#standard broaches

[maheenbroaches16]

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[steelsmanbroaches]

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[absensia]

halfway through a reference post about char's unpredictability and being morally chaotic, and i've run straight into a wall because I'm trying to make the point that she does have standards and will draw the line at certain actions and behaviours.... but now that I'm trying to list those standards, char's like "...well, never say never..." and I'm reminded that you actually can never ever let your guard down around her.

[arihi]

Holding an ambient dread in me today. There’s always the scramble to try and figure out what’s causing it for me, especially because I’ve got no internal monologue and I often have to talk out loud and in depth into every little thing that’s happened just to figure out why my feelings are the way they are.

Admittedly I can think of a few things, but they’re not particularly important in the long run. My tendency is to figure out why as if it’ll solve it, or so I can intellectualize the feelings away, but emotions are so rarely cut-and-clean addressed like that. Having been so preoccupied with my past in the past, or dreading the future, it’s grounding to settle down and have moments of silence in the present. I’m on the couch typing this on my phone, the sunset is shining down on my face, whereas usually I’d hate it I’m just letting myself sit in it. Once I’ve figured out a few potential causes, it’s not that important to dive deeper and think myself into anxiety spirals. It’s okay to have an idea of it, and not rationalize away how you’re feeling. It’s okay to feel off, sometimes.

[bluegiragi]

Hi friend!! I've been following you on a couple platforms when it comes to your amazing art!! I know you've talked about ghostprice, but I saw the Price's hand on the back of Kyle's neck and was wondering if you could talk about the relationship between price and gaz? I loved the ghost price one, but I totally understand if you don't have the same write up for these two lol

!!! thank you so much for this ask, because i love thinking about this dynamic in my free time.

lots of reading under the cut!

so, because I like to cherry-pick influences from canon, in the monster au, Gaz and Price met before Gaz got drafted into the 141. Gaz was the harpy escort to a standard military op that got off-track when doing recon, and ended up wrapped up in a territorial dispute with two griffin hybrids. The whole team got stuck sandwiched between the two with neither side willing to let them move, and when Gaz tried to fly above to do some surveillance he got beaten out of the sky by both of them (they don't take kindly to interlopers interfering with griffin disputes). They had to request emergency assistance from the closest party which, by chance, happened to be Price's team.

This all happened after Price lost his wing, and on this mission he collaborated with Gaz to help get (most of) his team out safely without having to rely on his skill of flight. They both made strong impressions on each other then, with Gaz forming the first seeds of a long-term loyalty to Price. When his contract with his current station ended, he was all too happy to get poached for the 141.

Coming from a more interpersonal perspective - Gaz is a harpy, which means he's fiercely independent and bases a lot of his identity on not being reliant on anyone. Price is a dragon, which comes with a lot of pesky hoard instincts that instruct him to 'provide' for his hoard. It means that Gaz dislikes being taken care of and a strong instinctual part of Price is unhappy about that. When they're more intimate, Gaz insists on giving as much as he is getting (if not more) and is always seeking ways to contribute and prove his value to the group. Even though he might be chill by harpy standards, Gaz is still very proud and he gets flustered when forced to accept things without 'earning' it.

(also he might have a little bit of hero worship for price lingering in the recesses of his mind)

Price only having one wing and being essentially grounded also adds an extra layer to their relationship. Harpies put a lot of stock in their flying prowess, so the loss of a wing is truly a world-ending event in their culture and he's extremely uncomfortable broaching the subject with Price even though he'd be happy to talk about it if pushed. He also feels that it is his role to be Price's 'wings' now, which is a sentiment that he hasn't shared to anyone but puts a lot of pressure on himself to live up to. He doesn't think this way out of any sort of pity for Price - his captain has proved time and time again to be the kind of monster worth following - instead, this mentality is him militantly breaking himself down to how useful/valuable he can be to others.

tldr; gaz is bad at accepting care, price wants to take care of him so bad and is slowly figuring out loopholes

[babybatss-blog]

A HELPING HAND

sirius black x reader, 1500 words

summary: if there’s one thing you know, it’s to always trust Professor McGonagall’s advice.

c/w: nerd-ish reader who gets in detention, friends to lovers, confession of love. Mentions of insecurities, but nothing too intense.

a/n: rest in piece to the darling dame maggie smith. I hope I did her and her wonderful character justice, I just wanted to appreciate her in the best way I knew how <3          

You’ve always been a good student. You study hard, get good grades and never get in trouble, sometimes even getting made fun of by nasty students for being a nerd. Sirius never made fun of you though, he was always so sweet when you cancelled on him to study for a particularly hard test or ignore him because your too engrossed in writing your essay.

But why does that even matter now? Your strides through the stone hallway break your thoughts, internally cursing yourself for even slightly letting your mind drift from the problem at hand. You got a detention!

Well, not exactly a detention, but it’s as close as you’ll ever get. Your grades have been dropping below your usual impossibly high standards, and now the headmistress has asked to meet with you to discuss your current predicament. Unlike your Black family counterpart, you pride yourself on academic appearances, especially when it comes to higher up authorities like Professor McGonagall.

You knock on the hard wood door three times, the wood rumbling as it opens almost immediately. Before you sits this aforementioned professor, enveloped by a thick leather armchair and adorned in expensive jewellery. Truthfully, you aspire to be like her someday. Commanding and treacherous, yet simultaneously kind and beautiful. Her emerald broach shimmers in the sunlight pouring into her tiny study, and her slick back bun has a few curled whisps falling out. You wonder how she always gets her hair to sit so nice, and how long that must take every morning.

“Good afternoon Miss McGonagall.” You nervously state, quickly walking in and sitting primly in an armchair. She simply nods, going back to whatever letter she is writing with a soft smile. “I presume you know why I called you in today?” “Of course. And I’m very sorry I’ve fallen behind on my schoolwork professor. I promise I will get that transfiguration parchment to you once my defence against the dark arts test is done, and I’ve been studying tirelessly to get my scores to a more appropriate level, I promise.”

Despite the worry evident on your voice, she merely chuckles, acting as if you made a joke. You didn’t make a joke though, so you furrow your brow in concern. Did you say something wrong?

“No my dear. I was just calling you in to ask about your handwriting.” “My-? Oh yes, apologies for the messiness on my last assignment. I was in a bit of a rush, so I think some of my m’s turned into n’s.” Once again she laughs, this time straight from her belly, her head thrown back. You can’t help but feel your face burn up in embarrassment. “Messiness? Why I never! No darling, I meant to ask how it’s so neat! You see, I’ve been attempting to do those same loops you do on capitals, but I’m afraid I can’t replicate it!”

She slides over to you the parchment she was writing on, revealing random sentences repeated in order to practice replicating your font. Truthfully they are quite shaky, but you wouldn’t admit it to her face anytime soon. “Do you mind writing a few sentences for me? Maybe even casting piertotum locomotor on them so I can’t watch it back would be helpful!” You bashfully fulfill your task, writing some simple words on the page in swirling calligraphy. As you do this, your professor casually talks to you.

“I must say though, you were never much of the type to rush projects. What had you in such a hurry?”

“Nothing really, just a trip to Hogsmeade with Sirius Black.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Oh yes, it really was. Sirius wanted to go into town because he ordered a record from the post office that was due to arrive. It was some muggle band, I think it was called The Beatles? He said they are quite popular, and I see why. The singer is dreamy! He played it for me when we got back to school, and he gave me some of his Berty’s Botts Beans. He knows I love them you see, and he always tries to inspect them before he hands them to me so I don’t get the bad ones. Sometimes he gets it wrong, and I have to suffer anyways. But I…” You eventually realise just how much you have been rambling, as the page is suddenly filled with words you didn’t remember writing and you need to take a deep breath to rid of your light headedness. “Yes, I thought it was nice.” You finish up, not wanting to bore her with your story of a typical day out. But she honestly seems quite intrigued, looking at you with a peculiar arched eyebrow.

“You and that Black boy make a strange pair. A good one at that though.” You chuckle along with her, reminiscing on your differences that complement each other perfectly. “Many do say that. He’s a good friend to me.”

“Friend?” She mirrors, an almost offended tone on her voice. She takes the page away from you and blows on it as to help to ink dry, before placing it in a draw of her desk. “I don’t know why, but I always thought you two were together. Never mind me, I’m a silly old lass now.” Usually you are completely and utterly respectful no matter what is thrown at you, but something in her statement sets off a spark in which you immediately regret. “No! no no no no no. Sirius and I would never! I mean, have you seen how he- no, it would never work.”

Professor McGonagall looks at you in a way that can only be described as utter disbelief, and a tiny hint of disappointment before she speaks. “If you say so. But I have to say, I was just like you back in my day. So naïve…” She sighs, looking blissfully off. “You know…” She twists to face you, a smirk causing her features to almost become young once more. “When I was your age, maybe a little younger I liked a guy. Now don’t tell anyone I told you this but… He was a real dashing man. So proper and smart, but he really knew how to dance when the jukebox started!”

Suddenly you feel like Minerva McGonagall’s best friend, gossiping about your childhoods now those days are long gone. Never would you have expected to see this side of her, but you cannot complain when you see that energetic sparkle in her eye.

“And I believe he like me back. When I was tired he would carry me up to my common room, and and would tuck me in real nice and tight. But I never went any further. I was too nervous. So he started dating my friend, and five years later they got married! I hate to admit it but sometimes I wonder how things would’ve turned out. You don’t have to listen to an out of touch woman like me, but you know I have your best interest at heart.”

It takes you a good minute to properly process her words, repeating them in your head and wondering how she could be so right. No one, not even any of your closest friends have ever realised your concealed feelings, the only being hearing them is your little diary under the moonlight, which knows they will never come true. But here is your teacher, completely demolishing your tiny sense of secrecy and legitimising every worry you’ve ever had. When he kisses some random girl at a party you worry it will last between them, when you can’t find him in his usual spots you worry he’s abandoned you and when you look in the mirror you see merely a friend, someone who will never amount to him. But maybe you could. Maybe there is some universe where he feels the same, and you are lucky enough to be in that universe right now. After all, there always is a chance.   

“Go and get him.” She orders, staring into your soul with her blue eyes. You nod, tears fighting to leave your eyes as the weight of emotion takes over you. You stand up, thanking her breathlessly before running out.

Professor McGonagall knows that she did the right thing, judging by the conversation she had with Sirius about the same subject just the other day.   

[mrsbarnesxxx]

Eddie Diaz x reader

Angst but fluff at the end

Where maybe the reader is married to Eddie and she asks him about if he ever wants a kid with her and he takes it the wrong way and says something like I only need Christopher and he’s enough, and the reader gets upset and walks off and maybe drives to Maddie’s and chimneys and while she’s gone he goes to their room and finds a box on the bed and he opens it to see the readers ultrasound and he immediately feels bad and goes to talk to her and happy ending.

Thank you so much for the request! I altered it only slightly (just where Eddie finds the ultrasound) but I loved this concept. I love angst with a happy ending!

It was a pretty normal day all in all. Carla was taking care of Christopher, Eddie was at the station, your boss kept sending hundreds of emails, oh and you had found out you were pregnant. Just an average day. You hadn't planned this by any means. You and Eddie had never talked about having a baby. You had been married for a year and a half, but the subject had never come up and you had never pushed it. Look how well that had gone. After staring at the stick in your hand for what felt like an eternity, you finally pushed yourself up from the floor and left the bathroom.

"Hey, Carla, are you okay if I run out? I have to go do something. It should only be about an hour." You say grabbing your keys.

"Of course, honey. Go right ahead." She says.

"Thanks, Carla. Bye bud," you say kissing Christopher on the top of his head before heading out of your and Eddie's shared house.

You didn't even know what you were doing until you were sitting in the waiting room of the local doctor's office reading a magazine.

It wasn't until one of the nurses had called your name 3 times that you seemed to realize they were calling you.

"Sorry." You apologize sheepishly standing and following her back to a room.

Sure enough, the doctor confirmed you were about 6 weeks pregnant and sent you home with a picture of the tiny baby. You knew you couldn't hide this from Eddie for long since you were likely to start experiencing more symptoms, but a part of you was worried about how he would react. Everything had finally settled down with Christopher and work. Everything was stable per se. And now you were throwing a wrench into the serenity the two of you had worked so hard to create. Finally, you decided you would broach the subject once Christopher had gone to bed. You would just ask him if he ever thought about having more kids. Yeah. That would work.

So, that night after Christopher was in bed and you and Eddie were alone in your room getting ready for bed, you took a deep breath before deciding now was a good time to approach the subject.

"Hey, Eddie?" You asked putting lotion onto your arms. "Have you ever thought about maybe having another kid?"

"What?" He asks brows furrowed as he pulls the covers down and joins you in the bed.

"Have you ever wanted another kid? I mean I love Christopher, but I was just curious." You explain, heart racing.

"Not really. I mean, I'm happy with Chris. He's a handful as it is and with him getting older, I don't know. I'm happy that the diaper changes and waking up to screaming is over." He says.

Anger surges through you at his admission. How could he say that? How could he openly admit to your face that he didn't want the baby growing inside of you...not that he knew about that, but that wasn't important.

"Were you even around for that?" You ask not thinking about what you're saying, just infuriated at him. "I mean didn't you enlist right after Shannon had Chris so didn't you pretty much luck out and miss all of those years?"

"What the hell are you saying?" He asks, confused at why you're attacking him all of a sudden.

"I just mean don't you not even know what it's like to be there for those years, so isn't that not a fair standard to measure it by?" You argue.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, turning to you, trying to contain his anger.

You scoff, "Nothing."

"Something's going on 'cause you're acting like a real bitch to me right now for no reason." He says. Instantly his face drops, realizing what he just said to you. "I-"

"Fuck you, Eddie." You say standing up and grabbing your coat. You don't listen to him as he follows after you, grabbing your keys and walking out of the house. You just get in your car and drive.

Eddie watches as you leave, slamming the door behind you. He really messed up this time. "Fuck!" He exclaims hitting the table. Your purse tips over as his fist makes contact with the table. a paper falling out. The paper catches his attention, the white clashing against the dark oak of the table. He reaches to put it back in your purse when the other side of the paper intrigues him. He turns it over to see a blob in the middle of the page. His face drops instantly, he runs his hand through his hair staring at the blob that is the reason for your outburst a few minutes earlier. He sighs texting Buck asking him to come stay with Christopher. 15 minutes later, a confused Buck shows up at Eddie's door.

"Uh...Everything alright? It's kinda late for a sleepover." He says.

"I messed up." He sighs stepping aside. After a quick explanation to Buck after letting him inside, Eddie is on his way out the door, texting everyone if you're with them. A few minutes into his search, Chimney texts back saying that you're there with Maddie and that he really messed up this time.

20 minutes later he's standing outside of Maddie's apartment, ultrasound in hand as he knocks with his free hand. Maddie answers, hands on her hips, brow raised at him, and sass written all over her face.

"I know, I know. Can I just talk to her?" He sighs. Maddie steps aside and lets him find you on the couch.

"Amor?" He asks cautiously, approaching you carefully.

"What do you want, Eddie?" You ask not looking at him.

"Can we talk?" He asks coming to sit next to you. The picture in his hand is what catches your eye. You look up at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. "When you asked me if I wanted more kids, you should have told me you were pregnant."

"I was trying to figure out how you would react." You explain.

"Just because it wasn't in my plan to have more kids doesn't mean I won't love this baby." He sighs.

"Well, when I broached the subject you didn't seem thrilled." You say sadly.

"Well, you started attacking me when I said I didn't want more kids." He says softly.

"I'm sorry." You say.

"Me too." He says taking my hand in his. "Come on, let's go home."

"Okay." You say taking his hand and standing with him. After saying goodbye to Maddie and Chim, you and Eddie make your way to his truck and start back home.

"So, how far along are you?" Eddie asks as we pull out of their driveway.

"6 weeks." You say quietly. He starts laughing and you look at him with amusement.

"Does that mean-" He cuts himself off with a laugh. "That we made a baby-"

"At Bobby and Athena's party, yep." You chime in laughing along with him.

He smiles taking your hand in his and kissing the top of it. Looking into his eyes, you knew that soon, everything would be back to normal and you'd have a new addition to your family.

[fairykingjing]

Roronoa Zoro x F Reader - Relief

Summary: You’re injured, and haven’t gotten any alone time with your boyfriend, Roronoa Zoro. He offers to help you get some relief. ;)

Warnings: SMUT! 18+! Established relationship, female reader, making out, fingering, orgasms, mentions of p in v sex, creampie, cockwarming. Reader denied sex due to injuries.

WC: 1263

First time writing smut, but I figured it was good enough to post so here ya go! Enjoy!

18+! MDNI!

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

You were on the deck of the Sunny, lounging in a chair and soaking up as much sun as you could. Chopper had finally let you out of the med bay after keeping you there for a week. During your last fight the crew got a little scuffed up, you especially taking the brunt of the damage. Besides the standard scrapes and bruises, you had a large gash running horizontally across the left side of your stomach, and another smaller one on your right thigh. You still hadn’t recovered fully, and to be honest you could hardly walk, but you were relieved to be out of that stuffy room.

Across the deck, you could see Usopp and Luffy fishing off the side of the boat, and Robin was enjoying a book. Franky was tinkering with a new gadget, and Nami was studying her maps to figure out the next place to go. You scanned the deck for your boyfriend, Zoro, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably taking a nap somewhere, you thought to yourself. Almost on cue, you felt a looming presence over you, and you looked up to see him standing over you. “What are you doing out of the med bay? Your injuries aren’t even close to being healed.” he asked.

“Well hello to you too,” you retorted. “Chopper said I could come up on the deck to get some fresh air, that room was getting suffocating.”

Zoro frowned, clearly not happy with your answer. But if Chopper said it was okay, who was he to argue? You motioned to the seat next to yours, and he sat down carefully. “Did you walk up here yourself?” he questioned. “You didn’t seem like you could walk all that well yesterday.”

“I still can’t walk, honestly. Chopper and Sanji helped me get up here,” you answered.

“The cook? Why didn’t you ask me to help you?” he pouted.

“Because Chopper couldn’t find you anywhere, and Sanji was available. So he offered to help me,” you said. “By the way, where were you?”

Zoro shifted in his chair awkwardly. “Just busy taking care of something, that’s all,” he mumbled. You could see the blush creeping up towards his face, and you clued in on what he was referring to. Neither of you had gotten any alone time in quite a while, between preparations for your last fight, and dealing with the aftermath, it had been several weeks since either of you got any release. You were dying for some relief yourself, if you could only reach your hand down to do it, but the bandages got in the way. Before you could say anything to him about that, Sanji called everyone to dinner, and Zoro got up to help you hobble your way towards the dining room, before finally just picking you up to carry you there.

Dinner was mostly uneventful, and you spent it trying to come up with a way to ask Zoro to help you with your problem. He could handle himself just fine, but you would need a little assistance. You figured asking to spend some time together in his room, alone, would be the best option. From there you could broach the subject. “You wanna spend some alone time together?” he’d asked. “If it means you’ll rest, then sure.”

He carried you to his room, carefully laying you on his hammock. After some pleading, he reluctantly agreed to climb in with you, gingerly setting himself next to you and pulling you into his arms. He placed a soft kiss on top of your head. “Better?” he asked. You nodded your head in response. You both stayed like that for a while before he spoke up. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” you asked in response.

“Don’t play dumb, I know there’s something you want to ask me, or tell me. So just say it,” he continued.

“Oh, I um… it-it’s nothing, really,” you sputtered. You tried to look away, but his hand cupped your cheek, and he pulled your face to look at his. You found yourself unable to look away from him despite your best efforts. “I just… we haven’t really gotten to be intimate in a while, and now I have all these stupid injuries so we still can’t do anything. And I’d get myself off, but I can’t with these bandages in the way…” you rambled. Your face heated up as you spoke, unable to stop the spew of words from your mouth.

“So, you’re horny? Why didn’t you just say so?” Zoro chuckled.

“I don’t know…” you whined. His hand still on your cheek, he pulled you in for a tender kiss, one that quickly became heated. His other hand reached down to carefully squeeze your ass, and you gasped, giving him the opportunity to slot his tongue in your mouth. You made out for a while, feeling lust pooling at your core. You wanted him more than anything now, but you weren’t physically capable yet.

“We have to be careful; I don’t want your injuries to flare up,” he cautioned. “But I can still help you get some relief, okay?” You nodded eagerly, and he carefully pulled your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. His hand quickly dipped down to your core, groaning as he felt how wet you were. He carefully studied your face for any signs of discomfort before dipping a finger into your folds, gathering up some of the wetness and then circling his finger around your clit. You let out a breathy moan and arched your back, finally getting the touch you had been craving. He dipped two fingers inside and curled them up, massaging everywhere he knew would get you going. His mouth returned to yours, kissing you softly as he coaxed your first release out of you. You cried out in pleasure, and he smiled down at you, pulling his hand back. “That’s it,” he hummed. “Feel better?”

You nodded in affirmation, but you couldn’t help to want more. You knew it was risky, but you brought your hand down to his erection anyway and began to stroke him. He was quick to swat your hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“Please Zoro, I need you. We can be careful, yeah? Wanna feel you fill me up,” you begged.

He simply shook his head at you. “It’s too risky with your injuries. But I promise as soon as you’re healed up fully, you’ll get as much of me as you can handle.”

“Zo, please?” you whimpered.

“Shh,” Zoro shushed you. He brought his hand back down and dipped his fingers in again, expertly moving them in and out of you at a quick pace. “Promise babe, soon as you’re healed, I’ll fill you up so full. Gonna stuff you full of my cum til you can’t hold anymore, let you sleep every night with my cock deep inside you. Just be patient for me.” His words brought you over the edge again, and you released all over his hand. He quickly kissed you to swallow the moans you let out. He rested his forehead against yours and smiled as you caught your breath.

“You promise?” you asked.

“Of course. Now try and get some rest,” he murmured. He pulled you into his arms again and you sighed contently. It didn’t take long for both of you to drift off to sleep, dreaming of how wonderful everything would be once you were all better.

[steelsmanbroaches]

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[cloudshuffle]

an arrow, a spark. yan!childe

index / next / beta reader @malewifeharem

When they assign you to a new division in the Fatui, you think nothing much of it. People were always being moved around in the organisation, people disappeared under mysterious circumstances, new recruits were popping up out of nowhere.

What was strange, however, was whose division you were assigned to. Fatui Harbinger Tartaglia, all the way in Liyue, no less - or Ajax, as you knew him better.

“I'll be sorry to see you go,” Signora says from behind you.

You jump, nearly dropping the stack of papers in your hands. She stands in the doorway, imposing as always, yet the air she gives off implies she's left off a “darling” at the end of her sentence.

Madame Signora's always been fond of you for reasons you've never known, though that often meant being stuck in dull, dull meetings and organising her paperwork for her.

You salute her, then laugh nervously. In the midst of your packing, your office looks like a hurricane hit it, stacks of books and papers scattered everywhere. Not the best look to put forward to your boss.

“So, Liyue.” She takes a step, placing her right inside the threshold of your office. Behind her, her new bodyguard slash secretary shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Quite a ways from home, yes?”

“It is.” The land of the Geo Archon, Morax, but most importantly his creation of mora. A warm place by far, considering Snezhnaya's standards, but its trade sector was coldly competitive.

“How do you feel about it?”

How did you feel? The question catches you by surprise, much like her appearance in your office. Never before had you been asked your personal opinion on anything before, least of all by a harbinger.

It’s just work.

“It’s a great opportunity to expand my horizons and learn about another culture, ma’am.”

She chuckles elegantly. “A textbook answer. Good. It’d be useful if you kept those same wits around Tartaglia.”

You blink, a cloud of dust distracting you briefly from what she’d just said. “...Tartaglia, ma’am?”

“Oh, yes.” Her red lips curve into a wry smile. “He requested for you specifically. He’s been pestering me, in fact, to let him have you.”

You remain silent, unsure of how to respond.

“But look at me, holding you up. I do hope you have fun while in Liyue - it can be quite the interesting place, after all.”

────────────

You don’t quite know what all the fuss about Tartaglia is about till lunch, when you venture into the mess hall with Nadia.

She doesn't even wait for the two of you to sit down before broaching the topic. “Did you know the eleventh is back is Snezhnaya?”

“He is?” You stab at your potatoes with your fork, eyeing her cheekily. “And I don't suppose you're in the market for a partner at the same time, are you?”

“Oh, not a harbinger.” She laughs. “That’s way too high profile for me.”

You eye the raised platform at the front of the hall where a long table’s been set. It’s more for show than anything else, seeing as how the harbingers have never once found themselves privy to dining with you common soldiers. There are twelve high-backed, intricately carved mahogany chairs, and one in the middle, larger than the rest, gilded with gold and complete with red velvet cushions. The Tsaritsa’s. Yet another reminder of who you all served.

Nadia's chatter washes over you like a soothing wave. You're grateful to have a friend when you go abroad, if only for distractions like this if nothing else.

She wants to marry and settle down already - a noble sentiment for a young Snezhnayan lady. You think any man would be lucky to have her.

For yourself, you're not so sure.

“Ooh!” She nudges you. “Don't look, but Vlad's over there. Isn't he cute?”

Against her wishes, you turn your head. He looks like any regular Snezhnayan man to you, blonde and with an angular face that could’ve been carved from the frozen earth itself. “Well, I guess. He looks kind.”

“And he's coming to Liyue too!” Nadia stage whispers.

“Exciting.” You raise an eyebrow.

You excuse yourself from your meal after a while, leaving the mess hall alone. Nadia's conversation was entertaining but exhausting, provided one could keep up with her endless stream of news and gossip from various sources.

But it's from this river of information that you sift out a tiny gold nugget: that Harbinger Tartaglia would be in the archery fields if he weren't busy preparing for his return to Liyue with his new crew.

Perhaps it's curiosity, or pure boredom that drives you outside into the cold.

The walk is familiar, ice crunching under your boots. It was admittedly difficult to walk on snow and ice - if you were anything but Snezhnayan, born and raised.

Your fingertips tingle with the phantom itch to hold a bow. It'd been a while…

You follow the path, rounding the building to a frozen field. A number of wooden targets and straw dummies are lined up, some in varying states of disrepair. A small hangover, an incline, really, provides minimal coverage against the wind like a very tiny rock against a great river.

As expected, there’s no one there. You feel a small sense of relief at having missed that chance encounter.

The new recruits train elsewhere. It’s a place only for those who want to exercise the muscles you rarely get to use, being cooped up in front of a desk all day.

You take up position at the edge of the field, summoning your bow and fixing three arrows to it.

They arc in a graceful, shining line, each landing perfectly in the middle of its respective target board.

You affix another arrow to the shelf, taking a deep breath. The world narrows to the point of your arrow and the fletching on the arrow you landed.

Dimly, you’re aware of the shuffling of feet behind you, quickly hushed. Probably just another of your fellow soldiers who wanted to get out of the noise of the mess hall. You pay them no mind.

You release the arrow, reload, release, reload. Three arrows land in rapid succession, splitting each of the previous arrows neatly down the shaft.

You exhale, and your senses return to you. The cold embraces you again, and you shake the tension out of your shoulders, putting your bow away. You can almost feel its sigh, already impatient for the next occasion it could perform.

Slow clapping. “An impressive show, soldier.”

You spin on your heel.

Tartaglia stands at the top of the incline, flanked by two bodyguards. As if he needed them within the walls of the Fatui stronghold, the youngest of all the harbingers, who single-handedly dug his fingers into the fabric of Liyue to get the Tsaritsa a foothold.

It’s been quite a while since you last saw him, you realise. He looks a little sharper, a little leaner, his gaze perhaps a little more complex, as if he were thinking of the future while simultaneously discerning all your secrets. The hydro vision on his belt winks at you in the cold light.

Standing on the incline, he looks like a conqueror, surveying his land. It's a good look for a harbinger to have.

“My lord.” You salute him smartly, tamping down your embarrassment at noticing them late. “My apologies for taking up your time.”

“Oh, no need for all that, padruga.” He comes down the slope, the bodyguards following a respectful distance behind. “It's always a delight to watch you in action.”

What had Madame Signora said? “He requested for you specifically”?

Ajax- no, Tartaglia, is a good head taller than you, maybe more. As he approaches, you have to incline your head to meet the unfamiliar gleam in his blue eyes. Whatever could he want from you?

“You've been well, I trust?” He summons his bow, and you take the cue to move a step backward, leaving him room to shoot.

“Well enough, may the Tsaritsa continue to watch over me.”

To your surprise, he snorts a laugh, loosing his arrow. It strikes deep into the wood, igniting a spark as it scrapes against yours. “A devotary? Some things certainly have changed around here.”

One of the bodyguards shifts his feet. You glance back at him, then at Tartaglia. “Is a harbinger not also subservient to her majesty?”

He chuckles. “Of course he is. I’m just… surprised.” Another arrow, another target. “You never struck me as the type to believe.”

You remain silent as the last arrow hits its mark. All just to the right of your own arrows, pressed so close they seem on the verge of falling off.

“Excellent marksmanship, my lord.” The impersonal compliment comes easily to your lips. You clasp your hands behind your back.

A gentle breeze begins to blow (the kind that might have killed a man in lesser clothing), unsettling his already unruly ginger hair. The bodyguards adjust their stances, as if roused by the cold wind.

“Certainly.” He grins, a self-assured smile, unhidden by a mask. You’re grateful for yours in that regard - no need to hide your emotions or expressions too well when all Fatui are shrouded in uniform secrecy. “Nothing but the best to serve her majesty.”

Somewhere deep within the halls, a bell begins to toll.

You snap to a salute. “Thank you for your time, my lord,” you say, as if he hadn’t been the one to seek you out for conversation first. “I must be taking my leave now.”

padruga: friend (female) according to google

— word count: 1598. thank you for reading!

[ninyard]

hello I would like the kevallison smut ?? Please

The promised kevallison headcanons (aka how the two of them figure out what the other person is into + how they might go about doing it)

When they start hooking up it’s all pretty standard stuff. Allison gets him off after a game. Kevin eats her out if there’s ten minutes free in between classes and an empty dorm room. They’re a booty call before, during or after a night out, or a no-strings-attached way to get some frustration off their chest. Their friends-with-benefits situation is more often than not just a quick fuck when they’re bored. But it's kind of just… that? It's just fucking. It's a handful of different positions, in a handful of different places, but nothing more than fucking, finishing, and leaving. They don’t feel a need to bring it any further though, in some ways hesitant that the other will catch feelings if it gets too intimate. But from the get-go their agreement is clear - if either starts to get attached, or jealous, or even thinks that it might be worth pursuing, they stop. It doesn’t happen, of course, but in the beginning they really try to err on the side of caution until they know that for certain.

There’s one of two ways that their casual hook ups becomes more... interesting every now and again: one) accidentally. two) intentionally.

If it is accidental, I think they stumble upon the other’s kinks by the Grace of God. It's a quick fuck that turns into something more because one of them picks up on how the other's demeanor changes and they realise oh. oh. That did something for them. The moment when it happens is so intoxicating and sexually charged; So intense at the realisation of how turned on the other person is, that they’re just waiting for someone in the dorm room over, or outside the bathroom at a party, or in the almost-empty parking lot to ask did anyone hear Allison and Kevin fucking last night? For either of them, single and used to quick fucks with strangers that don't mean anything nor have the longevity for experimenting with, getting to dip into their fantasies is unparalleled pleasure.

If it’s accidental, it’s a pleasant surprise for them both, and Kevin and Allison have that in common - they are both incredibly, heavily turned on by their fuck-buddies feeling satisfied. It happens, where sometimes Kevin just wants to be blown without returning the gesture, or where Allison wants to come without having to put in the effort it takes to give back. More often than not, though, whether it be with each other or with other people, they're most satisfied when the other person is satisfied, too. So when the topic of kinks and turn ons is broached, or accidentally revealed, it doesn't matter that it's Kevin, or that it's Allison. When they've been fucking for long enough that they find themselves discovering these things, they're comfortable enough with each other to not feel embarrassed about what happens when they have sex. If it makes her wet, and it keeps him hard, then it doesn't matter. They don't talk about their sex lives outside of when or where it happens - a kink or two isn't going to change that.

For Kevin, sweet submissive baby boy who just lives to be praised - oh, when Allison finds out, it opens this door for changing their dynamics that she hadn't even realised existed. Kevin gets so turned on that he practically melts, and Allison eats it up like it's the hottest thing she's ever laid eyes on.

They've found themselves standing up against a wall in a bathroom at a party somewhere, too many suggestive looks across the room leading to a desperately desired handjob or two, and Kevin is fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He struggles with it for a second, before pulling the black leather out from it's square frame and Allison offhandedly says good job with a laugh as she trails kisses up his neck and her fingers down his stomach. She feels his reaction to her words before she notices how his eyes glaze over with the thoughts in his head; how he stills at her words, how he's yearning through his sigh when she follows with a knowing whisper of oh, you want me to tell you how good you're being?

Him in her hand, the long acrylic nails of her free hand dragging lines down his neck, Allison feels how needy he is and softly purrs in his ear to tell her how much he wants it. It's not lost on him how she plays with him like putty between her tender fingers, but still he looks into her eyes with his eyebrows knitted into each other, too close to argue; The please that escapes his lips trapped in between a gasp and a moan is rebutted with her sultry say it again. I want to hear that pretty voice beg. It takes the stalling of the rhythm in her working hand before he finds the ability to whimper out his desperate please, please, please. She's using her free hand to hold his face still, their eyes locked together, while he can barely keep himself in one piece. Her thumb is soft over his lips, brushing over little gasps and short breaths, holding him while she whispers a question and he falls apart in her hands.

If Kevin loves to be topped by strong women, Allison loves to hear a man moan. And she’s never heard him like this before, his lips drawn apart just inches from hers, one hand steadying himself against the wall and the other tugging and pawing at the skin of the small of her back. She doesn't let him look away as she guides him to climax with her soft words of gentle praise. How pretty he looks when he's trying his hardest to be quiet, how well he's doing at keeping himself composed.

Allsion doesn't care that she's accidentally unlocked this submissive side of Kevin; firstly, he's hot as hell when he's this desperate, and it's not as if she's going to be leaving that bathroom and calling him a good boy on the court, because that's not how this works. She's fucked him angry and she's fucked him needy - the passion of fulfilled fantasy only working on a different level to anything else.

(When he's caught his breath and started to clean himself up, she washes her hands and admires her work; his rosy cheeks burning up as she watches him in the mirror. She pushes herself up onto the vanity, and when he can finally bare to look at her again, she says I'm proud of you with a playful smile. Kevin covers his face to laugh in semi-embarrassment, his head shaking as he finds himself in between her legs. They don't talk about it too much before he returns the favour.)

Then there's, Allison, sweet Allison, who's interests work in harmony like a perfect composed song. We knows she loves to hear the men she sleeps with, but there's two things that really get her going that more often than not go hand in hand - rough sex, and loud sex. Living in dorms, it's hard to indulge, especially the second, but usually she'll just pull him close, with his lips to her ear or hers to his. Allison gets off on hearing the person she's fucking, and Kevin is not an exception to that.

They've somehow had a stroke of luck - an empty house in Columbia and some time to kill. Kevin is on the edge of the bed, and Allison is facing Kevin while sitting on his lap, her knees resting on either side of him, in a skirt that is already so short that it's barely even there. They're making out, and Kevin isn't really thinking, but he slaps her ass - something he'd done once or twice before, but never that hard, never that loud. Allison sits back, hands on his shoulders with her mouth open wide. She doesn't get the chance to finish her questioning what are you doing? Before his mischievous smile curls around, what, this? as he laughs and does it again. When she stands up off of him in a half-protest, shaking her finger at how close he was getting to really getting her going, he follows her up. He stands in front of her with feigned apologies for his boldness. She leans into his kiss, with arms wrapped tight around her waist, but instead of pouting his lips, he picks her up and throws her back onto the bed while she scream-laughs.

Body over body, on top of her then, a hand finds it's way in between strands of shiny blonde. A hand that she takes into hers, guiding his fist to grasp a handful of her hair. When he doesn't hold it hard enough she tugs it gently, keeping his fist closed with her hand around it. Looking down at her, he purses his lips with an oh that pauses his other hand while it pushes up her skirt to touch her over her panties. Reading him while waiting for the laugh that never comes is agonisingly long, as she braces herself for the mortifying conversation that he was not going to be entertaining it. Instead he waits for her hand to trail away before pulling her head, hard, back into the bed. And when she shuts her eyes and parts her lips in pleasure, he is quick to bring his hand up to her chin, tilting her head back. The two smallest of his fingers fingers tuck themselves neatly behind her ear, the other two tight between her jawline and her cheekbone. The ball of his thumb is resting on her chin. She doesn't stop him when his thumb trails down from her cupid's bow and into her mouth. She doesn't stop him when he takes it out hold it around her throat, either. Kevin is careful to scatter wet bruises down her chest where they won't be seen. When he's standing back to take off his pants and she’s lifting her top over her head, he asks, you want it hard? and she responds do you even fucking have to ask?

Her skirt is up over her hips and her thong down her thighs. He’s on his knees with her legs over his thighs, maybe he’s pinning her hands down above her head with one big hand over her little wrists. Headboard banging, unrestrained volume, handprints on ass cheeks and scratches across spines. Allison gets sex-drunk when he manhandles her. It’s sloppy, it’s messy, it’s loud, it’s so hot that it’s on fire. It’s eye-rolling, being in a daze afterwards type of fucking. It’s mascara running down cheeks, how the fuck am I supposed to look anyone in the eye after having that done to me type of fucking. It’s needing to have a shower immediately afterwards type of sweaty, messy fucking.

(It’s probably one of the only times they almost/kind of get caught. Not because of the noise, or the sex itself but because of the aftermath. Andrew and Neil clock INSTANTLY the missing and changed details when they regroup - how Kevin’s hair is freshly washed, how Allison has taken her heavy makeup off leaving only a fresh coat of mascara and some lipgloss remaining. How they can barely look at each other in case it reminds them of what has just happened. Their puffy lips, their general daze. Yeah, they fly a little too close to the sun that time - not enough time afterwards to recuperate from an absolutely dirty, filthy, fucking.)

If it's an intentional thing, a discussion about what they're into, and they know before getting into it/it's a conscious choice/it's intentional/some sort of discussion/WHATEVER? There's a few ways I could potentially see it possibly coming up.

A game of Never Have I Ever or some other drinking game with the group and the discussions of kinks come up; Kevin drinks when somebody mentions a praise kink, or being dominated. Allison drinks when somebody mentions liking it rough. Their looks to each other are quick but knowing, Kevin's raised eyebrows when Allison drinks to say she doesn't mind being degraded, the flick of her eyes when he drinks to say he doesn't mind begging for it.

They don't hang around after hooking up, usually. Clean up, get dressed, and leave. That's the routine. But they're talking afterwards for a little while, and the subject of fantasies comes up, and while shes fixing her makeup and tying up her hair she asks him what's the one thing he'd go crazy for. he considers it for a little bit but then gets embarrassed because it's a way harder thing to talk about when you're not actively turned on or drunk. They offer each other tiny pieces as they joke about it, starting tame before they eventually just say it out straight. (she calls him princess when she's leaving and he calls her a slut before she shuts the door.)

They ask each other outright. Kinda similar to accidentally figuring it out but they ask each other for it instead of the other person just doing something and stumbling upon it. Maybe Kevin asks her to tell him how good he feels and she asks why, are you into that? and they like. talk through it . Do you like it when I ask you this? Can I call you this? Do you like it when I tell you you're doing such a good job? Talking through sex can be so hot and even hearing the questions out loud sets the imagination off on a fucking marathon. Maybe Allison asks can you choke me? and he asks her how she likes it before agreeing. Do you like it when I hold you like this? Do you want me to spit in your mouth? Do you want to shut the fuck up and listen to what you do to me? It's a much more thorough discussion than them simply going oh, i think the other person has [blank] kink, so i'm just gonna go ahead and do that. It's a request, instead. Both of them knowing what they want and knowing how to ask for it? Yeaaaahhhh

[moodymisty]

so ummm. i also caught cato sicarius fleas. idk what happened but now i want to be bullied by the big arrogant blueberry. send help.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: I hope this is what you meant by bullying cause uuuuuuuuuh -microwave noises-

Summary: Cato Sicarius tires of being your just your escort.

Relationship: Cato Sicarius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lewd but not nsfw, dubcon, bullying sorta, Titus is an Ultrachad™ and Sicarius gets jealous you like him and tries to show you who the captain of 2nd company really is (which is still Titus in my heart but in this case no) Nonconsensual kissing, Armor kink, choking kinda, Demeaning behavior

He is worth more than this.

Cato Sicarius is captain of 2nd company, one of the most honored Ultramarines in this millennium. He is worth more than guard duty, escorting around baseline humans. One of Guilliman’s prized diplomats perhaps might be worth more than a common guardsmen, but in his eyes, you’re nothing more than an idea he deems largely stupid.

His genefather had been collecting diplomats as of late. Sicarius sees little need in it, but as his Primarch insisted he grits his teeth and bares it. He must have ideas beyond his scope to understand, though it doesn’t mean that Sicarius doesn’t struggle to see the logic.

“Motion sick, Captain Sicarius?”

One of the younger marines dares to joke at his petulant expression.

“We are worth more than shuffling around diplomats,”

Sicarius spits out in response, and you speak up. You’ve been within hearing distance this entire trip, and even in the silence everyone could hear Sicarius seething.

“Your fellows don’t seem to mind.”

You’ve heard from them that Sicarius is more than a harsh captain; He’s a stoic, pompous man in need of a hit to his ego. Even by Ultramarine standards. Once you’d broached the subject, the men in 2nd company escorting you a previous time had been quite eager to complain.

The Thunderhawk lands and you can hear the engines kill off one by one, and the rear ramp falls. There’s a significant gap between it and the ground, and while the Ultramarines walk down as normal, for you it’s a hefty drop.

Lieutenant Titus, whom you’ve had multiple interactions with before at this point, turns just before you’re about to jump and reaches a hand outward. You accept his hand and take the jump off the ramp.

“Thank you, Titus.”

He nods, but says nothing. You follow beside him and for a moment realize you’ve lost sight of Sicarius, before Titus speaks up and distracts you.

“You’ve already spoken to Lord Gulliman?” You nod and cross your arms, entering the massive fortress and escaping from the harsh winds.

“Yes. Only to give me a few necessary details. I imagine he has far more to do than speak to me.” You laugh and gently pat the arm of Titus’ armor, fingers brushing against the dents and scratches.

“But we can only hope they’ll see reason," you say, referring to the planetary officials you're currently going to meet. "I’d hate for lord Guilliman to be forced on employing harsher measures.”

Titus nods in a gentle understanding, and you continue deeper into this fortress area you’ve been welcomed to. Sicarius elects to post himself outside of the room you’re delegated to have this meeting in, alongside two other of his men. The rest, including Titus, whose face he cannot stand anymore at the moment, will post inside.

With his hearing and the systems in his helmet he can just hear the goings on inside the closed room, hearing your lighter voice in contrast to the others in the room.

She's a useful and gifted diplomatic negotiator, Guilliman had said about you the first time he had placed Sicarius in charge of escorting you. Make sure she isn't harmed, her work is important to keeping Ultramar under control.

If the old planets of Ultramar don't wish to conform with Guilliman's return, they should be applying force to demand they submit, not touting around fellow baseline humans to placate them.

Sicarius', stuck in his own head, wrinkles his forehead and scoffs. A younger marine beside him looks for just a moment, before rubbing his nose with his gauntlet and looking away. Sicarius can hear you issuing farewells now, and since there was a notable lack of yelling, he assumes it went well enough.

Sicarius turns to the other marines beside him, his hand on the pommel of his chainblade. He turns just as the doors open, and gestures to his men while you stand behind them.

“All of you start returning to the Thunderhawk and watch our perimeter, I will escort her back myself.” They hesitate for only the tiniest moment, but do begin to take their leave. They have no ability to refuse their captain, no matter how odd the request.

You watch them walk past you, before Sicarius’ voice cuts the air like a knife and forces your eyes to him.

“With me.”

You don’t have any reason to refuse him per se, so you follow him with an apprehensive feeling, and expression.

"Shouldn't we return to the-"

"Quiet."

Your lip curls, though you're still apprehensive as you end up somewhere far from where you entered, and he stops your walking his a rough hand on your shoulder. Astartes are lightning fast; He doesn't it before you even truly realize. With said hand he pushes you against the wall, and knocks the air from your lungs, and his hand moves to your face instead. He presses your cheeks inward, your breath is harsh as your fingers try to pull at his gauntlet.

“What are you doing?”

You say trying to wrench yourself free, fear in your eyes. Such a task is impossible however, and Sicarius uses his other hand to pull off his helmet and hang it on his thigh. His short hair is messy, and his cheeks are flush red. With anger or something else you have no idea, though you know he is furious.

“You’ve gotten too comfortable with your lack of respect; Being Lord Guilliman’s favorite.” You lose any bit of snark when you realize Sicarius is deathly serious. An angry astartes isn’t something you ever want to face, and color drains from your face as you realize how tightly you're stuck between him and the wall.

"You're far too delicate and small to be walking around like you can order Ultramarines around. Titus only allows you because he knows he's being watched after his incident."

His nose wrinkles, and he glances away as his lips shift, trying to find the words.

“Why do I always get stuck with you,” He growls, speaking about how he shouldn’t be escorting around Imperium parchment pushers. You hesitantly look up at him, face red from his tight grip.

"I," You open your mouth just a bit, trying to find something to say that might calm him down, though it seems like he's mad at something in his own head, as much as he is you.

But you can't find the words, nor would you even have the time to say them, as Sicarius' face leans downward to smash his lips against yours, and freeze you in the sheer shock of it. You have no hope of pushing him away despite your effort and his gauntlet keeps your face firmly forward; You can feel his hot breath on your skin, and his even hotter skin against your own. His lips are rough, you can feel tiny scars rub against your own softer lips, his hand gripping your jaw forcing your mouth somewhat open. His kiss is so angry it doesn't feel entirely like one, when he moves his teeth brush against your bottom lip, and for a moment you think he's going to bite it.

When he pulls away you can hear the soft pop of your lips separating, and see the shine of your spit on his mouth.

“Sicar-“

He does it again, your hands grasp the collar of his chestplate for leverage to try and push him away, and to stay upright. He’s barely letting you breathe, and when his hand moves from your jaw you’re gasping for air. Though his hand simply moves to press against your collarbone, still keeping you pinned between the wall and him; It's just high enough that it slightly presses against your neck, and you can feel his one armored knee force itself between your legs. You smack his chestplate desperately for air, and he pulls his mouth away from you for a brief moment as you gasp.

He only returns moments later however, but in that brief moment you see his face had less anger than it had earlier. You feel his nose press against your cheek, how cold his armor feels as you desperately grasp it.

Your legs wobble as you groan into his mouth, and when he finally pulls himself far enough away from you and takes his supporting knee from between your legs, you crumble to your knees holding your chest and taking in air.

On the floor you're at height with his thighs, and he leans over just enough to grab your face gently.

“If you’re going to be in my company again, I’ll expect you to be on better behavior. You should act as soft as you look.”

His hand leaves your face, gently pushing as he does.

“Captain Sicarius, are you still returning to the Thunderhawk?” An astartes calls him with vox in his helmet, and Sicarius grabs it off of his belt. It'll help hide how red his lips are from how hard he kissed you, your own looking similar; He wipes his mouth with the back of his armored hand before slipping it on and responding.

“We are. I’ll be there in a moment. Just a small detour”

Sicarius casts a glance to you, out of breath with your hand on your chest, before grabbing your arm and gently hauling you up to your feet.

"Not a word about this."

He says, and you can feel his gaze through his helmet. You wipe your mouth with your hand, feeling your swollen lips and the spit on your face.

"Lead the way, Captain Sicarius."

[junemermaid]

(almost) sentences sunday, mlc edition

(eta: I'm on holiday and thus smoothly mixed up the days of the weekend. tomorrow is saturday. whatever; enjoy this morsel anyway.)

hi, I fell off the map for a while, but I've been writing again so here's a piping fresh snippet from a difanghua fic I'm trying to finish.

the elevator pitch is, difang tag team llh for great justice (and mutual enjoyment). have a bit of lead-up/flirting/llh being his own worst enemy. this part is still sfw.

"Good spar, was it?" Li Lianhua asks, bending over the rising green stalks of his spring onions. "Xiaobao seems to be giving you real trouble lately." "I told you, give him ten years and he'll be singular." Di Feisheng drapes an arm around his shoulders. That's a bit more tactile than he usually is. "Could be as few as six or seven, if you took more part in his training. He didn't get as early a start as you or I, but he is... gratifyingly quick on the uptake." This close, Li Lianhua can see the dark, mottled tint of Di Feisheng's lower lip, as if swollen from someone's teeth. He tends to bite it to keep quiet, a reflex of silence that clearly predates their intimacies. There is, quite obviously, the sandalwood aroma of Fang Duobing's sleeve sachet clinging to him, starkly different from the clean, cool fragrances he himself favours. "I'll give it some thought," Li Lianhua mutters. He's said that to Di Feisheng before. His blood rushes in his ears. "Add it to all the other things you've been in knots about lately." "You know why I wanted some time." It has been months since they last broached this topic. In his defence, returning from the dead was not an altogether simple matter. "I'm not his master. I'm not Li Xiangyi, even if I don't mind that you call me that." "At least one of us knows what he wants from Fang Duobing," Di Feisheng says, aggravatingly light. "You know he's very good at providing." Oh, they're no longer talking about sword-fighting lessons. Li Lianhua's face is hot. He should shrug himself free. "I hope you reciprocated, you menace." "Fair is fair." Nudging Li Lianhua's chin up, Di Feisheng kisses him. It's a sweet kiss, by Di Feisheng's standards, and probably—hopefully—not calculated to end just as Li Lianhua is about to melt against him with abrupt yearning. "Between all of us. Take your time." Di Feisheng goes. Li Lianhua exhales raggedly, hands tight on the hems of his sleeves.

tbc

[pmpmyread]

Desiderium

Geto Suguru x f!reader, a bit angsty.

Geto Suguru had never asked you to join him.

This held true now, just as it did on the day you showed up on the doorstep of the near-empty building that had previously served as Time Vessel Association headquarters, a mere few weeks after he did, fueled by disillusionment and armed only with a desperate attachment to the prospect of contributing to a system superior to the one that had killed your fellow classmate and pushed your beloved tutor to defection.

Years later, you’d added quite a few tools to this threadbare arsenal, one of them being the point of your current contention.

“Instrumental to our operations” is how Geto had referred to your impeccable vetting process during a cult leadership meeting one day, commending your unmatched capability to read people and to quickly detect any ulterior motives, thanks, in part, to a particular side effect of your Cursed Technique that granted you a unique ability to read body language and micro-expressions.

Today, when you decided to finally broach the unspoken topic that was his recent multi-day seclusion, it became clear that Geto’s appreciation for your skillset that he’d relied on so heavily over the years, for everything from standardizing his clan recruitment efforts to scrutinizing the tight-knit circle he kept around him, was contingent upon it not being used against him.

After days of attempts to get through to him, your worry and frustration melded together into a simmering ticking time bomb that finally went off today. You barely let the previous attendee cross the threshold out of Geto’s office before you shoved past him to enter it, eager to finally be able to catch the first moment you’d have with him in nearly three days.

As soon as you shut the door behind you, the grievances you levied against him spilled out in quick succession, each one a new arrow in your quiver; you lamented his lack of sleep and how he was gambling his health away, you called him out on his isolationist tendencies and you verbalized what had been gnawing at you for weeks now, that he just wasn’t as good at hiding the fact that he was hiding his true emotions as he was as hiding those emotions, that it was clear as day to you that despite years of partnering in every way possible, that he still mistrusted you, only letting you see what he wanted you to see.

As soon as you'd begun your tirade, you'd known that this conversation wouldn't go anywhere. At least not at the moment.  And yet, you still paused to offer Geto the space to formulate a response, hoping against hope to get a different reaction from him this time.

Instead, a charged silence settled between the two of you, finding you on opposing sides of his ornate hinoki hardwood desk that served as the physical manifestation of the border that delineated your mindsets.

The unreadable expression he gave you before he stood up and made his way to the door, mumbling something about being “just fine” and having “urgent matters to attend to” made it clear that he wasn’t even going to endeavor to appease you. At least not at the moment.

Geto had never asked you to join him.

He’d never asked you for anything.

And sometimes, you desperately wished he would.

Years prior, it was only during the cab ride that took you away from your recently emptied dorm at Jujutsu Tech in the dead of a caliginous fall night that you’d first truly given a serious thought about the line you were about to cross.   

You’d been in light correspondence with Geto over text messaging, something which you learned, after discreetly querying Gojo, Shoko, and Nanami, was unique to you. He’d kept his conversations brief and vague, reaching out to you punctually, each time via a different number, and strictly maintaining the topic on you and your wellbeing.

It was difficult for you to reconcile the young upperclassman you’d grown to see as a mentor figure, who had dedicated countless hours training alongside you, Nanami, and Haibara not out of imposed duty but simply out of goodwill, with the criminal that was now being depicted everywhere.

And so you didn’t.

After weeks of sleepless nights, the grief of losing your close friend let way for something more intense. A sentiment of frustration and helplessness you’d originally recognized as familiar, reminiscent of one you’d felt years ago, as you grappled with what were, at the time, inexplicable powers that were manifesting within you.

Your sudden departure was equally as evocative of the one that had occurred four years earlier, when you’d left your parents' house, also in the concealment brought by the night, after forging your mother’s signature to join Jujutsu Tech as a student, leaving only a long note behind.

You wondered what Nanami would think about your exit. The two of you had just started to grow closer, but now with the person that served as the buffer between your friendship gone, it had felt difficult to naturally reach out to him. You knew that his pain had to be acute, given that he and Haibara had joined together and had a longer history. He’d remained the most outwardly neutral about Geto’s defection.

Your thoughts then flitted to Shoko, and of how she would take the news. In the few conversations you’d had with her after Geto left, you’d gathered that she was operating in a much greyer area. Some of the things she’d said even made you wonder if she’d also consider joining Geto.

You absentmindedly opened your flip phone and were met with your wallpaper image, a picture comprising the first and second-year students huddled almost uncomfortably tightly together in the back so as to fit the tiny frame, at the instruction of Gojo who was the one taking the shot as a selfie. It’s what forced you to face the prospect of the devastating blow your withdrawal would be on him.

You were just around the hallway corner, when Yaga delivered him the news about Geto’s crimes, and you’d observed firsthand how utterly demolished he’d been upon learning of them. You’d then witnessed firsthand how he seamlessly moved from shock to action, graduating early and taking on more responsibilities at the school all while burying himself into work and missions until he all but disappeared.

But he too, had started doing frequent check-ins on your wellbeing.

Gojo. Shoko. Nanami. Your parents. As you tilted your head up to gaze out the window, letting your eyes follow the lights that slipped by at a quickening pace as the cab embarked onto the freeway, you wondered if you’d ever experience a proper goodbye.

As Geto’s operations rapidly grew larger, you attempted to find your place in his world. When you’d first joined him, you’d found that he already had some ardent adherents who were organically doing the bulk of the recruitment work through word of mouth. A few other embittered sorcerers joined after you, some even trying to politic their way into the coveted number two spot you occupied. If you weren’t the one to halt them, Geto would be quick to indicate to them what time it was.

Your bond only grew stronger over time.

One day, after you’d deemed that enough time had passed for you to do so, you’d unsuccessfully tried to worm the details of his final conversation with Gojo out of him. He’d made it clear that it was in his past and that he had no desire to revisit it whatsoever.

On the increasingly rare occasion, he’d spoken of anything remotely related to Jujutsu Tech, it was strictly when it was only you in his presence and always with quiet emotion.

There was so much the two of you had in common; there had to be for you to follow him into this dark world. That said, you learned over time that what differentiated you from the yes-people he surrounded himself with was that as supportive as you were, you’d also kept him somewhat grounded. In the first few years, you’d slipped into the comfort that you’d defined the part that you’d take on in this enterprise.

As time went on and Geto became increasingly intense in his aspirations, you found yourself struggling to maintain your role as a counterbalance, holding yourself to a standard you ultimately knew would forever be beyond your reach.

There was no substituting for Gojo Satoru.

Your position provided you with a unique vantage point. You saw the cult adherents for what they were; lost people who yearned for something different from the cruel closed loops of corruption that ruled the modern world and who found solace under Geto's guidance and through his philosophy. You could somewhat relate to this sentiment.

You saw the members of Geto’s close circle for what they were; disenchanted sorcerers who had also lost hope in the current configuration of Jujutsu Society and who saw their place within Geto’s powerful sphere of influence. To this as well, you could relate.

As for Geto’s true purpose, that was a riddle you had yet to solve, one you desperately wanted to, if only for the selfish purpose of the key it would yield as a reward.

Almost half a decade out from leaving Jujutsu Tech on that fateful night, you were a different person from the young frustrated girl who’d anchored her life’s purpose to that of a man you admired, having now been exposed to his complexity and his flaws and, in the process, forced to embark on your own journey of self-discovery.

Over that same period, Geto had assuredly lived through a transformation of his own. You still perceived the rage that had once bound you to his cause, latent and simmering right beneath his surface.

But it took a different form.

There was an unplaceable sentiment in the intimate moments you shared some evenings, long after he’d shed the veneer he wore every morning in his capacity as a cult leader, expressed through the inflection of his words and the tone of his voice that transported you back to the early Jujutsu training sessions he’d led for you and Haibara when the world still looked promising.

It’s the same feeling you experienced when you perceived a hint of what his smile once was, during his interactions with Nanako and Mimiko, the twin girls he’d adopted in what was likely his most earnest act post-defection.

You felt it now, hours out from your earlier confrontation, after he’d surprised you by wordlessly and reverently taking his place on your shared bed by your side, immediately burying his face firmly against the side of your chest as though to physically prevent himself from verbalizing his thoughts. The juxtaposition of the uncertainty that plagued you and of his firm hold threw you back to the first time he’d held you like this, promising you the world, and to every similar moment since, when you’d allowed yourself to believe that he was entirely yours.

Somewhere along the way, life had become what occurred between these small pockets of hope, the ones that you cling to as proof that all was decidedly not lost. Just as you were going to break the silence that you’d held since vocalizing your frustrations in his office earlier, you heard Geto’s breaths evening out into a regular cadence, indicating that he’d finally ended his multi-day insomnia. Your whisper fell onto his sleeping figure.

“Let’s talk in the morning.”

[tgmsunmontue]

From the top 1/? (WIP)

IceMav, (eventual) Explicit, (background Hangster who are already established). Set post-TGM. (No dead Ice obviously).

Featuring not-mistaken identities (where they (Ice and Mav) pretend to be in the dark for REASONS), Ice is Jake's Uncle Tom, Mav is Bradley's Dad, everyone knows everyone, (un)requited love, coming out as an older person, and a little bit of a circus-vibe where Ice has a horrible realization that this is indeed his circus and these are also his monkeys.

An AU where Mav married Carole and adopted Bradley to make things easier legally. A USNA Bradley who has been very careful to separate Dad/Pete from godfather/Maverick. They had an argument prior to TGM, but it was around Maverick being careless with his life (RE: Darkstar because Bradley got the call that Maverick was missing, presumed dead). So it was about risk taking and thinking while flying, so that was happening and Bradley admits to the Dagger Squadron that Maverick is his godfather and they have a ‘complicated relationship’ which isn’t a lie per se, however it’s… complicated.

                He and Bradley haven’t reached the stage yet where they’ve met any of each other’s family. They haven’t even introduced each other to their friends as boyfriends yet, and their circle of friends overlap. And he’s okay with that. More than okay actually. Doesn’t quite know how he’d broach the whole by the way I’m sort of related to the COMPACFLT through my mom conversation. He’s close with Tom now, closer than he is to any of his mom’s other cousins that’s for sure. Idolized him when he was young, and now also holds a deep-rooted respect and affection for the man. It had also helped knowing he had someone to look to as a role model, someone who was gay in the Navy and got so high up no-one could do anything to him now. Jake wanted that. Badly.

                But he also kind of wants his Uncle Tom to be happy. Although, hell, for all he knew he could have had a secret lover all these years. If anyone could keep it hidden it’s Uncle Tom, face quiet and impassive, unmoving and unflinching. He’d really hoped for a callsign half as cool as Iceman, and even if Uncle Tom jokes that he does have a literal half with man, he wishes he didn’t have the connotations of Hangman, even if it’s because of fucking song lyrics he was forever quoting and now twisted into something that make people assume things before they even know him.

                Not that he really has that problem now, with the Dagger Squadron being made a permanent detachment and with them all knowing each other so well now. They know he’s got their backs when it actually comes down to it. And he likes being based where his Uncle Tom is, because while he’s meant to be based in Hawaii they’ve made some concessions due to his cancer treatment. He knows their entire family is grateful, not least his Aunty Sarah. God, he knows it’s the high of surviving a literal suicide mission but life feels so good right now. He’s expecting Bradley to turn up any minute, they’ve got plans for dinner and a movie and then sex, not necessarily in that order.

                When he opens his door and Rooster is there, he can’t help the little happy swoop his insides do and he lets Bradley kiss him hello.

                “Hi.”

                “Hi. How are you?”

                “Good. Little annoyed… my dad is talking about getting back together with an ex…”

                “Is this the ex you like, or don’t like?”

                “You can safely bet money that it’s nearly always an ex I don’t like. I don’t think he’s ever had a relationship with anyone I’ve actually liked… shit that’s depressing.”

                “Maybe you just have really high standards for him?”

                “You mean unlike for myself, where my standards are really low?”

                “Hey!”

                They end up play-wrestling which quickly morphs into not-play making-out and yeah, the sex comes before dinner but he was sort of banking on that, making food that would be perfectly fine just staying warm in the oven. They end up curled around each other on the sofa, queuing up a movie and Jake asks about his day. Listens as Bradley talks about going out to Maverick’s hangar to work on the plane, having lunch with his dad and he wonders if Maverick has met Bradley’s step-dad. Obviously he must have, he’s been around even longer, although it must be weird to have two people called Pete wandering around, he guesses that’s why Bradley calls Maverick Maverick, and his step-dad dad. Stops the confusion.

                He knows Maverick and Bradley had a falling out of some sort, they’d been very angry with each other. He figured out that Maverick flew with Bradley’s dad, was the pilot when his dad died, and he’d thought it had been that. But then Bradley had dropped the bombshell that Maverick was his godfather and they’d had a fight over something he can’t talk about, but they would be fine. So Jake hasn’t pushed wanting to also hang out with Maverick, because when Bradley talks about the P-51 and the hangar his fingers itch but he gets Bradley wanting to mend bridges with his godfather.

                More than that though he wants to meet Bradley’s step-dad, doesn’t understand Bradley’s reticence about introducing them. It’s not like he’s going to care. But they’ve only been doing this, whatever it is, for a couple of weeks, which he guesses is early days, but with everything they’ve gone through in the last couple of months it also feels like several lifetimes. Then again, he’s in no rush to introduce Bradley to Uncle Tom, so maybe it’s for the best they wait a few weeks. Or months.

                “You still thinking about your dad?”

                “Yeah. I just need to get him seeing someone else. Anyone to take his mind off getting back with Georgia. Or any of his exes for that matter. Georgia especially is… well. I have no idea what she gets out of sleeping with Dad. She’s anti military for a start.”

                “The fact that she gets to sleep with him?”

                “Ew, gross…”

                “Maybe she thinks she can convert him to a non-military life one blowjob at a time…”

                “You could try that on me you know, see if you can convince me to do something with a blowjob…”

                “Don’t think I need the promise of a bj to convince you to do anything,” Jake says with a grin. “You know, my uncle Tom is gay, maybe we could set them up? Well, assuming your dad swings both ways?”

                “Huh. Yeah… He does. Keeps that pretty much on the down-low, very much on a need to know basis. Pretty sure I only know because I saw him trying to sneak a guy out when I was seventeen. Did make me feel safer about coming out to him myself though.”

…            …            …

                “Jake, I am not installing Grindr on my phone, work, personal or otherwise.”

                “Thought you might say that, so I bought you a burner. Well, please don’t actually burn it, but you know what I mean.”

                “Jake…” Tom lets out an exasperated sigh. “I wouldn’t burn it. I know what a burner is. I’m not an idiot. I just don’t want to go on a date…”

                “Okay, so you don’t actually have to go on a date. All my cards on the table. I’m using the app to introduce you to the step-dad of my… uh, a friend.”

                “A friend huh? Is this the same friend you won’t introduce to the family?”

                “Yes. The exact one. Anyway, I just want you to send him a couple of messages. Let’s say ten messages. After that you can go back to ignoring it, remove the battery from the phone and pretend it never happened. Okay?”

                “Will you let it go if I do this?”

                “I mean… yeah. I hope you make a friend or something, but he’s military as well, so you guys have something in common at least…”

                “Fine. But I want the name of your friend.”

                “No! You’ll just look him up.”

                “He’s Navy?”

                “No!”

                “He is! Good job.”

…            …            …

                “Bradley! Why is Grindr amongst my recently installed apps!”

                “I’m setting you up!” Bradley calls out, grabbing two beers to go with their takeout Chinese.

                “I don’t need setting up. I can find my own dates. I don’t need an app!”

                “Yes, you do. You can’t get back with Georgia just because you’re lonely. Look, I’m not going to make you swipe through dick-pics…”

                “Maybe I want to swipe through dick-pics!”

                “Mav, be serious! You just said you didn’t want the app!”

                “Seriously? You’re the one that installed Grindr on my phone.”

                “God, maybe this was an awful idea.”

                “Yeah, you think?”

                “Okay, give me a second,” Bradley mutters, rolling his eyes and pulling his own from his pocket and thumbing into his contacts.

                “Hi… how’s it going?” Jake asks, voice quiet, and he must still be at his Uncle’s house.

                “Not well. You think we can maybe just set them up with an app that blocks their numbers and then just let them talk that way?”

                “Can’t hurt to try… your dad resisting the Grindr approach too huh?”

                “So much. And I get it, HE’S REALLY OLD,” Bradley says, raising his voice while looking Mav dead in the eye.

                “Hey! I heard that!”

                “You were meant to!”

                He ignores the glare Mav shoots him and pokes his tongue out at the back of his head as he walks away.

                “Okay, let’s see what we can find. I’ll message you and let you know.”

                “Sure thing.”

                Fifteen minutes later Jake has sent him the information, an end-to-end encrypted messaging app, one which hides the number of the phone sending the message. It’s silent and has to be manually opened to check for notifications, which is very old-school but means there’s no potential odd sounding pings. The icon is a mundane looking tower symbol and he guesses that could mean anything.

                “Okay Mav – you need to give this guy a chance okay? Please?”

                “What’s in it for me?”

                “I will stop bothering you about… uh… your love life for six months?”

                “No deal. I want to meet the guy you just rang. Who’s he in all this?”

                “Uh… I guess he’s my boyfriend.”

                “Ooohhh… it’s new huh? You’re in that new loved-up stage where you want everyone around you to be in the same stage.”

                “Uh, I mean we’ve known each other for years, but we’ve recently… come to an arrangement.”

                “Is it boyfriends or friends with benefits?”

                “Well, we weren’t exactly friends before, so definitely closer to boyfriends I guess,” Bradley says, carefully skirting the fact that Mav actually already knows Jake quite well.

                “Great. I’ll send what, ten messages to this guy and then I get to meet your guy in two weeks.”

                “No! Three months. And twenty messages.”

                “You realize you can’t force me to do anything right? You have no bargaining power here?”

                “I know, but… for me?”

                “Ugh… sad cow eyes. Fine fine, put them away. I’ll message the guy. But I do want to meet your guy when you feel the timing is right.”

                “Yeah, of course.”

                God he hopes this works because he has no idea if Mav will like the fact he’s with Jake or not.

…            …            …

                They meet up every week when they’re both in the same place, and it’s been a treat these last few months, but also a trial. Usually the distance has been a unintended blessing, making his unfortunate case of unrequited love easier to ignore. When he was younger he’d thought it was just a crush, that it would just… fade away. Instead the opposite has happened, time and distance have hardened and solidified similar to how pressure and temperature turn limestone into marble his love for Maverick is a solid and unmoving object that is ever present. Every time Mav walks through his front door he has to fight the urge to enfold him in his arms and just hold him. Every time.

                “Did you ever want kids of your own?” Pete asks and Tom startles, looks across at him.

                “No. I have nieces and nephews and cousin’s kids coming out my ears. They’re enough trouble to be getting on with, without adding my own genes to the mix. Wasn’t ever going to happen anyway,” he tacks on, and he wonders if this, today, this moment, will be the time it twigs and Mav will ask what he means.

                “Too much trouble by half. Do you know what Bradley did the other day? Installed a dating app on my phone.”

                “What? Why would he do that?”

                “He thought I was considering getting back with Georgia for some reason.”

                “And you’re not?”

                “No. Anyway, he’s trying to set me up with someone. At least you don’t have to worry about that.”

                “You’d be surprised. My cousins kid bought me a phone, a burner phone, with a dating app installed on it.”

                “Oh yeah? Which one?”

                Tom swallows.

                Okay.

                No more subtle hints.

                It’s now or never.

                “Grindr.”

                He didn’t purposely wait for Mav to have a sip of his drink, but he still sprays it out across the coffee table, eyes bugging out and he can’t seem to look Tom in the eye and he feels his stomach start to sink.

                “You… ah… you know that app is for gay guys right?”

                “I’m aware.”

                Pete just stares at him and he wonders if this is it. The moment his best friend just gets up and walks out of his life.

                “You never told me.”

                “You never asked.”

                “Yeah well, there was a whole thing about not asking and not telling until about ten years ago so… sorry if I thought you’d have maybe mentioned it. Or at least… alluded to it.”

                “I did Pete. With something called subtlety. I know it’s not your strong suit, but I tried to leave it there in the open for you to pick up on. I’m only just… getting to the grips with the idea of being more out.”

                “Okay. Uh. Does anyone else know?”

                Tom snorts.

                “Yeah, my whole family for a start. Had to get them to stop trying to marry me off. Slider of course.”

                “Why of course? Why Slider?”

                “He’s known me for a very long time.”

                “I’ve known you for a long time.”

                He doesn’t want to mention that Slider figured it out, because he’s had to learn to be subtle, and his weak point has and will always be the man in front of him. And he can never let him know. Still, Mav sounds annoyed.

                “Slider figured it out. He’s too perceptive for his own good,” Tom mutters, because he’s also the one person who knows about his lifelong torch bearing.

                “Huh. Okay.”

…            …            …

                Tom locks the house up, Mav having left to go home after Tom had soundly beaten him at chess. He knows it isn’t one of Mav’s favorite games, that he really only plays to humor Tom and give them something to do while they talk… his brain is catching on something and it’s going to bother him until he figures it out. Pete. Playing chess simply to spend more time with him...

                He stops.

                Blinks.

                Pete had said Bradley had installed a dating app on his phone.

                Within a day of Jake giving him a phone with Grindr installed, which quickly morphed to a simple encrypted messaging service.

                He’s learnt to not ignore his gut and this is deeply suspicious with the coincidence.

                He wonders if Jake and Bradley are dating. The idea of that makes him smile, even if it’ll cause an administrative nightmare. He knows they know each other, they’re part of the same squadron and there are rules, however it wouldn’t surprise him at all if both Bradley and Jake decided that that particular rule was for other people.

                Wait.

                He suddenly needs to know which app it is exactly that Bradley installed and he has his phone in his hand ringing him before he even considers the time of night, or where Bradley might be right now.

                “Hey Uncle Ice… Everything okay?”

                “Hey Bradley. Sorry for the late call, Just, uh, Mav mentioned you installed a dating app on his phone. You mind telling me which one it was?”

                “Uh… Grindr. Why?”

                “Oh. No reason. Just curious Thanks. Have a good night.”

                Why would Bradley install Grindr.

                Maverick’s not gay.

                To his knowledge Maverick isn’t even bisexual. Or anything else that might imply he’s anything other than overwhelmingly heterosexual.

                Maverick didn’t say anything tonight when he learnt about Tom’s own sexuality.

                Maybe Bradley knows something Tom doesn’t.

                Scratch that.

                Bradley definitely knows something Tom doesn’t.

CHAPTER TWO

[inkformyblood]

kiss me quick (COD Kinktober 2024 Day 12)

Sex pollen, a/b/o dynamics. Alpha Soap, Alpha Alejandro, Beta Rudy, Omega Ghost. SoapGhost, AleRudy, AleGhost, SoapRudy, AleRudySoapGhost. Lemon. (Longer fic will be coming for this prompt, I really enjoyed writing it<3)

There’s blood smeared across Alejandro’s teeth — his own, his lower lip swollen and split, torn open a few seconds prior — and he catches himself against the table, shoving it backwards with the force of his impact. Stupid fucking officials and their stupid half-brained decisions, may they rot—

A flush of heat rolls through him, the beginnings of his rut drawn on four months too soon, overwhelming the bitter chemical tang of the suppressants he takes to regulate his cycle. Alejandro tears at his sleeves, the thin fabric clinging to his sweat-soaked skin before it rips, and lets the tatters drop free. Across the room from him, Ghost prowls, his mask partially shoved up his face and caught in the snarl of his teeth. What little Alejandro can see of his skin is flushed, pale scars standing out in stark relief around his lips, a smear of blood over the corner of his mouth.

They hadn’t even been exposed fully, the canister deploying at Soap’s feet first as the gas billowed out. Not a standard chemical weapon but something experimental so when they had staggered back to base with Rudy tucked beneath Soap’s arm to keep the man upright, Beta pheromones the only thing keeping him awake and moving, and Alejandro with Ghost’s teeth locked into his shoulder tight enough that he scraped against bone, they were bundled into rooms as they stood. 

Separated.

It would make sense on paper, Alpha with a Beta and an Alpha with an Omega and it’s that alone that’s keeping Alejandro upright, keeping him furious. Should have least been able to buy the other set of men a drink first before broaching the idea Rudy had whispered into his ear after their first meeting; the pair folded into the closest supply cupboard and Alejandro’s hands tucked down Rudy’s trousers. 

His Rudy always has the best plans.

“Was going to—“ Alejandro breaks off as Ghost growls, a distant rumbling like the passing of a train several floors down. The other man hasn’t moved from the opposite wall since they’d been deposited into this holding room, Soap and Rudy kept away by one single barrier. He continues, the tang of iron heavy over his tongue. “Was going to ask you both properly, maybe over a few drinks, but we want to fuck you. Both of you.”

Ghost straightens, the movement nearly imperceptible in the gathered shadows next to the wall. “Soap was— He was going to ask you.” He slowly slides down the wall, hands bunched  into tight fists on his thighs. “He’s better at that sort of thing.”

“My Rudy as well.” Alejandro steps forward, chances another when Ghost doesn’t snarl at him for the intrusion. A third step brings him in front of the other man, in reach of his still-bared teeth, a low growl tumbling from Ghost’s throat. “We chose well, yes, Ghost?”

Alejandro bites at his knuckles, his bones beginning to ache from the oncoming wave of want that is burning through his belly, a desperate scramble to remain upright and not wrap his hands around his cock and squeeze until he’s spilling the first of many releases onto the floor. Ghost isn’t faring much better, his hips swaying, grinding himself against the caught seam of his trousers. There’s a sweet scent in the air, something that reminds Alejandro of the little sachets of tea Soap carries with him, vaguely citrus and sharp. 

Ghost chews his lower lip, his fangs indenting the skin. Hesitation is clear in the line of his shoulders, the tight grip on the fabric of his trousers. 

“You can fuck me,” Alejandro offers, splaying his hands wide. “I don’t mind.”

There’s a gleam in Ghost’s blown-wide eyes, his pupils dark and blotting out the thin strip of brown around them, curiosity merging with a fierce desire. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Alejandro crouches and leans backwards, reclining onto the cold floor. 

Ghost moves quickly, one hand planted on Alejandro’s chest and pushing him flat to the ground while he braces himself with the other as Alejandro wraps his legs around Ghost’s hips, tugging him closer. 

“Talk later,” Alejandro murmurs, tipping his head back to expose his throat, the mating scar over the scent gland on his throat. “We’ll talk later.”

A growl tears free from Ghost and he bites Alejandro once more, an action Alejandro knows to be an agreement.