part of his conspiracy: “Inej, I need you to do something but no one else can know. Someone will deliver a letter today. Follow them and find out as much as you can,” his voice is stern, not accepting refusal. The matter appears urgent, of utter importance.

Her keen gaze studies his face for a moment, looking for any way even the slightest tick of muscles could reveal a further piece of the mystery she isn’t yet privy to. “Is this about the new job we’re doing?” She elegantly manoeuvres around the subject.

Kaz knows what she’s trying to do. He clenches his jaw and gives her a blank, although somewhat impatient, look before slowly answering: “It’s rather loosely related.”

This is enough to put her curiosity on hold - for now, at least. The unmovable mountain remains, well, unmovable. Inej nods. “I’m on it.”

The moment she ends her sentence, the door to the club opens with a creek echoing through the otherwise empty venue, immediately earning the undivided attention of Kaz and Inej. The sound of heels against the wooden floor is unmistakable as is the fitting, rather short, coat. Inej smiles, stifling laughter as she notices Kaz immediately straightening his back when he sees you.

There’s a certain spring to your step, one that Kaz has learned to associate with complacency. Although this joyous aura is making his mind turn into quicksand swallowing anything coherent, he’s got enough grip on his thoughts to render his theory proved - you really do not have any idea that the letters come regularly. 

With a triumphant grin, you wave a scroll in his face. “I had a hunch and did some browsing at the city archives. You’re going to love it.”

Inej is gone and the only thing Kaz can do at the moment is wait along with trying his best not to think about this mail fiasco. But considering you’ll spend the entire day a mere inch or two away from him, he’s hardly going to do much thinking anyway. 

“Let’s see it then,” Kaz interposes before turning around and walking back to his office. 

Making his way to Brekker’s office, Jesper examined the expensive stationery from every side and angle. No matter the perspective, the cursive letters on the front still spell out your name. Truthfully, he does that every time you receive mail, mainly because of how little you talk about the possible sender. There’s always a huff, an eye-roll and the envelope ends up turned into ashes, without any further explanation. You become short-tempered for the rest of the day and go ballistic on anyone trying to inquire about the mysterious correspondence. As much entertainment as it usually brings Jesper, he’s smart enough to know when to stop poking the bear.

Jesper knocks on the door but opens them right after - announcing his arrival rather than asking for permission to enter. 

“...smuggling through the sewers.” He hears you finishing your sentence.

Both you and Kaz simultaneously tear away your gaze from the maps scattered on the table and bore your eyes into Jesper with anticipation. He lifts the letter, wriggling his wrist slightly, and immediately your expression falls. You clench your fist. A contemptuous grimace creeps onto your face.

“Letter for you,” he announces.

“By the Saints, not this again,” you whisper and roll your eyes.

“What do you mean again?” Jesper asks casually, half expecting you to break his hand and half hoping for an answer. Today, as it turns out, is his lucky day.

“A friend once convinced me to go to some socialite high tea with her. I met someone there, we wrote to each other a few times and then he started to be obnoxious, the whole ‘woe is me’ lark.” The memory must still be vivid to you as you let out an annoyed sigh. “He claimed he can’t live without me while never spelling my name correctly. But since I value myself a little too much to waste my time on pity parties, I simply stopped replying. The last letter I sent him, I don’t know, three years ago? And he just keeps coming back.” You clench your jaw, clearly stopping yourself from a string of profanities considered obscene even in this company.

Jesper puts on a playful grin. “You know, you never struck me as someone who’d have a secret admirer.”

Your irritated gaze makes him equally amused and nervous. “He’s not exactly secret, is he? More of a returning cockroach infestation. Worry not, boys, I’ll just burn this one like the rest and we can all forget about this little perplexity.”

“Come on, you’re not even a little bit curious about what’s inside?” Jesper coaxes as he hands you the letter.

“Believe me when I tell you that I don’t give a rat’s bald ass about this man and his pathetic wax poetic.” You snatch the envelope, all the while looking at your friend with squinted, piercing eyes. Considering who you are, a complete lack of curiosity whatsoever might as well be a symptom of a lethal disease.

In that short moment, when the stationery goes from Jesper’s hand into yours, Kaz watches the letter as closely as he can. Smooth paper, probably expensive. Careful lettering, written with patience and thoughtfulness. An aroma of mint and tobacco lingers on the parchment. The stamp has the current date on it and the postal code is only a few numbers away from the club’s - whoever sent it is in Ketterdam and quite close by.

Kaz makes those little observations just in time because you throw the letter into the fireplace behind him, without even glancing at the paper. The flames grow for a few seconds, devouring the dry stationery. Soon, there’s no evidence that any mail has been delivered to you on this day.

“Now, where were we?” You clap your hands. “Ah, sewers.” Jesper takes the change of subject as his cue to leave but you stop him right when he pushes down the door handle. “Oh, and Jesper? If you tell Inej, I’m ripping your arm off and beating you to death with it.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, a newfound sense of anxiety turning his vivid amusement into somewhat tame courtesy, leaving his smile unfaltering but tearing away the genuine joy behind it. “I will keep this enlightening piece of advice in mind, thank you.”

The door clicks as Jesper closes it behind himself. Returning to your previous engagement, you stumble upon Brekker’s stern gaze of disapproval. 

“Do not maim my investments.” Although it’s supposed to be a scolding or a threat, it comes out with a certain note of disinterest.

“Don’t try playing all nice, Kaz. You and I both know you’d watch for like ten minutes before stepping in.”

His gloved finger taps the map. “Sewers.” 

You mumble something along the lines of ‘yes, sir’ and pick up the single-handed divider again. Kaz examines your face out of the corner of his eye. Judging by your casual demeanour, the palm’s length between your heads is of no bother to you. Maybe you’re just too busy counting the segments with the divider. When you’re done, you reach for the other side of the desk, for a moment leaving broody Kaz to the, surprisingly cold, lukewarm air filling the room.

This day just can’t seem to end for Burr Lowther. First, he had to take his regular trip into the filth of the Barrel, he shudders at the memory, only to then spend another ten hours at the sewing workshop. Being a foreman pays exceptionally well and perhaps this is the only reason he’s still putting up with those lazy needlewomen. 

Putting his well-kept coat on the hanger by the front door, Burr lets out a sigh of relief - compared to the factory, his house is a quiet oasis. He remembers to take out a pouch and a box of expensive cigars from his coat. Without much thinking, he opens the small bag and puts another leaf of mint between his teeth. What started first as an addition to his personal hygiene, has quickly become a habit impossible to kill. Now used to the strong, chilly sensation on his tongue, he’s grown to like it. 

The house is drowning in darkness. Dim, yellow light from the streetlamps crawling in through the windows is barely enough to let him make his way around the furniture. Foreman Lowther is yet to start the fire in his living room but he needs to be quick - if he stalls too long his joints will begin to hurt. Even with laudanum, the ache is bound to keep him up for hours and that’s something he can’t afford. But first, he needs some light to be able to get the necessary things.

Chewing on the herb, Burr walks to the table across the room from the fireplace. He puts the new box of cigars down and begins looking for something to light the oil lamp. Once he blindly finds a box of matches, his muscle memory does most of the job - he’s lit up the lamp far too many times to think about the actions. In swift, mechanical motions, Burr takes off the chimney, lights the wick and puts the glass part back on. The fire brightens the rest of the table, reminding the foreman that he forgot to put away the made-to-order McKinnon & Co. stationery. He pushes the paper farther away from the lamp, just in case.

Burr’s knees make a cracking noise when he crouches in front of the fireplace. Carefully, he lights a match and puts it between logs and old newspapers. The fire smoulders for a moment, balancing between starting and being put out, before a bigger flame begins gnawing at the dry wood and paper. 

Foreman Lowther is about to stand up when something hits the side of his head, making his face clash with the seat of a nearby armchair. Scurrying and turning around, he sees an outline of a man, looking more like a feverish mare of the night than a real human. He’s thin and tall, dressed rather elegantly. The model crow on his cane glistens in the newly started fire.

“Who are you?” Burr’s voice cracks, giving away his panic.

“A scorned businessman, Burr Lowther,” Kaz explains slowly.

The foreman climbs backwards into the armchair. It’s difficult to look imposing while sitting beside a fireplace but his fear is far too severe to let the man stand on his own two feet.

“I’ve no business with you!” he yells. A few droplets of spit fly out of his mouth. “Get out!” Burr’s shaky hand points vaguely in the direction of the front door but Kaz, as it seems, is not going anywhere just yet.

In slow steps, Kaz gets closer to Burr, the difference in height painting him even more menacing. Lowther’s hand falls limp on a small table meant for trays with food.

“Perhaps you don’t. But I have plenty with you.”

Before foreman Lowther can ask another question, Brekker drives a sharp blade through the man’s palm, pinning it to the wooden counter. A howl of pain cuts through the night, scaring away the birds sitting outside the windows. Thick, crimson blood spills from the wound, falling to the floor in long drops. The fireplace’s flame glistens in the growing puddle, the reflection dances in morbid anticipation.

Kaz walks over to the table with the oil lamp. The first thing that catches his eye is the ivory paper. Somehow, he stifles the visceral reaction it elicits from him. Grabbing the wad of stationery, he folds it a few times and puts it in the inner pocket of his coat. Then his gaze trails towards the wooden box of cigars. The name of the company, Starling, is burned in cursive lettering on the front. In a swift movement, Kaz slides the package open, knowing exactly what he’s going to find inside - a cigar cutter. For people who can afford Starling tobacco products, it definitely doesn’t befit to chew off the end.

Firelight cascades off the metal cutter when Kaz turns back towards Burr. The man’s eyes widen in panic, recognizing the sharp device put against him.

“No, sir,” Burr begs with a frantic shake of his head. “Oh, Saints, please, no! Don’t! I’m begging you, sir! Please, please! No, please!”

Brekker’s face doesn’t change its indifferent expression. The pleading is not putting him off, never faltering his already-made decision. Perhaps, if it isn’t too morbid to consider, he’s enjoying having someone at his mercy. The cigar cutter clicks quietly as Kaz closes it a few times to check the state of the mechanism.

Kaz makes his way back to the foreman. Casually, he puts his cane against the table but away from the nailed palm, careful not to get it dirty. Then, he snatches Burr’s other hand, the swiftness diminishing all doubts that he’s inexperienced in bringing suffering.

“You have laid your hands on something that isn’t yours, Lowther,” Brekker explains as he forces one of the man’s fingers through the cutter’s opening. “Now you must pay for it.”

A muscle in his face ticks as he presses the cigar cutter. Burr howls in agony, tears streaming down his face. The finger falls to the floor with a wet slap as blood begins to pour. The white tip of the bone sticks out from the pulsating flesh, glistening in the warm, dim light of the burning fireplace.

In a feverish delirium, Lowther mumbles something under his nose, the string of incomprehensible words sometimes interrupted by sobs. Kaz can understand only two things from the ramblings of a madman: ‘wench’ and ‘reply’. Scarce information but he hardly needs more.

“Wench?” he repeats in a low voice.

With a snap of his wrist, Kaz twists the knife still residing in the man’s hand. A bone cracks. But there’s no scream this time - not an ounce of strength left in the victim. Lonely tears stream down his grey face, mixing with cold sweat as he blankly stares ahead. A gloved hand yanks his head back by the hair, forcing delirious Burr to look into Brekker’s eyes. They look darker than they should, clouded with something far too horrible to be considered human.

“Not only did you lay your filthy hands on something of mine,” Kaz’s voice is low enough to resemble a growl as though something carnal inside him has finally woken from its slumber, “but you also dare insult her.”

Burr makes a strange guttural noise, something between a gag reflex and a murmur, as another one of his fingers is cut off. Considering his vacant expression, it’s hard to say whether his consciousness even registered the loss.

Kaz tosses away the cigar cutter. It clutters and clicks falling in the largely unknown corner of the room. Reaching inside his coat, he pulls out the folded stationery. Pressing tightly on Burr’s cheeks, he forces the man’s mouth open.

“I don’t think you will be needing this anymore.”

Even if foreman Lowther was in his right mind at the moment, there wouldn’t be much he could do to prevent Kaz from shoving the dry paper down his throat. A match, a spark, a smoulder - the ivory stationery is burning inside Burr’s mouth.

Leaving Burr Lowther to his own devices, Kaz Brekker leaves the house, joining the otherwise grey and indifferent citizens of Ketterdam. The sunrise is just a few hours away. He’s making his way back to the club, uninterrupted and unbothered, to enjoy another day of your hardly divided attention.

[zoeykallus]

The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Fem!Reader Prompts – Confessions

Part 2/7 - Hunter

Warnings: Hurt/Angst/Comfort/Fluff/Love Confessions

Masterlist

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

This is a continuation of this request :

Hunter

You have no idea that the mission, from which Hunter and the others returned to Pabuu, has claimed more victims. You don't know that you've lost another small cell of clone brothers to the Empire, another hideout blown. You look at tired faces as the boys get off the shuttle, but that's not unusual. Hunter, who is the focus of your attention, remains calm and even smiles a little as a group of children buzz around the men, asking curious questions. You think now is as good a time as any to open up to him, to confess your feelings for him. You wait until the kids have left, until you're both more or less alone, and you approach him. “Hunter? Can I talk to you for a moment? I'd like to tell you something. Something personal.” But when Hunter turns around, you look into a weary face that looks anything but relaxed. You hear him sigh softly and say, “Sure. What's on your mind?” A little nervous about the sudden change in his mood, you hesitate for a moment, whereupon he raises his eyebrows questioningly.

Actually, you had already planned your words in your head, but now, you suddenly say completely different things than you had planned. “So, I was wondering how you would feel about me being romantically involved with someone on the team” Hunter frowns, tilting his head to the side. You don't know what he's thinking right now, but he seems critical, very critical, and you feel your heart slowly sink. “That probably wouldn't be a good idea,” he finally says seriously, “Could lead to tension in the team sooner or later. We have to function as a team, a love affair would complicate that” You swallow and a quiet, “Oh,” escapes your lips. “Surely you're asking me this because you want my opinion as sergeant of this team, right?” he asks, almost a little sternly. You shove your hands in your pockets, unsure of what to do with them. “Uh, yeah, sure,” you finally say. “Well, now you know it,” he says curtly and turns away to help the others unload the shuttle.

Helplessly, you look after him, a thick lump in your throat, a leaden heaviness in your chest. You were expecting anything, but not this. You say bitterly to yourself, “That went really well. Ouch.”

Crosshair looks up as he hears Hunter's footsteps and asks, “What were you two talking about, you look like someone pissed in your caf” Hunter makes a gruff gesture and grumbles, “Nothing” Echo, opening one of the boxes that had just been unloaded, says, “Didn't look like nothing, and your face speaks volumes. Did you get a rejection?” Hunter shrugs and says, lurking, “She asked me what I'd think if she was romantically involved with one of you” He looks around as if he expects one of them to confess to having a fling with you at any moment. He seems to be waiting for it. Echo and Crosshair look at each other, surprised, a little confused at first. Wrecker comes out of the shuttle and sits down on the ramp. “What are you talking about?” Echo puts him in the picture and, curious, Wrecker asks, “And which one of you is the lucky one? Because it's not me”

Echo suddenly laughs quietly and says, “None of us. I think someone just wanted to know what Hunter thought about a romantic relationship in our ranks and maybe if he was still available” Crosshair laughs and says, “Hunter, she wanted your opinion because she's interested in you”

Hunter looks a little confused from one to the other, finally, a quiet, "Oh dear", crossing his lips.

Echo asks with a sigh, “What did you answer her? The way you just looked, it couldn't have been good” Hunter bites his tongue and lets out a curse. “Excuse me,” he grumbles and hurries back, just seeing you walk down from the terraces towards the beach. You don't hear his footsteps in the sand, they are drowned out by the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. His voice behind you startles you a little. As you look around, Hunter's expression is very different from before. You wonder what has happened. He looks at you, smiling. His eyes hold your gaze for a moment, and your heart starts to race. “I think we had a little misunderstanding earlier,” he says softly.

“Oh yeah?” you ask in surprise, trying to calm your pulse by sheer force of will, but you don't succeed. Hunter laughs softly and admits, a little embarrassed, “I thought you were involved with one of my brothers and um, to be honest, I was jealous. That's why my reaction was a bit harsh. Unfortunately, it took me a while to figure out why you asked me that question” Your heart is completely out of control, you know Hunter will realize this sooner or later, if not already. You wonder if his words really mean what you think they mean. “Jealous?” you ask quietly, barely loud enough to drown out the waves rolling onto the beach, but you know Hunter hears you. Hunter nods, his eyes still locked on yours. Suddenly you feel his palm on your sternum, very gently. He smiles. “You have a wild little heart,” he says, his smile turning into a smirk, “Now that I know it's doing these wild dances because of me, I can't get enough of it.”

@rintheemolion

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[mystra-midnight]

Language of Lust

summary: a botched hunt means that you need a refresher in latin thankfully sam is there to help.

warnings: mentions of a panic attack. forced orgasm. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. anal sex. unprotected sex. squirting. creampie.

words: 3.2k

notes: so a while ago i saw a post about being dommed in another language. and honestly it unlocked a kink i never knew i had. that post spawned this idea. please ignore the latin translations if they aren’t correct as i used google to translate. :)

In the days following the botched demon hunt, the atmosphere within the base had become tense, and that meant the three of you had been at each other's throats. It hadn’t mattered how many times you’d apologized or promised to do better next time, how much pie you’d bought for Dean, or that you’d cooked Sam's favorite meal twice; nothing had fixed it.

In truth, you all needed some space.

You most of all.

That panic attack came out of nowhere and left you completely shaken. Even a week later, you were hyperfocused on the details of it—the way the walls of the room had shuddered and groaned as you spoke the ritual words, making dust and old cobwebs fall around you. When you thought about it, your heart would race so fast and slam against your breastbone so hard that you could have sworn it started to crack.

The ringing in your ears had been a deafening crescendo, and your eyes had been a waterfall of tears even when Sam had knelt in front of you and pulled you into his chest. You remembered the sound of his voice and the beating of his heart as he whispered to you soothingly until the tears finally stopped.

You still didn't remember much about what had actually happened, but you knew that the demon had gotten away, and you knew that Dean was pissed and Sam was disappointed. Neither of them needed to say it out loud.

So for the past few days, you've busied yourself with whatever task you could find to take your mind off the entire situation. Dean had very much done the same; you hadn’t seen him since this morning, when he’d come back to grab a few things and then left again.

You knew that Sam was somewhere in the base; you’d seen him in passing a few times, but the two of you hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other.

Normally, that would have upset you. You hated fighting with the boys, but you were feeling better and in a relatively good mood today.

You sigh as you step into the kitchen after showering to wash the sweat and anxiety from your skin. Your hair is still damp, and you're dressed in one of Dean's old shirts and a tight pair of bicycle shorts. Sam entered soon after, dressed just as casually. He looked entirely undisturbed by the events of the past few days.

"Hey," you say in passing, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Hey yourself," he answers with a smile. For a moment, there was silence between you, but even that was short-lived. "You got the words wrong, you know," Sam says, leaning a hip against the door frame while he stares at you with arms crossed. He didn't sound angry, but it wasn't like he needed to say it; you knew you'd gotten them wrong.

Your head snaps around to stare at him, eyes narrowing at the fucking audacity he spoke with. Was that really what he wanted to say? "Yeah," you answer, your expression souring and your mouth in a tight-lipped scowl. "I figured that out from the silent treatment." You shrug your shoulders, trying not to let the hurt bleed into your voice as you turn away and busy yourself straightening a piece of paper on the table.

"Silent treatment?" He asks, pushing off the wall to come towards you. "No one is giving you the silent treatment."

"Sure you’re not," you scoff in response.

"We’re not."

"Then where is Dean? He’s running off doing his own thing because he’s pissed off at me for ruining the hunt, and it’s been two days since you said this much to me, Sam." You huff, clearly annoyed, as you cross your arms and glare at him. "No one learns from the silent treatment, Sam. Sure, I messed up. I know I did, and I’ll learn from that. The two of you don’t need to be assholes about it. But whatever, live and let live."

He walks briskly towards you, and you step back, not in fear but because the raw emotions in his eyes stun you—lust and dominance mingling beautifully in the depths of his iridescent orbs. Sam doesn't stop when you back away; instead, he walks until the small of your back is pressed against the edge of the table, and then he cages you between his arms, palms pressed flat against the table top.

"S - Sam?" You stutter when his lips pull into a smooth smirk. One of his hands grabs you by the hip, his fingertips biting into your skin just a little bit too much, and he pulls you against him, painting his body firmly against yours.

And then he’s kissing you, and you kiss him, and whatever anger was on your tongue dies.

Sam does not waste time and pushes his hand into your bicycle shorts, the material so tight that it fits you like a second skin. He wants desperately to rip it down your legs and feast on your pussy, but he shows remarkable restraint.

"If you wanted more lessons," he says between heated kisses that muffle your little gasps when he starts to rub his fingers against your clit. "You just needed to ask, sweetheart." His other hand grasps your jaw hard with his thumb and forefinger, pushing into your cheeks so that you were pouting when he kissed you again, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You have the notion to argue with him but are silenced when he pushes a finger through your folds, which are slick with desire and anticipation. You grab at his arm when he prods your entrance, making your knees weak. "Sam, I—" you start but are silenced by the stare in his eyes.

"In Latin." 

"Sam?"

"In Latin." He says it again, this time with more force, his words accompanied by a second finger being pushed into your tight hole, drawing a wanton moan from your lips. You’re not sure where this behaviour is coming from. Sam had never so much as hinted at liking you, but in truth, you weren’t one to complain—not when he was knuckles deep in your cunt.

Your fingers curl tightly around the edge of the table, nails scratching at the underside, knuckles white under the pressure. You tilt your head back beneath his wandering mouth, enjoying the warmth of his body hovering over yours and how he pulls your shirt up to expose your tits.

Sam trails hot, wet kisses down your neck, his teeth scraping over your racing pulse. He sucks a hickey on your collarbone until a purple-blue bruise forms beneath his lips. The entire time he’s pumping his fingers into your cunt. Lewd, wet squelching fills the room because you’re that fucking wet.

He forces your legs further apart with his knee so that you're perched on the edge of the table, feet dangling in the air. His mouth moves to your chest, his lips closing around your nipple and sucking hard so that it pops from his mouth with an obscene sound and stands hard atop your tit. And then he takes the other one into his mouth, flicking and twirling his tongue so that you had to fist a hand in his hair.

He whispers something that you can’t make out. His mouth is like fire on your skin, leaving little flames of arousal licking through your veins. And then his fingers hit that spongy part of your pussy that has you hurtling towards a climax instead of slowly building to it.

You can’t help the way your nails dig into his shoulders when you cling to him when your thighs tremble. You cling to him when the storm comes out of nowhere, sweeping you away on a cloud of bliss that has you throwing your head back. He feels your walls tighten around his fingers, fresh waves of arousal against the tips, and then he’s kissing you again, rubbing his thumb in circles around your clit to keep the aftershocks of climax trembling through you.

His mouth is hot, stealing the air from your lungs until they are burning, but you don’t mind because you're still coming down from your high.

The next thing you know, it’s been an hour, and Sam has managed to make you cum three more times, twice with his fingers buried knuckle deep in your pussy, scissoring them to send you teetering over the edge of oblivion. And then once more, with his mouth on your pussy, lips encircling around your clit and sucking so hard that all you could do was repeat his name like a heaven’s prayer.

You’re done, but he wasn’t, not by a long shot.

Sam spread you out on your back, laying you out like a feast, your skin flushed and tits heaving with heavy breaths. You feel the rough pad of his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, which is slightly swollen and much too sensitive, and you claw at his wrist to push him away. Sam just smiles at you and pins both your wrists to the mattress with one of his large hands.

"It’s too much," you whine, trying to pull away and wiggle your hips away from his fingers, but you’re trapped. And you love it as much as you hate it. Sam growls softly between his teeth, his thumb prodding through your slick folds and getting nice and wet before drifting lower to push against your asshole. Your breath hitches at the sensation, and your mind spins as he pushes his thumb inside, giving a few shallow thrusts to tease you.

"Hic tam arctus es, infans," he says, his voice heavy with lust and muffled against your heaving tits. His breath is hot against your skin, his teeth scrape over your racing heartbeat, and his tongue leaves your skin inflamed and glistening. There is a knot twisting through your belly, slowly pulling tighter as his thumb pushes in and out of your tight hole.

"Ubi vis me?" His words are lost in the haze of euphoria he’s trapped you in, as meaningless as the world around you has become. You were a slave to the sensations he embodied, desperately moving your hips to take him deeper. "Hic?"

"Sam," you whine, your voice straining as you struggle in his grasp. You need him; you need to feel your pussy stretching around his big, hard cock. You need to feel him buried inside you, fucking you into oblivion.

"Hic?" He says it again, twisting his thumb in a way that has you throwing your head back and bucking your hips desperately. You can feel him smiling against your tit as he mouths it, his teeth tugging at your nipple until your back arches.

Your breath comes quicker, little pants, when he pulls his thumb from your clenching asshole, the feeling exquisite and leaving you desperate for more despite the live wires of overstimulation snaking through your veins. Sam lets go of your wrists long enough to pull one of your legs up, laying the back of your thigh up his torso so that your knee is bent over his shoulder, and then he shackles them again, trapping you beneath him.

You move restlessly when you feel his thumb against your asshole again, except this time it's not his thumb, and your eyes go wide, a whimper falling from your parted lips. You weren’t a virgin, not at all, but this would be the first time you’d ever taken something so big in your ass.

There was no mistaking that Sam Winchester was a behemoth of a man. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and strong—Hercules reborn. Everything about him is big. His hands, his feet, his thighs, and his cock. Everything about him is solid, cut from marble; he is beautiful. His cock makes your asshole sting beautifully as he pushes the mushroom head in.

Inch by glorious inch, he pushed forward, the prominent vein on the underside of his cock dragging along your stretched hole. "Jesus, tam stricta es," he breathes against your neck, but you still don’t understand. He’s slow, letting you get used to the feeling of his cock splitting you open with short, shallow thrusts, making you moan wantonly.

He loves the little things that you do, the simple things; the pleasure that sears through him as he stretches your tightest hole; the way you’re moaning like a whore, rocking your hips desperately against his, grinding against him. He starts moving with more urgency, drawing back so that only the head of his cock is fitted snugly inside, and then he’s thrusting back in with one stroke, hitting deep, leaving you throwing your head from side to side.

Your thighs quiver, and your toes curl. Sam fucks into you at a merciless pace, stretching you out and filling you completely, and the feeling of it is beyond words. It is beautiful and exquisite—pure euphoric bliss. It makes your pussy creamy with desire, so much so that your slick drips down your crack to mingle with his thrusts. That knot in your belly pulls tighter while your clit throbs and the muscles in your thighs ache. Your lungs burn because of how you’re panting, unable to catch your breath.

His fingers tighten around your wrists when you almost buck out of his grasp, the tips of them biting into your skin so that you can feel bruises starting to form, but you don’t care. You’re so close, so fucking close. His mouth is on your neck, his teeth scraping over your racing pulse, his lips leaving hickeys behind, and his tongue leaving your skin hot and wet.

You can feel the pressure building. Your pussy is clenching desperately around nothing, and you can feel your pulse beating in your toes, your clit, even in your fingertips—you’re that close to breaking. It feels so fucking good, but you’re fighting it because the pleasure is starting to border on pain and overstimulation.

And you’re lost in it, trapped as you are beneath him.

You crave that sweet release, the way fire will race through your blood, and the way your world will be scored with lightning. You need it as much as you need to breathe, but every part of you is alive. You can hear the blood rushing behind your ears; hear the beating of your heart as it slams into your breastbone; your eyes rolling back every time his hips snap forward, pushing every inch of him deep inside you.

"Venire," he growls against your neck, his breath literally burning against your sweat-slicked skin. You don’t know what he says, but the lust in his voice and the feral look in his eyes pull that coil painfully tight. You’re breaking—he’s breaking you. He’s got you on the verge of being fucked stupid, sobbing because of him and how good it feels, but he wants more from you.

"Sam! Sam, please, please," you plead, throwing your head from side to side, desperately trying to tug your hands free. You arch your back when he hits a spot that has dots decorating your vision, your tits thrusting into the air. You can’t figure out what you’re asking for. For him to stop or for him to keep going, it’s a blur.

Every movement of his hips has that knot pulling tighter—so tight that you might die. Your pussy is twitching, clenching around nothing, and you’re so wet that it’s shining on his skin every time he bottoms out.

"Venire," he says again, this time against your ear. Your pleasure-addled brain, so drugged with pleasurable pain and desperate for the release he’s forcing from you, only comprehends what he's saying when two of his fingers are shoved through your slick folds and into your clenching hole, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles.

You struggle to close your thighs, tears streaming down your face, tits bouncing as he fucks you harder. His cock is stretching your ass beyond belief while his fingers ram into that spongy spot that has your vision decorated with stars. "I - I - I - can’t!" You manage to stutter out, hips bucking against his, your pussy clenching so tight around his fingers.

Except you can because that dam breaks with so much pressure that you scream. It feels like lightning has hit your body, sizzling through your veins until you’re thrashing beneath him, your thighs quivering violently, and your toes curled so much that it hurts.  Sam doesn’t stop, not even when your ass tightens around his cock to the point of pain. He just presses his thumb against your clit, circling, rubbing, and making you scream for him.

You feel a gush between your thighs, your pussy convulsing around his fingers as you cum in a fountain spray. Sam curls his fingers into your g-spot, scissors them, and pulls them from you to draw out as much cum as possible. If you had any brains left, you might have been embarrassed by the way you came, squirting so hard that it hits his abdomen and drips from the nest of curls at the base of his shaft, how it drenches your thighs and pools on the mattress beneath you.

But you’re gone, lost, and fucked dumb, only able to grunt as he keeps fucking you.

"Tam pulchra, infans, tam formosa, tam mihi dura venit." His own voice is trembling, and his balls draw closer to his body as the muscles in his abdomen tighten. He buries himself deep so that your ass is full and your pussy tingles. And you feel it as he grunts against your neck—feel the white-hot ribbons of cum filling your ass.

Sam keeps thrusting until you've milked him dry, and then he pulls out, drawing a pathetic, desperate moan from your lips because of the sensation. Having let go of your wrists, he sits back on his haunches. You lay there, your thighs still trembling, your mind lost. Sam watches the way your pretty pussy twitches and the way your ass puckers, and his sticky cum drips from it in fat globs.

"What do pretty girls say after being filled with cum?" He asks, his voice soft, his fingers pushing his cum back into your stretched-out ass so that you were whimpering and shaking again. You manage to peel your eyes open to stare at him, tears in them, your chest heaving as he shoves two long fingers into your asshole.

He speaks English this time so that you understand, but you are still slow to react, straining to close your thighs. He kisses you without warning, his tongue in your mouth, licking yours until you're clawing at his shoulders to keep him there, desperate for his kiss.

"Gratias tibi." You managed with a weary smile, and that was enough for him for the moment.

the translations ::

Hic tam arctus es, infans. - You’re so tight here, baby.

Ubi vis me? - Where do you want me?

Hic? - Here?

Hic? - Here?

Jesus, tam stricta es. - Jesus, you’re so tight.

Venire - Come/cum.

Venire - Come/cum.

Tam pulchra, infans, tam formosa, tam mihi dura venit. - So pretty, baby, so beautiful, coming so hard for me.

Gratias tibi - Thank you.

[playgrl0]

it's always been you / hanma

wc: 2,533

when hanma picks up his phone and hears your sniffles at the other end of the line, he knew right away what the reason for your tears were. he tells you to send him your location and stay where you are and that he's gonna pick you up. with a deep sigh he grabs his zip up hoodie and leaves to come and pick you up.

you went on a date with this ´funny looking´​ guy, as shuji would say. he has no idea what you see in him and he doesn't like that you hang out with him. at all.why? hanmathinks that he makes it pretty obvious that he likes you romantically. he doesn’t hide it at all, he constantly flirts with you and is extremely touchy, just like a boyfriend would be.

but hanma is your best friend, not your boyfriend. he never told you straight up that he's in love with you though. and you’re probably the most oblivious human on this planet, which is pretty amusing to him, so he wants you to figure it out yourself. when you first told him that you're talking to and hanging out with another guy that isn't him, he felt like committing arson. you told him that the reason you started talking to him was because you wanted to get over another guy that you were crushing on, and forget about him. so, you're using a guy to get over another one, and none of those boys are him? committing arson wouldn't be enough at this point.

about ten minutes after your call, hanma finally arrives at a bus station a few houses away from where that boy lives. you’re sitting on the bench, face finally dry from the few tears that were streaming down your face not too long ago. the sound of hanma’s bike catches your attention and you watch how he parks the bike, gets off, walks over to you and sits down next to you.

“d’ya want me to beat the fuck outta him?” he speaks up and takes off his zip up hoodie, “i think he’d look better with a few bruises and blood streaming down his face. that fucking asshole.” he mumbles as he puts the hoodie over your shoulders and then pulls out a cigarette and starts smoking. you only shake your head no as you put the hoodie on properly and keep staring straight ahead, which hanma finds weird. it's so unlike you to be quiet, even when you’re upset. that guy must've really hurt your feelings and hanma plans on hurting him way worse once he took care of you. “you wanna tell me what happened?” he asks and takes another drag from his cigarette. you sigh, “long story short, he said that i'm not good enough and he prefers a girl he's been talking to behind my back.” you quietly answer him. oh how hanma would love nothing more than to beat this guy unconscious. not good enough? you? the most amazing person he has ever met? and he knows, hanma knows that he should comfort you right now but since he's hanma, he cant help himself and let out a comment he's been waiting to say to you the second you called because he knew this would happen.

“i told you he's an asshole but you didn't listen.” he shrugs and earns a slap on the back of his shoulder. “thanks for nothing. drive me home.” you grumble and get up from the bench and walk over to his bike. he follows you with a smirk gracing his lips. “the fuck are you smirking at?” you ask pissed, arms crossed over your chest. he chuckles as he puts the helmet he specifically bought stole for you on your head. he makes sure it's secure and chuckles. “you’re not actually pissed at me and i'm not taking you home. you’re sleeping at my place tonight. hop on the bike.” he gets on and waits for you to get on as well. you sit on the bike behind hanma and wrap your arms around his middle. once he feels your arms holding tightly onto him, he starts driving you both to his place. you lean your head against his back, as good as the helmet allows it, close your eyes and think about everything that has happened. you knew from the beginning that dating this guy wouldn't end well. you knew that he was an asshole, shuji was right. fuck, you dont even have feelings for that guy, at all. you only wanted to distract yourself. at this point you’ll try everything to forget about him. to forget your feelings about shuji. right now it's hard to ignore those feelings. your stomach is filled with butterflies as you hold onto your best friend. you shouldn't feel like this about him. you shouldn't feel your knees weaken every time he smiles at you, your heart beating faster every time he touches you. it's so wrong. he's your best friend and that's all he’ll ever be.

“we’re here.” hanma's deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. he stops the bike in front of his apartment building and gets off. he turns to you and gently removes the helmet from your head, then holds your hand to help you off the bike. and once again, your heart beats faster at his touch. you finally make your way into his apartment where you remove your shoes first and then walk into his bedroom where you flop face down onto his bed. you hear him chuckle behind you and he lets himself fall beside you. he's laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling while you're still on your stomach, face buried in his pillows. “how’re you feeling? wanna talk about it?” he breaks the short silence. you turn your head to look at him, his beautiful side profile makes your heart flutter, and you feel yourself starting to grow frustrated once again. why is he so handsome? you turn away again, “i'm pissed but i'm okay. i'll just find another guy. no problem.” you mutter into his pillows. hanma turns to look at you and is met with the back of your head. without realizing it his hand travels to your head where he starts to comfortingly scratch your scalp. it's something he’s always done to you, ever since you two were little. he does it when he knows you’re not feeling well, it helps you calm down and feel better. you turn your head back to him with a smile. “if you keep doing this i'll fall asleep.” he removes the hand and grins back at you. “you’re not going to sleep until you tell me what's going on with you.” “what do you mean?” you frown. a sigh leaves hanma's lips, “i mean, what's up with with you and wanting to desperately date someone? you never cared about relationships like that and it's so unlike you to just go out and date random idiots.” you turn to lay on your back as well and stare at the ceiling. fuck, what now? do you tell him the truth or should you lie? lying to him wouldn't even work anyway. he knows you too well and he knows when you’re lying. you suck at it. “earth to y/n?!” hanma pulls you out of your thoughts once again and pushes your shoulder with his. “c’mon, talk to me.”

you sigh deeply and sit up, leaning against the headboard of his bed, he follows your moves and looks at you, waiting for you to finally speak. "okay,” you sigh again. “i've been dating all these boys because i thought i could find the right one and that he would help me forget about my feelings that i have for someone else.” hanma hides his disappointment really well. it’s been hard for him to see you dating one guy after another and then telling him right into his face that you have real feelings for someone else. someone that isn’t him. fuck. but this isnt about him right now, its about you and he needs to make you feel better. if there’s one thing in this world that shuji hanma hates, it's seeing you upset. “oh. well, why do you want to forget about that other person so badly? why not just confess to them?” he casually speaks up. “yeah, no! i’m going to stop you right there. i definitely won't do that. it’ll ruin everything.” you mumble the last part quietly but he still hears it. “ruin what?” he frowns. “ugh, our friendship! it’ll ruin our fucking friendship!” you burst out, feeling super frustrated at this point. and what does hanma do?

he fucking laughs.

you look at him with the hardest death stare. “what’s so fucking funny?” you huff. hanma finally calms down and wipes an imaginary tear from under his eye. “a friendship? i’m literally the only friend you have. you have no friends other than me, idiot.” he finishes his sentence with a small chuckle and lays back down, both arms resting behind his head. your face heats up at his words. no, its fucking burning. you feel like your skin is about to burn off your bones. did you say too much? does he know now?

“i do have other friends, bastard!” you stutter over your words. “the sweet old lady that lives across from you and the little boy from the playground dont count. i’m your one and only.” he has the most proudest and widest shit eating grin on his face. “fuck you!” you throw one of his pillows at him and press another one on his face, trying to not actually suffocate him. he easily snatches the pillow from you and throws it right back at you. you catch it and bury your face in it. when you don't remove your face from the pillow again and don't say a word for a while, hanma grows nervous. did he say something wrong? he softly pinches your leg, “what’s wrong?” you finally remove the pillow and lay down next to him with a deep sigh. “you caught me.” you mumble defeated. “what do you mean?” he is more than confused right now. “that i like you.” the words leave your mouth faster than you wanted to. they just slipped out.

the both of you are staring at each other now, both of your eyes wide open and in shock. “shut the fuck up! i’m the guy you've been trying to forget about?” you dont think you’ve ever seen him so shocked at something before. “no! fuck! i didnt mean to..ugh! no, yes! yes, it's you. it’s always been you.” you ramble on while hiding your face behind your hands. hanma is a smiling mess right now. he just watches you being all flustered and listens to your rambles. he didn’t think it would be impossible for you to catch feelings for him, he just never thought that it would actually happen and he is more than fucking happy right now.

he quickly rolls on top of you and removes your hands from your face. he is met with your beautiful eyes that are staring right back at him in shock. this isn’t the first time in your friendship that he's on top of you or that you've been on top of him, but you just confessed your love to him and now he's laying right on top of your body and you feel like you might explode from feeling so embarrassed. you wish you could just sink right into the mattress and then disappear completely.

“cat got your tongue? what happened to your rambling?” he breaks the silence, smirking. “fuck off!” you whine, turning your head away. you know him too damn well so you know that hes gonna tease the fuck out of you now and hes going to have the time of his life with this. he suddenly grabs your chin and turns your head back to look at him. “i know you’re fucking embarrassed right now and i find it hilarious,” the smirk never leaves his lips and you roll your eyes at him. “but, i like you as well. i’m pretty sure you knew that though.”“shuji?? i did not know that?!” you squeal. “oh? i thought i was being pretty obvious. you’re just blind i guess.” he chuckles. “but anyway, i do like you as well. and now that you know that, please stop going out with other men before i end up murdering them all.” you both break out into a fit of laughter. hanma lets his head fall into the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him.

the laughter dies down after a short while and he mumbles against your neck, “please be my girlfriend?” he asks a bit careful and removes his head from your neck to look at you. “yeah,” you answer, smiling like an idiot. “i’ll be your girlfriend, yes!” you happily pull him into a hug, his head buried in your neck again. “thank god you said yes, i would've actually went on a murder spree to get rid of every single man.” “i know you would.” you laugh again as he pulls his head away from you again, his hand softly brushing over your warm cheek. “so, i can kiss you now that you're my girl, right?” he grins. “of course!” he wastes no time and presses his lips against yours and in that moment you feel like this is not only the happiest moment of your life, but also the most beautiful one. you thought and dreamt about this very moment so many times more than you would like to admit to yourself, but the reality of having his lips move softly against yours is a million times better than any of your dreams have ever been. his lips are surprisingly soft and warm and they're moving perfectly against yours, his tongue brushing over your bottom lip every once in a while. you don’t want this moment to end, ever, and neither does hanma. he’s kissing you gently but with a small hint of desperation and his big, calloused hands cupping your cheeks. he deepened the kiss and you pulled him as close to your body as you possibly could and both of you wanted more, more of each other, but your air is ran out so you finally pulled away and now you’re looking into each others eyes again while panting softly.

“fuck, if i knew kissing you would feel this fucking good, i would’ve hoped ​one of those guys you dated would hurt your feelings way sooner.” he earns a slap on the back of his head for that. “you could’ve confessed as well, why’d you wait so long?” you snap back. “ah, that’s a story for another time. i want more kisses.” he wastes no time and presses his lips against yours again.

he kisses you over and over and over again. throughout the entire night. “you’re mine now. forever.” he said.

he’ll never let you go.

tags: @ranscutedoll @bertholdts--butt @zazcie @getcozylove @hoshiko @nanaosaki3940 @nanamikentoseyebags @sin-and-punishment @peachebmad @wakashawty @shamelessperfectionhideout @vmlnrz @saintokkotsu @satanlovesusall666 @kiirsteinn @noritopia @gothamgurl2024 @unknownspecies

<3 @ playgrl0

[impishjesters]

Time out for Jax

warning(s): Jax, temper/anger issues, inappropriate reaction, unhealthy coping methods, suggestive/implied sexual content, cursing note(s): I'm at a loss for the correct words I wanted to use in the tags, but Jax's anger is a little overkill and the reader admits to him not having great coping methods when he's really pissed off and at a breaking point. I'm in no way saying that type of coping/behaviour is acceptable, just that it exists. I also want to state that the sexual implications at the end are completely consensual! A/N: I don't know why this popped into my head but the idea of Caine putting Jax in time out only for it to not really be effective is absolutely hilarious. Plus I told my mom about it and she agreed it'd be something Caine would do and fail at.

“That’s it!” Caine shouted. He raised a hand and gave a quick snap, summoning thick iron bars from the ground that formed a small jail cell around Jax. “You sir, are in time out!”

You and a few others let out a surprised gasp. Caine had never gone so far as to actually do something to punish Jax for his behaviour, if you could even really call it a punishment.

Even Jax seemed surprised if you could get past the obvious miffed expression coupled with a few censored curses being thrown at the AI. Caine did nothing in response to the words except fix his clothes that had seemingly gone astray amidst his anger.

If you could call it that.

Caine turned to the rest of you and rushed through a more dramatic rendition of what was basically I Spy meets hide and seek, the activity he initially had started explaining before Jax’s little stunt. As soon as he finished explaining he let out a huff and disappeared with a poof of smoke.

“God dammit Jax!”

“Holy shit, I’ve never seen Caine so upset.”

“Oh, that’s worrying…”

“He didn’t give us a list of what we’re looking for…”

“Oh, maybe this thing?”

Everyone spoke over one another the moment he left, except for Jax who was still irked at being put in time out like a child of all things. “Oh c’mon this is bullshit, he’s the one who wants to keep us entertained.”

“You tried to pants him, baby.” You approached the bars with arms crossed, staring up at your idiot of a boyfriend. “I don’t even think you can pants him.”

He scoffed and copied your stance, crossing his arms. “It’s his fault we’re stuck here, he wants to entertain us then that would’ve been fucking hilariously entertaining.”

Of course, Jax didn’t feel guilt for literally taunting the entity that was likely your captor. He barely found himself feeling guilty when you did something stupid enough to make him laugh. Entertainment was entertainment, no discrimination there.

“How long do you think Caine will keep you in there?” Gangle asked, slowly approaching the two of you.

“Knowing that bastard? Who knows.” he shrugged.

“Hold on a second..” You took a step back and let your eyes roam the little makeshift prison before letting out a laugh. The whole thing was as tall as Jax and had at least enough room for him to stretch, but that wasn’t what made it so hilarious.

“What? What’s so funny?” Jax sneered, this whole thing wasn’t funny in the slightest. Weren’t you supposed to be on his side, as his partner? He was fucking stuck in this thing until you guys either finished this dumb little activity or got his attention to let him out.

The laughter caught the attention of the rest, causing them to slowly inch closer. “What’re they laughing at?” Ragatha asked.

“Heck if I know.” Jax threw his arms up and stared you down. “You gonna tell the rest of the class angel?”

It took a few moments to compose yourself, but the faint giggle never left you. Rather than answer them out loud you simply walked closer to the cage before slipping yourself between the bars, joining Jax. Caine had been so focused on putting Jax in a cage that he didn’t even take into consideration the spacing between the bars. Sure the bars were thick but they were spaced too far to really matter.

“Baby, you were never trapped.”

You walked back through the bars with little difficulty and Jax’s eye twitched with irritation. “You’ve gotta be shitting me…” He slapped a hand over his face and growled, stepping between the bars and finding himself outside the very useless prison. “I’ll kill him…”

“No, you won’t.” A sigh left you, the giggle dying down completely. At least for you, the others were still varying levels of laughter and giggles accompanied by Kinger’s slightly confusing questioning as to what everyone was laughing about. You could hear someone try to explain it to him but focus your attention on the man before you.

Jax was still agitated and like this, he would be nothing but bad company for the others. You turned to Ragatha and asked if they’d be able to handle the activity for now. She agreed, telling the two of you to return before they finished and got Caine back. Who knew how he’d respond to finding Jax outside of his time out punishment?

The others left and you turned back to Jax before offering an open palm. “How about we go to our room and let the others handle the game? I’ll even help you plan a few pranks.” If only to make sure that none of the others suffered too harshly at Jax’s irritation.

Sometimes his outbursts could get particularly nasty and would often result in some less-than-ideal words or pranks aimed at others. You’ve been on the receiving end a few times and while the first few times hurt, you knew it wasn’t anything to take personally over time.

It wasn’t healthy but it beat letting him keep everything pent up. Plus it had its rewards, Jax would always make it up to you in some way or another when that happened. The worse it was, the better the reward, and boy were those rewards worth it.

“Oh angel I’ve already got a list of pranks planned, but what I want to do is blow off this steam in other ways.” He jabbed a thumb behind himself. “Get walkin’ sweetie.”

Oh, this kind of blowing off steam was your favourite. Double reward in your book.

“Yes sir.”

Jax let out a low growl before following close behind. He’d definitely make it up to you for getting him out of that, his own anger clouded his judgment, and had it not been for you he’d still be stuck there. No, he was going to blow your back out and then reward you with a long, tender round two.

[badyan]

The clanks

"oh-…i can move, you don’t have to sit on the floor"

"I prefered it." he answers simply, not bothering himself to explain anything more than that. His metal feet clanked against each other as he sat on the floor nearby the bed where you were laying, doodling nothings in your sketchbook — the thing you have made a habit to do when you’re hanging out in his quarters while he’s busy.

And you have never seen him this busy before. Hours standing still at his workbench, staring down the poor blueprints, then pacing through the room, his steps more calculated than the clock’s clicks. Nights follow days and the first sun rays always wake you up because there’s no curtains or anything that can make this place cozy at its bare minimum — except for the soft cushions and pillows and blankets on the bed which he has gathered only for you, only because you asked, only because you wanted to spend more time with him.

The bed was giant, clearly made for two, but there wasn’t a chance in the last few days for you to feel the familiar weight sliding closer in the dark of the night, spooning from behind so carefully, his hands gently finding their rest on your waist. Something was haunting him for too long now and you wouldn’t mind waiting for him, no, never have you, but you simply started to get worried about his state — and you’ve approached him with that but was gently turned back to your rest. You knew that he wasn’t going to listen to you anyway — but you also knew you couldn’t just let him be in this alone. So, you’re staying with him for a while. Even if he barely talks to you, he could never deny your company.

And now you’re relieved to see him sitting down nearby to meditate a bit — for the first time during this whole time. You move closer to him, hand gently sliding onto the broad shoulder.

"You should take a rest now, hun…"

"I truly don’t have much time for that." he grunts, though he knows you’re right. And the constant feeling of your attentive eyes was the actual reason why he actually forces himself to set aside his work and go take a breather. Even if he can’t actually breathe nor focus on the meditation itself.

"I…understand.." you reply reluctantly, fingertips brushing along his long collarbone pistons in a little affectionate way. He relaxes his schoulders slightly, subtly giving you more room to caress, and interwhines his hands together in the meditation gesture.

You continue to glide your hand against his metal, almost trying to calm down its unusual warmth — countless hours of mulling over his duties must have caused him to overheat. Mindlessly, your fingers wander further, over his ribbed chest and up to his neck, where they stumble upon the shiny ends of his cable hair. And that soft clank of them gives you an idea.

You sit on the bed, right behind him. An unusual angle — were his shoulders and back always this wide…and somehow heartening to look at? Like you could lean on it and feel the safest in the whole world… He sit on the floor and you still have to slightly raise your hands to carefully grasp his hair, moving it all back. You can feel him flinch just for a bit and you can’t help but smile at him being startled by such a simple touch.

"What are you doing?"

"I’ll just put them up for you," you say softly, shuffling through the thick cables in your hands, feeling their pleasant weight and quiet clanking. He almost scoffs at your offering.

"There’s no need for that-"

"Hush now." you insist, hands brushing through his cables length. "I know how it feels when they start to clutter around and piss you off. Just let me help you a lil’ bit."

And he modulates a sigh, returning to his meditating posture. That’s where you take things into your own hands — and with that, you start to work. Carefully combing his hair, then parting down the center, then starting to weave some cables together in the order only known to you. Your hands go slowly, taking strand by strand so carefully, like it would hurt him otherwise — and Ramattra can’t help but to concentrate only on your movements, feeling every subtle tug and twist you made with his cords, but oh with such care, it makes his circuits warm up…

"What are you planning to make?" he asks after a few minutes of pure silence and, suddenly, you can sense something new in his quiet tone. A hint of hesitation…but in a good way. Oh, it clicks for you immidiately and you can’t help but to chuckle softly.

"Just braids" you murmur, leaning in to give him a sweet little kiss on the top of his head. Such a simple tender gesture, yet it almost makes him falter.

"Braids?..." his head tilts in confusion — and you have to grab it by the sides gently and turn back up.

"Hey, stay still! They’re gonna look great on you, trust me…" your adorable reassurance doesn’t leave him another choice but to surrender. Though, he does find himself enjoying this whole unnesessary braiding thing…Your presence so close and your gentle little hands doing some magic with his hair, these bulky cables following your lead, not without some struggling first, but still. It’s you — you’re doing something for him. You’re here, by his side, all this time…It’s enough to finally let all these irritating thoughts begone. His mind fills with nothings, sweet nothings indeed: your hands playing around with his hair and your breathing quietly making the peaceful rythm of the moment. You are with him.

Is this…the tranquility Zen is always talking about?

He doesn’t realise how long you two were sitting like this. He simply doesn’t care now — everything seems to matter less and less the more you’re tangling your hands in his cables. But eventually, you make the final tugs and withdraw from him.

"Here you go.."

"Already?" he asks too quickly, with an undertone of longing. The moment dissapears so fast, no matter how hard he hopes it to last just a little longer.

"It took me nearly an hour!" you laugh at his question, hands running down your little piece of art. Two thick french braids go from the upper corners of his faceplate down along his head, slightly resembling dragon horns which reach up laying on his shoulders where your hands carefully move them. The weaving was quite simple but made so thoroughly the ends don’t even need something to tie them up — the rubbery texture and the tight neat braiding hold the cables together without any additional knots.

"Now, turn to me."

He slowly does so, feeling how the movements of his head became freer. It feels almost like getting your body part replaced. The same, but somehow still different. He doesn’t feel like he dislikes it, he just isn’t used to the sensation, doesn’t know where to place it within his system — but when he sees himself in the mirror you brought up to his face, he understands it immideately. Love.

Not with the braids, though he does like the way they look on him. He is in love with you. That unconditional, utter feeling which makes his circuits overheat and that electric pulse go haywire till the HUD flashes with a bunch of new warnings. That feeling he thought he never ever would be able to share with someone…

And there are you, looking at him fondly, while being so busy adjusting the way the cables twist around his faceplate.

"You’re gorgeous…You already knew that, don’t you?"

"I-…" his voice stutters into a static — clearly from your sweet words — and he tilts his head slightly to admire your work. "I love it. Thank you, babe" his faceplate lowers to gently press against the crook of your neck, soft vibrations in omnicode expressing the whole of his feelings that he can’t quite place in words now, mimicking the tender kisses. And the way you slightly shy away from his touch, giggling and whining playfully that it’s ticklish — it only makes him fall for you even more, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you flush against his body in a tight embrace, letting himself nuzzle into your neck and get lost in your charming laugher.

A half an hour goes by unnoticed in the sweetest cuddles for the last week, accompanied by cute little pecks here and there, the soft sounds of your whispers, his quiet murmurs and the clanks of his cable braid’s ends when you playfully nudge him in the chest. Yet, suddenly, your eyes flash with an another idea and you pull away, leaving him puzzled and eager to just grab and move you back there for more cuddles.

"Now, you stay here." you lean against the wall and grab your sketchbook, opening it on the new page and biting down on your pencil, looking thoughtfully at your dear omnic, admiring the way confusion stirs within him.

"Why?"

"I need to capture your beauty" and you can hear him steaming from your words.

~~~~~~~

thank u for the idea, @statuetochka <з you make me feel so inspired with your art, hope this lil piece will make you smile

[agoodroughandtumble]

Do You Think They Know? - Roronoa Zoro x Reader Part 5

Do You Think They Know? - Roronoa Zoro x Reader Status: Complete (5 of 5) Summary: A culmination of oneshots ascertaining Reader & Zoro's relationship Warning: 18+, Language, Implied smut

“Good morning, sunshine.”

You glared at Nami – half shielded away from her annoying good mood by your duvet. She was always annoyingly loud and chipper when she knew you had a hangover. Your hand snaked out of your cocoon to take the coffee she always brought you. “How bad was I?”

“Hmm,” having given you the drink she flopped onto your bed, tucking her feet underneath the duvet. “Well, that depends.”

An irritated groan left you as you sat up, holding the coffee cup in both hands. “Stop being a dick. Just tell me.”

There was a pause as she mulled over her answer.

Another groan. Another pause. You let out a sigh – far more annoyed with yourself than her. “Is he that pissed off?”

“He’s not...happy.”

“So, yes.”

“It’s Zoro,” Nami shrugged as she helped herself to a mouthful of your drink. “He’ll hit some stuff and be fine.”

She was right, but also not helpful. Zoro had an annoying habit of not actually talking about anything, or at least, not talking about anything you wanted to talk about. Not that you really tried to talk about...anything. But it would be nice if he could at least be angry towards you, shout at you, show any semblance of human emotion instead of locking himself away with his swords and his saké and pretending nothing happened. All the while you were a dweller, forever playing out the same embarrassing scenario in your head until you swore you brain was going to pour out of your ears. Hyper-fixating on everything you didn’t do, should’ve done. So of course you were going to over analyse every move he made until it drove you insane, and then you’d drink and make an arse of yourself, and then over analyse every move he made until you needed a drink only to make an arse of yourself ad infitum.

“Urgh,” you threw the covers over her legs and stood up. This was ridiculous. You had no idea what needed to be said to him but clearly something did. If anything, to improve crew morale. Or some bullshit like that. Fuck. This was a bad idea. And the thought of wallowing under the duvets with Nami certainly was tempting – especially as Sanji would obviously bring room service. But no. Big girl pants because… because something. Your brain was too foggy to care about optics.

Nami eyed you up and down. “What are you doing?”

“Making a horrible decision.” You threw on a jumper before flashing her a grin, “Care you watch?”

*

It was with heavy limbs and a frustratingly heavy heart that Zoro climbed down from the crow’s nest. Usually he was on top of over working himself, but with each rung he could feel the aches and pains. He hadn’t slept much. After drinking with Nami and, probably, possibly, too many shots he’d made his way up the rope ladder in the hopes of letting off some steam. Only he hadn’t. He’d been stewing. Eventually he’d managed to get some sleep but awoke the next morning still full of anger and what better way to take out his frustration than to focus on his muscles, on the way they hung limp at his side despite his endurance, despite how much he desperately wanted to think about anything other than you. And yet every time he thought about you the fire was reignited – only to be sated when he was too exhausted. Too exhausted to do anything but think about how much he’d fucked up the night before, the look in your eyes, the pure defeat across your features… So he got his swords out. Again. Ad infitum.

Heavy boots finally made contact with the deck – he surveyed his surroundings. Robin was reading on a sun lounger, Chopper lying across her lap. Usopp and Luffy were doing… fuck knows what they were doing but they were in a corner obviously egging each other on and he should be more concerned but fuck it. And, of course, you were nowhere to be seen. Neither was a certain curly brow. Fuck. He hated you.

Avoiding the others, he sat down and closed his eyes, head resting against the gunnel, fully embracing the soft breeze running through his hair and trying his hardest to think about anything other than you.

And then he heard your voice.

“Hey,” there was a pause and he could hear a sharp intake of breath. He opened one eye curiously. You were fidgeting with your fingers which usually meant you were overthinking something. “Can we talk?”

He closed the eye again, sinking further against the gunnel. Deliberately basking in the sunlight and warm breeze. The anxiety coming off you was almost palpable – so he’d let you wait a little longer.

A frustrated sigh. A pause. “Fine, fuck it. Don’t say I ne-”

His hand gripped your wrist. Both eyes open, looking you up and down. You were dishevelled; clearly just woken up and against his will he couldn’t help but focus on the oversized jumper coupled with pyjama shorts. Your thighs were close enough to his face it would hardly be a use of his neck to leave bite marks. Still, he was cautious and a tilt of his head confirmed that Nami wasn’t far behind – albeit very obviously “not watching” as she walked over to Robin and Chopper. His gaze focused back on you. “What?”

You bit your lip. “Are you going to continue to be a dick? Or get over it and let me apologise?”

“Maybe both.”

You wriggled your hand out of his grip. “Right, well, glad I tried.”

“(Y/N), wait.” He swallowed, all too aware of the desperation in his voice. “What did you want to say?”

“Well, nothing now.” You shuffled awkwardly on your feet.

Zoro stood up, taking your wrist again, perhaps taking a little too long to stare at the spot at which your skin connected. Hopefully you didn’t notice. Really, really hopefully. He cleared his throat. “What’s wrong?”

Your face scrunched in thought; he had to fight the smile threatening to break. And then there. The snap. You looked at him, eyes like steel – eyes that could cut his soul in half. Voice running as mercury. “I just wanted to say that we’re okay. Bygones, and all that. For the best of the crew. And I’m sorry for being a dick. So, that’s that.”

Zoro let go of you – hand dropping to his side, the echo of your touch still radiating through his veins despite every instinct screaming at him to fly. He stretched his neck a little, hardening the armour. “Good. I’m sorry too.” His teeth gritted together, jaw clenched yet he forced out the words, “For the crew.”

*

Nami pulled the sun lounger closer to Robin – eyes never leaving you and Zoro. Although at this point she was lobbying at just locking the two of you in the brig. But, apparently, it wasn’t anyone’s role to intervene. Honestly, everyone else was such a stickler. And there was only so many times she could pretend to care about the fact that there were emotions that every one else could fucking see because they weren’t blind. Like yeah, we get it. Just fuck already.

“How’s it going?” Robin quirked an eyebrow, one hand holding up her book and the other gently playing with Chopper’s fur as he snored lazily on her lap.

“These two will kill each other.” Nami rolled over onto her side, mischievous grin on her face, “Want to bet who gets the first hit?”

Robin smiled, setting her book against her lap. “Do you think they know?”

“About the bet?” Nami sat up, slightly offended at the thought that her cunning plan wasn’t quite so cunning. “It’s literally just happened.”

Robin roller her eyes. “No, do you think they know? That they’re both in love with each other?”

“Oh,” Nami turned back around, face towards the sky. “No. They’re both fucking idiots. Would make our lives a lot easier if they did though.”

[highvern]

Bite the Bullet

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader ft. Jungkook

Genre: fluff, pining, IDIOTS! IN! PUPPY! LOVE!

Warnings: brief mentions of drinking, Mingyu contemplates the ramifications of 1st degree murder for second but Jungkook deserves it tbh, possessive!Mingyu makes a brief appearance

Length: ~1k

Note: a bit of a prequel to Drunk Goggles ! Can be read as a stand alone but definitely makes more sense if you read them together

read more here

"If there's nothing going on between the two of you, then you don't mind if I ask her out, do you?"

Mingyu has never been so close to throttling Jungkook before and the smug grin on his best friend's face tells him he’s very much aware of it. But tonight is Jungkook’s housewarming party and the tiny apartment is packed with plenty of witnesses, so socking him in the mouth will do nothing except raise more questions Mingyu can’t answer.

Mingyu knows his friend wouldn't do that to him, but the idea still pisses him off none the less, boiling his blood and souring his mood. In his own fucked up way, Jungkook is trying to help. By forcing Mingyu to acknowledge the budding feelings between you and him, maybe Mingyu would get his head out of his ass and actually do something about it. But Mingyu is a people pleaser and unless you give him the clearest green light in the world (read: ask him out first) he won’t breathe a word about how much he wants you. At least not yet.

Across the room, you’re pleasantly unaware of the twin gazes watching you. Smiling and laughing with Jeongyeon and Jihyo at the makeshift bar, Mingyu can’t help the way his eyes train on you; you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen even if the dim lighting of the kitchen makes you nothing more than a shadow. 

It’s bordering on pathetic how whipped he is when he hasn’t even held your hand. The change in your dynamic is recent. You’ve always been close; becoming friends in high school, attending the same university, and finally settling in the same city after graduation. What had been group hangouts or friendly chats when you happen to run into each other has transformed into more intimate moments. It's become long nights at Mingyu’s apartment, sitting on his couch, talking till the sun comes up. And you start picking him up early on Saturday mornings for coffee at the downtown farmers market, blushing at the coos of little old ladies telling you about how handsome your boyfriend is. Mingyu pouts a little inside when you correct them, claiming he’s just a friend. He’d probably take it a little more to heart if he didn’t witness the way you stutter and blush you’re way through the rebuttal.

It’s cute, you’re cute, and Mingyu thinks he’ll die from it before he gets the courage to ask you out.

“You’re my friend so I’ll say this once.” Mingyu gives Jungkook a stern glare. “Ask her out, and you die.”

Then he’s up and searching for another beer, gritting his teeth against the cackle hitting his back as he walks your direction.

[enixamyram]

Things I Hope For in Season 2:

Huskerdust - I heard Vivzie is hoping for at least 3 seasons and while I enjoy a slow burn, I also don't want them to get together at the very last minute. I want a chance to have a season of them being together before we say goodbye. So if we are gonna get 3 seasons then can they get together in season 2, please?

Velvette - She's in my top fav so I hope we get a chance to learn more about her since she's still pretty mysterious compared to the other Vees.

The Vees - I really want them to have a genuine familial and caring relationship. Someone else said it better but in general I just want them to be god awful selfish people who care only about themselves and each other and nothing and no one else.

Valentino Break Down - I'm sure you've seen that TikTok. The one with that song I can't remember the name of where Val is losing it over Angel breaking free. I want this! I want a whole song number of Val just having a massive tantrum when he realises Angel is steadily escaping him.

Flashbacks - I've heard this is apparently actually going to be a thing. I'm looking forward to whatever it is but if I was being greedy, I want flashbacks both of their human lives and of when they first ended up in hell.

Niffty Explanation - I still stand by that I both am terrified and in love with this character. But more than anything I'm curious about her so I would love to learn what her deal is!

Chaggie Date - This is kind of a filler episode idea. I have the highest of hopes that now the show has done so well, they'll give it more episodes and maybe we can get some filler type episodes. One of which should include Chaggie having a date! I don't care what whacky scenario follows, I just want to see them being cute and cuddly!

Angel's family - I really hope we see more of his family. I also hope that Molly has a chance to somehow interact with her brother. And, to be evil, I also hope that Arackniss is a bastard and we get some angst with him and Angel because I heard (no idea if it's true or just gossip) that Angel's family was mostly homophobic. I mostly want angst because I then want it to be followed by comfort from the rest of the hotel.

Fat Nuggets Origin - Either a flashback of even just Angel telling someone about how he got Fat Nuggets. I know Val gave him to Angel, but I am curious as to how it came about. Was it when Val was pretending to not be an asshole, or was it an "apology" for being a dick or what? I need to know!

More Overlords - I'd love to see more of the Overlords who didn't really get much screen time in Season 1. Like the T-Rex looking one whose name I'm not sure because I've seen multiple ones for her...

Lilith and Lucifer Reunite - Vivzie has managed to make me love this couple despite never actually seeing them together. Just the way she describes them as a corny sweet romance, I desperately want to see these two together. I want to see the corny sweet romance between them! (And you know, figure out what's going on with Lilith and answer all the questions and blah blah blah, give me the romance!)

Lucifer Vs Alastor - I love these two together. I need more of them pissing each other off. I have been spoiled with fancontent and now I need something canon.

Cherri - I want more of her in general! But I also really, really, really hope we see a softer side of her. I pretty much originally fell for her because of the Addicts music video, seeing her stand up for and look after Angel when he was at a low point. And while I still love her being the good intentioned bad influence that she was in her episode, I do want to see that side of her again.

[primaviva]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

PAIRING: gwen stacy x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: your jealous girlfriend, gwen stacy, headcanons and imagines.

WARNING: jealousy and possessive gwen, people not taking no for an answer (nothing extreme), fluff, that’s all ??

people who say gwen doesn’t get jealous are lying on her name

it’s not like she means to be or makes a big scene out of it, but she can’t help but get a little irritated when people talk to you and she knows they have an interest in you or she sees them eyeing you a certain way

jealous!gwen who can’t help but give people death inducing side eyes when they flirt with you

let’s get this straight: gwen does not get jealous when people talk to you. she's not dumb or controlling she’s not gonna get upset that someone goes up and talks to you while you both go out

In fact, she doesn’t even get upset if they call you pretty. well she does a little irritated BUT she doesn’t get mad when you get compliments because she knows you’re beautiful and she knows she’s not the only one who sees that

when nothing really comes from it, gwen just stares at them w her big blue eyes and she doesn’t even mean to but she’s very bad at masking how she feels in the moment so she just stares at them with a dark, annoyed look. her face is almost blank she’s just so annoyed.

“who is that you with?” they asked you, eyes furrowed.

“huh?” you questioned back as their finger pointed to gwen from across the room.

their face was one mixed with discomfort and confusion, “what’s her problem with two people havin a conversation?”

“no problem. that’s just my girlfriend, gwen.”

jealous!gwen who tells people off when they simply don’t get the hint

gwen does start getting pissed if they keep going with it to try and talk to you in hopes to get an ig @ or number

gwen trusts you.

she knows you’re not gonna entertain anybody or even give them a little hope of the idea that you’ll give ‘em a chance

but she feels like you guys are so obviously together that it’s annoying that this man in front of y’all is still trying to shoot his shot

when this does happen, you always tell let them down gently

“man, look. i got a girlfriend so i’m not really interested. thanks for the compliments but i’m sure the other girls around would be more interested in whatever you offer than me.”

usually, that works.

and as a side note, gwen loves when you tell other people that you have a girlfriend

she slowly feels this smirk growing on her face when the words leave her lips

it just provides a sense of security and ownership but not in a weird controlling way but in the sense that you both belong to each other. she’s yours and your hers.

HOWEVER… when that doesn’t work…

“who said anything about her, ma?” they asked slyly, tilting their head to the side as they leaned in a little closer to your face.

you didn’t expect him to come out with that. you saw gwen was watching, and you knew that she was well aware of what he was doing. but she never wanted to be overbearing and act like you couldn’t handle yourself.

this was one of those situations though. why couldn’t he just take no for an answer and leave you the hell alone?

something changed in gwen when she saw him going to put his hand on your shoulder.

"don't. touch. her."

her voice was so stern and demanding yet it sounded almost like a whisper. you slightly jumped at her sudden appearance as the person immediately put their hand down.

gwen moved closer to you, putting a hand on your hip and leaning you against her side.

“back off already. she's not interested and she's here with me,” gwen informed, her voice stern.

the person flirting with you looked surprised as if they didn’t expect her to match their energy.

“and who are you?” they asked, almost annoyed that someone had gotten in their way.

“her girlfriend, actually. you got a problem with that?” she spat out.

gwen has her fair share of saying some outta pocket things to people… but only when they deserve it

it ranges from:

“you should leave her alone before your face gets a few extra dents."

to remarks as simple and less violent:

"she's not available, get the hint."

gwen always makes sure you’re alright after tho.

she knows it can be uncomfortable especially as a female presenting person herself to just be straight up harassed by guys who feel entitled for you to say yes to their advances

“i don't know why guys don't understand the word no,” she muttered as her hand on your hip began to gently massage your side.

her frown disappeared, replaced with a soft smile as she turned her head back to look at you.

"you okay? need anything? i’m really sorry about that.”

gwen does not want you thanking her if she had to tell somebody off for you because she feels it’s her job as your girlfriend and also she’s doing it for you

she sees you in a uncomfortable situation, she gets you out. simple as that.

"anytime, y’know you don’t have to thank me. i hate seeing you get uncomfortable."

she down at you and tilted her head before speaking again.

"that guy was being such a creep it's crazy. do all people act like that now?"

she’s always first to comfort you about how uncomfortable you felt

if it hit hard and you start to cry… her heart will like shatter

people have different reactions to being hit on like that and if you’re the type to just cry from how fed up you are AND you’re in public she will leave immediately and take you to your home or hers.

if she ever sees the person who hit on you getting the worse jumping of they life or mugged by like eight bald clowns she is turning the other cheek actin like she never saw bro.

jealous!gwen who apologizes if she thinks she made a scene

the last thing gwen wants to do is draw even more unwanted attention to you if she does need to step in when somebody is making you uncomfortable

she has never made a scene before but she finds herself apologizing anyway if she ever involves herself with someone talking to you even when they aren’t flirting heavily or anything and she wants your attention

“was i too much? i don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend but…”

jealous!gwen who gets touchy when you give others your attention

gwen is not the type to just walk up behind you, eat your face, and then say “hello?” to whoever she is jealous of

i am sorry to tell you that but it’s not happening… not our white girl

gwen is more casual with it.

if you two are sitting next to each other, she will put a hand on your thigh. but when it’s more than just her being a little irritated to just annoyed at someone else taking your attention or talking/looking at you a certain way, she starts rubbing her hand up and down your thigh and inner thigh

she does stuff like this because 1) it’s casual 2) it’s in the person's view and it shows them that only she can get close and touch you like that, even if it’s a simple action

gwen will also do other things like put her hands on your hips, waist, shoulder, even neck

but she mainly does this when she wants your attention, that’s where her true jealousy stems from

your breath hitched at the wet sensation on your neck.

“hold on,” you told your friend as you put them on mute. “gwen, what are you tryna do?”

you glanced to your side and there gwen was with a sheepish ‘i did nothing wrong’ look. she had her arms wrapped around your waist as she slowly pulled you onto her lap until your back hit her chest.

“me? what am i doing?” she asked, acting unaware.

gwen started doing it again. she planted open mouth kisses on your neck all the way down to your shoulder.

“you’re not doing this right now,” you said in disbelief at how bold she was behind all that neediness.

however, she showed you just how serious she was when you felt a sharp and tense pressure bite into your shoulder leaving a tingly sensation.

“i’m gonna have to call you back.”

gwen was satisfied with that.

she mainly gets jealous when she sees someone else getting your attention

not in a way where you’re talking to a friend or someone you know and she never wants you talking to them, but let’s just say sometimes she wants your complete and full attention

like if you two are out and someone tries to start a conversation with you? she’s snatching your hand and dragging you along

especially if she ever takes you to spider society and sees someone trying to get a little flirty with you

“don’t you have an mj or something?”

she will literally web their mouths from a distance just to be petty

gwen is more confident doing stuff like that in the spider society because she’s much more familiar

if anything she will web your back and pull you into her just to walk off with you

jealous!gwen who talks on anyone that has shown interest in you

gwen will badmouth literally anyone who has tried to hit on you afterwards

that’s how you can tell it gets on her nerves.

someone could’ve complimented you in a class and asked to hang later and you said no and while walking broke she WILL bring that up

“that guy was so weird. why was he wearing a hoodie in 95 degree weather?”

“gwen, you wear hoodies in 95 degree weather.”

jealous!gwen who always has a hand on you no matter what when in public

gwen is not big on pda we all know this

the most you’re getting is her holding your hand or a kiss on the cheek

but when she isn’t, gwen always has a hand on you somewhere

whether she has a hand on the small of your back, arm around your shoulder, subtle hand on your hip or waist, she just will

for her, it’s not only nice to just feel you there but also she wants people to know you two are a couple

it’s just so satisfying to her when she seems someone looking at you and then they glance down to see she has you pulled into her side with her hand in your back jean pocket

“not even in their dreams can they have you,” gwen murmurs against your ear as you feel her breath tickle down to her neck.

you feel your shoulders tense inwards as your face gets all tingly at her words. she smirks, tilting her head and leaning in closer to you.

“don’t tell me you’re blushing! it’s so cute when you get all flustered like this,” she giggles. “what, so you like it when i call you mine?”

tho, gwen is one to act out of impulse sometimes

her emotions just get the best of her YOU CANT BLAME HER !!

one time she was feeling very possessive and just pulled you into her lap and kept you like that

she got really embarrassed afterwards and apologized while also trying to act like it never happened

“what happened? nothing happened. i mean, did i cause a scene? not like that matters! cus y’know, nothing happened… sorry if i did tho.”

jealous!gwen who never wants to admit that she’s jealous

gwen is stubborn.

if you call her jealous, she will call you crazy and that you don’t know what you’re talking about

but overall, gwen just wants your attention and her jealousy stems from insecurity. she struggles with feeling like she isn’t good enough for you and that you deserve someone who doesn’t live a double life. someone who can always be there for you, not flake on dates, and just be the perfect girlfriend

maybe gwen isn’t the perfect girlfriend. but you’re fine with that because she’s perfect to you.

“jealous?” she asked, taken aback that you even brought up how she was acting. “me? jealous? i’m not jealous at all. to be honest, i don’t even know what that word means.”

you just stared at her as she acted a fool. she realized and just took a deep breath, sighing in defeat.

“okay, yeah. maybe i was a bit… jealous. but can you blame me? i mean look at you! i just feel like you could do better sometimes even though i know we belong together. i just hate seeing how others look at you it just— it rubs me a certain way. and maybe i do want all your attention sometimes. ok, i guess i can be a bit of a jealous girlfriend. is it really that wrong though?”

© 2023 primaviva