#thanks for dropping by and sending me this ask ^^

[plaidcowboy]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ⊹ send poods

content: rafe knowing you would love the dog he happens to see while meeting with barry

author stamp: thinking of the sticker that came with my depop order that said send poods

rafe skimmed his index finger back and forth on his hairline, in thought about what was going on in his family. he thought a little time talking about it with barry would help. they sat side by side in front of his trailer in lawn chairs, barry rambling off about ‘the tough stuff’ rafe was currently going through. “yeah man, you got to show them who’s boss. i ain’t saying go around hurting anyone, but..”

rafe sighed, exhaling from his nose. “alright, yeah thanks, that’s something i haven’t even thought of doing” he responded sarcastically. he meant it though. becoming violent was the last resort rafe wanted to turn to in order to deal with his issue. he felt he’s done enough harm.

“well don’t get mad at the messenger” barry said amusingly, raising his arms at the elbows where they rested on the sides of the lawn chair. “you came to me talking about some nonsense, i was just minded my business, counting..”

rafe heard a rustling from the bushes beside him. glancing over, he pushed from his lounging position in the chair, watching the bush while barry continued going off about rafe ‘interrupting’ his business mode concentration. the bush rustled once again. “yo, shut up” he quieted barry.

rafe reached for the gun he had tucked in the back of his jeans, slightly raising his flannel. “what are you pulling that out for?” barry and his voice raised, seemingly unaware of the possible threat hiding in the bushes just mere feet away from them.

the possible threat then leaped from the bushes, halting rafe mid draw of his gun. he sighed again. it was just a dog. “man, you out here pulling a gun on animals” barry teased. rafe turned his head to him, face set in a don’t expression. turning back to the dog, he let himself see that the dog was actually kind of cute. no matter how frustrated or demanding he may get with people, he was okay with animals. and this one looked like something you would just gush over. he remembered then that dog that you pointed out while you two were together the other day, saying how you would do the most insane things for it. the dog didn’t even ask for that, rafe thought. but he let you ramble on about how adorable you found the animal.

pulling his phone from his pocket, he proceeded to open his camera app, not minding at all doing something that he knew would put a smile on your face. aiming the camera at the surprisingly still golden dog in front of him, he snapped a picture the moment the dog hung his tongue out in a smile. so stinking cute. he sent you the photo, not bothering to add text, knowing you would be too distracted by the picture and not even care about what rafe said.

“did you just send a picture..”

rafe paid no mind to barry who had quietly watched the entire sequence in shock, not at all ashamed about what he would do for you. his phone buzzed not even a minute later with a response from you. some words that weren’t even real. words that looked to spell the sound of you squealing. words that were just button mashing. he chuckled down at his phone. you were even cuter than the dog.

his smiled dropped at your next text asking if you guys could keep it. no.

[thef1diary]

You eat with dirtbag!Carlos every time gurl 🤤

Can we have one where reader (her) wants to do it raw and carlos loses his mind 😚🫣

TIA looking forward to it

— thank you!! dirtbag!carlos may not have a breeding kink…yet, but he loves to see his cum drip out of your pussy. 18+ content below

Carlos freezes above you, his dark eyes narrowing as the words sink in. “You want what?” he asks, his voice low, almost disbelieving, though the way his cock twitches against your thigh betrays him.

“I want it raw,” you repeat, your voice soft but steady.

He stares at you for a moment, his lips curling into a wicked smirk that promises nothing good. “Dios mío,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

“Please, Carlos,” you whisper, arching into him, desperate to close the gap. “I want you to fill me with your cum.”

That’s all it takes for him to give in. In one swift movement, he’s guiding himself to your slick heat, the tip of his cock pressing against you, hot and unyielding. He hesitates for the briefest of moments, his gaze locking on yours, a silent question lingering between you.

When you nod, he thrusts forward, burying his cock in one fluid motion, bare and unrestrained. The sensation is overwhelming—so raw, so intimate, and you can’t stop the loud, broken moan that spills from your lips as he fills you completely.

“Fuck,” Carlos hisses, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it’s almost bruising. “You feel so good—so fucking warm, so tight.” He pulls back just enough to drive into you again, the drag of his cock against your walls making your toes curl.

The pace he sets is merciless, his hips snapping against yours as he drives into you over and over. His chain swings above you, brushing against your skin, while his teeth scrape over your neck to leave marks before the drag of his pierced tongue lightens the pain.

You’re a mess beneath him, clinging to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. Every thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, the slick sounds of skin on skin and his ragged groans only adding to the filthy heat of the moment.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” he growls, his voice rough and strained. “Wanted me to fuck you raw, fill you up so you can feel it drip out of you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your head falling back as your body arches into his. “Yes, Carlos, please—”

“Good girl,” he bites out, his rhythm faltering as his orgasm approaches. “You’re gonna take it, nena. Every fucking drop.”

“Fuck, please, give it to me, wan’ it so bad, Carlos,” you cry out, tightly wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You feel that?” he growls, his voice wrecked as he grips your thighs, holding you closer to him. “Feel how deep I am?”

“Yes,” you gasp, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity.

“Good,” he spits, his thrusts growing erratic. “Because I’m gonna fill your pretty pussy.”

The promise sends you over the edge, your body clenching around him as you cry out, the waves of your orgasm crashing over you. Carlos isn’t far behind, burying himself as deep as he can go as he spills into you, his low, guttural moan vibrating against your skin.

But he isn’t gentle, even now. He pulls out suddenly, his cum already dripping from your cunt, and sits back on his heels with a cocky smirk. “Look at you,” he mutters, his fingers spreading your thighs wider to watch the mess he’s made.

You squirm under his gaze, your body still trembling, but he only laughs, leaning down to press a rough, teasing kiss to your lips. “You’re dangerous, princesa,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Making me lose my mind like that. What the hell am I supposed to do with you now?”

want more dirtbag!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[rorysburrow]

Sugar and Spice

Pairings ➼ Joe Burrow x Reader

Summary ➼ You and Joe are making homemade cinnamon rolls in the kitchen—well, trying to make cinnamon rolls. Amid the flour dust and rolling pins, things take a more playful turn when you get a little too close, and Joe realizes just how cold your hands are. Sweetness isn’t just in the rolls anymore.

Word Count ➼ 725

Warnings ➼ pure fluff , hint of allusions to something if you squint.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The kitchen smelled like sugar, cinnamon, and butter—three of the best things in life, if you had to ask yourself. you and Joe were working on a batch of homemade cinnamon rolls, a recipe he had insisted you try together. Of course, the “together” part turned into him making fun of your inability to roll the dough without making it look like a crumpled mess, but that was beside the point.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Joe said, a teasing grin on his face as he peered over your shoulder. He was rolling his dough perfectly, of course, while yours looked like it had been through a war zone.

“Oh, really?” you replied while rolling your eyes. “I thought you were here to help, not critique.”

“I am helping,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “I’m just giving you the pro tips. You’ll get it next time.”

you shot him a playful glare, but just as you were about to roll your dough out again, You felt a chill sweep over you. Your hands, covered in flour, were cold—and Joe’s warmth was too tempting to ignore. Without thinking, You reached around behind him, sliding your hands underneath the hem of his shirt.

Joe went still, the sudden coolness of your hands against his warm skin sending a shiver through him. “Whoa, what are you doing?” he asked, voice a mix of amusement and surprise.

you grinned, rubbing your cold hands against his stomach. “Just warming up. You don’t mind, do you?”

He looked down at you, trying to hold back his smile. “You’re freezing me out here,” he teased, his voice dropping a little, more playful than I’d ever heard. “You know I don’t think that’s the reason you’re getting so close.”

you laughed, pulling your hands back to grab a new handful of dough, but not without making sure to run your hands briefly along his side as you did. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting too hot. You’re wearing a long-sleeve shirt while I’m here in a tank top. That’s not fair.”

Joe leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re using me as a human heating pad now.”

“Pretty much,” you replied, reaching for the rolling pin and purposefully nudging his hip with yours as you did. “And you’re a very good one.”

Joe’s expression softened, his teasing smile shifting to something warmer. “I don’t mind being your personal heater,” he said, his voice more sincere than before. “But, you know, next time, I expect you to cook a real dinner.”

you chuckled, adjusting the dough, which had now transformed into a much more successful roll thanks to Joe’s “pro tips.” “Don’t worry. After we finish this, I’ll make us something even better. How about a nice, hearty meal?”

“You promise?” He raised an eyebrow, his playful smirk making a return. “Because if it’s anything like this dough… I might need a backup plan.”

“Hey,” you nudged him again with your elbow. “At least we’ll have the best dessert in town. And maybe I’ll even make it up to you with something a little more spicy tonight.”

Joe’s grin spread wider, and I could tell I’d gotten his attention. “You’re on,” he said, leaning closer as if to share a secret. “But just so you know… I have a thing for spicy food.”

you laughed, brushing your hands off and glancing at the oven, which had just beeped. “Well, looks like we’ll be having cinnamon rolls first. Then we can talk about spicy dinner ideas.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, sliding his arm around your waist, pulling you into him for just a moment. “Now, you owe me for the kitchen hijinks. How about a taste test?”

you smirked, reaching for the first hot cinnamon roll fresh out of the oven, breaking off a piece and holding it out to him. “Taste test approved, huh? Fine by me.”

Joe took a bite, his eyes lighting up with exaggerated delight. “Not bad at all,” he said, his voice teasing once again. “But I’m pretty sure I was the one who made this happen.”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes again. “The cinnamon rolls wouldn’t be this good without your expert dough rolling.”

Joe grinned, leaning in closer. “Exactly.”

[mattsobvimyfav]

neighbors (Matthew Sturniolo)

pt.2

Friday morning was full of excitement. Charlie and I had barely slept the night before, too eager about picking up our cars. The moment we got to the dealerships, it felt surreal seeing our new cars parked out front, gleaming in the morning sunlight.

Charlie’s yellow Jeep Wrangler stood out like a burst of sunshine, and my forest green Ford Bronco had this rugged, timeless look that made me fall in love with it all over again. We couldn’t stop grinning as we signed the last bits of paperwork and were handed the keys.

Once we were done, we decided to meet back at the house and park our cars side by side. The contrast of Charlie’s bright yellow and my deep green made for the perfect aesthetic, and we couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a photo op. We set up the tripod and took a bunch of pictures in front of our cars, arms around each other, grinning from ear to ear.

One picture stood out: the two of us leaning against our cars, It perfectly captured the moment, our excitement radiating through the screen.

Back inside, we edited the picture quickly and posted it to our joint Instagram account with the caption:

“New wheels, new beginnings. Video dropping tonight at 8 PM EST! Huge thank you to you guys for making all of this possible. We love you so much!”

Within minutes, the post started blowing up with likes and comments. Fans were excited to see the new cars and were already hyped for the video announcement.

“Okay, that’s done,” I said, setting my phone down.

“Yup,” Charlie replied, her face already buried in her phone. “Do you want to go to that party tonight?”

“What party?” I asked back.

Last year Sam and Colby, the ghost-hunting YouTubers, had come to Massachusetts twice to film with us. They’d reached out after seeing some of our vlogs where we explored abandoned buildings, claiming we had the perfect skepticism for a collaboration. The first shoot had been a creepy old mansion, and the second, an eerie graveyard that left us questioning our life choices. Those videos were some of the highlights of our channel, and working with Sam and Colby had been an absolute blast.

We kept in touch sporadically through Instagram DMs, commenting on each other’s projects and hyping each other up, but we hadn’t seen them since the last collaboration. 

“Sam and Colby invited us to their party” She replied very nonchalant 

I blinked, “What?”

She shoved her phone in my face, and there it was a dm from Sam

“Hey, char, We’re throwing a party tonight seeing you guys just moved here figured it was the perfect welcome. Have y/n text Colby if you guys want to come.”

“First party here?” I said, sitting up straight. “I mean fuck it”

“Exactly,” Charlie said, pacing the room. “Text Colby.”

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about the crowd that would be there. I rolled over on top of Charlie and started grunting “There's going to be a lot of people, isn't there?”

Charlie gave me a look like I was insane. “We moved to LA. What else did you expect”

She had a point. 

“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Ill text him.” I pulled my phone out typing up colbys name in my messages .

‘Hey, me and charles will go send me ur address and the time you want us there’ 

Colby quickly texted me back with the information and I saw it was about forty five minutes from us.

“Okay we have like two hours till we have to start getting ready” I told Charlie, throwing my phone across the couch.

“Now the big question,” she said, trying to push me off of her. “What the hell are we going to wear?”

I’d just hit “post” on our car shopping vlog and already saw the comments rolling in, fans gushing about our new cars and how excited they were for our move to LA. I closed the laptop and stood, stretching.

“Alright,” I said, turning to Charlie, who was rummaging through the cabinets “Let’s do this.”

We ran upstairs and Charlie came into my room with clothes in hand “What are you wearing?”

She held up a sheer grey sparkly cropped top with a satisfied grin. “This, with black jeans and a black bra underneath. Casual, but still hot. What about you?”

I stared at my closet for a second before grabbing my cheetah-print corset top and a loose, short black skirt. 

Charlie whistled, nodding in approval. “What the fuck, your boobs are going to look so good”

We spent the next hour getting ready, music blasting in the background. I curled my hair in loose waves while Charlie applied her makeup with the precision of an artist. After throwing on my outfit, I accessorized with a pair of silver hoops, a stack of bracelets and necklaces. Charlie opted for sleek eyeliner and a touch of highlighter that caught the light perfectly.

By the time we were both dressed.

“Our ubers almost here, ready?” Charlie asked, her grin infectious.

I smirked, grabbing my purse. “Lets get fucked up.”

The Uber dropped us off in front of a sprawling mansion glowing with string lights and thumping with bass. People were spilling out onto the driveway, drinks in hand, laughing and shouting over the music.

“Okay, this is a lot,” Charlie whispered as we stepped onto the property.

“It'll be fun,” I muttered back, adjusting my skirt as we approached the front door.

Inside, the party was even more chaotic. The lights were dim, colored LED strips casting a neon glow over the crowded rooms. The air smelled like expensive perfume, alcohol, and something faintly burnt—probably weed.

“Y/N! Charlie!” Colby’s voice cut through the noise. He appeared out of nowhere, a wide grin on his face. He pulled us into quick hugs, kissing my forehead. “You made it! I’m so glad. Drinks are in the kitchen. Just have fun. I’ll find you guys later!”

Before we could say much, he disappeared into the crowd, already engrossed in some conversation.

Charlie and I exchanged a look. 

We made our way to the kitchen, weaving through groups of influencers we recognized from YouTube and TikTok. The countertops were lined with bottles of alcohol, mixers, and cups, and a bartender stood behind the counter, casually pouring drinks.

“Two vodka sodas, please,” Charlie ordered, leaning on the counter.

I glanced around, taking in the party. People were dancing, talking, laughing, and in the living room, something made me stop short. A group of people were casually doing lines of coke on the glass coffee table like it was nothing.

Charlie followed my gaze and froze. “Uh…”

“That’s…a lot,” I said, grabbing my drink and taking a sip.

“Fuck it, its LA,” she suggested.

“You're right.”

We carried our drinks into the living room, After scanning the area, we found a couple of empty spots on a couch and sat down. The vibe was weird—part glitzy and glamorous, part outright hedonistic—but at least the music was good, and the drinks were strong.

“This is going to be an interesting night,” Charlie muttered, glancing around.

I nodded, taking another sip. “Understatement of the year.”

Charlie and I decided to split up after a while. “You go do your thing,” she said with a smirk. “I’m gonna see if I can find someone interesting to talk to.”

I laughed, finishing off my drink. “Fine, but don’t leave me stranded with coke heads.”

She winked and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to wander. I ended up by the bar again, where I ran into Jake Webber and Carrington, two creators I had followed for years.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Jake asked, flashing a charming grin.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“We’ve seen your stuff,” Carrington added, leaning on the counter. “You are hilarious.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely flattered. “You guys are too”

We quickly got into a conversation about how they've never seen me around before, and I explained the whole finishing college.

Until I felt someone staring.

I turned, and there he was—Chris. His expression was a mix of shock and irritation, and it didn’t take long for him to storm over.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice low but firm.

Jake and Carrington both looked between us, clearly uncomfortable.

“Uh, I think we’ll let you guys talk,” Jake said, quickly retreating with Carrington.

“What are you talking about?” I said, crossing my arms. “It’s a party. I was invited.”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “This isn't some college party, Y/N. You shouldn’t be here. People actually do drugs and get fucked up here”

“Are you serious? I’m perfectly fine, Chris.”

“No, you’re not,” he snapped. “You don’t know half the shit that goes down at these parties.”

“I don’t need your protection. I’ve been fine without you for four years.”

His jaw clenched, and before I could react, he grabbed my arm.

“What the fuck!” I shouted, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm.

“We’re talking. Alone,” he said, dragging me upstairs despite my protests.

When we reached an empty room, he finally let go, slamming the door shut behind us.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I yelled, rubbing my arm.

“My problem is you being here, acting like this is just some casual party,” he fired back. “You don’t belong here, your too good for all of this”

“I’m not a child, Chris! Stop treating me like one.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice dropping, almost pleading. “This place, these people—they’re not for you, Y/N.”

“Why do you even care?” I shot back, my voice cracking slightly. “You made it pretty clear you didn’t four years ago.”

His face softened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with frustration. “You don’t get it. I never stopped caring.”

I stared at him, my chest tightening with anger. “Well, maybe you should have.”

I glared at Chris, my voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get to do this, Chris. You don’t get to come into my life out of nowhere and act like you care.”

“I do care!” he shot back, his frustration boiling over.

“Really? Because it sure didn’t feel like it when you left. When you and your brothers decided we weren’t worth a conversation, a warning, anything.”

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, his jaw tightening. “We had to go. It wasn’t just about us—it was about what was best for our careers.”

“And what about us? What about Charlie? Do you even know what you did to her? She loved you, Chris, and you shattered her heart without a second thought.”

His face twisted in pain, but he stayed silent.

“And don’t even get me started on Matt,” I continued, my voice rising. “Do you have any idea what it was like to watch the person I thought I’d spend my life with just… leave? To find out everything I thought we had was just gone because you three made a decision that didn’t include us?”

Chris opened his mouth to respond, but I wasn’t done.

“He told me it was for my own good,” I said, my voice breaking. “That he didn’t want to ‘drag me down.’ But you know what? That wasn’t his choice to make. He didn’t trust me enough to stay and fight for us. He didn’t trust me.”

Chris’s shoulders slumped, and he looked at me, guilt etched across his face. “Matt never got over you,” he said softly.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t you dare try to make this about how hard it was for him. He left me, Chris. He made that choice. He didn’t even try to work it out. And you—you were just as bad. You lied to Charlie, broke her heart, and walked away like we didn’t even matter.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he yelled

“You could’ve stayed,” I shot back. “You could’ve talked to us. But instead, you left us to pick up the pieces while you chased your dreams. And now you’re here, what? Hoping we’ll just forget all of it?”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, his face crumbling. “It wasn’t like that, Y/N.”

“Then tell me what it was like,” I challenged. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you three cared more about yourselves than the people who loved you.”

Chris looked away, unable to meet my gaze. The silence between us was heavy, suffocating. Finally, I shook my head, stepping back toward the door.

“You made your choices, Chris,” I said, my voice cold. “And we’ve made ours. Stay away from me. Stay away from Charlie. Just stop. I am going to go downstairs and enjoy this party. And you, your going to fuck right off.”

I turned and walked out, slamming the door behind me, my heart pounding in my chest.

As I sipped my drink, chatting with a girl who’d just introduced herself as Riley, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned and, of course, there he was. Matt. The last person I wanted to see tonight.

I sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of my nose for dramatic effect. “Can I have one night of peace, please?”

“Nope,” Matt replied flatly, his jaw set and his eyes locked on me. “We’re leaving. Now.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Excuse me? We’re not doing anything. You’re free to go, but I’m staying right here.”

He crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. “I’m serious, Y/N. This party isn’t for you. We’re leaving.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Oh, give me a break, Matt. You don’t get to decide what’s for me anymore. You lost that privilege a long time ago.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. “I’m not asking, Y/N. Let’s go.”

I groaned, the frustration boiling over. “Whatever makes you leave me alone.”

Pulling my phone from my bag, I quickly texted Charlie:

Change of plans. Get an Uber home without me. I’ll explain later.

Without waiting for her reply, I turned to Matt. “Happy now?”

He didn’t say anything, just motioned toward the door. I followed him, my anger simmering under the surface. Of all the people in the world to interrupt my night, it just had to be him.

The car ride home was suffocatingly silent. Every second stretched painfully, and I could feel Matt’s presence like a weight on my chest. I stared out the window, my mind racing, trying to process how the night had spiraled so fast.

When we finally pulled into my driveway, I unbuckled my seatbelt, ready to escape this nightmare. But as I stepped out, I realized Matt was right behind me, following me up the walkway.

I stopped dead in my tracks, turning to face him. “Um, your house is that way,” I said, pointing next door.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into my bag, yanked out my keys, and unlocked the door. Before I could even react, he pushed the door open and guided me inside with an unyielding grip on my arm.

“Matt! What the FUCK are you doing?” I snapped, jerking my arm free.

He shut the door behind us, his eyes blazing with anger. “We need to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” I shot back, throwing my bag onto the couch. “Four years, Matt. Four years of silence, and you think you can just walk into my life and demand a conversation?”

“I didn’t have a choice back then!” he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration.

I laughed bitterly. “You didn’t have a choice? You chose to leave. You chose to walk away from me, from everything we had! Don’t stand here and act like you’re some victim.”

“I had to leave, Y/N!” he shouted, stepping closer. “I did it for us. For our future. You think it was easy for me to walk away?”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Don’t you dare try to twist this into some noble act. You left with nothing. No explanation, no warning—just gone.”

Matt’s face twisted with frustration. “I didn’t want to drag you down with me. You deserved better—”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I deserved!” I interrupted, my voice trembling. “You don’t get to make that call for me. You abandoned me, Matt. And you don’t get to waltz back into my life like nothing happened.”

He ran his hands through his hair, pacing the room. “I didn’t abandon you! I thought—”

“You thought what?” I spat. “That I’d just wait around for you? That I’d put my life on hold while you chased whatever the hell it is you wanted?”

“I thought you’d understand,” he said quietly, his voice laced with pain.

I shook my head, my throat tightening. “I don’t understand, Matt. I don’t understand how you could hurt me like that and then come back here and act like you care.”

“I do care, Y/N!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. “I’ve always cared!”

“Bullshit!” I screamed, the tears finally spilling over. “If you cared, you wouldn’t have left! You wouldn’t have destroyed me! I hate you, Matt. I hate you.”

His face crumbled, and for a moment, I thought he might cry. But then his expression shifted, anger flickering in his eyes. “You don’t mean that,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Oh, I mean it,” I said, my voice sharp as glass. “And just so we’re clear, I’ve moved on. I have a boyfriend now, Matt. His name is Leo, and he actually cares about me.”

Matt froze, his eyes narrowing. “You’re lying,” he said.

“I’m not,” I said coldly, meeting his gaze. “He’s everything you’re not. Reliable, honest, present.”

Matt’s breathing quickened, and he took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “He’ll never love you like I do,” he said, his voice shaking with anger.

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Love? Don’t make me laugh, Matt. Whatever you felt for me died the second you walked out that door.”

His face twisted with pain, but I didn’t care. I was done being the girl he left behind. Done letting him think he had any power over me.

I swallowed hard, the words burning in my throat. “The tattoo. The one of our dorm number. What the hell were you thinking?”

Matt’s jaw clenched, and his eyes darted away like he didn’t want to answer.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” I said, stepping closer. “I saw it, Matt. The key. The number. Why would you do that? Why would you brand yourself with something you so easily left behind?”

“I didn’t leave it behind,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

I let out a bitter laugh. “You could’ve fooled me. You left. You didn’t look back. And now you’re walking around with this permanent reminder? What’s the point? To pretend you didn’t completely destroy me?”

“I got it because I never forgot,” he snapped, his voice rising as he finally looked at me. “Because no matter how far I went, no matter how much time passed, it was always there. You were always there.”

I felt my stomach twist, anger bubbling to the surface. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to act like you’ve been suffering when you were the one who made this choice!”

“You think this has been easy for me?” he shouted, stepping closer. “You think I don’t regret it every fucking day? That I don’t wake up wishing I’d done things differently?”

“Then why didn’t you?” I yelled back, my voice breaking. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight for us?”

His face crumpled, and for a moment, he looked utterly defeated. “Because I was scared, okay? I was scared I’d hold you back, that I’d ruin everything good in your life.”

“You already did,” I whispered, the words cutting through the air like a knife.

Matt flinched, his shoulders slumping. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said.

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “The right thing would’ve been staying. Fighting for me, for us. But instead, you left. And now you’re standing here, acting like you’re the victim. It’s pathetic, Matt.”

He took a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto mine. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he said, his voice breaking.

“You can’t,” I said firmly. “It’s too late. You made your choice, and I’ve moved on. You need to do the same.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Matt looked at me like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to fight for me now, but it was too late.

“Go,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the tears. “Just go, Matt.”

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He turned and walked out the door, leaving me standing there, shattered all over again.

I dragged myself upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. My chest was tight, my breaths shallow as if the weight of the night was physically crushing me. I stepped into the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the light at first. The dim glow from the hallway was enough as I stared at myself in the mirror. My red, puffy eyes and tear-streaked face stared back at me, a reflection of how utterly wrecked I felt.

I turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as I pulled off my clothes. The moment I stepped under the spray, the tears started again, mixing with the water cascading down my face. I sobbed quietly, my hands gripping the tiled walls for support. The warmth of the shower did nothing to ease the cold, empty feeling in my chest.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

The memories came flooding back: laughter in our dorm, late-night conversations, stolen kisses. And then the way he left, how he tore everything apart. And now—now he had the audacity to show up, to push himself back into my life when I’d worked so hard to move on.

By the time I turned off the water and stepped out, my legs felt weak, and my heart felt heavier. I wrapped myself in a towel and padded to my room. Pulling on an oversized sweatshirt that fell to my thighs and a pair of underwear, I tried to focus on anything other than the ache in my chest.

I took my time with my skincare routine, the familiar motions grounding me. Cleanse, tone, moisturize—it was a small act of care in a moment where I felt so completely uncared for.

Finally, I headed downstairs, my hair still damp and clinging to my neck. I grabbed my water bottle from the kitchen and made my way to the couch. Curling up in the corner, I tucked my knees under the sweatshirt and pulled a blanket over myself.

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge. I glanced at my phone, seeing no new texts or missed calls. Charlie wasn’t home yet, but I needed her. I needed her to burst through the door with her dramatic energy and remind me I wasn’t alone.

I grabbed my phone and decided it was time to finally tell Leo about Matt living next door. I sent him a text lying in the process saying all that happened was I saw him outside, and we didn't speak.

I stared at my phone, waiting for Leo’s response. My heart was pounding, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the confrontation with Matt earlier or the anxiety of telling Leo. I knew he would be upset, but I didn’t realize how upset until his response came through.

Leo: What? Are you kidding me?

Leo: You’re telling me you’re near him again? After everything?

My fingers trembled as I read his messages. His words stung more than I expected.

Me: I didn’t want him to be here either, Leo. It just happened.

Leo: No, Y/N, you literally live next door to him. What are you going to go back to him now?

Me: I’m not going back to him. I’m just dealing with the fact that he’s living next door now. And I didn’t know until tonight.

Leo: I hate that he’s still in your head, its supposed to be me and you. Not you and matt and maybe me.

I let out a shaky breath, tears pricking at my eyes. It hurt to see him so angry, but I couldn’t blame him. 

Me: I’m not letting him back in, Leo. I swear.

Leo: You say that, You’re letting him get in the way of us.

Me: That’s not fair, Leo. I didn’t choose for him to be there. He shouldn't be affecting us at all.

There was a long pause, and when his next message came through, I could feel the frustration and hurt in every word.

Leo: I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and wait for you to just go back to him. You think I didn't hear about you guys all the time, we were on the hockey team together. I don’t want to end up being second to him.

I felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. My eyes were blurring with tears, and I felt a lump form in my throat. This was not how I expected this to go. I thought Leo would understand. I thought he would have my back, not be so furious with me for being in this situation.

Me: Leo, please don’t say that.

But I could tell by the tone of his messages, he was already done.

Leo: I think we need some space, Y/N. I don’t know if I can keep doing this.

My hands shook as I stared at the screen. I could feel the walls closing in around me, suffocating me. I didn’t know how to fix this, how to make things right with Leo. He was right to be angry, but it felt like I was losing him for something that wasn’t even my fault.

Me: I’m sorry, Leo. I really am.

There was no reply after that, and I just stared at my phone, willing it to buzz with a message that would undo the damage I’d done. But it didn’t. And I couldn’t help but feel like I was losing everything: Leo, my peace, and my control over this new chapter of my life.

As I stared at my phone, trying to calm my racing thoughts, my eyes caught a notification on the screen. I hadn’t expected it. I didn’t want to expect it.

Matt followed you on TikTok.

It was like the breath left my body all over again. I couldn’t help but stare at the notification for a few seconds, I had forgotten to re-block him, feeling the weight of everything crash down on me. I hadn’t wanted this. I didn’t want any of this anymore. My mind was spinning, overwhelmed by the weight of what had just happened with Leo, the confrontation with Matt, and the fact that my entire world felt like it was being flipped upside down.

I glanced over at the clock. Charlie wasn’t home yet, and I knew she was probably out having fun, doing her thing, while I was stuck here, buried under everything that had been happening. The noise in my head was unbearable.

I sighed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. I pulled back the covers and crawled into bed. I felt like I’d been running a race that I couldn’t keep up with. All the thoughts, the emotions, the people who had once meant everything to me – they were all tangled in my chest, suffocating me.

I needed to escape it all, at least for a moment. I pulled the blankets tight around me, trying to make myself as small as possible, hoping that the weight of it all would disappear if I just closed my eyes.

But the reality was that it wouldn’t. None of it would.

I shut off my phone and threw it across the room, too tired to even process the pain it caused me. I just needed to shut down, stop thinking, even if it was just for tonight.

I tried to push the thoughts of Matt and Leo out of my head, but they lingered, gnawing at me. I didn’t know where to go from here. Everything had become so complicated. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was exhausted from trying to figure it all out.

I closed my eyes, burying my face in the pillow, and let myself drift into a restless sleep, hoping that when I woke up, maybe everything would be a little clearer. 

tag-

@tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @sturnsvelocity @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar @realuvrrr

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: hello again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tension remains. It feeds into your anxiety. An impatience that needles in your chest. You want to get this done with. You want to go home. But each time that desperate yearning tweaks, you remember that you won’t be going home. Not right away. You’ll be going back to Andy’s. 

He holds the door for you again as you enter the pharmacy. You roll your tank with you, reminded by the squeaky wheels of the constant companion. It’s like a part of you. It keeps the parts of you that don’t work from failing completely. That thought makes you feel even smaller. 

Again, you walk down that middle aisle. The pharmacist greets you and Andy together. He replies as you stay quiet and browse the lozenges lined up under the window. 

“I don’t think we have her insurance on file,” the pharmacist says as he puts in the amount owing. 

“Don’t worry about it. Just give us a receipt and we’ll make a claim.” Andy assures. 

“I have...” you reach into your belt bag and sift around. “Here.” 

You pull out the card you keep on you at all times. There will still be a copay owing. You don’t have money on you. Your mother is always sure to swipe her card with a tut. 

“Um, I don’t... I don’t have the credit card,” you mutter at Andy. 

“That’s fine,” he steps closer, pressing against you. 

The pharmacist keys in your insurance number and hands the card back. You accept it with a sheepish smile. Your chest is tight and your cheeks are scalding. He taps the enter button and looks at Andy. 

“Five bucks, left over.” 

“Even?” Andy says lightly as he reaches into his back pocket, “no problem.” 

He opens his wallet and plucks out a bill, handing it over. You sink down in shame. You can’t even pay a couple bucks for your livelihood. The pharmacist hands over the stapled white bag with the receipt and script attached.  

Andy takes it and reads the label as the pills rattle inside. His eyes narrow as his gaze turns pensive. He clucks his tongue and offers you the bag. You thank him and hug it against your side. 

“I’ll get mom to pay you back,” you assure him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves you off. “Like I said yesterday, I want to help out.” He gestures you ahead of him. You turn and head back toward the front of the store. He’s only a step behind you, trailing like your shadow. “Hey, do you think you could do me one favour?” 

You approach the door and grab the metal handle. The bag presses against it in your grasp as you try to pull it open. It’s heavier than you expect. Your pills drop and hit the floor. You gasp but before you can retrieve them, Andy scoops them up. 

He hands them over again. You look at him and frown, “what?” 

He opens the door and lets you through first. He follows again. “Did you want to write down all your appointments for me? I’d like to put them in my calendar. Just in case.” 

“My... appointments?” You echo as he points you toward his car. 

“Sure. Your mom must be stretched thin as it is. Might be why she gets a bit snappy. If I can help a little...” 

“You-- you don’t have to,” you murmur. 

“I want to,” he opens the passenger door. He hauls up your tank, dragging it from your grasp, and sets it in the SUV. “Must be hard, living in the hospital.” He offers his hand. “Your mom says you don’t have any friends.” 

Your eyes glaze at once. You’re humiliated. What else does your mom tell him for him to think you so pathetic? You grab his hand and heave yourself up into the car. 

“Thanks,” is all you can muster as you untangle the air tube and get your seat belt in place. 

He gently shuts the door and goes around to the other side. You squeeze the bag and look out the window, ignoring Andy as he gets in the driver’s seat. He doesn’t say another word as he turns the engine and patiently waits to pull out of the spot. 

He idles at a stop sign and flips on the stereo. You flinch and look over as the station titles flash across the display in the middle of the dashboard. He stops on a Current Hits station. 

“Bet you like this stuff,” he says as the sultry pop plays. 

You’ve never heard this song. You focus as you try to make out the lyrics. 

‘Say you can't sleep, baby, I know 

That's that me espresso 

Move it up, down, left, right, oh 

Switch it up like Nintendo’ 

Your eyes widen as you pick up the innuendo. You shift in your seat and lean into the door. You grip the handle of the tank tighter. 

“I don’t know this one,” you eke out. 

“Really? I heard this girl was really popular.” 

“Um, I’m not sure.” 

“It’s not bad, is it?” He taps his thumb so the volume increases. “I’ve heard worse, for sure.” 

You wallow in the rhythm and the lyrics. You can’t relate much to them.  

‘Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya...’ 

You try not to be prudish. It isn’t that sex stuff scares you or that you think it’s wrong. You just don’t know much about it. You don’t have the experience. You never had the chance to. It’s just a mystery that makes you feel stupid. 

“I like it,” he bobs his head, “what about you?” 

You shrug, “she has a nice voice.” 

You stare out at the streets as he drives on. The music doesn’t get much better. It seems like every song that’s popular is about... that. You zone out and let the words blur together. 

The car stops and the sudden lack of motion makes you dizzy. You sit up and undo your belt as you peek out at Andy’s house. You hope your mom is awake. She’ll probably want to go home. 

You get out before Andy can grab you or the tank again. As helpful as he is, it’s a bit suffocating. You don’t want to tell him so because you know he means well. Besides, after everything he’s done, it would be rude. 

He patiently trails you to the front door. You watch him punch in the door code, reminded of the coincidence that they perfectly align with your birth date. Does he realise? He would’ve had all your info to file the case and all that. You shake off that memory. You’re still recovering from all that. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks as he pushes the door open and steps back to let you inside. 

“Nothing, just... thinking of... stuff.” 

“The case?” He guesses easily. 

“Maybe,” you enter and stop to slip off your sneakers. 

“Did I tell you how good you did, sweetheart? You know, it’s a lot for most people but you really were so well-spoken,” he praises. 

“Mm, oh thanks, I guess,” you mutter. 

Before he can reply, your mother’s voice calls from the second floor. “Andy, is that you? Oh, my head.” 

She appears at the top of the stairs. She’s in a robe that’s too big for her. Probably his. She keeps her hand against her temple as she leans on the banister post. 

“There you are. I didn’t know where you’d gone.” She mopes. 

“Like I said, we just went to get her script,” Andy states flatly. 

“You were a rather long time,” she counters, swaying at the top of the stairs, “I missed you.” 

“Hm, well, it was a bit of a wait,” he says curtly. 

You inch away from Andy and your mom sneers in your direction, “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.” 

“All good,” he assures, “it’s after noon. You should get dressed.” 

“Mm, yes, I suppose,” she sniffs. 

“I’m... I’m going to go to the guest room, make sure I have everything,” you utter. 

Andy sighs. “Sure, I gotta get back to work. Gotta make a call.” 

You climb the stairs as your mother disappears with a stomp. She isn’t happy with Andy’s dismissal. You go down the hall as a door slams. You go into the guest room, happy to hide there, knowing you already have everything with you. You’ll wait there until she’s ready to go. 

You stare out the window. That song is stuck in your head. The beat is good and catchy. Still, the lyrics make you squirm. 

The door swings open behind you. You cough as you face your mother’s blustery entrance, “what did you do?” 

You blink at her cluelessly, “mom?” 

“Yes, obviously you’ve pissed him off, so tell me, what did you do? I told you, I’d get the pills.” 

“I didn’t-- he said—he wanted too--” 

“Oh it’s never your fault,” she hisses. “After everything we’ve done and you just keep taking, don’t you?” 

“Mom, he only... we went to the pharmacy.” 

“You could wait. You’re not running dry on any of your precious pills. Like an addict.” 

You frown. The meds you take aren’t addictive, even if you are reliant on them. If it was up to you, you wouldn’t choose any of this. 

“No, I didn’t--” 

She storms towards you and grabs the belt bag around your waist. You squeal as she rips open the zipper and reaches inside. She tosses the contents onto the floor. 

“I’m missing a bottle of Xanax,” she snarls. “And you’ve been so spacy, haven’t you?” 

“Xanax?” You gulp, “no mom, I didn’t-- I wouldn’t.” 

“I’m not stupid. All you do is sit around and feel sorry for yourself and now you’ve got Andy doing it too.” She snarls and jerks by the belt bag, your air tube slipping off your ears. You cough and push against her. 

“Mom, please, not here. When we get home--” 

“So you took them!” She accuses. 

“No, mom--” 

“You’re such a lying little bitch,” she snarls. Her eyes flare like a snake’s. When she gets like this, she can’t stop. “I didn’t raise you to be a thief.” 

You struggle with her, trying to get her hands off the belt. When you can’t free yourself from her grasp, you push on the clasp and release it. She stumbles back as the bag comes loose and you stagger at the sudden release of tension. You fall back against the window sill and whimper. 

“I swear, mom, I didn’t take anything,” you plead and shield yourself behind your hand.  

She looks at the slack bag in her hand. She considers it as she tightens her hold on the empty pouch. She pulls her arm back and swings it at you. The plastic clasp hits your forearm, leaving a welt there as she reels back to lash again. 

“Danica!” Andy’s voice roars through like thunder. You falter and slip down to your knees. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Your mother’s face drains and her eyes round like a deer. She lowers her arm and straightens, her expression smoothing over as she faces him. “Honey,” she purrs softly, “I was just helping--” 

“No, I saw what you did,” he crosses his arms as you sit on your feet, breathless against the wall. 

“Look, honey,” your mother nears him, “she stole from me. Antidepressants. Do you know how dangerous that is? It could affect her other medications.” 

“So you’re beating her with a belt?” He challenges. 

She chokes and shakes her head, “no, it’s not—I'm just so stressed. I put so much into taking care of her and now she’s messing around with pills--” 

“They are in your goddamn purse,” he comes forward and tears the bag out of her hand. 

“What, no. I checked--” 

He snarls and grabs her wrist, dragging her out of the room. You gape after them, stunned and confused. This can’t be real. 

You grab your tank and use it to push yourself to your feet. You limp after them as he harshly marches her down the hall. His feet bang on the stairs, making you flinch with each step. Your mother whines weakly and begs. “Andy please, you’re hurting me.” 

He lets go as he gets to the front door and he grabs her purse from the table against the wall. He reaches inside and takes out the orange bottle. He shakes it in her face. 

“Don’t talk to me about hurting you,” he barks. “After what I just saw--” 

“It’s a misunderstanding,” your mother issues a brittle laugh, “sweetie, tell him, I didn’t hurt you.” 

“You’re laughing?” He grits. “Danica, get out of my house. Right now.” 

“You have to listen--” 

“Go. Now.” He raises his voice and you shrink back, terrified. His anger is like a storm. 

You mother huffs and drops her head. She turns and straightens her posture, “fine. Come on, let’s go.” 

She snaps her fingers at you. You grip your tank tightly at your side and wheel towards the stairs. She’ll just take this out on you at home. 

“Are you insane? She’s not going with you,” he insists. 

“She’s my daughter,” your mom snarls. 

“She’s your victim,” he retorts and grabs her arm. She whines and smacks him across the face. He recoils and brings his hand to his cheek. 

She pants heavily. His jaw squares as you feel his wrath roiling from the second floor. He’s quiet as he shoves the pills back into her purse and picks the whole thing up. He pushes it into her chest. 

“Go.” 

“Andrew, my car--” 

“You’re a fucking adult. Figure it out before I call the cops.” 

“The cops—Andrew, you can’t--” 

“Oh, I can’t? Because I will have a protective order by the end of today,” he snips. 

“I have guardianship--” 

“I can have it revoked,” he growls. 

She huffs and puffs again, “Andrew, please, you don’t understand--” 

“Get.” He takes a step back and opens the door. “Out.” 

Your mother shakes her head and turns to look up at you. “Dear, please, tell him--” 

You just stare, paralysed by the scene. This can’t be real.  

She snivels and wiggles her nose, crying without tears. She faces Andy again, “she hit me first--” 

“Out.” 

She cringes and snarls, fluttering her fingers in his face, “you’ll see, honey. She’s a burden you don’t want.” She flicks her fingertips at him and scoops up her heels. “You better call the police fast before I do.” 

No sooner than she steps out of the door than Andy swings it with a shaking slam. You peer down at him as your head wobbles. You fumble around for your oxygen, shaking as you bring it over your ears. He faces you and slowly climbs the stairs. 

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go get your things together.” 

[i-prefer-west-side]

https://www.tumblr.com/rosauniverseblog/697656197355028480?source=share fic prompt

A REASON TO SURVIVE

A Still post-ep

She's so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that if it wasn't for Castle and the solid support of his arm around her waist, she may have just laid down in the elevator and fallen asleep right there.

Instead, she leans on him, lets him guide her into her apartment, vaguely registers him dropping her keys into the bowl by the door. She hadn't protested even a little bit when he'd taken the keys and opened the passenger door for her.

Fuck, she's tired.

He walks her to the couch, lowers her to it, and kneels in front of her. "What do you need?" he asks quietly, his hands rubbing the tops of her thighs.

Heat begins to simmer though her at his touch, but all the adrenaline that got her through the day is gone. She can't even think right now. "I don't know," she whispers, covering his hands with hers, stopping their slow journey over her jeans.

He slides his hands out from under hers, but doesn't go far, lifts her legs so he can undo her boots. "What did Gates say?"

She can only watch as he slides her boots from her feet, then peels off her socks, one-by-one. He stands and holds out his hands, and really, she shouldn't be surprised when he lifts her into his arms.

"To take tomorrow off," she murmurs, dropping her cheek to his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. she feels his steps stutter when her lips brush across his skin, but neither of them escalates.

He sets her onto her bed and ducks into the bathroom, and she hears the bathwater start running moments before he reappears. He pulls her into a standing position again, this time tugging at her shirt, slowly undressing her.

"You'll join me, right?"

He chuckles, the low rumble sending trembles through her body as he wraps his arms around her from behind. "Of course."

She doesn't know if it's the hot water or the man sitting at her back, but the bath works wonders, slowly relaxing her rigid muscles, her boyfriend's arms around her offering a place to call home.

Her eyes begin to flutter shut, but before sleep can pull her under she moves forward, Castle's protest dying when she turns and kneels in front of him. "Thank you," she whispers, lifting her hands from the water, pressing her wet palms to his cheeks.

He turns his head and smudges a kiss to her palm. "For what?"

"For staying. I wish you hadn't - stop." She covers his mouth with her hand when he starts to protest. "I'm still mad that you did, that you were willing to die, just like that. But you being there, staying, it..." She trails off, collecting her thoughts. "I resigned myself to my fate. You gave me a reason to keep fighting. To survive."

His eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and her name falls from his lips, a quiet rasp that she interrupts with the soft press of her mouth to his.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x stripper fem!reader

Mini-series summary: When Tangerine opened an underground strip-club to cover for his murder-for-hire business operation, he wasn't expecting to become so easily distracted by one girl in particular.

Chapter summary: Tension only intensifies after Tangerine's proposal and you and him grow much closer... (5k)

Warnings: SMUT (mdni), mentions of sex w*rk and slut shaming, pinv, insecure!reader, passionate sex, dom!tangerine and sub!reader undertones, praise, oral sex (f receiving), reader is kinda traumatized but tan is very sweet to her.

credit : my love @little-miss-dilf-lover 🤍

BAD FOR BUSINESS MASTERLIST

"She did what?" Lemon asks, his arms crossed, as he watches his brother finish counting the cash he always hands out on Sunday.

Tangerine doesn't look up, rounding up the envelopes quickly as he puts the cash inside. "She kissed my cheek," he says and sits up, running a hand in his hair. He looks exhausted. 

Lemon smirks, sounding scandalized. "And you're only telling me this now? Is this why she's been hovering around you since Monday?" 

"I don't know, Lem," Tangerine sighs.

"Well, aren't ya gonna elaborate on why she kissed you?"

"Kissed my cheek," Tangerine groans, shutting his eyes as he drops his head into his hands, "And I don't know why, I guess just because I drove her home. As a thank you, I suppose. Not a big deal, really—I don't know why I even mentioned it—" 

"Bullshit," Lemon sing-songs. "You're dancing around your feelings, as ya always do. You mentioned it because you want me to validate them, as per-fuckin-usual! To spell it out for you, as one says, as I have always fuckin' done. " 

"My feelings—or yours— aren't what's important here. It's hers and I don't know what she's feeling or thinking," Tangerine says and stands, taking the envelopes in his hand. "And anyway, I'm her boss. It's an abuse of power, innit?"

Lemon pauses for a moment and then shrugs, "Who cares if she has feelings for you too?" 

Tangerine narrows his eyes, very unsure, "I care. It still sounds scummy," he says and then hands Lemon the envelopes. "Drop these in the mailbox would ya?" He pauses and then he takes back the one with your name scribbled on the front. "Could you tell Y/n to come up here? I need to tell her something."

Lemon sends him a knowing look and a smile curls his lips. 

"Not like that," Tangerine deadpans, clearly unamused as he fiddles with the envelop anxiously, "She needs more money and she wants more shifts. I don't want that for her, you know she doesn't deserve that, not after what happened, so I'm just gonna give her a little extra cash—" 

Lemon's smile fades instantly. He looks at his brother with concern, "Mate, Leo won't like that—you really should be careful with—" 

Tangerine cuts him off, his expression serious. "I can handle Leo, Lemon, will you please just ask 'er to come up here?"

Lemon doesn't seem convinced but he nods. Tangerine looks down, gripping his desk and he collapses onto his chair again, holding his head in his hands. Why does Lemon have to question him all the fuckin' time? His jaw tenses, trying to shake the thought that his brother could have a point. 

He's lost in his thoughts when he hears your sneakers squeak up the stairs and then a knock on his office door. Instantly, he stands, trying to hide his smile as he calls out, "Come in, darlin'." When you do and he sees you, you're dressed in a blue dress that ends mid-thigh, a jacket, and laced-knee-high white socks. You really do look like anyone's wet dream, even when you aren't trying. Tangerine's cheeks burn and he represses the feeling. 

"Hi," you say, walking up to him.

Since the night he'd driven you home, you'd been less on edge with him. You've both had longer conversations and more stolen glances than you've ever had. Hell, he's even been spending some of your breaks with you. And he knows using the smoking excuse won't last forever.

He knows it and so do you, but neither of you mention it. 

"Hi," Tangerine says. He leans against his desk, his eyes roaming over you. His thumb swipes over the envelope and he clears his head, handing it to you, "Here's your pay." 

You look confused when you take it. Usually, he just puts those in the common mailbox. He has never handed one out personally. "Oh, thanks," you say and smile up at him. You open the bag that's hanging from your shoulder and tuck the envelope inside. 

Tangerine's eyebrows crease and he walks behind his desk again, looking for something in the drawer. 

You watch him curiously. "Tan, are you okay?" 

The nickname rolls off your tongue easily and an involuntary shiver runs up his spine. He almost regrets telling you you can call him that, if only because it makes him lose his mind just a little more than he usually does when he's around you.

Tangerine pauses as he thinks for a moment. He looks up, his expression still neutral as he walks back over and hands you a wad of bills. Your heart thumps as you take the money, even more confused. You flick your thumb over the paper, approximately counting how much it is. 

"What is this?" you ask, realizing there is almost four times the amount you make in a night in your hands. 

"A bonus," Tangerine says calmly as if this is nothing. "You said you're tryin' to save up for school and I don' want you workin' here any more than ya have to." He looks away, straightening himself. If he looks at you any longer, he'll break. "It's really nothin'," he adds.

"Nothing? This is a lot of money," you whisper, pushing the bills out to him again, "I can't accept this for no reason." 

Tangerine looks down at you, his eyes darkening a little as he shakes his head. His hands clasp around your wrists, his skin cold against yours, as he pushes your hands into your chest again. "You can."

"No, I- I really can't," you squeak, a little panicked. You don't know what this means. If this is really unconditional or if it will somehow bite you back in the ass. You trust him, sure, but he is still a man. You look down at the cash and then up into his eyes, your cheeks feeling unbearably warm. "D-do you want something in return?"

You're unsure about the question, but it wouldn't be the first time someone who is your boss has asked you for some extra services. 

Tangerine's cheeks immediately turn crimson and he drops your hands as if you'd burned him. "No!" he says hoarsely like he can't believe you'd even ask him that. "Bloody hell, no. That is not what I want!" He sounds almost scandalized and you panic. 

"Sorry! I assumed—"

"Well, don't! God, angel, you deserve so much better than that," Tangerine says breathlessly as if the words escape him in a rush. You pause, staring up at him as he says this, and those familiar butterflies you only feel when he's around burst in your stomach.

He always speaks so softly when you're around, always calling you darling or angel—it's seriously beginning to mess with your brain. 

"Just, take the money, please," Tangerine insists, "no strings attached."

You nod, adding the cash to your bag without another word. You pause and look up at him. You want to ask why he's doing this? What makes you so special? But instead, you ask something else; 

"What do I deserve?" 

Tangerine is a little taken aback by the question, his body going taut as he stares at you. "Pardon?"

Your chest tightens as you walk closer to him. You have no clue what you're doing. Men are usually so easy to read, so easy to seduce, and so very easy to fool.

With one look, you can have them wrapped around your little finger. But with Tangerine, it's completely new. You have no clue what works with him or what you even want from him. All you know is, you've never felt like this with anyone. Tangerine backs up. He inhales, clutching the edge of the desk as his breath hitches and his gaze stays on yours. 

"You said I deserve better," you whisper, dropping your bag to the ground. As if on cue, the lights from the lounge suddenly dim and you realize everyone else has gone home for the night. What are you even doing? You pause in front of him, your chest rising and falling as you lift your hand to press your palm on his chest. 

"What is better?"

Tangerine looks at you. His eyes are dark. He's not a stupid man. He knows what you're doing. He knows what you want. He just doesn't know if you even understand exactly what it is you're asking of him.

He's not used to feeling powerless so he stands up straighter and cups your jaw with his hand. He's still gentle with you; his fingers touching your skin reverently and loosening when you gasp in surprise.

"Why do ya do this?" He counters, his voice raspy. He pushes his body even closer to yours until he's so close he can smell you and fuck, you smell divine. 

"Do what?" you ask. 

Tangerine tilts his head, smirking, "You know what," he whispers and leans down so his lips hover near the shell of your ear, "Entertain men for money—bring them into that filthy little room," he pulls his head away a moment and glances towards the glass where he has an easy view of the door to one of the club's sex rooms, "and drain their fuckin' pockets. Hm?" 

Your stomach flips and your skin feels burning hot. Is he making fun of you? You try to shift your face from his hold but Tangerine doesn't let you. He looks at you and reads you like a book. "'M not making fun of you or calling you a slut, angel. I don't think you are one, you know that. Which is why I'm confused. I'm real fuckin' confused about why the sweetest and the smartest girl I've ever met hides behind some string of lingerie and flirty touches. Ya need validation that badly?"

You frown, his words hurting a little. But, you've started this so you have to take it from him. You can. You've taken much worse from men. You look into his eyes and keep your voice level. "You have no damn clue about my life, Tangerine, so you should stop assuming you know me."  

He frowns. "Yeah, you're right. I don't know a damn thing about your life," he pauses, searching your face. His mind is spinning and his gaze drifts to your lips. "But I want to." He isn't lying. He does want to know and some primal part of him wants to help. He wants to provide for you, and take you far far away from this life. 

It's not safe and you deserve so much more. 

"Let me guess, you want to 'take care' of me?" You say behind a mocking voice, your face still in his hand. "You're not the first man who's said that to me."

Tangerine's frown deepens and he strokes his thumb over your cheek. "Well, I know damn well I'm the first one who fuckin' means it," he growls, and the pull he's been feeling finally works because he's leaning in and kissing you.

You're a little surprised but you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing yourself up against him as you return the kiss.

He's kissing you passionately, his hands sliding down your cheeks and sides until he's gripping your hips. You've kissed many men but none have felt like this. It feels both overwhelming and wonderful. You run your hands in his hair, pulling on his curls. 

Tangerine spins you around, sitting you on his desk as he continues to kiss you. He's well aware this is very much fucked, but he can't help himself. The sounds you make against his lips are making him lose his mind. He cups your cheeks again, kissing along your jaw gently. The kisses last until he feels your hand slide down his torso to the zipper of his trousers and he hisses, disconnecting his lips from your skin. 

He stops your hand, fingers curling around your wrist, and you gasp, eyes shooting open. "I'm so sorry," you whisper, your voice small. Tangerine pauses as he calms his breathing. He looks into your eyes, his gaze softening as he shakes his head.

"You don't need to do that," is all he says as you drop your hand back to your lap. 

"But I do want to," you interject. Tangerine just shakes his head, caressing your cheek. 

"No, angel, I can't," he tries to explain. 

"Is it because you think I'm dirty?" 

Tangerine frowns, looking at you seriously now. "What?"

"Because I've been with other men—because you must think I'm easy—" you say, your voice shaky, "I- I'm not. I haven't had sex for money in a while, I promise I don't do it anymore and—and I was always safe. Please– I'm not dirty—" 

Tangerine can hear your panic and he tightens his hold on your face, gently shushing you. "Angel, I don't think you're dirty. I know ya take precautions. I know how this industry works, remember? I fuckin' own the place," he says with some disdain and then sighs, "which is exactly the problem. Kissing you was already a boundary I shouldn't have crossed. I'm your boss. I'm supposed to be better than this."

You look at him, relaxing a little as you begin to understand. "Tangerine, I don't care. No one has to know." 

He frowns, sending you a warning look. 

"I'm serious," you say and play with his tie a little, squeezing your thighs. His kisses have turned you on and now he wants to pretend it never happened? 

No fucking way. 

"I won't tell anyone. Please, I want you. Show me what I deserve," you whisper, pulling him closer so he's leaning over you as you kiss along his jaw.

Tangerine groans, his eyes closing as he enjoys the sensation of your lips. He's slowly losing control. This feels so right and he desperately wants to show you how a man is supposed to touch you. How he's supposed to love and care for you. His hands grip your hips, pressing his nose in your hair as he inhales.

"Fuck, angel, you're gonna be the death of me," he whispers, his resolve finally breaking. Still, he pulls away and lifts you onto your feet. "But, not here. I'm taking you home, if you'd like," Tangerine questions and you nod, your heart pounding. He smiles and takes your hand, squeezing it to reassure you as he picks up your bag and guides you towards the door. 

During the drive to his apartment, the tension is palpable. You shift in your seat, your cheeks warm, hooking your fingers under your panties as you pull them down your legs. You bite your lip, hearing the small inhale from Tangerine as his hands clench around the steering wheel. He's desperately trying to stay focused on the road.

You look at him, smiling, as you wrap your panties around the gear shift of his car. The faint, delicate, smell of your arousal fills the air and Tangerine curses underneath his breath.

"You naughty fuckin' girl," he mutters in your ear as soon you arrive in his apartment, his large hands palming your waist. He kisses you up against the wall of his living room for a moment until he swiftly hoists you up into his arms, your legs wrapped around his torso and he walks you to his bedroom. "'M gonna have to teach ya a lesson, hmm."

You expect something rough and dirty. You're used to rough and dirty. But, with Tangerine it's different. It's always different. When he lays you on the mattress and slowly kisses every inch of your kiss as he undresses you, your head spins. No one you've ever been with has been this slow and gentle. He's touching you like he's worshiping you and can't help but feel a little self-conscious when he finally has you naked. You lift your arms to cover your chest. 

"Tsk, none of that," Tangerine scolds as he lifts his head from where he was kissing your stomach and takes your wrists in his hands, pushing them away so he can admire you. "Fuck, you're the prettiest girl I have ever seen." 

You turn your head, hiding a moan in his pillow. He'll deal with that later, he thinks, as he looks down at your bare pussy. "Can ya open your legs for me, my angel? Can I make you feel good? Is that okay?" 

Your head is spinning and you nod, parting your legs. Tangerine pushes your thighs up and apart, kissing your inner thigh. He sucks some hickies for good measure as you moan, your hands fisting in his silk sheets.

"Oh, T-Tan," you whisper when you feel his breath hit your clit, your legs trembling. 

"I'm gonna take such good care of you," he whispers hoarsely and kisses your pussy, attaching his mouth to your clit. He takes his time with you, kissing and sucking. He listens to your cues, adjusting his position as much as you need him to. His mustache tickles your skin and you're a moaning mess.

You keep hiding the sounds you make out of embarrassment, either turning your head or biting your lip, and he's not having it. After tasting you, he climbs up over you and captures your lips in his. 

He wants you to taste yourself on his lips. You arch your back, unclenching your hands from the sheets as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. Tangerine's hand slides up your inner thigh as he slides his fingers up and down over your slit, occasionally teasing your entrance. "Can I?" He asks for permission and when you nod, he pushes one finger into you. 

You gasp, your mind going hazy. "I- I want to make you feel g-good," you whimper, your eyes teary as you try to keep them open and keep being good for him.

You're usually so good at this. At sex. You're so good at being exactly what the man wants you to be but Tangerine doesn't seem to want anything for himself and it's confusing and all you can do is let him lead you. He smiles, kissing your cheeks.

"You already are," he whispers, adding another finger as he opens you up for him. There is no way in hell you're giving him head, not when he guesses that's how you've had to pleasure the men that come into his lounge. He shivers with disgust.

This is for you and he can enjoy himself without forcing his dick down your poor throat. 

He continues whispering sweet nothings in your ear as your nails drag along his back. Once you're wet enough and he's lost most of his clothing and slid on a condom he keeps in his dresser drawer, he presses his cock against your pussy.

Your small wanton moans are music to his ears and he's definitely enjoying himself as he slowly pushes into you, keeping his gaze on yours for any sign of reluctance or discomfort. He's taking his time with you, wanting to memorize every position he has you in as he tells you he wants to hear you.

"D-do you want me on top?" you suddenly ask out of habit, still determined to please him. Tangerine shakes his head, keeping his arm behind your head as he caresses your hair. He's balls deep inside you now, the sound of flesh against flesh ringing in your ears, and your voice is breathless. Your head hits the pillows with every thrust he makes as you struggle to keep your eyes on him.

"No," he says sternly, "Just keep your eyes on me. There, good girl. Enjoy yourself," his voice is thick and raspy. He keeps a steady rhythm, teasing you and watching you fall apart. The sound of the city from outside becomes white noise and Tangerine isn't sure how long he's been fucking you but the sky is slowly becoming lighter. 

"Tan," you whimper as you pull him closer, shutting your eyes as his forehead rests on yours. "'M close," you tell him, wrapping one leg around his hip as you bury your face in his neck, you keep suppressing your moans even when he's told you he wants to hear you. 

"You can come but I want to hear you, angel," Tangerine groans, feeling close himself. "Can you do that for me?" 

You whimper, catching his gaze as you nod. You arch up into him, breasts pressed to his chest as you moan. You barely even recognize yourself. You're so used to the fake moans that the real ones sound so foreign. 

"Fuck me," Tangerine curses, holding you close as one of his hands grips the headboard tightly. The sound of his bed creaking and hitting the wall fills his ears. He can feel you clench around him, moaning as you finish, which triggers his own release and he squeezes his eyes shut.

Your hands relax on his back, your moans subsiding as your chest heaves. Suddenly, everything is silent and he's not sure what to do. He doesn't want to scare you and he himself has never really had sex with anyone he cared about as much as he does you. This is all new and he feels like if he makes a mistake, he could lose you forever. 

"You okay?" he whispers, his voice shaky. 

You nod and he pulls out, pulling off the condom and quickly leaning over his bed to discard it in the trash not far from his bed. When he pulls himself back up, he adjusts the blanket so it covers himself. You do the same, sitting up and pulling as much of the blanket over you as you can. 

Neither of you speaks for a moment. You're both simply staring at each other. You can't believe you just had sex with your boss and what might be worse is that you don't regret it. You know you should, but you don't. You can't bring yourself to.

"Can I get you anything? Water?"

You shake your head, swinging your legs over the side of the bed as you stand. Tangerine hands you his shirt he'd thrown beside the bed and you wrap it around yourself. "'M just gonna pee," you whisper.

You don't wait for an answer as you walk past him. You wander to the bathroom you'd seen in the hall. As you button up the shirt, you have a strange feeling someone is watching you so you look up.

You let out a sharp scream when you see Lemon standing in the hallway, clearly half-asleep. Hearing your scream he jumps and screams too and rubs his eyes.

You hear stumbling and then Tangerine, only wearing his boxers now, practically throws himself past the doorway. He slides next to you, pushing you behind him on instinct. He's on edge until he sees it's just his brother and his shoulders relax. You finish up the buttons of the shirt, your cheeks burning hot as you are unable to speak or ask the questions you so desperately want to ask. 

"Well, this is a lovely surprise," Lemon sighs, rubbing his eyes as he yawns. "Ya both know it's almost 5 am, yeah?"

"Yes, thank you," Tangerine retorts, his voice strained as he glares at Lemon, "You can go back to sleep now." 

Lemon smirks, his eyes locking with yours. "Hi, Angel," he waves with a smirk.

Embarrassment washes over you.

You like Lemon, you've always liked Lemon. He was one of your favorite bodyguards. He always made you and the other girls laugh when situations became tense. You had no clue he lived with Tangerine. 

"Piss off," Tangerine hisses in a whisper you can clearly hear and Lemon raises his hand in surrender, using the bathroom first. Once the door shuts, Tangerine turns to you and you look completely mortified. "Hey, it's okay, he's my brother," he explains. 

"Your brother?" you whisper back, a little frazzled now. 

Tangerine nods, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear on instinct as he caresses your cheek. Thankfully, you don't flinch away from him as you're comforted by his touch. "Yeah, he's harmless."

You shake your head, moving past the brother's information to something more important. "Tan, he probably thinks you paid me! Oh god, this is horrible!" you whisper-shout, lowering your head in your hands. "He's gonna think I'm a whore and then he's gonna tell everyone at the club a-and–"

"Woah, darlin', shhh," Tangerine grips your shoulders, his voice still low so Lemon doesn't hear the conversation through the bathroom. "He definitely won't think that, okay? Trust me. And anyway, Lem isn't a gossip. He won't tell a soul."

"Ya, he's right, I ain't a snitch. My lips are sealed," Lemon interrupts, leaning against the bathroom door, zipping his mouth shut with an invisible zipper and Tangerine straightens up, turning back around to look at his brother.

Tangerine sends Lemon a don't scare her look and Lemon smirks. He looks at you and his gaze softens. "You better invite yer bird for breakfast, T." That is all Lemon says before he disappears back into his room down the hall.  

And so, an hour later, after neither you nor Tangerine could fall asleep, you're sitting at the small dining room table. Lemon is nursing a cup of warm tea while Tangerine butters up his toast. The air feels thick as you pick at the crumbs of your own, slightly burnt, toast, staring at the pink and yellow-checkered tablecloth on their living room table.

"It was our mums'," Lemon pipes up, watching you. "It's quite cheesy. Tangerine hates it." 

"I don't hate it. It was mums'," Tangerine interrupts, glaring at Lemon for a second but then his gaze returns to you and he clears his throat. You look up, smiling. Something in your chest flutters and you want to know more about them.

Lemon reads your mind. "Our foster mum was a gem," he says and looks at Tangerine and the latter nods, still quiet. He doesn't add on to the conversation and you don't want to pry. There is a sadness about Tangerine when Lemon speaks of their mum.

"My mum was a real piece of shit," you interrupt, unsure how to add to the conversation. You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a moment. It probably wasn't the best segment considering both of them are looking at you with confusion. You take a mouthful of your toast, feeling a little embarrassed. 

"So, why'd you become a stripper?"

Tangerine frowns, jabbing his elbow into Lemon's side as he hisses; "What is wrong with you?!"

You laugh, shaking your head, "It's okay, it's just a question." You drop your toast, avoiding their gazes. "It was to save up money for uni, and now well, to keep up with the cost—" your laugh becomes dry, "and it's harder to leave this business than it is to start."

Tangerine is quiet and his stomach twists. He feels an immense guilt as you talk.

"What are you studying?" Lemon asks, beating his brother to the question. 

"Criminology," you say, sipping your drink, "I want to go into law."

Both Lemon and Tangerine sneak a glance you don't see and the conversation continues to flow. Lemon clears his throat and makes a joke while Tangerine remains quiet as he watches you finish your food. He likes watching you laugh with Lemon, he'll take any opportunity to see your smile.

He glances at the clock, secretly praying the hand stops so he can spend more time with you but once you see the time, you're excusing yourself. 

"At least let the bastard drive you home," Lemon eventually calls from the sink as he finishes the few dishes, and Tangerine hands you your jacket as you stand in the entrance. "Tis the least he can do after shagging you." 

"Lemon!" Tangerine hisses angrily.

"My mouth is shut, I remember!"

You laugh again, smiling at their banter. "I won't say no to that," you quip with a smile and Tangerine's shoulders relax.

Once you're both in his car again, he glances down and sees your panties on his gear shift. A deep blush settles on his cheeks. "You can keep them," you say nonchalantly, not seeming bothered by your missing undergarment "as a souvenir." You wink. You're clearly joking. 

Tangerine pauses, hesitating, and then takes the panties stuffs them in his pocket and clears his throat. 

"I didn't know you and Lemon were brothers," you say, looking out the window for a second before he starts the car, "You never talk at work."

Tangerine nods, keeping his eyes on the road. "We do, sometimes, but we mostly keep it hushed. It usually isn't good to mix family and business, but we make it work."

You nod, smiling. "I understand. I think it's wonderful how close you are."

"Thank you," Tangerine says and looks at you from the corner of his eye, smiling too. Without another word, you lean over and kiss him. It's quick, your lips gliding over his as your hand touches his cheek. Tangerine hums against the kiss as you pull away and his eyes open to look into yours. 

"Is this okay?" you ask softly. 

Tangerine's head screams at him that no, this is indeed not okay, that this is dangerous and you should be as far away from him as possible, but his heart yearns for you and for once in his life, he doesn't want to ignore his heart.

He nods, kissing you again as he leans his forehead on yours. "Yeah, this is okay. More than okay." 

You smile, squeezing his hand. You feel like nothing could ruin this moment.

Suddenly, Tangerine's phone rings in the center console and he picks it up. The caller ID reads Leo and his jaw tenses. You settle in your seat, looking at him curiously. "Who is it?" you ask innocently, catching on to Tangerine's sour expression. 

Tangerine turns off his phone and stuffs it in his pocket. 

"No one. No one you need to worry about," he says, focusing on the road as he starts the car.

You hum, not wanting to pry but you can't shake the weird feeling bubbles in your stomach.

[fryingpan1234567]

bodoc nation how we feeling

i present some not quite PG thoughts from someone who is halfway through iron flame

In my head Bodhi has GAD but maybe I’m crazy

His favorite place to bury his face (I mean… in a public setting) is the inked spot where Ridoc’s neck meets his shoulder 

Bodhi is COVERED in tattoos and Ridoc will get the random urge to just. Lick them. Someone save him he’s a horny idiot with minimal impulse control 

Let’s never ever forget that Ridoc has the sex drive of a teenager and Bodhi is like Xaden’s twin but somehow more possessive. Randomly disappearing for twenty minutes throughout the day and reappearing with obnoxious grins, making out in hallways between classes, PDA at 200% all the time

Also they have a bunch of weird hideouts only they know about all over the school they discovered while exploring together

Cooking together in the Aretia fortress!!

Tyrrish pet names 

Telepathically sharing notes in class

Telepathically flirting

They’re in each other’s heads

(Cuir and Aotrom are mated)

The dirty jokes don’t stop but while Ridoc’s are obvious, Bodhi’s are subtle and he says them with a straight (lmao) face so it takes a second for people to notice 

Bodhi needs a full night of quiet time and being wrapped around Ridoc like a sloth to cool down every time Ridoc comes back with fresh wounds from RSC so he doesn’t murder anyone

SPARRING SPARRING TROPES SOS SAVE ME

Ridoc giving Bodhi fuck me eyes across the cafeteria just to watch him spit his drink at Imogen sitting next to him

Bodhi sending an image of the position he’s gonna put Ridoc in later as revenge and Ridoc spills hot coffee all over his lap

Racing, both on foot and dragonback (Cuir and Aotrom are just as competitive)

After the first time Violet showed her squad the magic knife thing, Ridoc tried not to freak out when Bodhi gave him an exact replica a few days later

The hugs after they get back from battles… I’m unwell 

TRADING FLIGHT JACKETS. OR JUST RIDOC WEARING BODHI’S. BONUS POINTS IF IT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE LATE TO BREAKFAST AND RIDOC PICKS UP THE WRONG ONE IN HIS RUSH OUT THE DOOR. BODHI WHO DOES NOT ARGUE BECAUSE HE LOVES SEEING HIS NAME ON RIDOC’S BACK. THANK YOU

They’re always touching somehow their friends are so sick of them 

Studying together help me gods

“Hey you took this class last year, what was the Treaty of—“

“I’m not helping you cheat on your history homework.”

“What I’m hearing is you don’t love me.”

“You heard wrong.”

“TELL ME ABOUT THE TREATY.”

“NO??”

Freaking out over each other’s wounds, even if they’re minor

Yeah these two are just as bad as Xaden and Violet when it comes to… furniture usage (if not worse than, somehow)

Showering together help

The HORRIFYING, GRINCH-LIKE GRIN when Sawyer dropped to Bodhi that Ridoc was deathly afraid of snakes

MERCILESS teasing (about that but also just in general)

Just cause they’re perfect for each other doesn’t mean they don’t argue, cause they definitely do

Ridoc has a LOT of exes and Bodhi’s favorite thing is the looks on their faces when he fully just makes out with him in the middle of the courtyard

Ridoc has that Needy Cat Energy, but especially when Bodhi is in leader mode. There’s just something about it

Nightmares. They both get them. They know how to take care of each other.

Yeah affectionately Ridoc is an attention whore but lucky for him Bodhi is happy to give it to him pretty much all the time

Ridoc helping train some of the younger marked kids without Bodhi’s even asking him to or even hinting he needed help with them. He nearly proposed on the spot

Also Ridoc defending marked kids in general

Going to some bar/ dance club vibe over one weekend and both of them getting slightly drunk (Ridoc is pretty much wiped but we don’t talk about that) and dancing together 

Ridoc fell for Bodhi when he caught him laughing at one of his stupid jokes btw if anyone cares

Bodhi fell for Ridoc when he learned he’d gotten into a physical altercation with some jackass who said Navarre would’ve been better off if the marked kids were executed with their parents

Bodhi’s mom would’ve loved Ridoc btw ): I’ve never met her but I just know she would 

They’re almost the same height but Bodhi is marginally taller 

Sometimes Ridoc gets too antsy or fidgety and Bodhi needs to focus on whatever task at hand so he’ll kiss him to shut him up

Xaden coming to visit Basgiath before learning about Bodhi’s thing with Ridoc and seeing marks on his neck under the collar of his flight jacket like “NOT MY BABY COUSIN!!!!”

“I am one year younger than you—“

“I’LL KILL HER”

“Not a her”

“I’LL KILL HIM”

“Sit tf down we need to talk strategy”

Yeah they use regular pet names, and I already mentioned Bodhi uses Tyrrish ones for Ridoc when he’s feeling extra sappy, but sweetheart is used ONLY with negative connotation— teasing, fighting, sparring, name it

Too many inside jokes between them

Have y’all seen that one post about two characters stripping each other about to bone but they can’t cause they each have too many concealed weapons and there’s just a ludicrous cartoony amount of hidden weapons piling on the floor with their clothes

If that isn’t The Most Bodhi And Ridoc Thing I’ve ever heard 

[tkdb-hell]

23 - Yuri

(⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡ Thank You..

#23 - A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

The sharp tang of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the low hum of machines and the faint scratch of Yuri’s pen on paper. His brow furrowed as he scribbled down notes, completely immersed in his work. He barely registered the soft creak of the lab door opening behind him.

“Yuri…” Your voice was light, teasing, breaking the monotony of his thoughts.

“I’m busy,” he replied curtly, not bothering to look up.

“But you’ve been in here for hours. Don’t you want to take a break?”

You stepped closer, holding up a small plate with a brownie. Yuri glanced at it briefly, then went back to his notebook. “Not now. I’m in the middle of—”

You leaned against the table, resting your chin in your palm, the playful smile on your lips widening as he trailed off mid-sentence. “Come on, genius. Even you need sugar to fuel that brain of yours.”

Yuri exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the warmth of your presence and the way your mint-chocolate breath lingered in the air. He adjusted his tie, keeping his focus locked on his work. “You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the point.” You popped a piece of the brownie into your mouth and chewed slowly, watching him intently. “Maybe I’ll just keep talking until you—”

Without warning, Yuri turned to you, an almost exasperated look crossing his face. He grabbed your wrist gently, pulling you closer. “If you won’t stop distracting me…” His voice dropped to a low murmur, “then I’ll have to distract you.”

Before you could retort, Yuri leaned in and kissed you. It was sudden, warm, and deliberate. His lips pressed against yours firmly, tasting faintly of coffee and something oddly metallic from hours in the lab. But as he pulled back, his expression shifted.

His brow furrowed, and he licked his lips thoughtfully.

“Mint… and chocolate?” he muttered to himself.

You blinked at him, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Uh… yeah? I just had—”

Yuri interrupted you with another kiss, slower this time, as if he were conducting a meticulous experiment. When he broke away, his hands lingered on your waist. “No, it’s not just mint and chocolate. There’s something else. Hold still.”

“Yuri!” You couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled you in again, his lips brushing yours with focused intensity. This kiss lingered, and when he finally broke it, his eyes narrowed as if he were deep in thought.

“Yes. Definitely peppermint… and a hint of cocoa powder,” he muttered, tilting his head. “But there’s something sharper… a citrus tang? No. No, not citrus.”

“Yuri, are you seriously analyzing how I taste?”

He ignored your question, pressing another kiss to your lips, this one softer, more experimental. You could feel his mind working behind every touch, every movement.

“Yuri!” you said between kisses, barely able to stifle your laughter. “You’re supposed to be working!”

“I am working,” he said matter-of-factly, his gaze sharp from focus. “You’ve presented me with a puzzle, and it would be irresponsible to leave it unsolved.”

“Is this your excuse to keep kissing me?”

Yuri paused, blinking as if caught off guard. His cheeks flushed ever so slightly, but his hands stayed firmly on your waist. “…Possibly.”

You leaned in, smirking, your lips ghosting over his. “Well then, Doctor, I hope you’re ready for some serious fieldwork.”

And for the rest of the afternoon, Yuri’s notes remained untouched, his focus entirely consumed by the taste of mint, chocolate, and something very uniquely you.

[galaxymagitech]

5 Times Dick Covers for Bruce (+ 1 Time He Can't)

(Whumpuary 2025 - Day 3)

Summary:

“What happened?” Kori asks, eyes wide as she traces the edges of the bruise.

Dick looks into her eyes and knows that if he told her the truth, she would fly straight to Gotham with starbeams burning in her eyes. “I fell,” he says. He gives Kori a self-effacing grin. “It turns out that crutch handstands aren’t exactly the best idea.”

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Duke Thomas, Roy Harper, Koriand'r, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Jason Todd

Warnings: Emotional and Physical Abuse, references to Jason's death

You can read it here or on AO3.

i.

“It’s just not right,” Roy says as he paces around one of the common rooms at Titans Tower. Dick doesn’t really know or care which one, he just chose the first one he could pull Roy into, before Speedy said something the other Titans didn’t need to hear.

On the couch, Dick buries his face in his hands. “Just shut up, Roy.”

“I’m telling you!” Through his fingers, Dick sees Roy whirl around, gesticulating wildly. “It’s fucking insane, is what it is.”

Roy, Dick decides, is a drama queen. Kinda funny, seeing as how he’d accused Dick of being the drama queen last week. “Dude, calm down. It’s just every other weekend.”

“Yeah, half the time you spend with the Titans!” Roy shakes his head.

“Bruce is right, though, Roy,” Dick says. “I am neglecting the Mission. And I do spend a lot of time messing around with you guys that I should spend patrolling.”

Roy flops onto the couch, sending Donna’s latest attempt at buying tasteful throw pillows flying. “He’s just jealous. Because he doesn’t have any friends except you, but you spend all your time with us.” Roy might be right. Bruce had been all for the Teen Titans until Dick started running off to them every weekend—or after one of their blowout arguments, which have only been getting worse since Dick turned 16 and got his driver’s license. “Plus, we tell you when he’s being an asshole, and I’ll bet he doesn’t like that.”

Okay, yeah. Bruce might be jealous, but the way Roy’s saying it makes it sound like Bruce is way more controlling than he is. “I mean, he wants to spend time with me,” Dick says. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“He’s telling you that you can’t see your friends,” Roy says flatly.

Bruce said that Dick can only go to Titans Tower every other weekend or in emergencies, but he also said he missed Dick. He’s keeping Dick from hanging out with Roy and Wally and Donna and Garth, but that’s because he wants Dick around. And sure, Bruce can be a controlling bastard—Dick has ranted about that to the other Titans plenty of times—but that just means he cares, right?

So, Dick leans in, like he’s telling Roy a secret.

“Listen,” Dick says. “I—I love you guys, and it’s really fun being here, but I’ve been wanting to spend more time with B for a while. And I do feel like I should focus more on Gotham to keep up with things. You know how it is—the landscape of crime is always changing. And Bruce kind of gave me a good excuse. So, don’t start shouting at B in front of the others, alright?” The truth is, Dick doesn’t want to decrease the time he spends with the Teen Titans at all. But he doesn’t want to get into a fight with Bruce about this. Bruce can’t think that Dick doesn’t want to spend time with him. And if going to Titans Tower less will make Bruce feel better, it’s worth it. For Batman and Robin.

“I don’t like this,” Roy says, but Dick watches as the older boy’s shoulders slump. “…okay, Dick. I’ll drop it.”

“Thanks, Roy,” Dick says, putting a hand on Roy’s shoulder and leaving the room before he can change his mind.

***

ii.

Kori’s warm hand rests gently on Dick’s cheek, careful not to press the growing bruise. Dick’s breath catches in his throat as her hand drifts up to brush his hair away from his black eye.

Bruce hadn’t even hit him in the eye. He just hit him hard. Hard enough that Dick fell to the floor of the cave. Hard enough that the blood pooled in the socket and turned it black and blue. 

“What happened?” Kori asks, eyes wide as she traces the edges of the bruise.

Dick looks into her eyes and knows that if he told her the truth, she would fly straight to Gotham with starbeams burning in her eyes. “I fell,” he says. He gives Kori a self-effacing grin. “It turns out that crutch handstands aren’t exactly the best idea.”

Because Dick doesn’t want Kori to fight it out with Bruce. Dick just wants to curl up next to his girlfriend and forget that today ever happened. Forget that Jason is dead, and it’s all Dick’s fault, and Bruce knows it, and Bruce told him to leave, and Dick can’t ever go back home now. 

“I’m alright, Kori,” Dick lies.

Kori frowns, uncertain. It’s a strange look on her. “Did Bruce have anything to do with this?”

Dick’s a performer. And it’s easy to perform what you know so well. A few days ago, he would have reacted with brief confusion, and then a confident denial. So, that’s what he does now. He lets the bewilderment play across his face for a second, then shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t worry, Kori. Bruce would never.”

Kori looks away. “I’ll get you an icepack.”

“Thanks,” Dick says.

Kori goes to rummage around in the freezer. Instead of handing the ice pack to him, she wraps it in a thin towel and holds it to his face herself. “I am sorry about your brother, Dick.”

Dick just hums in response. He has no right to mourn Jason. Not when he died in Dick’s family colors.

***

iii.

“What happened to your face?” Babs asks. Tim leans against the nearby door, making space for Dick to talk to Barbara, while Cass stands even further away, her cape flying out behind her.

“Uh—” Dick cuts himself off.

The answer is actually very simple: “I got in the way.” Dick’s not ashamed of it—he’s proud, actually. Proud that he intervened. Proud of saving that man from being strangled to death. Proud that Nightwing stopped Batman from becoming a killer. Because Jim could be dead, and no one else is going to lose their father tonight. One tragedy is already far too much.

What happened to your face? It’s an odd question to ask a vigilante. Dick was fighting people. The reason his lower face is covered in blood is because someone punched him. Such is the life.

So, if Babs is asking, that means she knows that this time is different.

Or—suspects. Suspicion, Dick can deal with. Especially now, when Barbara is understandably distracted.

Barbara can’t know. She’s already terrified for her father—this would only make things worse. And it would hurt Tim, who practically worships the Batman and Robin of old. If Dick allows even a tiny crack, that shatters. Dick can’t bear to be the reason Tim’s pedestal breaks.

It’s all excuses really. Dick doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want it to be a big deal. He just wants to move on, like he did after Bruce punched him the first time.

“Nothing,” Dick says. “Just let one get past my defenses, I guess.” Tim watches, his eyes narrowed. And Cassandra—Dick can’t see her reaction through her mask, but surely she’s clocked the lie. Doesn’t matter, though. They won’t press. “How is he?” Dick asks, changing the subject and leaning his head against Barbara’s as she cries.

***

iv.

Dick’s little brother is curled up in the corner of his apartment. Meanwhile, Dick is barely resisting the urge to strangle his former mentor.

How could Bruce do this? Tim had—Tim had friends. Family. A support system. People he could relate to. And Bruce looked at that and decided, ‘this child needs to trust people less.’ He saw that Tim had a good thing and ripped it to shreds, because the kid wasn’t paranoid enough for him. Because Tim could do what Bruce could not, and that must be a flaw, mustn’t it? If the great Batman doesn’t have friends, then his Robin can’t have them either.

It's so fucked up. Dick had really expected better of Bruce.

(But didn’t he do this to you too? Says the little voice inside his head. Dick barely even registers the thought. He stopped listening to that voice long ago.)

So, Dick is beyond angry right now. But that doesn’t do Tim any good. Not when the boy just needs someone to comfort him in his distress.

“Bruce has a strange way of showing he cares,” Dick says, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulders.

“I don’t—he didn’t even apologize, Dick.” Tim ducks his head, hiding the tears that are dripping down his face.

“He’s trying to help you,” Dick tells Tim. “He wants you to be safe, and sometimes he can be a bastard, but he loves you, Tim. You’re his Robin.”

Tim shakes his head. “It hurt, Dick.”

Yeah. Bruce betrayed Tim’s trust horrifically. But— “He’s a bastard,” Dick agrees. “I have half the urge to strangle him.” More than half, but Tim doesn’t need to know that right now. “But that’s how he is. That’s how he loves us. When I was your age I was mad at him all the time. But he means well, Tim. He really does. And when I stopped being angry at him for pulling these things, it got a lot better.”

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“Hey,” Dick says gently. “Am I like Bruce?”

“No,” Tim whispers. “You’re not.”

“See? I turned out fine.” Dick ruffles Tim’s hair. “You will too.”

“I—” There are still tears leaking from Tim’s eyes. Dick doesn’t know what to do. “Can I have some water, please?”

Dick springs to his feet, grateful to look away from the results of Bruce’s love. “Sure, Timmy.”

“Sorry for bothering you.”

Dick smiles. “It’s no bother.” He’s glad he could be here, to reassure Tim. Because Dick? Dick had no one to tell him that Bruce meant well. He just had to trust.

***

v.

“I don’t know what you expected,” Jason says, arms crossed and helmet lying off to the side as he sits on the rooftop with Dick. He’s refusing to even look Dick’s way, but at least he’s talking, which is far better than the past three hours of stakeout. Or the operation before that. Or— “I mean, we buried you, Dick. Or whatever fake you put there instead. We’re not going to just get over it, no matter how many bonding ops you try to drag us on.”

Dick sighs heavily. He regrets it immediately, though. Jason deserves better than dismissiveness. Dick knows what it’s like to mourn a brother, and he forced Jason and Tim to go through that. Sure, the accusations hurt like hell, but Dick needs to think past his own pain.

“Come on,” Jason says, finally, finally turning to look at Dick. He’s angry, is the first thing Dick registers from Jason’s burning eyes and clenched jaw. That’s not helpful though. Jason is always angry with Dick these days. There’s nothing Dick can do to change that. Nothing, except maybe tell the truth. And Dick is never going to tell the truth. Not about this. “Tell me why you thought it was okay.”

This time, Dick is the one who looks away. “Just drop it, Hood.”

Jason’s hand falls heavily on Dick’s shoulder. Dick flinches away, but Jason doesn’t let go, tugging Dick around to face him. “Why, Dick? Why did you go to Spyral? Why did you fake your death?”

Some things would break this family. And Dick can’t do that. He’d told Bruce things wouldn’t be the same, but they have to be the same. Because the this is the only thing he has left. His brothers, no matter how much they hate him. His pride, which will be lost if he admits he caved to Bruce’s demands just because they came with some harsh words and fists. And his lies—the same ones he has been telling for years.

“I did what I needed to do,” Dick says. “And no names in the field, Hood.”

Jason’s lip curls in disgust and he stands up, shaking his head.

Even though he’s the one driving Jason away, Dick doesn’t want his brother to leave. “We’re not finished with the stakeout.”

“They’re not showing up,” Jason says coldly as he puts on his helmet. “If you want to wait around, you can, but I’m out. I don’t wanna deal with you anymore.”

And then he grapples off, leaving Dick alone on the rooftop.

*** ***

In the end, Dick doesn’t slip up. He spent a decade and a half covering for Bruce, sweeping his bullshit under the rug. He’s good at it. If he was going to make a mistake, he’d have made it long ago.

Instead, it’s Bruce who brings it all crashing down. Not out of guilt, but simply because he is even more lacking in self-awareness than Dick thought.

It starts when Dick finds Duke sitting at his kitchen table on a Saturday morning. “…hi Duke,” he says. He wasn’t aware Duke had gotten to the ‘breaking into siblings’ apartments’ stage of Bathood yet, but he guesses the kid is just precocious. 

“Bruce had me looking at some old case files,” Duke says. He skips over the small talk completely, which is…unusual for him. “I had some questions?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dick says, walking towards the coffee maker. “Shoot.”

“I made you coffee,” Duke tells him, pointing to a mug on the counter.

“Thanks.” Dick smiles at his foster brother, scoops some sugar in, and then sits down at the table across from Duke.

Duke swallows. “What’s a percussive strike to the mandible?”

“Hmm…” Dick takes a moment to think over that one. “A really fancy way to say a punch to the jaw?” The only person he knows who is pretentious enough to phrase things like that is Bruce. Specifically, a brooding Bruce. Well-adjusted Bruce tends to write a little more like a normal person.

“Could it be anything else?” Duke asks.

Dick shrugs. “Don’t think so. A percussive strike is some sort of hit, and the mandible is the jaw, so…”

“And if something says ‘Sustained facial damage from strike during intervention; potential mandible fracture’ what would that mean?”

“Someone tried to get in the way of something, got hit in the face, and maybe fractured their lower jaw.”

Duke places a post-operation report printed from the Batcomputer on the kitchen table and then wipes his hands on his shirt. Dick can see wet spots on the paper from Duke’s sweaty hands. Is Duke nervous to ask questions? Dick must’ve made a mistake if he is. His little siblings can always ask him questions. “And…what’s this?”

Dick looks at Duke in confusion, sipping his coffee. “I feel like this is a trick question.”

Duke’s foot bounces furiously under the table. “Please just—just answer.”

Dick shrugs. “It’s a report from the batcomputer.”

“Yeah,” Duke says. He slides the file towards Dick. “Read it.”

First, Dick checks the date and searches his memories. That…that must’ve been pretty early on in his time with the red suit—probably the Court of Owls debacle. And then, he begins to read.

By the time he reaches the end, it’s taking all his willpower to keep his hands from shaking.

During this discussion, Nightwing’s tooth was removed via percussive strike to the mandible. The tooth was then confirmed to have the electrum implant.

“Duke, this is…”

“Here.” Duke passes Dick another file, and he reads that one too.

Nightwing prevented Batman from continuing attack. Nightwing sustained facial damage from strike during intervention; potential mandible fracture.

And all he can think is…why? Why would Bruce put complete descriptions of these incidents into his records—and not just his private records, but the records that are accessible even from Duke’s clearance? And then he told Duke to go looking through them, not even realizing that there could be an issue. He didn’t even—

“He didn’t even try to hide them,” Duke says hollowly.

Dick has to try, then. If Bruce has gone mad, Dick has to at least attempt to cover for him. One last time. So, he laces his hands in front of him on the table and gives it his best shot. “I don’t remember these, Duke,” Dick lies. “I think something’s up with the file system.”

Duke shakes his head. “Don’t try to gaslight me, Dick. This is—this is real. He hit you at least twice. Probably more, if he’s writing it this casually. If he doesn’t even realize how messed up this is.”

“Okay,” Dick says. “Okay, but it’s not—”

“Tim gave me access to the Titans contact sheet. Apparently, Roy keeps a file called ‘Fuck Batman’. Most of it is hearsay, but if I line it up with incident reports—”

“Don’t,” Dick whispers. “It’s…I made a choice, okay? I chose to cover for Bruce, because I was fine.”

Duke gives a sad smile and reaches across the small table to squeeze Dick’s hands. “It’s over,” he says. He probably means to be comforting.

It didn’t have to be, Dick thinks. He would’ve kept every incident secret for the rest of his life. All Bruce had to do was possess an ounce of self-awareness and realize that he had something to hide. But he didn’t. And now, Duke knows and the Titans and other Bats will soon follow. “Yeah,” Dick says, squeezing back. “I guess it is.”

[theartofcollapse]

hey, it's me again with another Olivia request 🤭🤭🤭 Could you write one where Olivia comes home tired from work after a long week solving a case and comes home to the reader and their daughter preparing a "spa night" or party in pajamas, with lots of massages, jelly beans, cupcakes and kisses from her favorite girls.

a/n: thank you for your request, love! (ps: SEND ME MORE OLIVIA REQUESTS PLEASEEE, I LIVE FOR HER.) summary: read it above pairing: Olivia Benson x female reader warnings: none word count: 1.1K

masterlist

Home to Love - Olivia Benson

The hum of New York City filtered faintly through the apartment windows as Olivia closed the door behind her, sighing deeply. Her shoulders ached, her head pounded, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had slept more than four consecutive hours. It had been a brutal week, long days and sleepless nights chasing a particularly grueling case.

But now, it was over. Justice had been served. And all Olivia wanted was to collapse onto the couch and lose herself in the familiar comfort of home.

“Y/N?” she called out, her voice weary but filled with longing. “Sophie?”

She dropped her coat onto the back of a chair and slipped off her boots, moving toward the warm glow spilling from the living room. Soft giggles drifted down the hallway, sparking a faint smile on her lips.

When Olivia rounded the corner, her breath caught.

The coffee table had been transformed into a “spa station,” complete with little bowls of lotions, nail polish, and neatly folded warm towels. Sophie, their five-year-old daughter, was perched on a pillow, her tiny hands carefully arranging jelly beans in a rainbow pattern on a plate. Meanwhile, you were at the center of it all, lighting a lavender candle with an amused smile as you spotted Olivia.

“There she is!” you said brightly, setting the candle down. “The woman of the hour.”

“Mommy!” Sophie squealed, hopping up and running to her. Olivia bent down, gathering her daughter into her arms and burying her face in her soft curls. The tension in her body melted a little as Sophie pressed a sticky kiss to her cheek.

“What’s all this?” Olivia asked, her voice lighter, though still hoarse from the week’s exhaustion.

“It’s spa night, Mommy!” Sophie said with wide eyes, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re gonna make you feel all better!”

You approached her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “You’ve had a hell of a week, Liv. We figured you could use some pampering. Pajamas are mandatory,” you added with a wink.

Olivia chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t even remember the last time I had a night like this.”

“Well, that’s why you have us,” you replied softly, your hand squeezing hers. “Go change. Sophie and I will take care of everything.”

Five minutes later, Olivia emerged from the bedroom in flannel pajamas you had laid out for her. She looked more relaxed already, her face softening as she saw Sophie waiting for her with a cupcake in hand.

“This is for you!” Sophie announced proudly. “I put the sprinkles on.”

Olivia took the cupcake with mock seriousness, biting into it and humming exaggeratedly. “Mmm. Perfect. Just like you.”

Sophie giggled, and you grinned, patting the pillow next to yours on the floor. “Come sit. We’ve got massages, nail painting, and even some terrible karaoke lined up.”

Olivia settled in beside you, letting Sophie climb into her lap. You took her hand and started massaging it gently, your thumbs pressing into the spots you knew carried the most tension.

She sighed again, but this time it was one of pure contentment. “This…this is exactly what I needed.”

Sophie, now holding a bottle of glittery pink nail polish, piped up, “Can I paint your nails, Mommy?”

Olivia raised an eyebrow at you. “Pink glitter, huh?”

You laughed. “Let her. It’ll wash off. Besides, it’s part of the experience.”

As Sophie carefully dabbed at Olivia’s nails, you leaned in to press a kiss to her temple. “I missed you this week.”

Olivia turned her head to meet your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “I missed you too,” she murmured.

By the time the night ended, Olivia’s nails were an uneven mess of glitter, her muscles were looser from the massages, and her heart was full. Lying on the couch with you tucked against her side and Sophie snoring lightly on her chest, Olivia finally felt at peace.

Home. This was her sanctuary, not the quiet apartment, but the two of you. Her girls.

“Thank you,” she whispered, brushing a kiss against your hair.

“For what?” you asked sleepily.

“For reminding me what I’m fighting for.”

Half an hour later Olivia carefully shifted Sophie in her arms, her daughter's head tucked against her shoulder. The little girl was completely out, her soft breaths even and steady as she clung to her mom's shirt. Olivia chuckled under her breath, brushing a hand gently over Sophie's curls as she turned to you.

"She's out cold," Olivia whispered, smiling as Sophie let out a tiny snore.

"Of course she is. She worked hard tonight," you teased. "All that nail painting and cupcake eating? Exhausting stuff."

You followed Olivia as she carried Sophie to her room, the soft glow of the nightlight illuminating the cozy space you had decorated together. Olivia laid Sophie down gently, pulling the pastel blanket over her small frame. You leaned against the doorframe, watching as Olivia crouched down to press a kiss to Sophie's forehead.

"Goodnight, munchkin," Olivia whispered.

After a quiet moment, she stood and turned to you, and you couldn't help but smile at how much softer she looked now. The exhaustion was still there, but so was something lighter, contentment, love, peace.

You reached for her hand as you both tiptoed out of the room and closed Sophie's door. "Well," you said, your voice dropping just slightly, "that's one Benson girl taken care of."

Olivia raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. "Is that so?"

You tugged her hand gently, leading her toward your bedroom. "It's time for you to let loose in the bedroom as well," you said, your tone playful but laced with something deeper. "If you're not tired enough, that is."

Olivia chuckled lowly, letting herself be pulled along. "Oh, I'm exhausted," she said, her voice dropping to a husky murmur as she stepped closer, her fingers brushing along your cheek. "But for you? I think I can muster some energy."

Her words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine as she dipped her head, capturing your lips in a slow, heated kiss. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, and any lingering exhaustion seemed to melt away in the warmth of her embrace.

"You've been taking care of me all night," she whispered against your lips. "Now it's my turn."

You smiled against her mouth, your fingers tangling in her hair as you pulled her deeper into the kiss. "Let's see if you can keep up, Captain Benson."

Olivia smirked. "Oh, I always close the case, Y/N."

The rest of the night passed in whispers, laughter, and a love that left no space for the exhaustion of the week before. 

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter three

synopsis: phosphorus helps you with your little problem. and a brawl starts up in the kitchen.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, nsfw, very spicy chapter, phosphorus has a dick, a tongue, and is able to kiss.

a/n: again, so sorry for the delay. the entire fuckin' draft deleted and i had to rewrite everything.

Without hesitation, Phosphorus hooked his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss.

Eagerly, you accepted it, shifting your thighs on either side of him to sit further on his lap, pressing yourself flush against his crotch.

His hands tightly gripped your ass and thighs as they slid under the hem of your shorts, his tongue swirling with with yours as you softly moaned into his mouth, hands tightly grasping his shoulders.

Your sounds nearly had him reeling, forcing the man to bite back his groan.

'Jesus Christ...'

He couldn't believe this was happening.

You... showing up at his door, all hot and bothered, demanding he fuck you right?

It was like something out of a cheesy porno.

But who was he to complain?

He had a hot demon woman shoving her tongue down his throat.

Who could ask for more?

With a cocky chuckle, he roughly flipped you both over, pouncing on you and sucking harsh circles across your neck and chest, forcing you to arch your back into his touch.

"You should be thankin' me, doll face. I'm movin' around my schedule for this," he murmured into your flesh, keeping up his rhythm.

"I'll be sure to send you a thank you basket," you scoffed, breathless, as you hooked your fingers under the hem of your shirt.

With your back off the mattress, you did away with your tank top and shorts, tossing them to the far corner.

His non-existent eyes ticked up to meet yours as he traced a finger over your stomach, cockily.

"If you are, might I suggest banana nut muffins?" he chuckled. "Pretty fitting for our situation."

Slowly, his hands reached up to grope your tits, roughly molding and massaging them as his teeth trailed down your navel, smoothly moving to your thighs in an attempt to drag your panties down your legs.

You moaned at the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipples, skin buzzing with electricity and anticipation.

"Phos, fuck," you exhaled, breath hitching at a particularly sharp pinch.

After a moment of pause, he finally got your panties off, dragging them off your feet before dropping them to the floor, taking the opportunity to pry your thighs open.

The sight he was met with nearly made his glow-stick shoot straight up.

'Scwing.'

Before him sat your sobbing, wet cunt, sitting patient and pretty just for him.

"So... everything is red..." he smirked, leaning in and pressing teasing kisses into your lips, forcing sparks of pleasure to explode in your body. "Called it."

He looked up at you from between your thighs, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spin.

But before you could say anything, his tongue slithered out his mouth to toy with your clit, stealing away any possible hope of coherent thought.

"N-N...Oh, fuck, yes!" you moaned, tilting your head back in ecstasy.

He chuckled, the fan of his breath making your cunt throb.

"Never took you for a screamer..."

Without warning, he yanked you closer by your ankles, relishing your mousy yelp of surprise.

"What happened to all that mouth, doll face?"

"Phos, please," you whined. "Just shut the fuck up and use your mouth for something useful."

"Someone's eager..."

"So help me God, I will go down the hall and find Fla—"

He practically dove into your pussy at the mention of the general, slurping at your juices and sucking at your clit like a man on a mission.

He alternated between swirling his tongue around your entrance and teasing your sensitive button, his hands pinning your thighs as far apart as they would go.

You nearly lost it, body on autopilot as your mouth let loose with whatever sounds it felt like.

"God, yes, yes, yes!" you moaned. "Right there, Phos, fuck, right there!"

His hot tongue, tinged with a faint sting from his powers as it lapped at your core, making a mess of your pussy.

"Right there?" he teasingly asked. "Not right here, doll?"

Suddenly, you felt his finger begin to probe you, slowly slipping inside and aiming upward to rub against that certain spongy spot.

"C'mon... I'm waitin for your orders..." he chuckled, his tongue still working its magic on your clit.

Your eyes rolled back like you were possessed, your thighs harshly clamping around his head, desperate to keep him where he was.

"Fuck," you whined, fingertips singing the sheets. "How the fuck are you so good at this? You're a goddamn skeleton..."

Smirking into you, he continued his ministrations, gliding his finger in and out as he lapped at your heat, quickly bringing you to your peak.

"Shit!" you gasped, loudly. "Phos, m'gunna-gunna come!"

At the same time, he looked up at you, and you looked down at him, the alluring green of his fire pulling you into a small trance.

Phosphorus held your gaze as he practically shoved you over the edge, forcing you release with an almost pornographic moan, and cum all over his mouth.

But he didn't stop

He made it a point to continue eating you out, making your orgasm last far longer than it should.

Your words became slurred as jumbled as you begged him to stop.

"P-Phos!" you whimpered. "Please... oh, fuck, please! I-I can't... oh, I can't..."

Fortunately for you, he finally stopped, standing between your thighs as his chin and mouth glistened with your cum.

"Tastes like..." he pulled his finger out of you, holding it up to pause as his tongue dragged across his bottom lip. "Brimstone?"

You rolled your eyes, sitting up and cupping his face between your hands before mashing your lips passionately with his.

With a chuckle, Phosphorus wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body flush against him for only a moment, before he flipped you around and shoved you stomach first back onto the bed.

Faster than humanly possible, he tugged off his hoodie, dropping his pants and boxers as he got you into position.

On your knees.

Face down.

Ass up.

"Alright," he started, voicing dipping an octave. "You got your fill... S'my turn now."

SMACK!

His hand came down to smack your ass cheek, his power giving it a little extra bite.

The sharp sensation made you gasp, your toes curling at the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure.

"Naughty girl," he grinned, free hand mindlessly toying with your pointed tail. "You're really gettin' off on this, arentcha? That desperate for my cock?"

"Fuck you," you spat, half-heartedly.

"If you insist..."

Planting another smack on your ass, he positioned his dick, and, in one swift motion, filled you to the hilt.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned while you let out another sharp gasp, tightly gripping the sheets under you.

But rather than let himself adjust, he moved right into it, pistoning his hips into your jiggly, soft ass.

"Fuck, Phos, sh-shit!" you cried, shoving your face in the mattress to muffle your noise. "W-Wait! D-Don't... oh, fuck!...don't go so fast! Ohh, my God!"

Phosphorus cackled at your pathetic stammering and babbling in between your moans and gasps as he drove himself into you again and again, his grip on your hips increasing in heat as his fingers dug into the fleshy parts of your ass.

"Not a chance, doll," he puffed.

He paused mid-stroke to hike his leg up on the bed before continuing to drive his cock into you, making your jaw fall slack at the new angle.

And he continued at his breakneck pace, moaning about how hot you looked as his hand left your hip to rub your clit, the other giving your ass yet another harsh smack.

You felt your second orgasm rising, your pussy tightening around his dick while that knot in your core began to tighten, signaling your end.

"Yes!" you cried out. "Fuck, right there! Right fuckin there!"

Leaning down, he pressed his face into your ear, rutting into you like a wild animal.

You gripped the sheets for dear life, holding on tightly and moaning into the mattress as your heated nails dragged down the fabric, your noises pulling rough grunts of pleasure from his irradiated lips.

"You like me," Phosphorus panted into your ear. "You can shout and scowl all you want... you like me."

"Phos, please!" you begged. "M'so close!"

"So am I," he groaned. "But no one's coming 'til you tell me what I wanna hear."

He leaned back to get a good look at you, eyes transfixed on your body as his hands kneaded your ass.

"Admit you like me."

You looked back at him with horror.

Did you want to cum?

Yes.

Did you want him to win?

Hell. No.

"F-Fuck off!" you shouted, delirious.

With a cocky smirk, Phosphorus slowed down, making his thrusts shallow and slow.

"You wanna try that again?"

The devious twinkle in his eye was pretty much invisible, but you could practically hear it in his voice.

He was teasing you.

And you didn't have the patience.

"Goddammit!" you sobbed. "I like you! You're not...fuck... you're not terrible to be around! Now fuckin' let me cum!"

A wide, gigawatt smile crossed Phosphorus's face, your admission the highlight of his day.

"See? Was that so hard?" he chuckled.

Tightening his grip, he sped up his thrusts, putting his whole back into it as his cock drilled your wet cunt over and over and over and over again until—

"Cummin'" you whimpered. "M'gunna cum!"

His lips parted as he panted and groaned, the feeling of you squeezing around him almost too much.

Leaning down, he wrapped a hand around your throat, forcing you to look up so he could meet your lips with a sloppy, moan-filled, open-mouthed kiss.

Instantly, you came all over his cock, his kiss swallowing your gasps of release as your body tensed and writhed in his grasp.

With a few thrusts and feral grunt, he quickly pulled himself out of you, emptying himself all over your back and ass.

You don't say a word, and you don't even move.

You couldn't.

At the moment, your body was too exhausted to do anything but lay there and take it.

Once he was done, Phosphorus sighed with relief, muscles loosening as another light chuckle left his lips.

He released your cock, soft and coated in your mixed cum, and tilted his head up to look at the ceiling.

"Alright... back to business."

As he shuffled around behind you, putting his clothes back on—according to your pointed ears—you continued to lay in your position, staring into space as the gravity of your situation finally began to sink in.

Phosphorus, easily the most annoying person you had ever met, had just given you the best fuck of your life.

You practically shuddered at the thought, your tail falling limply at the realization

'I should've looked for Flag...'

"M-Miss? Are you feeling well?" one of the female cooks asked, concerned, and quite fearful, as you downed another round of whiskey.

With a groan, you slammed the empty glass down on the island, puffing a tiny fireball from the side of your mouth with a huff.

That was your tenth bottle.

And you were approaching your eleventh as your tail moved to grab the neck of a new one.

'Hope that witch never comes. I could get used to good booze like this.'

"Yes," you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as your tail poured another glass, not in the mood for conversation. "I am feeling well."

"Are you sure of this?" a man chimed in, utterly baffled. "In all my years, I have never seen someone drink so much and still stand."

Hell, he had never seen someone drink so much and still be alive.

But then again, most of the staff barely knew what to expect when it came to the creatures protecting their princess.

You had shuffled into the kitchen a few minutes ago, asking for a bottle of their strongest, and, naturally, they obliged, seeing as you were an honored guest.

But that didn't mean they couldn't have their own worries.

With another sigh, you took a sip of your drink, looking over the rim and away from the man, wistfully.

"People like me don't get drunk."

Just then, your pointed ears flicked up, the faint sound of splintering wood bounding off the walls as you lowered your glass.

'The hell?'

Slowly, but surely, it began to get louder, your eyes shooting wide as the ceiling gave way, dropping Flag and Phosphorus right on the kitchen island.

With screams and shouts of terror, the chefs and cooks ran out the room, the fallen wood setting a section of the room on fire.

But you ignored them, more concerned with the flaming skeleton lying in front of you.

"The hell are you doing? You're scaring away my tap," you cocked a brow, annoyed.

"Someone's up and at 'em. Last I saw, you were face down in my mattress," he teased, cockily, as he sat up, grabbing his chin and snapping his neck back into place.

He did it so nonchalant, sending a rippling warmth right through your stomach, and forcing your eyes to widen slightly.

'Damn...'

That is... until you finally process what he said.

"Asshole!"

"Mattress?" Flag cocked a brow, confused, as he turned to you.

Swiftly, his eyes scanned over your form, taking note of the numerous hickeys littering your chest and neck, as well as the slight wildness of your hair and the drooping strap of your tank top.

'No. Fucking. Way.'

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?!" he exclaimed, looking between you both incredulously.

"Think that's bad, you should see her ass," Phosphorus grinned, proudly reminiscing on the hand print he'd left on your reddened ass cheek.

You jerked, about to cuss him out when you suddenly caught sight of the detonator sitting in a teacup, just waiting to be grabbed.

'Oh, shit.'

Without hesitation, your tail dropped your glass and snatched it up, much to Flag's surprise.

"No!"

"Phos! How do I disarm this shit?!" you frantically asked, running up the wall and plopping down on the ceiling as Flag reached for a cast-iron skillet to throw at you.

Quickly, Phosphorus grabbed him by the wrist, stopping his hand and earning a harsh, pained wince.

"Just press buttons—Ungh!" the skeleton was cut off as Flag kicked him in the chest, sending him flying off the island and giving him the opening he needed to hit you in the head with the pan.

"Fuck!" you spat as you fell from the ceiling, dropping the detonator as you clutched your head. "Bitch!"

Jumping off the counter, Flag ran to grab it, but Phosphorus pulled himself up just in time to hit him in the back with a small spurt of fire, sending the man flying into the stove and right into the hot pots.

"Ah! Fuck!" he cursed, quickly shoving an oven mitt over his burned right hand.

As Phosphorus picked up the detonator with a wicked chuckle, you launched yourself forward, grabbing onto a hanging light fixture and swinging toward the general as he charged your new partner in crime.

Roughly, you tackled him into a table, completely breaking it in half as you attempted to pin him down.

Despite the fact that you were fighting, you didn't really want to hurt the man.

As boy scout-ish as he was, Flag had been nothing but nice to you, and seemed to be a genuinely kind and honest man.

If you could help it, you would try to neutralize the threat without maiming the poor guy.

Though, just as you got a good hold, Flag used his feet to push you off at the chest and stand up, nearly launching you across the room.

But you anticipated and used your tail to grab him by the neck in mid-air, swinging yourself back around to tackle him from behind, sending him crashing into the island.

"Any progress over there?!" you asked, annoyed, as you grabbed the general by the back of his head, pushing his face into the counter top.

"Nope. Nothin' yet," Phosphorus denied, examining the small device as if it was an alien thing.

"Well, could you hurry it—Shit!"

Before you could finish, Flag threw your bottle of whiskey in your face, smashing the glass against your horns and forcing you to stumble backward.

As you frantically tried to clear your vision, he ran toward Phosphorus, using his momentum to smash the skeleton's skull against a cabinet.

Instantly, Phosphorus whipped around and backhanded him away, charging in for a kick—which Flag dodged by a hair.

But without missing a beat, the general grabbed him by the waist, suplexing and sending the skeleton flying across the room, the detonator landing right in the middle.

Quickly, both men scrambled to their feet, Phosphorus charging at full speed before Flag shoulder-checked him into a glass china display.

Finally able to see, you rushed back into the fight, using the island as a springboard to forward flip over before sending your tail to grab the device.

Much to your surprise, though, Flag used both hands to grab you by your thigh in mid-air, swirling around before tossing you into the shelves across the room.

But while his back was turned, Phosphorus launched a heated punch, though the general was able to weave out the way and send two harsh strikes to his face and chest, finishing it all off with a kick to the face before he finally grabbed the detonator.

"Shit..." you groaned, bracing yourself for the pain.

"Richard?" Princess Ilana chimed, concerned, from her spot in the doorway.

Pausing a moment, Flag turned to her, seeming to regain his composure before returning to you two.

"Phoshporus! (y/n)! You think Waller would give me the only remote?" he exclaimed, severely annoyed, as he turned to the irradiated skeleton. "You'd be hopping around like a Mexican jumping bean for days, if you escaped."

Quickly, he whipped around to you.

"And you'd become a threat to national security."

You face fell slightly at the reminder, forcing you to look off to the side.

Letting his shoulders drop, Flag looked between you both, sincerely.

"I'm not here to torture you. We're supposed to be on the same damn team."

With a harsh sigh, he turned away, storming out the kitchen with Ilana in tow, leaving you and Phosphorus to sit there, dumbfounded.

Neither of you had any idea that he was so benevolent.

Quietly, you both pulled yourselves to your feet, heading for the door and walking out into the hallway in sync.

Together, you moved in silence, until, of course, Phosphorus broke the tension.

"So... still need help with your problem?"

"Not in a million years."

[candyswirls]

Bat Fledgling - Pt 8: I Want You

Previous - Next - MasterPost

Summary: Corvus rectifies his mistake with Kiri

I gave you the hurt so here’s the comfort and fluff! He’s a good dad he’s just trying his best! Also the warband is extremely fun to write about.

He ran down the hallway, only backtracking to where Adile’s room was.

He knocked then opened the door. The three looked up at him, Adile still crying.

“Stop crying,” Corvus said. “He’s staying.”

Adile gasped loudly.

As Corvus moved down the hallway he heard him exclaim, “Yaaaaaayyy!!!”

He ran into the apothecarium so fast it startled Bora.

“Is something wrong my lord?” He asked.

“Where’s Kiri?” He demanded.

“I put him to bed,” Bora said as Corvus spun around.

“Uh, is everything alright?” He called after his Primarch.

“Yes!” He yelled back.

He rounded a corner and nearly ran into Jehudiel.

“Ah, my lord,” he began. “I must-“

Corvus grabbed him by his top shoulders, “Cease plans to send him away. He’s staying.”

Jehudiel smiled, “Right away my lord. I’ll begin preparations for having him here permanently.”

Corvus nodded, “Yes, that would be appreciated.”

He moved past the Ultramarine and ran again. He only slowed down as he approached Kiri’s room.

Edant was right outside with the mop and froze when he saw the Primarch. He jumped into a salute. This section was extremely well polished. More so than the others.

“I…” Edant stood up, “I- this was a very dirty section and- such a tough spot to buff out.”

“And I expect the rest of the base will look like this?” Corvus smiled.

Edant’s expression dropped.

“I-if you’d prefer it I can-“

Corvus raised a hand to silence, “I was joking.”

“Right,” Edant nodded. “I was also… joking- no I wasn’t. I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

The primaris slumped a bit, ashamed at lying.

He patted his son on the head, “At ease. Thank you for doing so. Go get some rest.”

“I-okay,” Edant nodded as he shuffled off, occasionally looking behind him.

He wondered if all Primaris were this nervous.

Corvus sighed and leaned in close to the door. From the sound of sniffling he could tell Kiri was still awake.

He knocked gently and slid the door open. Once he slipped in and closed it behind him he moved to the small cot.

His hearts sank. He could smell the blood from the scratches Kiri gave himself and that he had vomited on the bed.

He sat down next to the cot and spoke, “Oh, Kiri.”

The boy let out a sob and quickly turned over, “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up. I can be good. I promise.”

“Kiri-“

“Please don’t send me away, please!” He begged. “I can be good! Don’t abandon me! I want to stay! I’ll be good! I’ll clean it up. I can clean it up.”

He tried climbing out of bed to action but Corvus gently pulled him into his embrace. Rocking him, rubbing his back, and resting his chin atop his head.

“Shhhh,” he hushed. “It’s okay. You’re not going. You’re staying here. I’m not sending you away.”

Kiri let out a loud hiccup, “R-really? You-you’re not?”

Corvus held him close to his chest as his own tears began to fall.

“Oh Kiri,” he sighed. “Im sorry. I’m so sorry. I never should have said those things. I didn’t mean it. You’re a good and sweet boy. My boy. You aren’t going anywhere. We’ll all take care of you. Golden throne. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He pressed kisses to his face and hands. Kiri sobbed as he curled into Corvus.

“I’m so sorry,” he said to Kiri again. “You don’t have to always be good or obedient. You will always be here. This will always be your home. I will always be your father. I hope you can forgive me.”

Kiri sniffed, “I-I-I alr-ready do.”

That nearly sent him over the edge as he hugged him tighter.

“You’re so good,” he sighed. “I won’t ever get rid of you because I want you. I want you to stay and I want you here. I want you. You’re my son. I want you.”

Kiri let out high pitched cries as he clung to Corvus’ chest feathers.

“Don’t lie!” He mumbled into his chest. “Are you lying? Please tell me you aren’t lying!”

Corvus shifted his hold so Kiri was eye level with him. Large watery eyes hoping that it was all true.

“I’m not,” he laughed. “I want you. You’re my son.”

A big grin spread across Kiri’s face as he cried. He wrapped his arms around Corvus neck.

The Primarch stood, still rubbing his son’s back as he sobbed.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you something to eat. You’ll sleep with me tonight.”

Kiri broke down more.

“Don’t cry,” Corvus soothed. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“They’re happy tears,” Kiri mumbled.

He nuzzled his son again as he took him out and went to the kitchens.

Griggs was always in the kitchen. It was rare to not find him there.

He was furiously punching dough.

“Is there any snacks-“ Corvus began to ask.

“Bottom left cabinet next the fridge,” Griggs said immediately. “Don’t touch the ones in the decorated basket, those are Adile’s and I’m not having him cry over textures ever again.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Kiri called out to the world eater, “I’m staying!”

Griggs stopped punching the dough and began gently kneading it, “That’s nice. I don’t have to change meal plans or prep.”

Corvus grabbed a cookie and gave it to Kiri. He spotted the mess in the baking room. Bits of eggs, batter, flour, and frosting covering nearly every surface including the ceiling. A baking massacre. An intricate and large cake was in the middle of a table. He elected to ignore that, not wanting to know exactly what had angered the Astartes so much to create that. He always cleaned up anyways.

Once they arrived back at his room, Corvus grabbed a blanket to wrap Kiri in.

“Wait!” He said as he clambered out of the Primarch’s arms. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

He ruffled his son’s hair then showed him the door to his personal one.

After he finished he came running out. He tripped and Corvus jumped up to grab him. Kiri was already scrambling to his feet.

“I’m okay!” He assured as he climbed into Corvus’ arms.

He wrapped him in a blanket and held him close to his chest. Baselines typically needed about eight standard Terran hours of sleep. Did younger ones need longer?

It didn’t matter, he had held him for days in traveling here. He’d do so now.

“Can we lay on the bed?” Kiri asked.

Corvus obliged, letting the boy lay on his chest as he leaned back.

“What’s that feathery thing?”

“What’s what?” He questioned.

Kiri climbed up near the top of the bed and tried to grab it.

He looked to see what Kiri was reaching for. To his horror he recognized it as an old loincloth he had randomly tossed there.

He snatched it before Kiri and threw it off the side of the bed.

“What was that?” Kiri asked again, looking startled.

Corvus sighed with embarrassment, “a loincloth. Ignore it.”

Kiri bursting into giggling, still sniffing from a runny nose.

The Primarch smiled in amusement, “What’s so funny?”

Kiri tried to talk but laughing got in the way. He laughed so hard he flopped onto the bed. Corvus found he couldn’t grinning at the utter joy his son was experiencing.

“What is so funny?” He asked Kiri again.

Kiri snickered and managed to say, “Your dirty underwear!”

He squealed and giggled harder, practically rolling on the bed. The boy’s laughing was intoxicating.

Corvus chuckled, “I’m glad you find this so amusing.”

Kiri giggled some more before flopping down into his father’s arms. He expression became serious.

“This isn’t a trick or a dream is it?” He asked.

He embraced Kiri once more and pressed more kisses to his face and hands.

“It’s not a trick or a dream,” he reassured. “You’re my son now. My baby. I want you and I love you.”

Kiri reach up and pressed his own kiss to the Primarch’s cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispered happily with sniffs. “thank you… I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too. Welcome home, Kiri Corax.”

[imthepunchlord]

Beach

Read more here.

.

“BEACH!” Momo cheered immediately, practically leaping out of the train, deaf to Okarun’s startled “Miss Ayase!” behind her. All she could focus on and see were the bright blue waves ahead. 

“BEACH!” Jiji echoed her, leaping out as well and starting to book it to the ocean, only to get tripped as Aira’s hair grabbed his leg, sending him down into the soft sand. 

“No!” Aira snapped, coming up behind him, her mask’s teeth clacking angrily. “I am here to enjoy the beach, not babysit Evil Eye ! No water for you!” 

“Maaaaaaw,” Jiji groaned into the sand. 

Okarun shuffled after them, a little off balanced between carrying some of their luggage and Turbo Granny on his head, pulling at his hair as she tried to direct him to the water, scolding him for taking too long. Next to him, Vamola hummed happily, carrying the other half of the luggage. 

She did stop in awe. “Ooooooooh,” she uttered, looking at the vast waters of earth. 

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Okarun managed to ask her, wincing as Turbo Granny bopped his face. 

“Keep going! That skank is beating me to the water!” 

“It’d be quicker if you went yourself!” Okarun grouched out. In a rare rush of rebellion, he shook off Turbo Granny, sending the doll to the ground, sighing in relief while she yowled and grouched in her mistreatment. Okarun though never heard her words, looking up just in time to see Momo tugging her shift over head, showing off the teal and pink swimsuit underneath. Something of a strangled squeal bubbled out of him and he turned away as she stripped. His eyes quickly locked onto various guys that were turning to eye her. 

A deep, rumbling growl festered out of Okarun as he glared at them, his yokai presence spreading out, pressing down on those who arrogantly thought they could ogle at her. 

All the guys stiffened at the tense feeling they felt, and with no clear answer for the sense of danger they were picking up, they quickly dispersed, a little unnerved. 

Okarun relaxed at their departure, the brown in his eyes returning. He continued forth, finding Vamola had chosen a spot for their things and set them down beside her. He looked up as Momo charged into the sea, the waves rushing forward to meet her. 

“COOOOLD!” she squealed and laughed, then just dropped into the depths. 

Okarun had a few seconds of tension before Momo popped up, chortling in glee as she splashed around for the sheer joy of it. 

“Momo, stop teasing meeee,” Jiji bemoaned from the beach. 

Aira eased herself into the water with as much grace as she could muster as the cold waves wrapped around her. “Heee, haa,” she breathed out, willing her body to not surge and jerk in response to the cold water. 

“You just gotta dive in,” Momo told her. 

“And look like a hooligan?! No thanks.” 

Aira though didn’t have much choice when one strong wave knocked her down. 

“Haaah!” Momo laughed as Aira popped up with a gasp. 

“Skank!” Aira snapped, splashing at Momo. 

Momo just snickered, then saw the buoy a good distance away. Feeling a playful, competitive spark, Momo challenged, “Race you to the buoy?” 

Aira narrowed her eyes. “You’re on.” 

The two tore off through the water, driven by the need to win and beat the other. In their wake was Okarun and Jiji watching them go, while Vamola and Turbo Granny had more fun in the shallows, Vamola especially taking her time to enjoy the water. 

“Wanna play volleyball?” JIji offered. 

“I haven’t played before,” Okarun warned sheepishly. 

“I’ll teach you!” JIji eased, waving his fists around excitedly. “It’s going to be so fuuuuuun!” 

Grabbing Okarun’s arm, Jiji hauled him to a wide volleyball net, taking up the other half that wasn’t in use. Jiji turned to Okarun, eyes alight with glee. “You are going to be amazing at this game! It comes down to speed and reactivity!” 

Okarun perked. He exclaimed excitedly, waving his fists about slightly, “I'm good at those!” 

“Yeah you are!” Jiji hyped, finger gunning the sky. 

Explaining the rules, Jiji hopped over the net and took his place on the other side, scoping up a free ball. “Yo, yo! You ready, Okaruuuun?!” Jiji called. 

“I’m ready!” Okarun called out dramatically, sharing Jiji’s pumped energy.

Jiji hopped high, and hit the ball hard, sending it flying across the net. 

Okarun tracked it effortlessly, darting forth and intercepting it. With ease, he knocked it back, watching Jiji race up to barely get it in time. With a big wide grin from Jiji, the game was afoot. 

Minutes dragged on during their play, with only a handful of points coming to exist between the two athletic boys, both getting caught up in the fun and competition. Eventually, as the game went on, attention was drawn their way, some in awe by the skill and dexterity of the two boys and their near even match.

Many girls had their eyes set upon JIji, the tall youth easily drawing in the gaze of others, how his body would flex and the strength behind his blows. 

A few had their own admiring eyes upon Okarun, his slimmer frame did little to deter the muscles he developed, and it worked nicely off his dexterity. 

A little over an hour later, the game was done in a draw, both Okarun and Jiji wore out from the endless back and forth. 

Jiji though didn’t have much chance to have a break as he got swarmed by various girls, offering eager compliments and playful flirtations. Ever the social butterfly, Jiji entertained them eagerly, finding enough energy to work off the eager crowd of admirers. 

Okarun for his part was ready to lay back on a beach towel and relax. Looking over, he could see that Momo and Aira had returned from their race and were back on the beach. While Aira was relaxing back on a lounge chair and tanning, Momo was plopped on the sand, teaching Vamola how to build a sandcastle. Turbo Granny was seated on top of Vamola, and faintly, Okarun could hear her demanding they make it big enough for her to get into. 

Okarun smiled fondly, about to go join them, when a flirtatious voice cut him off. 

“Here you got, Hotshot.” 

A little surprised, Okarun turned to see an offered water bottle, and looked past it to a girl batting her eyelashes at him. 

“Oh, thank you,” Okarun said, accepting the water bottle. 

A little random, but he’ll take it. It’s a nice gesture. 

“That was a very impressive game,” the girl said, her hand coming to rest on his bicep. 

Okarun drew away, giving the girl a wary squint. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he offered neutrally, turning away to join the others, only to go rigid when the girl wrapped her arms around his. 

“Why don’t you join me for a walk down the beach? Let the breeze cool you off?” the girl persisted. 

“I’m here with company already,” Okarun pushed back, torn between being polite and snapping. He could feel his nature twisting in displeasure at her approach, receiving such affection from a random girl. This was not the attention or affection he wanted. When the girl tightened her grip on his arm, he did pry her off of him, adding sternly, “And I have a girlfriend already.” 

And you aren't her , he added silently. 

The girl squinted at Okarun like he said Nessie was just a regular dinosaur. 

Then she narrowed her eyes. “Who’s your girlfriend?” she demanded, “Cause I don’t see her around.” 

“Over there building a sand castle,” he pointed out.

The girl eyed Momo and Vamola, the former falling back with a huge laugh as Turbo Granny fell off Vamola and landed onto the shobby looking mass they were making. Vamola’s wince didn’t last too long and soon she was smiling and laughing with Momo. 

While Okarun smiled with full adoration, the girl was not impressed. 

With a scoff, the girl declared, “You could do better.” 

Okarun went still at the claim, his glasses taking on a bright sheen, hiding his eyes. 

“I don’t know which it is, but they both look childish,” the girl declared, flipping her black hair, “and one even looks like a skank. Now, I have a lot more to offer. I actually have a house here on the beach that we can go and enjoy—”

Okarun interrupted, “You should run home to it then.” 

 The girl turned to Okarun in surprise, gaping at him. “What?” she asked dangerously. 

Only for her fire to dim down at the intense pressure around the guy, turning his gleaming glasses towards her. While she couldn’t see his eyes, she could feel his glare. He continued, his voice in a deep growl, “You’re really starting to piss me off, yo.” 

The girl took an instinctive step back, put off by the intense anger the guy was putting off, unaware that he shot up in height, of the wispy white mane he now sported, and of the big black maw that was dangerously gritting its teeth, ready to snap at her. 

“Y-you know, you wear glasses anyway,” the girl put out, backing away still. “You’re not worth my time.” 

Okarun didn’t bother replying, continuing to glare at the girl until she fully walked away. 

“Okarun?” 

He turned, his red eyes settling on Momo as she came to join him. He noted absently that she was covered in sand, and smelled like seawater. 

“You ok?” Momo asked. 

His maw dispersed as he sighed, letting the irritation go. “Yeah, yeah, I, I’m ok.” Still, he did immediately go to her side, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close, giving a slight nuzzle to her forehead. “I’m better.” 

Momo blushed at the sudden affection, peeking up at Okarun in surprise and slight concern. Tempted to ask, she opted to let it go. Instead, she wrapped her arm around him and led him over to their spot, voicing, “Come on, you can help us make a sand castle up to Turbo Granny’s standard.” 

“I’ve never tried before,” Okarun warned. 

“Neither has Vamola, and that’s not stopping her!” 

He chuckled, feeling much better now. “True. I’ll give it my all!” 

Momo smiled back. “That’s all we can ask.” 

As Okarun joined them, his bad encounter was forgotten as he joined Vamola in trying to figure out how to get a wall of sand to stand, listening to Momo’s tips and guidance. 

“I’m coming in!” Jiji called, rushing over to join them, sliding to their spot, barely avoiding the second lumpy try at a castle, sparking off cheers and grumbles as JIji joined in, offering his own crazy tips on how to mold the castle. 

[starfxkrinc]

was thinking about how you said jj would pass you around to his friends wanted to add onto that..

they’d be going at it for hours taking turns using all your holes and high fiving each other while you’re just babbling how good it feels and saying thank you to jj

afterwards they just leave you there cum dripping down your face and out of your pussy, ass, and mouth, condoms all on your body

and as they’re pulling up their pants they’re making bids to jj asking if they can use you for a day or two and how good you were while you’re just a passed out wreck on the bed

UGHDJDKLSLDDND need to be used by a group of 40 something year old men who smoke and drink all day and are the exact guys my mom used to warn me about :,\

.🐞

oof you really didn’t want to at first but jj just has a way with words….

and at the end of the day its all so he can brag right, because you know he showed him that video even if he wont say it. cause everytime you walk in the room you can feel their eyes roaming over you, and jj gets the bright idea of “well maybe they can touch her” so he lets em. he lifts your skirts and lets them take their time rubbing and groping you til he decides its enough and sends you back to bed.

next time it escalates, youre barely through the door before jjs scooping you up and sitting you in his lap during a poker game with a hand down your shorts. now its whoever wins gets to suck your pussy off his fingers. they play multiple rounds.

then he just drops all pretence of whats about to happen next time theyre over. youre already home, in bed minding your business when jj yanks you out in nothing but one if his shirts and your panties and just bends you over. getting fucked in front of his friends you can take. then they start unbuckling their pants. and jj pulls out to put his dick in your mouth and someone replaces him behind you. youre getting pounded and passed around, it feels like theres a million hands touching you everywhere and theres little else you can do but whine for jj as his seemingly neverending stream of friends make you cum over and over.

[atsu-i]

I think that you are beautiful in the way that child thought touka was in tokyo ghoul

?