#so they do whatever they can to make you unable to continue doing it for free

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 19

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18

Steve makes a noise of pain, and Eddie pulls back like he’d been burned. With how hot his face feels, he might have been. Eddie holds his fingers up to his own mouth. His lips hurt enough when he touches them that Eddie’s sure it’ll go down in history as the worst kiss in Steve Harrington’s life.

“Um,” Steve says, voice high and wobbly like he’s going to cry.

Eddie’d almost rather die than have Steve see him right now, but he needs to see the look on Steve’s face to ascertain how the hell he can fix this. So, he reaches up, fumbling blindly until the van’s interior light clicks on.

He blinks, momentarily blinded by the spots sparking in his eyes with the sudden light. When he finally blinks them away and catches sight of Steve, his breath catches.

Steve’s pressed hard enough into the van’s door that it looks like he’s trying to become one with it, and his eyes are wide and panicked, fingers clenching the fabric of his jeans over his raised knees. There’s a speck of blood on his mouth and all Eddie can do is hope that it’s his own.

“I am so sorry,” Eddie rushes out, shuffling forward in his seat, hand outstretched to wipe off the blood, but when Steve flinches away, smacking his head against the window, Eddie flings himself back, palms raised in supplication. “I shouldn’t have done that!”

It’s only as something shutters beneath Steve’s wide eyes that Eddie realizes how many wrong ways Steve could be taking what he’s saying. “Not like that!” Eddie continues, words tumbling over each other in his rush to get them out. “It’s just you were saying all that shit like I don’t want to be here? And I panicked, and just sort of…did that?”

Steve doesn’t say anything in response. He just sits, frozen, eyes unfocused. Eddie really wishes he’d say something, if only so Eddie can stem the stream of bullshit flowing from his mouth.

“Only, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and you’re supposed to ask first, right?” he rambles, still panicking. “Oh my god, I just like, attacked you? I’ll take you home if you want, oh my god, why did I—”

“You want to be here?” Steve blessedly interrupts. Eddie takes gasping breaths, eyes laser focused on the little furrow between Steve’s brows. “Wait, that was your first kiss?”

Eddie feels whatever blood had drained from his face rush back as Steve squints across at him. He’s not crowded into the door, but Eddie’s not sure the way he’s leaning toward Eddie with disarming focus is actually much better.

“I mean—well, you see—I’ve just never—” Steve’s still staring at him unerringly so Eddie takes a shuddering breath and finally spits it out. “I’ve never been on a date, kissed anyone, any of that stuff.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, a look Eddie can’t read dawning across his face.

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie replies, chuckling weakly when Steve just keeps staring. Eddie looks away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry I blew it like that. I just sort of panicked, you know?”

“Oh,” Steve says again, a different intonation this time, still just as indecipherable to Eddie.

“Yeah, oh,” he mutters again, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, unable to look at Steve.

It’s silent again—Eddie wishes it was dark, too. He wants to go home, drag his comforter back into his room and hide beneath it until he forgets any of this ever happened. He might be under there for a long, long time.

But then there’s cool fingers against his chin, and when he jerks his gaze toward him, Steve’s golden brown eyes are very, very close to his own, his lips even closer with the way his breaths are puffing against Eddie’s open mouth.

“Can I?” Steve asks, making it clear what he means as he looks down at Eddie’s lips.

Eddie gasps, body aflame with the power of his blush. “You—you want to?” he stutters out. When Steve nods, still holding Eddie’s chin, he responds, “okay, yeah, yeah, okay—” his affirmations only being cut off by the soft press of Steve’s lips.

It’s soft and dry, pressed chastely against Eddie’s own. Eddie shudders, mimicking the minute movements of Steve’s lips against his own. It’s a revelation to feel Steve’s lips on him, even more so when he feels Steve’s mouth quirk up against his own, like he’s happy to be kissing the bumbling fool Eddie’s become.

Eddie laughs, just a little against Steve’s mouth. It turns into a groan halfway up his throat as Steve threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair, using his grip on the back of his head to pull Eddie closer to himself. As Eddie gasps, Steve brushes his tongue into Eddie’s open mouth, barely delving in before pulling it back and sucking Eddie’s bottom lip.

Steve leaves his lips wet as he pulls back. Eddie tries to chase his mouth, drunk off the feeling of it, but Steve’s fingers fist in the back of his hair, holding him in place. The feeling zings through Eddie from his scalp to his palms, that gentle pull hitting him like electrocution as he gasps back to life.

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s still close, smiling smugly at Eddie. It’s all King Steve without the bite. He wants more, hopes Steve keeps him around long enough that he can see it all.

“You said stargazing?” Steve asks, eyes twinkling brighter than any star in the sky.

Eddie laughs, something bright and bubbling filling his chest as he watches Steve laugh along with him, eyes crinkling almost shut, hand still clutched in Eddie’s hair.

He hopes, ardently, desperately, that a second date is on the table, no matter how disastrously this one has gone because right now, in this moment with Steve’s buoyant laughter echoing in his skull? Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Yeah, big boy, let’s go.”

***

Steve leans against the cold metal of Eddie’s van and watches as Eddie bounces around in the light of the van’s headlights, helplessly endeared as Eddie fusses with the edges of his blanket until it finally lays wrinkle-free in an empty spot in the clearing. He rushes back to the van a few times, holding snacks and drinks behind his back like Steve won’t see them the moment he drops them to one side of the blanket.

He fusses with it all, too, making sure everything’s lined up just so. It’s so unlike Eddie that Steve might think he’s stalling if he wasn’t beaming the entire time. To finish it off, he grabs a smaller folded blanket and lays it perfectly parallel with all the snacks. Only then does he turn back to Steve.

“My lady,” he says, bowing low and gesturing down to the blanket at his feet. “Your chariot awaits.”

Steve laughs and follows his directions to the middle of the blanket, feeling absurdly guilty about his shoes on it. He drops, crossing his legs beneath him. Once he’s rushed over to the van to turn his headlights off, Eddie follows his lead, sitting close enough that their knees just barely overlap.

Steve blinks away the spots in his vision from the change in light before looking up at the sky. It’s bursting with stars, and the moon’s full enough to illuminate their clearing so that Steve can see the shadows of Eddie’s dimples as he smiles at him.

“So, I was thinking we could smoke a little?” Eddie says, pulling a joint out of the pocket of his vest with a raised brow. “But if you don’t want to, we can just relax.”

Steve grabs the joint from Eddie’s hand, letting his fingers brush against Eddie’s before plucking it free and putting it in his own mouth. Eddie stares, mouth parted, hand still held out despite now being empty.

“Well? Got a light?” Steve asks around the blunt, leaning a bit toward Eddie as he comes back to life and fumbles in his vest pocket like he’s on some sort of time crunch.

Eddie flicks his lighter and watches avidly as Steve sucks in until the cherry catches and burns. He inhales, trying for cocksure and suave, but it’s been a long time and instead he coughs a cloud of smoke right in Eddie’s face.

Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” he says around each little, sputtering cough.

“Sorry,” Eddie replies, but he’s still laughing as he plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers and takes a much smoother drag, using his free hand to pat Steve on the back like he’s burping a baby. “Been a while, Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes are streaming, but he feels light enough that he could float away on the smoke as Eddie smiles across at him, joint still in his mouth.

“A bit,” Steve replies, cheeks heating as Eddie’s fingers brush against his lips as he puts the joint back into Steve’s own mouth, tip now wet with Eddie’s spit.

“Nice and easy, now,” Eddie says. Steve follows his instructions, taking a small, shallow breath in, fighting against the spasming of his lungs as he lets the smoke leave his mouth and float up into the night’s sky. He’s rewarded with Eddie’s quiet murmur of, “good boy.”

Then the asshole takes the joint back, raising his eyebrows tauntingly as Steve shudders.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters, no heat behind the words as he flops back on the blanket and looks up at the stars. “Now show me some constellations, Munson.”

Eddie laughs, dropping down so their sides are pressed together, heads close enough that Eddie’s hair tickles Steve’s neck. Eddie takes one more drag before offering it back to Steve. Steve’s enough of a lightweight now, that the few hits he took have him floating a few feet above his body, so he shakes his head. Eddie reaches over to stub it out in the grass without complaint.

“Okay, see those three stars?” Eddie asks, pointing up into the sky. Steve squints, nodding when he finally locates three stars that seem brighter than the ones around them, forming a wonky sort of triangle. “Well, that constellation’s called, How The Fuck Should I Know?”

A barking laugh bursts out of Steve as he turns to stare at Eddie, incredulous. “You planned a stargazing date and don’t know anything about stars?”

“Well, I thought it would be romantic!” Eddie cries, gesturing wildly enough that one of his hands smacks into Steve’s chest lightly.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t even know anything about stars,” he repeats teasingly.

“Well!” Eddie sputters, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders and shaking him around on the blanket as he laughs. “Wayne thought it was a good idea.”

Steve stops laughing, unease curdling in his gut as he asks, “you told your uncle about me?”

Eddie sits up, wriggling his arm from beneath Steve suddenly enough that he flops bonelessly onto the blanket as Eddie peers down at him, eyes wide and manic beneath the moonlight. He latches both hands onto Steve’s shoulders like he’s trying to keep Steve stationary.

“I didn’t mean to!” he blurts out before biting his lip. “It’s just, I tell him everything, and he knew I was upset, and asked what was wrong, and it just spilled out!” One of Eddie’s hands lets go of Steve’s shoulder so he can gesture wildly, like they’re playing charades and he’s depicting a clown pulling a ribbon from his sleeve. “And then he told me that he thought I was gay, can you believe that?”

And honestly? Steve can. But Eddie looks riled enough, and Steve just wants to go back to the calm intimacy of minutes before, so he grabs the hand still propping Eddie up with his own shoulder and yanks it out from under him.

Eddie goes sprawling, landing half on Steve’s chest where he wriggles around like a worm until Steve wraps his arms around him and holds Eddie tight to his own chest. Eddie shutters, then slumps, tucking his head beneath Steve’s chin with a groan.

“First Chrissy, then Jeff, and Robin, now your uncle?” Steve mutters, tightening his hold on Eddie when his words start him squirming again. “Who’s next, the pope?”

“Robin knows?” Eddie asks, breaths puffing against Steve’s sensitive neck. “That explains so much.”

“Hey, Rob’s great,” Steve defends, unsure what Eddie’s weird tone means. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Eddie snorts, but burrows his face further into Steve’s neck, planting a little kiss on the skin there. “You’re so weird.”

“Coming from you?”

“Oh, baby, you had me beat like three deranged decisions ago,” Eddie teases, but Steve barely hears him, too busy replaying baby, baby, baby, over and over again in his head like a cheap record.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters.

Eddie fights against Steve’s restricting arms until he’s propped up, smirking down at him, his curly hair curtained around them. “I’m serious! First, you write secret letters? And to me of all people?” Eddie crows. Steve wishes desperately that he could think of a way to shut him up before this gets even more embarrassing. “And the Chrissy of it all, Stevie, what the hell were you—mph!”

Eddie goes blessedly silent as Steve plants one on him, opening his mouth just enough to hear Eddie make that delightful groaning noise again. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling Eddie down until his full weight is atop Steve, anchoring his stoned brain back into his body.

Steve bites at Eddie’s lip, once, twice, before soothing it with his tongue and pulling back, high again off the pitiful groan Eddie lets out.

“I finally found a way to shut you up,” he says softly, but he’s smiling and running his hands up and down Eddie’s back as he pants.

Eddie groans, flopping off Steve, body still pressed up against his side. “You’re evil Harrington,” he mutters, reaching out to take Steve’s hand and squeeze.

Steve reaches for Eddie’s chin again, this time pointing it back up to the sky.

“You see those stars there?” he asks, pointing up and to the left of them. “It looks sort of like a weird rectangle with legs and a swirly neck?”

Eddie squints up, gaze unerringly facing the way Steve’s pointing. Steve watches close enough that he sees the moment recognition lights up his eyes. “That’s Leo.”

At that, Eddie whips his head around to stare at Steve suddenly enough that he breaks Steve’s hold on his chin. “Are you kidding?” Eddie demands, but he’s grinning now. “You gave me all that shit, and you ‘know the stars?’” He throws quotations around his words, making it clear that he’s mocking Steve.

For his part, Steve shrugs, still lying down and grinning right back as he replies, “I learned all the star signs to impress girls. And boys, now.”

As Steve reaches out to tuck a dangling lock behind Eddie’s ear, Eddie stares back at him, no longer grinning. “I’m a Leo.”

“I know.”

Eddie whines, “you’re going to kill me,” and drops back to the blanket, curling into Steve’s side.

“Nah,” Steve replies, uprooting Eddie just enough to reach over and grab the folded blanket to drape over the pair of them, cutting the chill in the air by halves. After all, they’ve got a high to wear off before Eddie can drive him home like the gentleman he promised to be. “What fun would that be?”

***

Steve’s asleep—Eddie can tell by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath Eddie’s head and the way his breath whistles out of his nose. Eddie doesn’t wake him up. This moment feels too precious, this feeling bubbling up in his chest too new to disturb it, especially after the disaster that was the beginning of the night.

It’s just, Eddie’s never been on a date before, and he hadn’t accounted for the way the popcorn would make his hand too slippery with butter to even imagine reaching across the distance between them. And Steve had been very clear: he wanted to hold hands. And it’d all spiraled out of control from there.

He’s never buying popcorn again.

But, now he’s resting against Steve’s side, head propped up on Steve’s chest, hand clutched in his even though it leaves his arm at an awkward angle. And he’s contending with feelings he’s never experienced before.

It’s like there’s moths attacking his heart and lungs before fluttering down into his stomach, tickling his insides, making his whole being damn-near squirm with the foreign feeling.

He feels almost sick with it—is this what everyone means by lovesick? It’s awful, it’s spectacular. He wants to wake Steve up and tell him about the moths and their fluttering, see if he feels it, too.

But, Steve sighs, and even in his sleep, his arms reflexively pull Eddie tighter against himself, and Eddie lets himself bask in the warmth of his embrace until he falls asleep.

He wakes, his entire body cold and shivering convulsively.

It takes another shake to his shoulder to remember where he is and who he’s with. He opens his eyes to Steve’s face hovering over him, his hand shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Wha’s it?” Eddie murmurs, reaching up to rub clumsily at his eyes.

“We fell asleep,” Steve replies, voice gravely in a way that hits Eddie right in the gut. “Come on, man. It’s freezing out here.”

Eddie groans, but dutifully drops his hand from his face to grab Steve’s, letting the other boy pull him upright. It takes him a minute to reorient himself with the concept of standing upright.

By the time he’s upright, Steve’s stacked the uneaten snacks back into the bag Eddie’d brought them in, and is halfway through folding up Eddie’s blanket.

“Is it morning?” Eddie asks, squinting up at the sky accusingly as dawn’s light filters through the trees.

Steve laughs. “You’re cute when you first wake up.” Eddie stands there, brain now fully offline, cheeks heating even in the cold. “Now, come on! It’s cold as hell out here.”

The sound of his van’s passenger door slamming as Steve climbs inside sends him running; he climbs into his freezing van and turns the key in the ignition.

“The, uh, heat’s on the fritz,” Eddie mutters, embarrassed, as the van sputters to life. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and when Eddie glances at him, he’s smiling over at Eddie even as he wraps his arms around himself.

It’s a quiet drive, more out of sleepiness this time rather than the awkward journey of the night before. Steve reaches out to play whatever’s in the tape deck—Metallica this time, and he bops his head along to the beat while Eddie taps the steering wheel.

He pulls into the Harrington’s driveway, and puts the van in park and lets the engine idle.

“Well, I had fun,” Steve says, smiling as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”

Steve’s already out of the car and walking up to his front door by the time Eddie’s tired brain catches up. He’s out of the van in a shot, forcing his cold legs to move fast as he calls, “wait!”

Steve pauses, hand still on the doorknob, halfway through the door. But he turns around, and waits as Eddie rushes up to him, already breathless from his short dash.

“A gentleman always walks his date to the door,” Eddie says quietly, conscious of listening ears, even this early in the morning.

Steve beams, clearly ready to play along as he curtsies like one of the fine ladies in the movies and replies, “well, you’ve done your gentlemanly duty.”

Eddie shuffles his feet, anxious now about all the other things that usually follow the end of a date. “Uhh—well—can I—?”

Steve waits indulgently while Eddie sputters over all the things he wants, all the things he can’t figure out how to say. It’s okay, Eddie planned for this, so he reaches into his vest’s pocket, and pulls out a folded piece of paper, passing it to Steve like they’re in class.

Steve looks down at it, smile growing as he asks, “what’s this?”

“Open it,” Eddie replies, but he already is, smile only growing as he reads what’s on it.

   Second Date? Yes ☐ No ☐

   First Kiss? Yes ☐ No ☐

“I, uh, didn’t think we’d have already done the whole first kiss thing?” Eddie rambles, the longer Steve spends just staring down at it. “But, it’s customary at the end of a first date, right? I mean not that I have any experience. But, in the movies—”

“I probably have morning breath,” Steve graciously interrupts, holding a hand over his mouth like he’ll be able to contain the stench. But he’s smiling down at the note, Eddie can see the edges of his upturned lips between the gaps in his fingers.

And that’s decidedly not a no, so Eddie crowds Steve until he stumbles through his open front door. Eddie takes a precious moment to close the door to obscure them from view before he cups Steve’s cheeks in the palms of his hands.

“I can’t tell you how much I don’t give a shit about that, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs right before he presses his lips against Steve’s, gently this time because say what you want about Eddie, but he can learn from his mistakes.

It’s slow this time, languid. They’re both tired, and cold, and this date has gone on hours longer than it was ever supposed to. But it’s just as good as their second first kiss. Eddie’s mind goes blank—there’s nothing past the heat of Steve’s lips, and the way those foreign moths squirm within him as arms wrap around his waist. 

Eddie pulls away first this time, pecking Steve’s lips once, twice, thrice, when he groans a complaint. “Now, now, I’m trying to be a gentleman,” Eddie replies, hoping Steve doesn’t notice how breathless he sounds.

Steve pouts, but pulls back, Eddie’s note still clutched in his hand. Eddie stares at it, gut churning much more unpleasantly as he asks, “uh, and the other question?”

“Hold that thought,” Steve replies, and then he just—walks away.

Eddie stands at the threshold of the Harrington’s big, empty house as Steve disappears from view. Luckily for the health of Eddie’s heart, he reappears a few moments later, the cap of a pen in his mouth as he scribbles quickly on the page before handing it back to Eddie.

Eddie looks down at it, smile blooming as he sees the little X’s Steve had written in next to the Yes’s of both questions.

“But it’s my turn to plan the next one,” Steve mutters, and when Eddie tears his gaze away from the note, Steve’s cheeks are dusted with a light pink blush that Eddie has to resist the urge to lick.

“I can live with that,” he replies, damn-near buzzing with excitement.

“I’m going to knock your date out of the park, Munson, just you wait.” Steve’s got a cocky eyebrow raised like he’s challenging Eddie to a competition and knows he’s going to win.

He’s such a bitch; Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Good luck, Harrington. We both know I knocked this one out of the park.” Steve laughs as Eddie mimes hitting a baseball with a bat with the best form he can manage, trying to appeal to Steve’s jock sensibilities.

“You brought it back around,” Steve concedes.

“But, hey,” Eddie starts, finally breaking eye contact with Steve so he can slip the ring off his finger and hold it out to Steve. “It’s no letterman jacket, but something to remind you of me until our next date?”

Steve’s eyes are wide as he looks down at the ring cradled in Eddie’s palm, and his fingers tremble slightly as he scoops it up. Still, he doesn’t hesitate in trying out fingers until he finds one that fits—the blue gem shines brighter affixed to Steve’s thumb than it ever did on Eddie’s hand.

Steve’s cheeks are darker now; Eddie wants to reach out and see if he can feel the heat through his skin.

Steve swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks down at the ring on his finger with what looks like wonder. “Thank you,” he murmurs quietly before finally looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Good luck getting my letterman back from Chrissy, though. She’s obsessed with it. I swear I even saw Jeff wearing it the other day.”

“I’ll fight her for it,” Eddie replies, mostly joking as he throws a couple half-hearted punches just to make Steve laugh again.

“You do that,” Steve says, still smiling as he leans forward to peck Eddie’s lips one more time before ushering him out the door. Eddie’s lips tingle the whole drive home.

When he walks through the trailer, Wayne’s on the couch, watching a game of sportsball on the TV, a mug of coffee clutched in his hand. He looks up when Eddie enters, smirking as he catches sight of whatever look is on Eddie’s face.

“Still straight, Ed?” Wayne asks, before taking a sip of his coffee like the meddlesome bastard he is.

“Shut up, old man,” Eddie replies, walking past his laughing uncle to fall into his bed for a few more hours of much-needed sleep.

PART 20

[whosthere54]

Ok ok ok Royal au Royal au ararararah

now to yap about my Royal au cause I’m normal. (Longer post- I just infodump about my AU basically-)

So what I have in drafts is all mainly brothers or prison duo centric, as if you know my fics I usually write from Icarus’s perspective on things. The main ships I would be focusing on are ghaae, nightingstar, Wolftross, and then prison duo- but I have cameos of all of the cannon ships of course. I’m gonna kind of just go through and explain roles of my main guys tho- so hope you like this as a sort of starting summary? I guess?

Icarus is the crown prince of the gilded kingdom. Basically the other full representative of the overworld who’s not Fable. Basically, they are heir to the throne, have to maintain a public image, help Fable out with royal duties and pretty much prepare to be the next monarch to ensure a smooth transition if “mortal king Fable” passes away. (He can’t die- I’ll get to that maybe- but yknow. God.)

I’ll talk about Isla and things later in this post, so I won’t mention it now- but yeah. Icarus is the only heir to the gilded kingdom.

Centross is Icarus’s bodyguard (yes I’m going down that road for the prison duo content. I’m so unpredictable /silly/sarc/lh) Royal guard? Close enough probably. Which- idk if I have to get into what he does. I think you can assume. Protection stuff. He was a former assassin, having used to work with Enderian. I’m doing a cliche maybe- but- yknow- he was sent to kill Icarus, ended up unable to do so… so now he’s a bodyguard for them instead of going back to Enderian. (There’s probably a promise of mutual protection somewhere- I’m sure Icarus would not have let Fable give them a bodyguard before then, and when he did they’d make it everyone’s problem- instead wanting to prove they could protect themself. There’s something there. Yeah.)

Wolftross is yes a thing, I think they were probably together for a while- maybe not long after he first became a royal guard. At Icarus’s request, he can visit Fenris whenever he wants probably. Easton replaces him when he’s gone (even after he became blind- at Icarus’s request he will continue that role. They trust him- and he’s capable.)

In the one thing I wrote, I gave him end features as well. I’m moreso debating on that- but I think it’d be a cool thing as a byproduct of being one of Enderian’s closest advisors and trusted assasin. Or- I give them to him later when he gets to be god. He gets them at some point- for me.

Rae is the crown prince of the end kingdom- full representative of the end that is not Enderian. I’d think she gives him more freedom than Icarus gets from fable, her being the end mother she is. She did have the same I guess cruel past that she does in cannon- I’m trying to figure out how I’m translating s1 into this AU still, and maybe you’ll get a oneshot of that eventually. Atleast the prison arc- of course. He left the gilded kingdom (either with Isla, or later on his own I have drafts for. But- probably with Isla) and lived with Isla for a bit- she runs for help from soul and things like in cannon and she helps hide them for a bit. Though- Isla ends up having Rae stay with Enderian. She probably stays as long as she can without compermising Rae’s safety, but maybe gets caught by Fable eventually.

Fenris is Rae’s bodyguard. He is a former general for the Nether’s army, just like in cannon. (I have to rewatch some of his lore before confidently talking about how he gets to become Rae’s bodyguard, so I’m sorry I won’t have too much info at the moment <3)

He becomes Rae’s bodyguard later- Enderian probably heard of his reputation as “the wolf” and hired him. (May try to include the wolf arc- but am again, trying to figure out how to integrate it.)

Now- basic plot summary? Something of the sort? Yeah. Some random details too cause I have no one train of thought ever and am just writing whatever I think of down. /lh

So for some backstory- Islas story is basically the same as in lore. But it changes for that bit after Rae was born just to adhere to the different circumstances Royal AU brings to the table. So, Rae grows a bit before Isla takes him and runs in this AU- he’s older, couldn’t tell you how old (age is a lie/silly/j) but just. A child. She notices how he’s being treated by Fable, takes him and leaves. She doesn’t take Icarus. There’s a lot of consideration for that fact- of course there is. Their her child. But- they’re not close, Fable makes sure of that. They spend most of their time with him, and their his heir after all. Their disappearance would be the worst to explain. So she doesn’t take them with her.

She takes Rae, and over the course of a few years- stays in a sort of safe house like in cannon, learns the things she does there, goes to soul for help, all that stuff. But she ends up taking Rae to Enderian, he becomes crown prince. She stays with them until it compromises Rae’s safety. Fable finds her, she doesn’t give away that she’d stayed with Enderian and that stays secret for a long time. Fable finds her, messes with her memories and things (he’s messed with Icarus’s too at this point- probably erasing Rae entirely) end she goes into a coma. He locks her away, Icarus doesn’t even know she’s here- and ends up having no memories of her anyways. Only fable knows where she’s locked away. Some tower in the castle sleeping beauty style probably.

Rae grows up in the end kingdom, Icarus grows up in the overworld.

Rae meets Caspian in the end prison- advocating for his freedom and things. He gets him a place in the end kingdom, and they get together at a peaceful festival in the overworld. That is an annual festival- Rae meets aax and takes her there too. He and Cas talk- and probably end up asking Aax out there too- making a whole day out of it probably. It’s a tradition for them, after all.

Aax lives with Cas, and Rae stays with them on weekends? Mayhaps? Something like that. He’s allowed to visit them whenever.

I like to think maybe Cas helps Athena and Bruin run the bakery on occasion. Bed and breakfast. Idk. Rae is definelty still the taste tester on Aax safe foods. And also a waiter on opening day for multiple reasons- one, it’s funny- two, yknow. Royal press. Media(?) purposes. Yknow what I mean hopefully.

Also- end kingdom I think had parts in the overworld and end? Like- overworld has the stronghold portal as the center and then made a kingdom around that, and then there’s an end part of the kingdom. This was probably a result of a peace treaty Isla had led years before between the realms after the war. Because badass mother deserves it. But to explain that- yeah. I think the Nether doesn’t- but has a trading hub spreading through portals and things. Yknow. Just not kingdom- I think the overworld is still more cold to people from the nether so. No kingdom. But portals can be made anywhere instead of having just one like the end, so that makes sense.

Gilded kingdom is just the biggest kingdom in the overworld areas we know- as Fable is the god of creation. I just have cool ideas for kingdom designs. May build them in Minecraft actually who knows- (if I do I will in fact post the pictures)

The Aether kingdom was a thing for souls and stuff as it was in cannon, but fell the same way. Alerion and Will live peacefully in one of the overworld kingdoms living normal lives away from everything, as they deserve.

A lot of the fable characters probably lives in the overworld, and just travel between realms.

Athena’s house probably has an area like his lab, where half is in the overworld and half is in the nether. If not, maybe their bed and breakfast- or atleast she has some nether bakery locations maybe with nether specific treats! Cause I think they deserve it and I just think it’d be cool.

Will has a cartographers shop in his village- like a cartographer villager type thing.

Rae has his archives he runs in his kingdom, there are two- one in the overworld part and one in the nether.

Starbarks definelty exists, does Fenris cannonly in this AU run all of the businesses he runs in actual cannon? Probably not. Do they exist? Probably.

Ven works as a close advisor for Fable, and Ari is hired as a knight or general of a sort for fable. Maybe more like a spy. Cat scratch records exist probably.

The world sisters do exist, most likely- (logistically if this was like a alternate “fable raises Icarus AU” they probably wouldn’t but I can do what I want and I say they’re here cause I love them- /silly)

Addie- Addie idk- maybe they work on like a night shift for the archives? Or like as an intern.

Ulysses- idk where to put Ulysses. Oh you silly fish man you. I will incorporate all the telchin stuff, definetly, I think just think of the cannon lore for that one.

Also- Quixis is there somewhere. Probably not in the same way for plot- but gotta include them in every au somehow /silly

Yeah. Royal AU. I’m eepy so I shut up- but hope you like my rambling ig idk-

I didn’t realize y’all enjoyed this au that much- I appreciate all the excitement about it /gen tehe <3

[pixeltwix]

⚠️Emma May & Ciphertology⚠️

-Backpacking off of my theory from yesterday!! Very long text post incoming-

I’m of the mind where not only do I believe Emma May’s family was in a cult, but that they continued to practice its teachings after being disbanded. From here this is just my own personal ramblings as I have a very long and personal take on Emma May and Fiddleford’s lives and history as a whole and separately. Today will be dedicated to Em’s side (ft her families designs as well :3 )

Emma May’s father, Dale Dixon, is the older brother of Madeline Dixon- the teenage girl who was one of the first to be swayed by this Silas Birchtree. It’s implied she fell for him in place of her boyfriend at the time, but I choose to believe this was a lingering affection she’d keep for life in her worship.

Being a young man at the birth, peak, and end of Ciphertology already with a wife and children, Dale was too closely wooed by the teachings of Silas and the inter-dimensional being that was Bill Cipher. He was a bit of a cult kiss ass, if you will. He’d be the first to do whatever Silas would suggest or order of the cults people and the man was happy to do it. Be it shaving his head and painting on an eye or attempting to build the portal he had zero qualifications for alongside everyone else.

Naturally after the cult was disbanded and everyone was put into witness protection, while Dale accepted the state relocation for his family (to Virginia) he refused any government aid beyond that. Instead dragging his young family and sister into the woods where he constructed a shabby little home for them. A home where no one would contradict his word and he could continue the teachings of Ciphertology.

Emma May was born only a few short years later. And while her father had already named one of her older brothers as a namesake to his idol, Silas, her mother named her in turn for her secret idol, Emmaline Butternubbins. She knew Dale would never accept the original name, so she did what she could to compromise- it was a cope of sorts. Thelma Lou, Em’s mother, unfortunately has no say in her husbands madness and is slowly being broken down to the cult. While she had some resistance when Em was born it wouldn’t last too terribly long as soon every adult figure in the family believed in Ciphertology.

Growing up in the middle of nowhere Appalachia’s, Emma May didn’t have much outside influence other than the mini cult community her father had created over the years within neighboring people. She knew no different than the madness and basic cult ideas of ‘have as many kids and wives as you want just so we can create more followers’ sort of mindset. The only hiccup was that Emma May was never dumb, she wasn’t so easily swayed by the triangles teachings, she always internally questioned everything- no matter what adult was telling her things she always was left with a feeling of ‘is that really true though?’

She kept such thoughts to herself, assuming she wouldn’t have to actually do anything notable within the cult, she was shocked and horrified when at the age of 15 her father was bringing her before an older man to marry. An older man who already had a handful of wives. She knew even if she was older she wouldn’t want this life, seeing upfront her mothers decay in the cult and the mass of siblings that she had..she didn’t want that. She wanted an education, basic rights, and just? Freedom from this. She didn’t know if the outside world would be different, but at that point she didn’t much care. She wanted out and she needed out fast.

Running away from home before the official marriage ceremony she remains on the run until she makes it to Fredericksburg, VA. A bustling friendly town that otherwise left her feeling like she was in an alien world. She looked straight out of the early 1900s in a wave of hip and groovy late 1960’s styles. While she couldn’t read anymore than simple words she skimmed through the phone book of a nearby cafe, and while unable to find any Dixon outside of her indoctrinated family she found hope in searching for names under her mothers maiden name, ‘Finch’. 

Discovering a man in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, by the name of Benjamin Finch she manages to find her mothers estranged brother. A man her mother was forced to shun and block out the second he expressed concern over her involvement in a cult. Thankfully upon learning who she was he was more than happy to shelter her, albeit he only lived in a trailer as he practically lived in the museum he worked at. Making her way up the East coast, Emma May finds herself in Jersey, her uncle slowly acclimating her to modern life. Teaching her how to read, to write, and most importantly teaching her the reality of the world. Luckily he wasn’t a religious man of any sorts and rooted her in modern thoughts of science, feminism, and other new age ideas of the time.

Once he felt she was ready he let her attend Glass Shard High, getting the education she always wanted despite struggling to understand the basics. This didn’t get her down though as she was determined to graduate someday. Instead she tracks down local nerd and idea enthusiast, Stanford Pines, someone she hardly finds to be ‘a freak’ considering her cultish upbringing was beyond bizarre (plus she learned from an early age to find beauty in the ‘odd’ or ‘weird’) Befriending a young Ford and learning from him she also befriends Stan, someone who was more than willing to help her break out of her docile and dainty shell. Stan’s girlfriend at the time, Carla McCorkle was equally happy to teach her the modern idea of feminine rather than beaten to death old book concepts. Living in Jersey, in short, was slowly thawing her from the confines of her upbringing- developing into the life she always wanted and frankly? She was thriving!

She was also gaining her own beliefs in this time. Such as ‘marriage is stupid’ and ‘having kids is stupid, I’m never going to have them’ sort of mindset. Thanks to her upbringing she swore then and there that she would never have a family of her own. So, that’s what makes her next phase of life particularly ironic.

After the science project incident in senior year between the Pines brothers the friend circle would face a brutal falling out, the only one keeping in touch with everyone being Emma May herself. Stan is kicked out and the brothers aren’t talking, Carla breaks up with Stan and refuses any more connection to the Pines, and Em is left in limbo to comfort and appease everyone whilst ignoring her own feelings about it all. Between the late night girl talks with Carla, keeping Ford off the edge, and letting Stan stay with her in the trailer it was only a matter of time before her juggling attempts would fall.

And that’s exactly what happened- after Ford discovers she’s been harboring Stan he can’t help the rush of anger, insecurity, and betrayal that someone he considered his only friend left to hide that from him. Also afraid of losing a friend who’s done so much for her in her cult unlearning she’s quick to prove her loyalty. Packing her bags after graduation she joins Ford to Backupsmore to continue supporting him, taking up a diner job beside campus and shacking up in a cheap apartment. She continues secretly offering Stan money when she can as she still feels guilt for her decision, but it becomes less frequent as she’s now supporting herself financially on her own.

But of course her sole company of Ford wouldn’t last forever. Especially when all she tends to hear from him is how cool his roommate is and how’s he’s thrilled to be around another intellectual mind for once. And while he was hesitant to introduce his two friends to one another it was quick history after that-

Em absolutely deals with a lot of survivors guilt and general fear (lots of ‘I can’t believe I left my younger siblings behind, what if thEY were forced to marry that man in my place?!’ and ‘what if the cult tracks me down and forces me back home?!’) and on top of that I already feel she’s got some religious based ptsd and some bpd in there as well, but I think that would make her more endeared to Fiddleford when they first meet. A man who was pretty open about his own anxiety and ocd (idk if that’s a popular hc, but him having ocd makes so much sense to me) definitely helped her understand herself better and the two of them absolutely developed ways to help one another with it. They become each other’s safe spaces essentially <3

I feel like all of this is something I could talk about for hOURS, but I feel I’ve already typed up enough for today. So take this all as you will :) it’s just been super fun rewriting the story I had for her. I always envisioned her to be a teen runaway and living with her estranged uncle in Jersey, but now it makes even more sense plugging in my cult theory. But anywho, I hope this was an enjoyable for y’all to read as it was for me to type

[figurantedefilme]

— boyfriend!sam winchester headcanons.

pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

summary: how sam would act if he were your boyfriend.

cw: friends to lovers, some details of romantic relationships, brief mentions of fighting, but lots of cuteness. poorly edited.

a/n: hiiii, so, these are some of my hcs of how sam would be dating his best friend ;)) these headcanons were very inspired by some of my favorite writers!! english isn't my first language. enjoy it ♡

— send me a request!! <3

▪︎ before you started dating, you were best friends, you did everything together. you were always in love with each other, you just hadn't realized it yet.

▪︎ dean always teased you about it, especially sam, saying he was too slow to not realize the obvious, you, of course, ignored it completely, thinking that the other didn't feel the same way or that you would never have the chance.

▪︎ after, this became difficult, hiding the heart-shaped looks whenever the other looked away, always trying to disguise it but failing miserably.

▪︎ sometimes you shared a bed and by some chance you woke up hugging or with your legs intertwined and this resulted in almost an entire day of tension, you barely talking to each other or making eye contact until you intended that nothing happened and continued to be the same as always. but then, unable to bear having to hide all this "unrequited" love any longer, one of you tries to distance yourself, thinking that these feelings could ruin your friendship and you don't want to lose each other's affection.

▪︎ this ends up leaving the other confused, thinking that they did something wrong, and doing everything to understand what is happening. after all this confusion, you understand each other, talk and finally confess your feelings to each other.

"i thought you hated me."

"i could never hate you, sammh. it's just that my love for you is so great that i couldn't stand being around you anymore."

"i ove you too, i'm so relieved about that, but promise me that you'll never hide anything again, no matter what it is."

"i promise."

▪︎ ever since you started dating, he always needs to touch you in some way, whether it's intimately or just holding your hand on a cold night. with that, know that he will never be able to sleep well again if he is not hugging you or at least with an arm around you.

▪︎ over time, he began to show his clingy side, sometimes needy just for your touch, your hands in his, or his somewhere on you, usually an arm on your shoulders or a hand on your hips.

▪︎ he also likes to always tell you how beautiful you are, that he loves you and how much you matter to him. even if he doesn't say it directly, he always tries to show it by doing something for you, even if it's small things like picking up your change of clothes when you take a shower, or when you're sick, he's by your side, available for whatever you need, buying you a drink that you like at the coffee shop, buying you a book that he knows you would like to read or simply paying attention when you talk, and making mental notes about little things that you do or like.

▪︎ he definitely loves it when you reciprocate or do similar things, in your way of showing your love for him.

▪︎ he won't admit it, but he feels so good when he sees you wearing his shirt, and how big it looks on you. he thinks the height difference between you is cute and sometimes he gets annoying.

▪︎ he's become more overprotective, but he tries not to suffocate you. this has also made him more worried about you during hunts, and the same goes for you.

▪︎ sometimes you fight because of his overprotectiveness, sometimes he doesn't want to let you go on a hunt because he thinks it's too dangerous and you get upset. dean tries to give sam advice about how he should stop trying to exclude you because you're too strong and can handle yourself, so he apologizes later and you're still a little upset, but then everything works out and everything's fine.

▪︎ dating sam can be complicated sometimes, especially as hunters, but you always support each other and know that everything will work out.

[dogin8]

Capitalism: people will only do things for personal gain or reward, nobody would do anything for free

Somebody: *Does something for free, to help other people, with no visible benefit to themself*

Capitalist, crying and sobbing violently: NO, YOU CAN'T DO THAT, YOU COULD EARN MONEY FROM THIS, YOU COULD CHARGE PEOPLE, YOU'RE STEALING PROFITS FROM HARD WORKING BUSINESSES

[bunnigumi]

cw. megumi x reader , stomach bulge , tummy pressing , size kink

Right now, Megumi has his grab on your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh, thumbs circling pink bites on the inner sides. It's a routine that's starting to become familiar. Your hips are slightly lifted up from the bed, and he really cant explain why, but when he can see the outline of his dick through your stomach, he absolutely loses it.

You were horrified at the sight when you first saw it, but Megumi on the other hand? He was turned on the most he's been in his entire life.

He just loves pressing on the bulge in your little tummy. Its addicting—watching you squirm and whine and protest with little results. Seeing the way you cant decide if you want to stray from his touch or arch further into it. Loving how big his dick is compared to you.

"Fuck baby," he breathes out in awe. "See that? Feel it? Can you feel my cock deep inside you?" He groans as he pulls out all the way just to slam back into you, starting a fast, rough pace that doesn't seem to let up and makes the sound of sticky arousal totally embarrassing.

A hand retreats from where it's holding up your thigh to grab one of your own hands, wrestling the grip you have on crumpled sheets and guiding it down to your stomach.

"Wha- nghh, M'gumi, don't—!" A long, drawn out moan escapes your lips before the rest of your complaint can. Your hand is trembling, and too weak to escape his grab.

"C'mon sweet girl, don't you like how full I can make you feel?" He coos.

Your head falls to the side, attempting to push your face into the soft pillows, "N-noo... feels so weird..." The drawn out nature of your words make you sound unsure. Megumi doesn't believe that you don't like it, because oh, he knows you do.

"Awwh... you sure you don't like it, baby?" He says, faux innocence laced in his sweet tone. You pout. You know what he's doing to you, and hes so wrong for it. He leans in closer, tilting his head, teasing you so you get all embarrased—hot and flustered. "I should just pull out then if it's too much."

You shake your head so fast you almost get dizzy, unable to form any coherent words. Only small uh-uh's make it past your moans.

It's too hot. Megumi is so, very close to you right now. You're able to feel the radiating warmth of his body, his breath against your ear. With the added weight of his teasing, it becomes far too invading. You bury your face deeper into the pillows.

When you get like that, the heat always pressures you into spilling whatever you don't want to say—always. You make for a terrible, terrible liar.

"What about when I do it like this?" You face him again with curiosity. Your brows are furrowed, sweat beads down your hairline. Glossy eyes search his face in confusion in the cutest way ever before dilating in panic.

He adds more pressure and forces your hand harder onto your stomach, closing the little distance seperating the two of you to kiss you sloppily. You make a noise of shock, whining as he continues to knead your hand onto it.

Your cries melt back into the sound of pleasure, moaning into the kiss, your whining dying down.

When he pulls back theres drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. You're red in the face, eyes averting in shame 'cause you really do like it when he presses on your tummy like that. "Tell me how much you love it," he taunts.

When you're like this, you're able to feel all of him. Able feel every single thrust just grazing your cervix, senses going into overdrive as you subconsiously stop trying to fight his hold on your hand with the little to no strength you were using to begin with.

"I, hahh, love it! Love your cock s-so much! Feel so full... hah- aah—!" With one last thrust, your back arches, core unraveling around his length. Walls tightening, spasming in a way that makes Megumi spill all his praises. As your chest heaves heavily, your abdomen flexes and tightens, revealing the silhouette of your boyfriend's cock stuffed inside of you even clearer now.

The corner of his mouth quirks up in pride, "I bet you do, baby. I fuckin' bet."

He really should start doing this more often.

[tswkento]

whether he’s in the middle of a heated argument or being pissed at something out of his control, nanami won’t ever yell. he doesn’t see any point in it and he doesn’t enjoy the sound of his voice raising, so why would he.

arguments with you always end in a calm conversation even if initially you do yell, unable to keep it in yourself, and it’s okay because it’s a clear indication for nanami to stop whatever the hell was going on and show you that he was really trying to understand you, but was having a hard time.

and the only time kento is seen yelling is when you put yourself in danger.

it’s like he can’t control himself; the fear in him controls him, stepping on every single thing that’s sensitive and fragile, and kento’s mouth opens before he can think about his words properly. his trembling arms grip your shoulders and his usually impassive gaze is wide open in unfiltered terror as if he is trying to make you feel whatever he is feeling.

and the way you stare back at him; with your mouth slightly agape and a vaguely distant, almost foggy look in your eyes as you wheeze with every breath you take.

and he continues drilling you about how stupid your decision was, how you even dared to do something like that when he’s right there, how could you be so reckless — in the middle of an abandoned warehouse with slowly dissolving curse plasma and the faint sound of street ambiance being disrupted by his harsh voice.

he closes his mouth shut only when your weak voice joins his, a small, broken chirp as you start shaking in his hands, “‘m sorry, kento—”

the rage in him dissipates and he lets go of you, the thought of his fingers leaving bruises on you making him step away in fear of hurting even more. he rubs his face roughly as he looks around with newfound wariness, noting his glasses and weapon laying on the concrete surface just like they were when he threw them away in order to get to you.

nanami turns back just in time with your knees giving out; able to catch you and hoist you up against his sturdy body as his worried gaze roams over your features, brain trying to muster up something good enough to calm down your disturbed mind.

your tearful eyes meet his and nanami lets out a shaky exhale as he blinks away the unwanted memories of people he’s let go of in the past decade.

“i apologise for my outburst, i just—” he swallows through the dryness in his mouth, hugging you closer to himself. “i can’t see you die. i wouldn’t be able to take it.”

[fukashiin]

attractive things they do #2 !

— w. housewardens

⤷ "yuutapdatass tweeted: malleus pls stop dming me to rub our feet together as a nightly custom"

cw: hinted suggestive content for malleus, vil and leona. passive reader! enjoy ♡

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

shushing others so you can focus.

pens and textbooks alike cluster along your designated study table, accompanied by the riddle rosehearts as his knee brushes against yours wordlessly. he's utilising this free period, toiling out and about to aid you in your, regretfully, pointless revision. finals season starts to get rigid around this time, so he's more than content to lend a hand if you're willing to put in the effort. except—the students abounded at the table diagonal to yours start getting chattier than what's socially allowed in the library, so riddle calls them out without a pain. one "they're trying to focus." and their mouths are zipped. he turns back to you, unperturbed, and smiles. "shall we continue?"

SO patient with you it makes you cry.

riddle may be a bomb of ire waiting to burst at any given moment, but you believe that his patience shouldn't go uncredited. a tireless awardee, a distinguished laureate, going sleepy in your eyes, although he's wrestling to win over the urge just so you can get the hand of the concept he's cramming into your head last-minute. the scent of white petunias could really alleviate his fatigue, and you make a promise to bring over a few of those in favour for his devoutness to your study sessions. for the time being, he'll make sure you pass, for him, and for yourself.

vows that he'll outdo your stupid ex in every way.

whatever your ex did wrong, riddle will do better. that's just in his nature. he swears with each and every fibre of his body, nuzzling his head in the dip of your shoulder, that he'll love you in ways that your morose ex never bothered to think about. a muttered pledge that couldn't compare to the pious burn that lit in his eyes, like a withstanding candle refusing to go out. his confessions are firm, where he'll be the betterment that you wished for on an astral night, so please, don't put him in your doubt.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

pressing you against the nearest wall he spots to kiss you.

there are numerous attributes to this man that renders you hopelessly drunk in love. one of them is his maddening habit of pressing you flushed against the nearest surface in his sight, and the most poorly lit areas when you're in stranded in a public space to guise the both of you. he executes this with the softest hint of care, ensuring that the landing wasn't too harsh, and advancing when given the green light. wispy strands of hair stroke your skin like a feather, as fine lips come crashing down to yours in a heartbeat, in paradise. he gives you a sheer once-over, bringing up the following statement: "grab onto my vest if you need to."

breathes the confidence into you.

downgrading oneself may be in his dictionary, but it won't appear in yours. he'll clasp any opportunity to brandish his infamous eye-roll to those whose comments about you stray a bit too loud. you may be a bit thrown off by the audacity and aimlessly think about the ways of which you could live up to his—your standards. you take a bit to reorient yourself when you hear your name being called out, sluggish hands circling your waist, as you're unable to finish your thought about how beautiful he is until he asks whether you're actually sparing a single thought for those nobodies. he casually states that you're leagues better than them, whether you think so or not, and won't mind giving you a physical demonstration if you can't bring yourself to accept it yet, because he knows it.

just knows what you want without you having to tell him.

eyeing an accoutrement that could accent your main outfit? longing for a new stand-alone book after the last one you buried yourself in was a letdown? leona has the prices covered. despite your incessant denial, that you don't actually need those, he tells you that a little spending wouldn't hurt. he doesn't need verbal expression to know what'll satisfy you, the flit of your gaze is the only opening he requires. you're embarrassed by how easily you're read, but the hearty smile that blooms on your face will be all the excuses leona needs to keep spoiling you.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

drapes his coat over your legs if you're cold.

sometimes, you swear that he has the whole "affection capability" of a wooden plank. his actions aren't entirely faultless, nor was there not a single second of err in the delivery of his speeches, but he does haul around that handy coat solely for moments like these. perched wordlessly on top of mostro lounge's signature high stools, azul rebukes your rash behaviour after spurting out in the rain without an umbrella, clothes weatherworn and all—not to mention the lounge's benevolent addition of its AC. the chills rack your body from head to toe, not noticing that a fuzzy warmth starts to blanket your legs, as azul pats it down creaseless. he says that you can pay him in return at a later date, your declining health is his utmost priority at the moment.

sets you straight when you need it.

his prized coin collection seems to blur boorishly, bleeding into the soft jazz playing in the back. the thirsting need to word-vomit all over the place, thanks to the hours of ennui you've been experiencing ever since you've trudged yourself back to azul's room, threatens to tip over the edge. he notes your irresolute responses to his (nearly) bombarding questions while he's planted over at his desk, and takes the initiative to make you open up to him. he wants you to look at him, commit his words to memory, as he caresses your shoulder under the twinkling lavender glow of his night lamp with a sure look in his eyes, guaranteeing that you're going to do fine.

has a secret album dedicated to pictures of you in his gallery.

azul tries to get accustomed to the revolutionising tricks of technology just for you. fine, if he has to pass through every single hyperlink and learn unfamiliar terms, that's on him. other than owning a booming magicam account promoting #mostrolounge, he saves a single, peculiar file in his gallery that hoards all the pictures he's taken of you when you're together, on a date or not. he can't tell if your lovely visage is the sole cause to the rapid change of pace in his heart when he's dealing with a mounting workload, but if you ever drag yourself down after taking a quick glance at them, he'll bring you right back up.

KALIM-AL-ASIM

clears the hair out of your face when its windy.

you may be a tad bit hesitant to ride the magic carpet every once in a while, but kalim's sparkling serendipity puts your heart at ease. he takes you for a midnight rendezvous, golden embroidery flashing and sheening at every twist and turn you direct with the tassels with aplomb—as he compliments. his headpieces jangle merrily like a thousand bells in the breeze, up until he notices your sight being blocked by the troublesome hair whirling all over the place. chuckle as he may, he shifts it to the side of your face with a deft hand, tracing the last strands down to your chin. "there. seeing better now?"

interlaces your hand with his in your sleep. (the physical touch GOAT)

wrinkled bedsheets rustle under the weight of your movements, coarse, and even a bit sullen as the morning ooze of sunlight drenches through your curtains, as if it prohibits you to sleep in the entire day. kalim's newfound ailment forces the two of you to be separated indefinitely, so colour yourself surprised when you feel the taut clutch of your hand in another, holding onto the remaining pieces of you that he needily ached for all night. sun-kissed fingers wove between yours like silken ribbons, his eyes pleading for you to stay, as a minute—a moment without you in his world—would be infallible torture.

purchases a piece of the moon for you.

you know those moneyed, wealthy fans who purchase a piece of the moon for their favourite idol? kalim gets influenced, and is driven by his conviction that you deserve something more extravagant than rowdy parades or a hallowed mansion (regardless of how many he wishes to buy). he takes it upon himself to surf across Lunar Registry, registering your full name and gifting its stated amount for approximately...5000 sq ft of land of the celestial body that hung high in the sky, radiating its extraterrestrial luminance on your nights of sobriety. you chide him for such an impulsive act in return, but soften up when he states, upright, that he would gift you all the stars in space if he could.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

brings you to touch him himself.

no use if you're cowardly in the bold language of physical touch, vil will simply make you oblige into feeling him, whether its physically or through minds. oftentimes you find yourself hastily straddled on his lap, him decked in his satin-sewn pajamas, as you prod and poke his hands nervously while scrutinizing every area of skin that screamed of his unyielding years of care. there's a teasing lilt that lurks behind his voice, questioning if you're seriously taking your time trying to figure him out where you're aware that he's less than patient. he seizes your hand in his grip, and leads them to his chest—shamelessly. if he needs to remind you of who you're with every day, he'll be more than committed to reel you closer to his body.

demands full eye contact.

tsking and huffing is, an unsurprisingly normal habit for him to adapt. and this includes moments of when you're shying away from him, heaving under your tense breath about how unfairly attractive he is. slick in his latest outfit tailored specifically according to his calibrated measurements. high stilettos bests your height, and he almost seems disappointed in the lack of praise he's receiving (although he knows exactly why). you feel a manicured finger tilt your chin upwards, as your teetering praises come to an abrupt halt. he smiles, demanding you to look him in the eyes throughout every second you're worshipping him.

tells you to ready yourself before he showers you in his love.

vil wants you to experience each and every slide of his nails against your feverish skin, whispering pure promises and cherishing you, affirming that you're worth much more to him than a million grand. if you ever throw yourself below the bar lower than necessary, he waves your deplorable behaviour away, and asks if you truly believe that you're tumbling down that route of thinking when you're with him. vying arms enclose your figure like a velvet blanket, surrendering your chapped lips a centimetre away from his, as his refined scent tickles your nose until he advises you to prepare yourself to revel in his untiring devotion. all your worthwhile priorities were put on hold until further notice.

IDIA SHROUD

leaning back in his chair after finishing a game.

you arose from your sleep, previously dozing off while perusing written tales of the past propped up on idia's bed. the culprit of your awakening is off cheering in the same vicinity after speed running a round and emerging victorious, unmanned, of the latest version of a first-person shooter game he recently installed on his computer. he starts to recline in his chair as it creaks off his weight, arms slackened behind his head and his sweater gliding off of his stomach, exposing the barest bit of delicate skin that indulges you to run your hands across. he emits the heaviest of sighs while he runs a sore hand through his hair, as the disorientation of your mind starts to scatter all over the place.

"i thought it'd cost more."

Idia Shroud will not have you get scammed by lowly, needling scammers surfacing online websites like newborn piranhas. his head begins to split when you spout about the official item being too pricey and that you won't be able to milk a single penny out of your derelict dorm, so he insists that he pays for the item for you himself. you send him a link of the mentioned item, and he felt like he was dragging himself through wet cement throughout the whole mire. he remains indifferent to the price overall, and goes "oh? i thought it'd cost more." with a brazen smirk etched on his face that it almost gave you a whiplash.

discreetly orders things to your front door.

quivering lips settle atop of your shoulder for the last time before he sends you back from his room after the intimate amour that had you two wondrously occupied for the entire day. you pilfer a single gummy worm from his desk, and cloak yourself further into his jacket that intoxicates every one of your senses as you streel into the night air that reeked of petrichor. your steps begin to feel like bricks, whilst your eyes were betraying your wish to stay alert. as you approach the front door welcoming you to your dorm, you gauge the sight of a small box placed on the carpet with a small note plastered on it that follows the lines of "for you, pretty thing."

MALLEUS DRACONIA

cushioning your head with his hand.

bony fingers sail through the pleasance of your hair, twirling each and every tendril that it meets and bringing them to his defined, pillowy lips. amusement cracks through the ominosity that sits in his eyes, shielded by his bangs as he beams a smile your way before grasping your shoulders in a split second. he pushes you down onto the mattress with a thud, cushioning your head with a single hand, and tells you to save your yelps and complaints before he endows you with the ability to sing for him all night. he reassures you that he does in fact, know how to secure the deadbolt on the door.

doesn't bother with any potential contenders whatsoever.

malleus but it's "okay, and?" personified. yes, he's heard of the towering sovereign in the neighbouring country who was recently appointed. yes, he's heard of the lucrative salesman nearby situated in town whose attention you captured after visiting his booth. yes, he's heard of Leona Kingscholar. but he could not give Two (2) flying tamagotchis about whoever has been swaying your way, tossing cheap and low-grade courtship in an attempt to earn your affection. he notes that he does have some cheesy pick-up lines of his own to use, but unlike the others, he knows you inside and out. he has no use for the mainstream ways of love and is eager to please you to his own liking, further revealing the unparalleled reverence he maintains for you and only you.

brushes his fingers over your collarbone.

once you step across the threshold of his bathroom, adorned in his nightwear, malleus can't help but dim the lights with the flick of his finger after catching the sight of your collarbone that peaks out from underneath. he's in front of you the moment you blink, and hums in response to your addled self. he brings his ice-tipped fingers to your neck, padding it with caution, and sliding them down to the V-shaped collar that hides the rest of your warmth. stark fingers ghost over the structure of your collarbone, and malleus asks whether you think the gibbous moon will be kind enough as to not set so early.

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 ♡︎

characters: AFAB!sub!jing yuan, dan heng, blade x gn!dom!reader

warnings: AFAB characters, overstimulation, headcannon+small drabble format, praise, degrading, cock/strap traditions, dacryphilia, usage of bullet vibrator, slight brat taming, nipple stimulation, fingering, oral, cervix fucking, begging, squirting, clit pinching, cock/strap warming, size kink, belly bulge, breeding, creampie, mating press, full nelson, just a personal headcannon of how i think they would act when overstimulated

notes: someone wrote “nobody writes ahegao quite like nobu does” in one of their repost tags and im fucking shitting tears😭😭

the giggler

jing yuan loves to be overstimulated. he loves the feeling of it, the adrenaline rush, the high, the feeling of finally cumming all over your fingers, tongue, strap whatever it may be and the feeling of you continuing to move, drawing out his orgasm while also driving him into an overstimulated mess

has the cutest giggles and laughs when he gets too much pleasure. he doesn’t even try to hide or won’t even try to hide it. why would he when you were making him feel so good over and over again? hell, he even wants other people to hear it, to remind them that you were his lover and only his. and how only he gets to feel the overwhelming amount of pleasure only you can bring to him and no one else

but, it comes with a catch. he needs a lot of foreplay and/or teasing and/or orgasm denial for him to finally cave in and shake his head before starting to blabber incoherent shit about how good your cock feels inside his gushing pussy, how he could feel your tip fucking his cervix, how he wanted you to fuck a baby inside him etc etc

and i mean a LOT of it

as a centuries old war hardened general, it’s safe to say that he had gotten used to some feelings and emotions. pleasure being one of them

so if you want to get him to break and to become absolutely dumb and drunk on lust and pleasure, you have to tease him a lots before getting into it. if not, he will somehow find a way to outsmart you and take the reigns. he’s a bit of a brat and a spoiled prince wrapped up into one after all

will tell you what to do and how to do it if you have failed in getting him needy in your foreplay. he will fist your hair and thrust his hips into your mouth, making you unable to breath for a moment or two with his clit right at your nose. will push you down and flip your positions so he could ride your face, all the while chuckling at your cute attempt to push him back down. a goddamn brat and he will show it to the fullest when you fail at your foreplay

did i mention he was a brat? well now i have. a fucking brat to the max and he isn’t ashamed of it. will definitely question your power in the bedroom, try to overpower you and he will. he literally swings a 7000kg glaive in one hand like its nothing and he will show it by throwing you around. gently and consensually of course, he wouldn’t want to hurt his beloved

but fully expect him to be cocky and devious. “can you say no to my pretty pussy?”, “so sleepy. oh sorry, i didn’t know your cock was inside me hehe”, “was that all?” you get the gist. will shamelessly yawn in the middle of fucking not because he is sleepy or tired, but simply because he is a brat. a goddamn brat

so, how can you get him to be needy and won’t make him go into his bratty side? simple. shove a long distance controlled vibrator inside his cunt and leave it there for the whole day for him to suffer at work. but if you’re going to do that, be sure to mute the ringtone for your phone for the day since he will call you, send you messages, pictures, videos every damn hour. the closer his hour for shift ending comes, the more frequent the buzzing of your phone will become because he will grow much more needier

when finally he’s back home and frantically pawing at your pants when barely through the doors, that’s when you know he had absolutely no intention of being a brat. how can he when his whole pants were slowly getting stained from his multiple orgasms?

when he’s gladly bending himself over, arching his back for you as he wiggles his hips, he will ask you to come inside. jing yuan is great with kids and such a huge family man, he will ask you over and over repeatedly to breed him. cum inside him, fill up his cute dripping cunt, put him in whatever position you want and make sure to breed his pretty cunt, you can finally raise your own family together!

remember the long distance controlled vibrator i mentioned? make sure to keep it on and buzzing inside his cunt at all times when he’s away at work, or else it won’t work. during meetings or report hearings, jing yuan had to leave to the bathroom a lot of times and it genuinely got his subordinates concerned for his health. the red face, the heavy breathing and sometimes, the jolts of his body or the bleeding bruised lips of his made the cloud knights worry and some even suggested for him to leave the seat of divine foresight early to look after his health. if only they knew just how their dearest general was pathetically biting on his hand to muffle his screams in the bathroom as he squirted all over himself

“[naaammeee], ‘m mmgh♡︎! aaaaangh haah mngck♡︎♡︎ i-i’m home!” jing yuan’s voice called out, weak mewls of pleasure slipping through as he collapsed onto the floor the moment the doors of your shared home was closed. desperately humping the floor, trying to push the vibrator deeper into his gushing pussy, your lover didn’t realize that you were leaning against the wall of the kitchen, watching him with a knowing smile. there was a wet patch growing in his usual red pants, growing more and more the further he humped the air in desperation. see? your tough brat was so easy to tame.

“you feeling okay, darling?” you call out, taking out the controlled from your pants pocket and messing with the switch. flipping it up, down, up to the highest level, before going to the lowest level. it was cute to see the ever so tough brat turn into a delirious mess from just a single small toy. all because he was being so stubborn about how you weren’t the boss of him. walking over to where he was kneeling on the floor, you reach your free hand out. tilting his head up, a thumb swiping away at the drool that was beginning to pool on his lower lip, you tilt your head to the side, asking the question again with a firm hold onto his chin.

“n-no…! no no no, not at aamgh♡︎♡︎ h-hhaaaggm not at all♡︎!” he shakes his head viciously, dragging out his words and tripping over them with moans and mewls falling in between. pathetically, he tugs on the hem of your pants, trying to get to his favorite treat, the one thing he’s been missing this whole day.

“n-need you… need you right now, need your—♡︎♡︎! need yo-our..! c-cock right now...♡︎!” jing yuan mutters between whimpers, finally, his shaky hands manage to pull down your pants and undergarments just enough to have your strap out. a needy whine falling as he places slobbering wet kisses on the tip, giving it a few licks as he flutters his lashes at you in an effort to manipulate you to give him what he was non-verbally asking.

knowing full well that he wouldn’t take no for an answer and that yanqing might come home soon, you drag him up to his feet — an action that was heavily protested against as jing yuan cries out after his favorite treat being taken away. once inside the comfort of your shared bedroom, by the time you have locked the door behind you, he was already naked. clothes messily strewn on the floor and on the bed, the many orgasm’s slick dripping down his puffy cunt to his ass and to the bedsheets eventually. you could see the light trembling of his pussy lips, an action caused by the vibrator fucking away inside him still.

turning the vibrator off, you take the toy out of his puffy cunt. jing yuan let out a drawn out mewl at the feeling, clenching around nothing as he tries to replace the empty feeling for something, anything. but seeing you starting to strip, he knew what he wanted. and he knew how he wanted it.

spreading his legs open further, his hand comes down, flicking at his enlarged clit with a jolt before spreading open his labia for you to take in how he was already so needily wet and dripping for you. a drunk giggle escaping him when the tip of your cock is right against his folds, wiggling his hips enticingly.

“[nnaameeee]~ you gotta fuck a baby in me this time, owhkayyy?♡︎♡︎ hehehe♥︎”

the crybaby

the cutest out of all three of them, in my personal opinion

he just gets overstimmed so easily and quickly, it’s adorable in the way that he brokenly begs for a moment of respite. legs shaking, smaller body jolting violently at the smallest of touches like your hand ghosting over his hardened nipples. don’t even get me started on the way he cutely squeals out loud when you pinch his clit augh

maybe it’s due to his nature as a vidyadhara and not a full human but every little touch is received with so much sensitivity and sensuality, it gets so easy to turn him into a blabbering mess in record time. push his smaller body against the wall and finger his gushing pussy while rolling your thumb over his clit. in no time, his legs are shaking as he bites your hand, his orgasm washing over him quickly and violently. but don’t just stop there, keep flicking at his clit, pinch it, tug on it, push a hand on the small bulge on his belly and he’ll be left sobbing by the second or third round

he’s noticeably smaller than the other two and it carries out into his size kink so well. he just wants to be pushed around and put into impossible, near painful positions and man-handled until he’s left a blabbering idiot

make him cockwarm you while asking him to read you a story or a book under the guise that you had a nightmare and can’t fall asleep without his soothing voice and soft cunny wrapped around your cock. at first he’ll huff and puff, saying that you’re a liar and just wants to fuck him. four or five pages in and his voice is already strained, whines coming out as hiccups and sniffles follow soon after

but just because he’s a crybaby doesn’t mean he’s an idiot. he knows how much you love his pretty steel grey eyes unfocused and hazy, brimming with tears and he will use that to his advantage. will make sure to play with his nipples or push down on the bulge in his tummy when cockwarming you so he could get teary eyed quicker. the moment he sniffles and grinds himself down on you, he knows you’re a goner and would give him what he wants

he may be a crybaby, but he’s also a goddamn minx so beware of that

tugs on your sleeve so cutely, looking at you with a flushed face and stuttered words to ask you if you wanna spend time with him in his room. today’s trailblazing expedition was too long and tiring after all, “surely you would enjoy some cuddles…?” or “i just wanted to help you patch up your wounds. i was just worried”

yeah sure, dan heng. just say that you wanna get fucked until you’re squealing out like a slut with fat tears running down your cute red cheeks. thank the aeons the express’ walls are thick and soundproof. if not, who knows the amount of noise complaint you would have gotten from everyone

has slight oral fixation. slightly. but that’s only because he wants to see you crumble and give into his non-verbal demands and just ruin him. he’s a bit too shy to ask directly after all

long serpentine tongue wrapping around your strap, pulling it into his mouth. will gag and choke so loudly with the tip of the fat dildo pushed right down his throat, hitting his uvula and choking his throat. he can complain about sore throats and pained jaws all he wants but you both know that he loves to suckle on your strap with tears filling his eyes

the most messiest cock sucker and that’s saying something bc blade is the one who has the biggest oral fixation out of the three of them. he’ll place wet kisses to the weeping tip of your cock, running the slitted snake like tongue over the weeping slit of your cock teasingly before wrapping it around your dick. loves the scent and the taste of your pre, basically addicted to it as he opens his mouth wider, slipping your cock inside the warm cavern of his mouth inch by inch

but be aware that he will also try to take advantage of this position. he will try to bat his lashes at you so he can continue suckling on your strap like he would be sucking on a lolipop, all under the guise to ‘make you happy’. when in reality, he would try to make you cum over and over to try and get you overstimulated. when in such position, just fist his hair and fuck his throat. gets him crying in no time like the crybaby he is

“… bamboo whispers in the w-wind, a secret pa-aaangh! aah aaah hmgk♡︎ a s-secret pa-act... ♡︎!“ the soothing voice of your lover drawls out into a weak sniffle, hands gripping the book filled with love poetry from his home planet tightly. so tight, you feared that he might just tear the book apart with his claws. you had crawled into his bed yet again to torment him today, the dildo hitting all the sensitive spots in his gushing cunt, dan heng couldn’t help but weakly whine when your hands around his waist tightens to not let him move.

“go on. i’m listening” you coo out, forcing him to stay still on your lap while his voice continue to drawl out. sniffles and broken pleads replacing his ever so stoic mask, a voice that is usually so cold and distant, always scolding other turning into one of mindless blabber about how badly he wanted your strap to fuck his pussy. you couldn’t help but laugh.

“is that what it says on the pages? i may be still learning the strokes but the next line seems to be the stroke for two” you point at the kanji on the book he was holding in his shaking hands, the strokes of the language seeming familiar to you. it was an easy kanji to read after all. yet not to your boyfriend it seems.

“please! p-please please move! i beg you, [n-naamee]♡︎ you gotta fuck meeh♡︎ you gotta fuck me you gotta fuck me— you have to fuck meeegck—♡︎♡︎!!” dan heng squeals, shaking thighs bucking down onto your dick, trying to gain some friction. it was enough, he had read you hundreds of love poetries from his home planet. he had been taking your pronged torture for long enough, please just fuck his cunt already!

“so impatient” you huff, putting the book away with a book marker tucked between the pages before hooking your hands under his knees. pulling him up and over until dan heng was left wailing at the sudden change in position. hooking your arms under his knees, his legs are left dangling in the air with nothing to support himself but for his hands to cling to your biceps. even then, he couldn’t hold for long as he jolts about in your arms like a hopping bunny, painting your dildo in his cum when the tip kissed his cervix.

“guuchk♥︎!! d-deep! aah ah naahmg haah t-too deep♡︎♡︎ [n-name] you’re f-fucckk fuck fuck—♡︎♥︎ fucking my cerviinxx my ceerrvv—♡︎♡︎ mngh unngya♥︎!” punched out sobs comes from his pretty lips, drawling out into whiny cries when you move him up and down. you could see the bulge in his tummy appear and disappear every little moment. every jolt, every gasp, every little whiny cry making the bulge in his tummy to get more detailed. he was so adorably small.

“‘m sorry, darling. i’m sorry, didn’t mean it. didn’t mean to fuck you this deep” you coo out apologies, lifting him just a bit so your strap won’t sink so deep to the point it would kiss his cervix. as much as you loved your crybaby gasping and writhing, you didn’t want the reason for such reaction to be pain.

claws scratching at every inch of skin he could touch, jaw slack open in a silent scream, you could barely make out his shrill yell of what appears to be your name when dan heng squirts over your cock after just a few thrusts. you could see the overflowing amount of cum just dripping down your cock, trailing down to your legs and staining the mattress. with a click of your tongue, you pinched his clit, making the shorter man sniffle with a squeal.

“‘m soowryyy… sorry sorry—♡︎ d-didn’t mean to be bad... s-soowwh uunhg hyaagk ungc gugcck—♥︎♥︎!!”

the hissy bitch

alright, so i know i’m going into territory that has been charted way too many times before by blade lovers standard but he def has piercings. on his nipples, tongue and on his clit. probably got the first three by losing a drunk bet or something or maybe he just wanted it but the last one, the clit one, is definitely his latest piercing. one that he got after his relationship with you began and he had made the sudden rash decision to get one so he could see your reaction and to feel you just messing with it while fucking him

there is a REASON why he always keeps his chest bandaged up. there is a goddamn reason and that reason is his nipple piercings and the fact that his chest is generally very sensitive im being delusional

so what does that bring and why have i specified it? simple. titty fucking. nipple stimulation. seeing his pretty big, round chest jiggle every time your cock sinks back into his dripping cunt. pinch it, roll it, tug on them, suckle on them, do anything to him with his nipple piercing and he’s scratching at your back, mauling it like an animal

the reason i see him as a hissy bitch is because he likes to throw small temper tantrums when he gets too overstimulated. he’s crying, begging, hitting your shoulders, back, scratching at them and leaving deep red scratch marks, perhaps even breaking the skin sometimes. how come blade get overstimulated quickly? because he is very touch deprived. he’s been alone and immortal for too damn long and his ass is fucking touch starved. i just know it in my bones

genuinely, he is indeed very touch starved. since his rebirth as an immortal, he had felt nothing but pain, anguish and suffering and therefore, has basically gotten immune to touches. especially the violent and bloody ones. but gentle, tender, affectionate ones? find him jumping away from your soft hands like a frightened cat, it’s goddamn heartbreaking. so when he finally gets his cunt fucked, blade would be overstimmed too fast due to receiving a sudden abundance of affection and touches

will shake his head ‘no’ when asked if you would wanna stop due to his tears. you were just concerned but blade didn’t wanted this onslaught of pleasure to stop. desperately rides your fingers, mouth, strap — anything. loves the feeling of being on top of you, gives him the slight feeling of being in control. until it all gets thrown out the window when you force him to stop bouncing, hands gripping his hips tightly as a warning. will whine and try to grind down, trying to chase that high again but will only end up with a pout and hissy tears falling down his cheeks

another one who loves the feeling of being stuffed full and overstimulated. it’s almost like he gets high from the feeling. loves having his pussy fucked in any way you please until he can’t stay on his hands or feet without shaking. it’s just so cute to see him shaking like a fawn when fucking him doggy style

prepare to have yourself used as a chew toy as well as a scratcher. blade’s almost like a cat, hissy and whiny but also so greedy and preferring certain things in certain manner. will bite at your shoulders, hands, fingers to muffle himself but also to try and get his shit together. will scratch at your back, thighs, wherever he could reach. such a spoiled brat

when eating him out, be sure to give an extra care and love to his clit piercing. constantly flicking it with your tongue would usually work though, gets his legs all shaky and jolty soon enough. maybe pair it with flicking his pierced nubs and bladie will be squirting into your mouth with an embarrassing high pitched shriek. make sure to clean up all of his mess before diving right back into his gushing cunny. he may not say it but he will expect you to go back to eating him out like he’s your last meal

has the BIGGEST oral fixation out of the three of them. like, down bad, delicious, scrumptious, sloppy oral fixation. and he is happy to give it 90% of the times due to his tongue piercing. knows how good it makes you feel and how you like to see his pretty face between your legs, sucking on the large dildo like his life depends on it. not a single thought or a single moment of choking from him, it’s almost like he doesn’t have a gag reflex

you just came back from mission, from being away from him even for a single day? unacceptable. let him bend over for you, you can get your stress out by fucking his already dripping wet pussy. too tired? that’s fine. take of your pants and get comfortable cuz’ he can stay between your legs for days

not a single minute of respite has greeted you ever since you came back from your latest mission, stepping foot into your shared home with your stoic lover. perhaps the single gentle kiss to your cheek before he started to leave slobbering wet kisses on your lips was the only warning and moment of rest you have gotten. not even shoes off yet and blade was already unbuckling your belt, giving you the puppy eyes and grumbling about how you’ve been away for too damn long. whining about how much he missed you and needed your strap to fuck him dumb. how his pretty pussy had missed you so much.

“n-nnghyaa♡︎♡︎ m-missed you... missed you s’ much, [name]! f-fuck me fuck me fuck me, fuck your favorite cunt gyyuck—♥︎♥︎ a-aaanh! haah ah ah mmngk—♡︎♥︎!!” unusually docile red eyes roll to the back of his skull, jaw going slack wide open as you push his legs up, feeling your strap hit him deeper than he thought was possible. he could feel your weight push him down, keeping it still on the bed and to stop him from wiggling his hips entirely. this new position caused his cat like pupils to widen, turning into heart shapes as you chuckle at the dazed look in his eyes.

“such a needy brat” you coo out in a condescending manner, pushing his legs up in the air with your hands hooked under his knees to keep him in place. pulling out until halfway out, you sink back into blade’s dripping cunt. a squeal tearing from his throat alongside the filthy wet squelch of his cunt tightening around your dildo. it was so easy to get him dumb.

“t-too nngh much! too muchtoomuchtoomuch♡︎! fucking m-my womb—♡︎ [n-name], y-youuwrr crush— crushing my wombgg aangh ah ah! gyyuck eengh aaangh nyaagh♥︎♥︎!!” the familiar feeling of his nails scratching at your arms takes place, tearing at the skin, clawing at any part of your body he can come in contact with. a desperate attempt to ground his already long gone mind, too deep into the throes of pleasure that he didn’t even realize his shaking hands were weakly pulling your hips to fuck deeper into his warm walls.

“don’t be so dramatic, bladie. i won’t be able to crush your womb in this position” you coo out mockingly, wiping away the fat globs of tears that continue to pour of his eyes. red and yellow eyes rolled to the back of his skull, wide open mouth letting out the most salacious squeals and shrieks of your name and how you were fucking his womb falling out. legs weakly dangling in the air, jolting and bristling at every deep thrust you fuck into his velvety walls. the lewd wet squelching noises were alongside your grunts and blade’s whiny sobs were the only noise in the room. you would probably get noise complaints the next morning due to blade’s loudmouthed blabbering self.

letting go of one of his legs, you shove your fingers into his mouth. almost as if it was an instinct, blade’s tongue wet your fingers. suckling on the two digits as it his life depended on it with the most cutest heart shaped pupils staring at you. once you deemed them wet enough, you take your fingers out of his mouth. an action that blade showed his hatred towards as his pierced tongue comes past his lips, trying to chase after your fingers.

“gghcck—♡︎♥︎♥︎♥︎!!” a sharp wail taking place as blade arches his back, his whole body shaking, soft big tits jiggling when you pinched at his pierced clit. rolling, tugging, flicking at the hardened nub as blade sobs about cumming before drenching your cock with his squirting. you had thought of him to be satisfied with it, but turns out you have underestimated your lover’s neediness when his strong scarred thighs comes to wrap around your waist, legs locked behind your back when you tried to pull out.

sigh… it’s times like this that makes you glad for your amount of stamina.

[fastandcarlos]

Bump Cuddles : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: watching you pregnant is a dream for max, especially with your bump there on offer for him to always snuggle up to

His eyes landed on you as soon as you walked into your bedroom, Max’s smile turned up as he watched you close the door behind you, knowing that was you for the night. You placed your phone down before perching on the edge of the bed, slowly rolling onto your back and stretching out. 

As you reached up, the material of your pyjama shirt lifted up, revealing your babu bump. “Look at you,” Max chuckled, instinctively moving towards you and placing his hand on your exposed skin. 

“This thing is lethal these days,” you chuckled, relaxing under the pressure of the warmth of Max’s hand. “I could do some serious damage if I wanted to with this thing.” 

“Tell me about it,” Max chuckled, all too familiar with being on the receiving end of you barging him forgetting how much space you now needed to get around. “Just think, there’s only a few more weeks to go until you won’t have this anymore.” 

“I can’t wait,” you laughed as Max turned his frame around so that his head was resting just beside your bump too. “The bump might look nice, but it’s the most impractical thing in the world.” 

With your bump growing day by day, you were finding it harder and harder to manage. Max was struggling to sit back and watch you, knowing that there was very little that he could do to help you. He did as much as he could, more than enough as far as you were concerned, but he still felt as if he could do more. 

“This is the stage that I’ve looked forward to the most,” Max admitted, brushing his hand over the surface of your bump, pushing your shirt up. “It’s so cuddly and the size of it too, no matter what you’re doing, or wearing, it just looks incredible.” 

As your bump became more prominent, Max’s excitement grew. He was glued to your side whenever he was around you, his hands couldn’t get enough of feeling your bump and the little movements of your son who was wriggling around inside. 

“Do you need anything?” Max asked you, realising that you were settling for the night. “Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?” 

Your head shook in reply to Max. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt properly comfortable, but you were settled at least for now. Max was used to you being pretty restless, happy to do whatever he needed to do to help you whenever you needed to shuffle. 

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he added, reminding you once again that he was there for you, offering you a sympathetic smile as your eyes met his. 

Your hand came down, brushing through Max’s hair as he made himself comfortable to lay down beside your bump for a little while. “I think he must know that you’re home as he’s been kicking around a lot more than usual today.” 

“Has he?” Max excitedly asked, quickly moving his hand around wondering whether he could feel one for himself, having missed the feeling of your baby’s kicks during his weekend away racing in Qatar. 

You could only chuckle at the excitement on Max’s face, searching and searching for that sweet spot. He made no secret of the fact that feeling your son’s kicks was his favourite part of your pregnancy, every single time excited him as if it was the very first time he’d felt it.  

“What are you going to cuddle when the baby arrives?” You teased. 

“I might actually have to cuddle you again, not your bump.” 

When you first fell pregnant your bump baffled Max, he couldn’t believe how you had a little human growing inside. Now though, he couldn’t imagine the last few months without it, cuddling up to it had become a habit for Max without him even realising he was nearing it most of the time. 

“Sometimes I feel as if I’ve forgotten what you look like without your bump,” he laughed, continuing to move his hand around in search of a sign. 

You nodded in agreement with Max, having forgotten what your feet looked like having been unable to see them for quite a few weeks. “I think my body will be glad when what’s growing in the bump is on the outside, not the inside causing me any pain.” 

“Are you in pain now?” Max nervously asked, immediately panicking. His doubtful eyes looked at you as your head shook, but trusted you all the same. 

Max had always done a good job of taking care of you, but your pregnancy had introduced you to a whole new world with max. Protective was an understatement to describe how he treated you from the moment he found out you were pregnant. 

“I’m scared you know,” Max suddenly whispered, “our son will be tiny, I’m scared when I cuddle him out of your bump I’ll squash him or something.” 

You couldn't help but laugh as Max spoke, “you’ve had plenty of experience holding babies and you’ve managed not to squash any of them.” 

“But they weren’t mine,” he added, “I’ll give them an extra cuddle knowing that he’s mine.” 

Your hand continued to brush through his hair, “trust me, if you look like you’re going to crush our son then I’ll be sure to let you know.” 

The way his mind worked fascinated you, especially as Max seemed to overthink everything. He wanted every little thing to be perfect and would stop at nothing to make sure that it was. Every possible scenario had been considered by Max, even those that seemed completely out of the ordinary. 

“I think once the baby is here you’ll forget about me,” you joked, “you’ll only want to cuddle our son rather than cuddle up to me.” 

Max’s eyes were wide as he tilted them up to look at you. “There’s no way that I’ll ever forget about you, with these broad shoulders I’ll be able to hold the two of you without any problems at all.” 

“You know I’m only messing with you,” you replied, surprised by how serious Max was as he responded to you. 

“I’ll cuddle you more than ever once the baby is here,” Max assured you, moving his hand from your bump to rest against the top of yours. “I’ll cuddle you forever in appreciation for all that you’re about to put your body through in order to make our family complete.” 

As the two of you fell silent, you quickly grabbed Max’s hand placing it against your bump. Luckily for him, you got it there just in time as your son kicked out exactly where the palm of Max’s hand rested. 

“There he is,” Max chuckled, snuggling in closer to your bump, savouring the feeling of your baby letting you know that he was there. 

“That’s the hardest he’s kicked all day,” you breathed, taking a deep breath through the discomfort. “Obviously he’s very happy to have his daddy home too.” 

Max’s eyes studied you closely, “only a couple more weeks and you’ll be able to rest in peace again sweetheart, without all these interruptions.” 

“Are you forgetting the fact that we’ll have a screaming baby instead who will happily keep us up all night long Max?” 

“Let’s just forget about that for now,” he sniggered. 

Your head nodded in agreement, “I don’t know about you, but I’d quite like to make the most of these last few weeks with our bump.” 

“Me too,” Max smirked, “I’ve not got long left to cuddle this bump of yours, and I’m determined to make the most of it.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[feyascorner]

Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢

OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it) warning for suggestive content :)

For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.

It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.

He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.

It's fucked up in so many ways.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."

In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.

The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.

Then, everything stops.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper.

They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.

You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.

But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.

You actually stopped.

Of course, you would. You're you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.

"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."

You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.

"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."

You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.

Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.

"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.

"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."

You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.

Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.

It's warm. Strange, but warm.

"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.

His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.

Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.

"Tell me I'm beautiful again."

"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."

You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.

[deebris]

From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“Daddy!” A soft voice called out, causing Simon to jolt awake. Was he still dreaming? It was nearly four in the morning, surely everyone was still asleep.

He looked around the room, his eyes taking a moment to adjust in the darkness. When he didn’t immediately see anything, he laid back down, his eyes landing on your sleeping form.

“Daddy.” The voice called again, and this time Simon knew he wasn’t dreaming. He looked toward the end of the bed, and found his baby girl standing there. He could tell even in the darkness she had been crying, and his heart ached at the tight grip she had on the teddy bear he’d given her before his last deployment.

“Hey, princess. Are you alright?” He whispered, making his way out of the bed as carefully as he could, so not to wake you.

Your daughter hiccuped softly, her bottom lip pouting slightly as she struggled not to cry. “I had a nightmare. You..you…”

Simon waited patiently for her to continue, as he crouched down in front of her and began to rub at her arms soothingly. “Hey now, whatever happened it was just a nightmare yeah? You’re safe.”

“But..you left… and… you didn’t come back this time. Not ever.” Unable to hold back her cries, your daughter threw her small arms around Simon’s neck, and sobbed uncontrollably against him- her tears soaking his shirt. “You left us.”

Simon’s heart shattered at her words, his own running dry in his throat as he struggled of what to say. He knew damn well the risks of his job, and he couldn’t bring himself to lie…not to his baby girl. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m here now, yeah?”

Your daughter gave a weak nod against his shoulder, her small hands not releasing the tight grip she had on her father. “Don’t leave me, daddy.”

Simon felt tears prick in his eyes, before lifting your daughter in his arms, and lying on his back in bed with her small figure splayed on top of him. “I promise you baby girl, I will do everything in my power to always come back to you and mummy, okay? I will always look after my girls.”

“I love you.” Your daughter’s soft voice murmured against his neck. Her racing heart began to slow, clearly feeling safe in her daddy’s arms.

Simon wrapped his arms tightly around his little girl, her cries slowing down as she began to drift off against his chest. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than you can ever know.”

A million things were going on in Simon’s mind at that moment, but one thought in particular lingered at the forefront of his brain.

It was finally time for him to introduce his family to the 141.

[lumibuns-blog]

Ghost x Soap's roomie

Ghosts and Gaz stay the week and Soap's apartment. Ghost falls head over heels for you and can't seem to think of anything else.

its just two idiots in love at this point and also Soap and Gaz are there too lmao. I have more for this concept on my page or under the tag if you like it💪

Dinner was finished quicker than Simon would have preferred considering he still couldn't get the image of your sly smile out of his head, not to mention the piece of food he was sure was stuck in his throat from the laughing fit you had sent him and Gaz into with your well timed nut-tap. You were intoxicating to him, it was almost insufferable how unable he was to get your voice, your face, your figure, everything, out of his head. He could swear that he's never felt this way before about anyone, ever. It was like the moment he set eyes on you, his mind had made itself up and all he could do was let himself fall even further and further in love with you.

So he now watched as you forced a very upset Soap to do the dishes, not without great effort.

"aw 'bon why tha' hell do I have'ta do this shite it's fuckin feechie" he whined

"'cause I do the cooking, that's the deal we have" you bit back "plus, I've cleaned our bathroom before" you turned to face both Simon and Kyle, Simon couldn't help but notice he was the one you locked eyes with "you wanna see nasty, use the shower when he's finished" you sighed

"oye! Not fair" Johnny warned, an accusing finger pointed towards you "you shed more than a hound when 'ure in there, ya clog the damn drain"

"excuse me! I clean up after myself at least, any hair you find in there is yours!" you yelled back, clearly embarrassed

"nae, ma' hair ain't long with split ends, er' whateva' the hell 'ure always moanin' 'bout in there"

you had half a mind to hit him across the face for that, "I don't know, hairs getting a little long there princess" you teased, gesturing to his grown out mohawk "need to get it trimmed? or you worried they might leave you looking bald again like last time?" you grinned

"awe no way!" Gaz grinned "you got pictures?" he ran over to you. Simon was curious too but didn't make a show of it, settling to sit back with his arms crossed instead, surveying the chaos.

"sure do" you beamed, ready to pull out your phone

"Naw naw!" Johnny scrambled to intercept his friend "nae happenin'"

you flung the phone behind you, out of his reach "then wash the fucking dishes man" you scoffed, shoving the sponge into his chest "thought they called you Soap for a reason?"

"feckin whatever" Johnny groaned, returning to the sink and flicking the tap on

you beamed and turned to head towards your room, calling out your dibs on the shower. Not before holding your phone up to Kyle and Simon, mouthing an 'I'll show you later' before slipping out of view.

"cheeky little mother fucker..." Soap mumbled, the half smile on his face turning into a look of disgust as he touched some wet food.

"so...." Gaz started after a moment "Never did decide where we 'going to be sleepin' mate?"

"well 've only got two beds" Johnny said, back turned to his friends "an' mine can only fit one a you's plus ma'self" he continued "an' like -ell I'm not going to sleepin on 'ma own bed while 'm home , so one ya will have-tae take the couch" he paused "unless the other one wants to bunk up with 'er" he laughed

Simon froze simply at the idea, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable in his slacks at the thought of being right up next to you while you rested. If you were closer would be be able to put his hands of you? trace the contours of your waist with his finger tips, burry his nose in the back of your head and wrap his hulking arms around your smaller figure? Feel the curve of your ass as you pressed against-

he bit the inside of his cheek and gripped the counter top so hard his knuckles turned white, "I'll take the couch" he huffed "'ure smaller anyway" he gestured to Kyle

"Whateva' mate" Gaz rolled his eyes, taking his friends jab in stride.

You had claimed dibs of the shower first because you were well aware that three, probably filthy, men (all of which had to be over 6 feet) were bound to need to use it as well and it would be pointless to try and wash your hair after that disaster.

"I'm done!" you called absentmindedly from the hallway, a towel wrapped around your body, wet hair sticking to your neck and back. Simon had found a very interesting part of the ceiling to focus on while you went back to your room, "try to not blow the thing up, I've got a down payment on this thing" you said, closing the door behind you.

silence fell over the room once again, as all three men glanced between themselves. Gaz was first, he took off at a run towards the bathroom door, determined to be second. Soap started off not more then a moment after him,

"aye ya prick, it's my house this?!" he grabbed for Gaz who held on steady to the door

"exactly mate! we're the guests!" Kyle chided "so be a good host 'an bugger off!"

"Nae 'm not lettin' you's skimp me outta a hot shower" Soap yelled attempting to pull Gaz back, but the man had such a a tight hold on the door he might've pulled out the hinges first.

you reopened the door after hearing the chaos, still in only a towel "the hell is-?" you were cut off almost immediately by ghost stepping in, he grabbed them both by the back collars of their shirts with what seemed like minimal effort, and pulled them off each other.

"Gaz you go first," he growled "Johnny, at least finish drying the bloody dishes before you go runnin' off" he shoved your roommate back into the kitchen

"Lt.! 's no fair he's goin' first! Why do you get to decide?" Soap griped

"on base 'er not, 'm still in charge." Simon said plainly, narrowing his eyes towards his friend, "just be lucky I'm the one yellin' at you for tusslin' around inside"

"In 'ma own home!" Johnny threw his hands up in defeat as Gaz pumped his fist before closing the bathroom door.

for a moment, your eyes met Simon's as you peaked from behind your door and they lingered there. His gaze was so was piercing as he glared from above his mask, that he had (unfortunately) put back in after dinner. His eyes only remained that way for a moment however, for as soon as they met yours, they softened. The harsh lines fell away instantly and his pupils began to dilate when they met yours, not aware you had been watching the whole ordeal.

'why did his eyes have to be so pretty?'

He coughed quickly, tearing his gaze from you before returning to the kitchen himself. Leaving you awe struck, fanning your face behind the closed door of your room.

When it was finally time for him to take a shower, Simon allowed himself a moment of respite in the bathroom before actually cleaning himself off. Away from Johnny's teasing glances and their incessant banter that he hated to admit he had come to be too fond of to reprimand them for, and they knew that all to well. Above all else though, it was a moment to internally process seeing you in nothing but a towel because when he had tried to think it over out there, the evidence of that was all too noticeable. You had looked so fucking good, wet hair, glossy skin, that towel that did absolutely nothing to cover up the swell of your tits as you pressed it to your chest. Even the simple fact that your cheeks still flushed from the heat of the shower sent his whole body into overdrive.

'shit- right, the shower.'

He broke from his thoughts to finally enter the shower but that did nothing to aid him in his situation. On the ledge was your shampoo and various other soaps, much like how your side of the sink was covered in various products and bottles he couldn't name even if he tried. Johnny's side had a toothbrush that was joined by Gaz's wash bag, and that was it. In the shower however, he only saw what were clearly your products. He grumbled and opened the door just a crack,

"Either 'a you got any shower gel?" He yelled through the crack, rather embarrassed at his current situation, "lef' mine at base."

"jus' use 'er's!" Johnny called back from his spot on the couch "'s what I do anyway..."

"You what?!" you yelled from across the flat

"dumbass" Kyle scoffed

"kidding, kidding!" Johnny laughed "Mines the one with the green lid mate, ya don' see it?"

"Fuckin hell...neva'mind!" Ghost responded, closing the door again. He swore he wasn't seeing straight. It didn't help that the whole bathroom already smelt like you, your intoxicating scent invading every breath he took. But to use your products? That was some shit couples do, and he had to stop his mind from getting away from him with that fantasy.

Stepping into the shower once more he located Johnny's soap. Spring rain?, no fucking wonder he hadn't noticed it, who would've thought Soap would use something like this? He quickly washed himself and got dressed, rubbing his hair dry with a towel as he exited the bathroom.

You stood in the kitchen, a large sweatshirt dwarfed your frame. You seemed to be waiting for the kettle of the stove to heat up as you noticed his presence.

"oh I can take that" you smiled, walking over to him and holding out your hand to take his towel from him.

He very reluctantly gave it to you, worried it would smell bad or have something gross on it he hadn't even realized. "was just about to start another lode anyway" you chimed, opening up the closet door and throwing it in the machine before starting it.

Simon couldn't help himself "Colors I'm assuming?" he joked

you whipped around to face him "Now don't you start" you scolded, but the smile and deep red of your cheeks was unmistakable, "Johnny's enough to deal with on his own" you headed back to your kettle

"'m sorry, I'll try to be less of a pain in the arse to ya than he is" Simon chuckled

"that's a low bar" you laughed dully "but thank you"

Simon found conversation to flow freely with you, like it does with the rest of his team but only after he had gotten close to them. He had only known you for a day but still found it so natural to speak to you (if he ignored the deafening sound of his heartbeat and the massive lump in his throat).

"want any tea?" your offer broke the silence as you grinned and held up the now boiling kettle.

"uh- sure" he nodded, was his heart getting louder?

you tossed open one of the cupboards "pick your poison" you chirped, gesturing the stocked shelf of teas.

he rounded the island to inspect the selection, peering over you in such a way that his form eclipsed yours and forced you to move back against the counter top. You held your breath.

"'ere" he handed a small tin containing a non-caffeinated herbal blend down to you and stepped away "is it any good?" he asked, pointing lazily at the tin that you now held.

you tried to shrug your flustered feelings away "Better be, 's what I'm having" you turned to grab him a mug from the shelf.

Simon smiled to himself at the knowledge he picked the same type of tea as you purely by coincidence. Moments later you were handing it to him, "here ya go Ghost" you said placing the hot mug in front of him

"Simon." he responded plainly

"Hm?" you tilted your head a bit

"Simon's fine, ya don't need to be calling me that 'Ghost' shit 'ere" he was staring holes into the kitchen island, wondering if it was weird for him to be asking you to call him by his given name.

"Alright, Simon it is then" you beamed, not missing a beat

christ his name sounded so good when you said it

"sorry guess it was just habit, seeing as thats what Johnny calls you whenever he's home"

"'s fine" he mumbled, a brief pause hung in the air as you both took your first sips of tea. You were right, it was good.

"where they at anyway?" Simon tried to fill the silence

"probably giggling under the covers by now" you scoffed "why? trying to get rid of me?" you joked

"'s not it" Simon answered quickly

"I know I know- I'm just teasing" you smirk "Johnny told me you were a bit quiet so don't feel pressured to talk 'er anything"

He appreciated the sentiment, but not talking to you was possibly the last thing he wanted to do right now. "What else does the little twat say?" Simon asked, a little gruffer than he intended to sound, but his reputation was on the line here.

"Oh just stories from all the dangerous stuff you all get up to, usually the ones where he can say he was the hero" you fully laughed and it sounded like music to Simon's ears "That and he complains about all the work he has to do, usually when he wants to get out of chores"

"sounds 'bout right" Simon smiled lightly and you could have sworn it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

At least you didn't think he was some sulking, menacing, edge-lord. I mean he most certainly was most times but he would really prefer it if you didn't think of him like that. Now he just had one more thing to clear up.

"jus' so ya know... I- I didn't use your body wash" he practically had to shove the words out of his mouth he was so tense, but to his surprise you just laughed.

You smiled brightly and waved your hand dismissively, "Don't worry I didn't think you had, I don't blame you for not finding his soap though" you held your mug close to your chest and smiled fondly "He used to use that Head and Shoulder's stuff, you know the one? Anyway, it was nasty so I got him some better stuff and he actually likes it, even if he complains he smells 'like a chick' now" you put that last part in air quotes.

"fair", the soap Simon used on base was Head and Shoulder's. He made a mental note to throw it out and get better stuff the second he got back.

Conversation flowed freely for the next couple minutes as you both finished your drinks, you mostly asked about what it was like living on a military base and he asked about a bit about your graduate studies. Happy just to learn anything about you. When you set your empty mug down on the kitchen counter, he silently glided over with his own and took your mug in his other hand, filling them with water in the sink.

"you really don't have to do that, but thank you" you smiled softly, a yawn escaped you, feeling the tiredness begin to catch up with you.

"don't mind it" he dried his hands off with the kitchen towel. When he looked back at you his heart swelled. you were smiling lightly in the dimly lit kitchen, eyes squinting from even that being too much light. You swayed back and forth slowly, heading nodding slightly every couple of moments. He felt bad for keeping you up but more than that he wished he could just pick you up and whisk you off to bed, curling up next you you and letting you snuggle into his chest. But there was no way he could do something like that, not now anyway, so he settled for the next option

"you look like you're about to fall over love, off to bed now" he said, his voice quiet and gentle as patted you on the back and steered you towards your room.

"aye aye captain" you lazily saluted him and he couldn't help but smile "let me know if ya need anything" you called from the hall "night!"

"yeah g'night" he groaned, shoving himself onto the couch that was much too small for him. He would rather freeze than make you get up to get him another blanket or something. And even though he felt perfectly comfortable he couldn't seem to get to sleep, his heart was just too loud.

*I might make Price come over to give the boys something they left behind just so he can meet/flirt with reader and Simon and get all grumpy and jealous cuz it would be cute <3

Tags:

@sleep101 @urbimom @noisydelusionlove @plk-18 @pinkyfqiry @wwe1rdc0re @vmaxis @jenlvr01 @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @ifsunmibts @callmeluno @nina-from-317 @strawberrygateau @leryg0 @weemansoap @dreamtofus @imjustheretofightforlove @electricmentalitypersona

[6esiree]

I feel like Al would be insufferable during his rut. Like, following you around constantly, clinging to you, and I feel like he play bites 😋

-🌠

Imagine Alastor…

• Experiencing a rut while the two of you are in the middle of getting to know each other, so he decides to distance himself from everybody, especially you. However, that proves to be a difficult task, overhearing you ask Husk if he thinks that he’s lost interest the one time he decides to come downstairs for something to eat.

• Struggling against the natural urge to take you right then and there as he stands next to you, trying to participate in Charlie’s little activities with the rest of the residents like normal. You sense that something is off about him, though, his body language too stiff. A shiver travels up his spine as you touch his arm in silent question.

• Unable to withhold himself from placing a hand on the small of your back, savoring your warmth underneath his touch. ‘Everything is quite alright with me,’ He says as he looks down at you, a subtle gasp tumbling from your lips at the feeling of a singular claw traveling down to play with the hem of your shirt, barely grazing your skin.

• Eventually pulling away from you, turning to listen in on whatever Charlie’s going on about, leaving you utterly confused. He continues to touch you throughout the day, however, seemingly always finding an excuse to handle you. Your shoulders, hips, waist—every part of you gets touched somehow, leaving you a blushing mess.

• Feigning innocence when you confront him about his unusual behavior before bed. ‘Look, I don’t mind you being physically affectionate,’ You start, earning a blink from him, ‘I’m just confused at the suddenness of it, that’s all.’ Instead of admitting that he’s in a rut, he decides to tell you that he overheard your conversation with Husk.

• Shaking his head, politely declining your apology. ‘There’s no need for one, darling,’ He hums, approaching you and reaching out to affectionately cradle your jaw. He dips his head to place a kiss on your cheek, but your sweet scent wafts into his nostrils and ignites the urges he spent so long fighting against.

• Immediately seizing your waist, clutching desperately at your shirt as he brings your bodies flush together. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, too, his ears twitching at the moan he elicits from you. ‘You’re in a rut, aren’t you, Al?’ You ask, receiving no response. ‘Oh, you poor thing. Why don’t you let me help you?’

• Having you writhing and squirming underneath him in no time, your nails raking down his back as he plunges his aching cock inside of you at a ruthless pace. His face is buried in your neck, ears plastered against his head almost in shame over his lack of self-restraint, but you remind him that he cannot control his rut.

• Filling up your poor cunt for as long as his rut lasts, the primal instinct to breed you overwhelming him. All you can do is whine as he goes on about making you a mother, his cum leaking out of your sore hole with his thrusts, your neck and shoulders littered with bite-marks. While he feels guilty, he’s gratified that you’re finally his.

[livelovelizz]

you make you so easy

dick grayson x reader / fluff

“Stop following me.”

“Oh, did you want me to walk beside you? Hold your hand?”

You abruptly stop walking and shoot a glare up into the shadows of the nearby alley. You currently can’t see him, but you know he’s in there somewhere.

“I am trying to go home. After a long day,” you reply, “Alone.”

Nightwing melts out of the shadows, lips in a pout. “Come on, babe,” he whines, “I said sorry!”

You just shake your head and continue walking. “Stop following me, Nightwing. I wonder what the media would think, a vigilante stalking an innocent civilian and not leaving them alone?”

Some clicking and a whoosh of the air lets you  know he’s on the chase again. Gotham has never been a particularly safe place to walk alone after dark, even after the Bats rose to the occasion. The goons and villains made it hard, for sure, but the crumbling infrastructure of the city was just the icing on the cake. Buses and the train don’t run late, leaving a long walk in uncomfortable shoes after being stood up on a date.

“The media,” comes the reply, voice dripping with pride, “would simply see one of their beloved vigilantes doing their job! Nothing wrong with that.”

God, you hate he isn’t even out of breath keeping up with you. Not like you’re walking that fast, but still. You hope he trips.

“Maybe if the media knew what a dick you are, one that stands up their partner on a date they’ve been planning for months, specifically to not be interrupted!” You snap, unable to keep the simmering anger down. Fuck, if you weren’t angry about it, you’d cry. Inhaling slowly, you curl your hands into fists with determination to not make a scene. You stomp on.

It’s silent for a moment. For two. You would have thought he left if you didn’t know any better.

When Nightwing speaks, his voice is heavy. “Look, I know. I was looking forward to tonight too, but—”

You shake your head. When you breathe out, all the fight you had left. “I get it. I do. I just— let me be upset about it. Okay?”

You don’t get a reply or hear anything, but you know he’s still keeping pace. It’s nothing he can refute anyways. The both of you kept this day clear for months. It’s not often your dates can be more than a relaxed one at home, or spur of the moment. Not that you didn’t love those kinds of dates, of course you did, but it’s nice to dress up and show up for each other. You continue on your path on the crumbling side walk, only thinking about how nice it’ll be to be out of these shoes and in comfortable pajamas, maybe drink a glass of wine or two while ignoring your idiot of a partner.

As you pass through a darker portion of the street, a figure flips down in front of you. You stop abruptly lest you crash into them, but it doesn’t matter when you trip on a stray pebble and tumble right into waiting arms.

The arms curl around you tighter, rather than letting go.

“I’m sorry,” Dick murmurs into your ear. “I’m really sorry. I told them not to call me in but, fuck…”

You stand still as he digs his face into neck. A small crackle distracts you, talking too muffled for you to make anything out, though you know what this means. A hefty sigh runs through your body and you lean your head onto Dick’s shoulder briefly before prying him off.

“Duty calls,” you say softly, staring into lifeless white lenses. You look over him. He’s tense, body standing firmly on his feet in a way you know means he’s going to be stubborn. Suddenly, he clenches his jaw and looks away from you, yet he still doesn’t leave.

Lifting a hand, you softly trace his jaw up to his mask. With a small smile, you whisper “Go.”

“I’ll be as home as soon as I can,” Dick kisses the palm of your hand, and then like a tornado, flips away in a flurry off to whatever disaster is wrecking Gotham this time. You shake your head softly and start moving again.

Before you know it, you’re in bed, eyes blinking blearily as you turn on your phone. 4:43. Why’re you—?

“Did I wake you?”

Hands crawl over your waist, gently tugging you back into a chest. You can barely register the kisses on your neck before turning around to face Dick to croak out “D’ya j’s git h’me?”

You aren’t even sure your eyes are open, but you can still see Dick Grayson through the low lighting. Even while exhausted, he radiates light. He stares at you, hand brushing hair out of your eyes. “Go back to bed.”

“Hm.” is all you can manage before darkness takes over you.

The next time you wake up, a dim light shines through the blinds and you feel significantly more awake. You yawn and stretch out your body. Sitting up, something catches the edge of your eye. You look over and jump. Leaning against the doorway with coffee in hand, stands Dick Grayson. Oversized shirt, sweatpants, barefoot with eyes still half-closed, he looks beautiful.

You narrow your eyes and look to his side of the bed. Empty. You look over at the doorway. Dick. Bed. Doorway. No Dick. Dick. “You,” croaking, you point to the figure, “Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Dick only raises and eyebrow and walks over, hand brushing messy hair of of your eyes. “Am I not allowed to get up early?”

You shake your head. “Absolutely not. You’re supposed to still be in bed until noon,”

“Well,” he smiles before pushing a thumb on your forehead, tilting your head backwards. You straighten up and give him a look. “Get up. We have somewhere to be,”

Standing up, you reach your hands above your head and stretch. “Is it important?”

You wander to the bathroom, flipping the lights on and yawning. Dick drifts over and watches you brush your teeth from the doorway as he takes another sip. “Super important. I have a full day of making up to do with my very angry partner.”

The statement makes a wave of butterflies go through you. Washing your mouth out, you look at his reflection in the mirror. “Are you being serious?”

Dick’s reflection nods. “Very serious,” he replies, bright grin overtaking his features, “Funded by Bruce, too. As an apology.”

Now that statement makes you smile. You quickly turn around, affection bubbling within you and threatening to spill over. Stepping towards Dick, you gently push the coffee out of the way and capture his lips in a long kiss. Just as it starts to get serious– invoking a different kind of butterflies– you pull away.

Dick stares at you with a dazed expression.  “I’ll be quick,” you promise.

“I mean,” he mumbles, leaning towards you presumably to finish what you started, “We don’t have to leave right away… We could take a minute—”

A peck cuts him off. Dick immediately tries to deepen the kiss, but you just pull away and push him out of the doorway so you can close the bathroom door.

“Save that for later, Grayson,” you smirk. Just before the door shuts, you lift on eyebrow. “By the time I’m out of this bathroom, you better be ready to go. I’m not wasting a single minute today.”

The door clicks shut. You hear him chuckle and call out an affirmation. Turning back to the mirror so you can finish your morning routine, you look at yourself. Bright eyes, blushed cheeks, wide grin. You weren’t lying to him, you weren’t going to waste a single minute today. That included after you get home from your outing together. Dick definitely needed a punishment after yesterday, and you intend to make him learn his lesson all night long.

Well. You better get ready.

fin.