#the reason no one knew about him is good (he puts his head down and cares about doing his job)

[videokilled]

Vox grumbled under his breath- immediately regretting pressing for answers because now he knew Alastor had it. And it was all he could think about. After rolling the green up into the paper, Vox reflexively tried to use his finger to light it and tensed up immensely when he realized once again that struggle. He was very still and tense for a long moment while he beat back his own crash out over needing to fetch a goddamn lighter.

Then got up pushing the food trays away and stacking them. Ruining some of the untouched food. And stalked to the kitchen to get the lighter he had put down while he was pacing.

His skin itched and crawled. His head desperately trying to reason a way to get the other goods now instead of later. It would probably help him sleep… he put the new smoke into his mouth and inhaled on it hard as he leaned forward on the counter.

Relaxing felt impossible. Maybe he should just eaten it.

He heard Alastor uncork the wine and start drinking but it wasn’t all that shocking for them- and he couldn’t get his mind off of where that fucking extra goods were.

“I’m not pouting.” He snipped a bit.

He would feel better if he was in bed… he wanted to be close to the other so achingly bad. But it felt like a cop out. A cop out of what he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t selling out.. right?

“Whatth’f’k are you on about.” Vox scolded himself sort of pitifully and under his breath as he scrubbed at his face with his one hand.

Maybe he just needed to sleep. He felt so far from sleep though. The weed wasn’t doing anything— unless it was too early to tell. Of course it was it had been all of thirty seconds.

Vox started pacing again but less fervently and more like wandering slowly in a circle as he nursed his new herb cigarette.

“Just a second.. in a minute..” he added toward Alastor much softer.

As unbothered as Vox was intentioned on being by the others absence.. it was easier said than done. He exhibited very similar possessive and clingy behavior when it was just him and Valentino. But he had Valentino under at least a semi restrictive contract that gave him so semblance of control.

Alastor and him had no such thing- even this contract was thin and frail at best. He had the favorable end- but it was hasty and verbal. A far cry from the level of exhaustive and documented his usual contracts were.

Even if it had been. It wouldn’t last- it was nuanced. Situational.

It only took a few minutes beyond Alastor’s absence for the sensation in his throat to make eating feel wholly uncomfortable.

He let out a very loud groan and put the mostly empty rice and teriyaki dish to the side and stood. Still naked other than the towel around his waist now, he started pacing to give himself a secret paranoid pep talk. He had a few minutes,

“relaaaxrelaxrelaxrelax.” Vox muttered to himself and walked over to pick up the cigarettes Alastor had brought with him. God he really was a high maintenance bitch now. He didn’t regret it. He deserved all the nice shit he worked for. But he didn’t often leave his secure tower. And he hadn’t left for more than a day in…. since a certain party disappeared.

Vox was left blinking through that accidental realization but shook it off- putting a smoking cigarette in his mouth as he started pacing again.

“It’s ten minutes. Don’t f’ckin wet yourself over ten goddamn minutes.” He chastised himself as he exhaled a large dense cloud and pushed his hair back with his one hand. It ruined Alastor’s careful laying of his hair- but it did fall much more classically how his colic usually held it. The red swoop proudly in a bright arch.

“Pull it together. You’re lagging. At least we’re staying in the city from here on. So less.. nature… inclined.. issues.” He added to himself. Then took another heavy nicotine drag as he paced. Fuck he was sick of not having clothes.

Muttering further he moved over to the phone and rudely got some en route to this room pronto with a laundromat service. By the time they got here Alastor would be back from his super secret desk trip and they could clean all their clothes.

It only took another five or so minutes for them to get here- but Alastor still wasn’t back yet. They were not that far away from the front desk. It was right outside the elevator. Well a few paces from it but that was splitting hairs. They weren’t literally ten minutes to the desk. He had assumed he was just rounding- being generous. Where the fuck had he gone??

Vox shoved his clothes onto the more than polite staff and nearly ripped his head off for not leaving immediately. A perfectly pleasant client for sure.

Vox was alone again and pacing a bit more fervently. He allowed his head to conjure up a what if scenario in which Alastor didn’t come back. He would be unaffected he decided.

Then he paused again and rolled his eyes at himself and dropped the whole thought train.

He was coming back. It hadn’t even BEEN ten minutes yet.

“Relax.” Vox said with more finality and reached the bed, just to flop down onto it. Staring up at the ceiling, and exhaling another cloud. He would have killed for a phone. For service. It had been two nights now. Was Voxtek okay??

He heard footsteps and sat up like a shot. Then quickly pulled another dish closer so it looked like he had been largely unbothered- instead of pacing like a stuck rat.

The interest didn’t last though when his eyes landed on the bag that he hastily picked up.

“You were buying weed?? Why didn’t you tell me! I could have gotten other things!” He dragged his hand down his face but did pull his cigarette out of his mouth, and started deconstructing it to get the paper. His chance to get other things- wasted. Maybe he could ‘run down to the desk’ himself when Alastor was asleep.

Vox gave a subtle side eye like Alastor broke some kind of bro code by voicing the withdrawal symptoms. It wasn’t that obvious…

“Laundromat is cleaning my clothes.” He said while he got busy rolling the fine powder into the paper.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

for raphtav: long and indulgent makeout session with bonus dry humping

“You know,” said Tav, soft and sweet, lingering like what she hoped was an alluring shade in his peripheral, “today's something of a special day, in the mortal realm.” “Really.” Raphael's tone was completely disinterested. He didn't even glance up from the book he was reading, blind to the suggestive way she was dressed: a shirt loosely buttoned up (one of his) and small-clothes. Her long legs bare. She still had that messy, fresh-out-of-bed look she knew he liked. She also knew he was aware of the date, but was feigning ignorance to tease her. To annoy her. Simply because he could. Any of those reasons were valid for Raphael.

“I never cared about it much before, but…” She took his visage in, relaxed in his handsome human skin, manspreading on his fancy couch in only a pair of trousers but still immaculate. The concept of morning, noon and night didn't exist in Avernus, but in the House of Hope Raphael made the rules, and the rules said it was a lazy and quiet morning. “This time is different.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes.” Tav approached, reached for the book; it was a testament to how indulgent and amused he felt that he allowed her to slide the book from his hands and close it, putting it to the side. At last he looked at her, deep and soulful honey-brown eyes like inescapable sinkholes glimmering with interest, consuming her slowly from her toes to her crown, boiling her blood and raising the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. “I feel like celebrating today.”

“And why is that?”

“It's a holiday for lovers, you see.”

Raphael's mouth quirked. “Do you have a lover, pet?”

“I don't know,” crooned Tav, stood between his legs, smoothed her thumb across his thin but plush bottom lip. “Do I?”

She gasped when he took it between his teeth and sucked. “Any lover of yours would be quite the catch indeed, I imagine,” he rumbled, “greedy as you are, you wouldn't settle for anything less.”

“Greedy,” she repeated, sighing when Raphael's big, warm hands slid up her calves and the tender backs of her thighs to cup her ass. He squeezed those cheeks until she grunted. “I'm greedy, huh?”

“Very much so.”

He was right. Seeing him there, powerful and gorgeous and within her grasp, Tav wanted. And so she took. He was her catch, after all. She slid one hand into his silky soft hair and rested the other on his broad shoulder so that she could lean down and hungrily press her mouth against his. She felt him smile, a smug and satisfied thing, but then he was kissing back, just as hungry as she.

Hot and hard presses of lips that grew slick with spit, again and again and again, the tip of his fine nose pressed against her cheek with the tilt of his head, each puffing breath dusting across her face. It was she who opened her mouth first, she who invited his tongue, silver and slippery and sometimes forked, in behind her teeth so she could bite and suckle desperately on it. He liked that; groaned huskily, a sound that she swallowed and answered with one of her own, unable to help herself. He was an excellent kisser, of course. He was good at anything he decided to put effort in. Rotten bastard, Tav thought with a violent rush of affection that he absolutely didn't deserve.

She wanted to be closer to him, so she straddled his lap, knees either side of his waist. The hand on his shoulder drifted to his chest, fingers tangling in the wiry patch of hair across his pecs. When Tav lowered herself, pressed their crotches together with her full weight, she was delighted to discover Raphael's cock was already beginning to fatten. She rolled her hips, the thin barrier of her underwear and the thicker barrier of his trousers creating delicious friction for her clit that was peeking from its hood, enticed – as always – by the devil. Raphael grabbed a fistful of her hair at the back of her head and yanked, breaking their kiss with a wet smack. A thin ribbon of saliva kept them connected despite the way Tav squealed.

“Filthy little harlot, aren't we,” he muttered, forcing her head to tilt. He licked the length of her neck from collarbone to chin, focused on her pulse point where her heart thundered, blood flow so close to the surface. He nuzzled, took a sharp breath, kissed and nipped at the tender skin like he was thinking about biting her throat open and gorging on arterial spray. Or creating another hole to fuck. Or both. It shouldn't have excited Tav, but she'd long come to terms with the fact that she was peculiar. Her whole body shuddered. Raphael chuckled huskily, his hold on her hip iron and bruising. Bruises she would press on and reminisce in the coming days. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils completely blown. He smelled musky, like cherries and burning candle wicks and wine and sweat. He was utterly intoxicating.

“You make me this way,” Tav breathed. Beneath her palm, his own heart thudded, strong and steady. She, like a wanton whore, ground herself against the full, stiff erection now tantalising between them. How easy it would be to open his trousers and free his pretty, leaking cock, to take it to hilt deep inside her cunt and ride until she came all over him, but there was something enticing about rubbing like this. She knew Raphael's penis – both human and devil – intimately; had touched it, tasted it, felt it, watched it, as it throbbed and spurted ropes of hot cum. The idea that he might do it in his trousers like a randy schoolboy, this prim and proper devil creaming himself as she shamelessly humped him, was a truly thrilling one. An idea that soaked Tav's underwear embarrassingly easily. This beautiful and monstrous creature obliterated all her inhibitions without even trying.

“Do I,” he hummed. She felt his dick twitch. Possessive and egotistical, nothing got him going quite like flattery.

You make me crazy, Tav wanted to say, but even as far gone as she was, she knew that would be giving him far too much power over her. Over her heart. So instead she leaned in to reignite their kiss, sloppy and heated, this time slipping her tongue into the moist cavern of his mouth before it could get her into any more trouble.

[vandme12]

This has been rotting in my head for so long, how would the KC cast react to a powerful figure Mc? Ronin added mc because he just thought they were a writer needing inspiration, but what if they were actually a big influential figure in politics, media etc? Maybe they’ve hired Misaki before to get rid of someone? Maybe V knows them from charity meetings? How would it all unfold?

I really loved writing this! Whoever asked, Please ask me more head canons! The concept, would be they're a powerful "person" who usually gets people to kill off "bad" people! This is my longest head canon!

Ronin Beaufort!

At first, you were just a fun little distraction. Some writer looking for inspiration in the darkest parts of the world? Yeah, yeah, he’s heard that one before. But you were flirty, sharp, and a little too comfortable around him, which made you interesting.

So, he let you stick around. Took you to some bloody, brutal places, spun his words like knives, toyed with you just to see if you’d flinch.

But you didn’t.

You kept up. You even pushed back.

And damn it, he loved that.

You made things fun.

So fun, in fact, that he didn’t question it. Didn’t stop to wonder how you were able to navigate his world so easily, how you had this natural charisma that could turn heads, how your words carried weight in a way that felt… important.

He didn’t put the pieces together—until he saw your face on the news.

He’s at some dive bar, half-watching the TV, when he sees it. Some big political scandal. Some business shake-up. And right there, center screen, is you.

Your name. Your title. Your power.

His brain short-circuits.

He just stares for a good five seconds, drink frozen halfway to his lips.

“What.”

Immediate, sharp, loud laughter.

“Oh, what the FUCK?! You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

He’s laughing so hard he slaps the bar. The bartender jumps. Other people in the bar look at him like he’s crazy.

Because of course. Of course, the one person he’s been dragging into the worst places, letting into his world, kissing, touching, —

Is actually one of the most powerful people in the world.

The moment he gets his laughter under control, he’s grinning. Big. Sharp. Wild.

“Well, well, well. Ain’t this a fuckin’ surprise.”

The next time he sees you? Oh, he is not letting you live this down.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking like the devil himself.

“Sooo, babe. Anythin’ you wanna tell me? Y’know, like—what the fuck?”

If you try to act casual about it? He grabs your chin, tilts your head up, and just grins.

“Nah, nah, don’t gimme that. You mean to tell me I’ve been callin’ you ‘sweetheart’ and sneakin’ you into crime scenes, when I should’ve been callin’ you Boss?”

If you flirt back? Oh, he eats that shit up.

“Ohoho, you’re playin’ dangerous now, darlin’. You know what happens to people who turn me on and surprise me? Bad, bad things.”

He’s so into this.

Like, obnoxiously into it.

He starts calling you titles sarcastically.

“Ahh, my beloved CEO, let me open the door for ya.”

“Oh no, did my precious politician have a rough day? C’mere, lemme make it all better.”

“D’you think world leaders would shit themselves if they knew you were makin’ out with a serial killer? ‘Cause that’s funny as hell.”

But beneath the teasing? Oh, he’s obsessed.

He already thought you were a perfect match for him, but now?

Now, you’re not just smart. Not just dangerous in your own way.

You’re untouchable.

Bottom line? He is so in love with you it’s disgusting.

You’re powerful, you’re dangerous, and you’re his.

And that? That’s all he ever needed to know..

“So, what’s the play here, sweetheart? You gonna bring me down? Put me in the headlines? C’mon, gimme a scandal—make it a good one.”

If you tell him you have no intention of exposing him, that you’re here for your own reasons, he’s intrigued.

“Ahhh, so you’re just a little freak, huh? Love that for you.”

“So, tell me, baby—how’s it feel, bein’ the most dangerous person in the room for once?”

And when you smirk and say, “I’m always the most dangerous person in the room,”—Oh.

Oh, he loves you. Because it’s true, isn’t it? Ronin might be a killer, but you—you have real power. The kind of power that doesn’t need a knife to cut people down. AND that? That’s hot as hell.

Misaki

At first, Misaki thought you were just some random writer that Ronin picked up for fun. Maybe you were looking for inspiration in the darkest corners of the world, and hey, Misaki could respect that.

Until, one day, they’re watching TV in their bunker, shoveling cup noodles into their mouth, and—

Your face is on the news.

Immediate choking.

They nearly drop the noodles.

They stare.

Blink once. Twice.

Wait. What the fuck.

They scramble for the remote, turn the volume up, and suddenly, their world is spinning.

"HOLD ON—"

Because there you are, center screen, name plastered in bold letters. Some scandal, some massive political shift, some media shake-up—and at the heart of it all? You.

The person they’ve been flirting with. The person they’ve been spending nights with in calls.

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, BACK THE HELL UP—!"

They’re gripping their head, pacing their bunker, absolutely spiraling.

“You mean—you mean to tell me I’ve been flirting with someone who can LITERALLY change the world?! Oh my god—oh my god, I’m so broke, I can’t handle this—"

The next time they see you? They’re standing there, arms crossed, clearly trying to look intimidating but failing miserably because their face is still stuck in pure existential crisis mode.

“Sooo. You got anythin’ you wanna tell me, boss?”

If you just smirk and go, “Oh? You didn’t know?”

They groan loudly.

"OF COURSE I DIDN’T KNOW, YOU JERK! Oh my god, I was out here thinking you were some struggling writer, and now you’re telling me you could probably buy my entire life with a single check?!"

Cue another breakdown.

And if you’ve hired them before? Oh. Oh, that’s interesting.

“Hold on—wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me I’ve been talking to one of my clients this whole time?!”

They go through a full existential crisis.

But once the initial shock wears off? They’re intrigued.

“Okay, okay, but real talk—why the hell are you hanging out with us? You could be anywhere, doing anything, running the world, and yet, you’re here. Why?”

If you flirt with them? They malfunction.

“H-Hey, don’t distract me! This is serious! You—wait, what do you mean I look cute when I’m panicking?! That’s—STOP.”

But deep down? They FEEL KYAH!

If you say something like “Because I like you”

—They malfunction.“LIES. YOU’RE A LIAR. DON’T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT—”

But deep down? They’re kicking their feet.Because holy shit.

Someone that important thinks they’re important.

It’s the worst and best thing to ever happen to them.

Angel

At first, Angel just thought you were another charismatic, ambitious person—someone drawn into her orbit the way most people were. She didn’t question it too much. You were charming, clever, and played along with her public persona so well it was almost addictive.

Then, one day, she sees you on the news. Not in the background. Not as a guest. You are the news.

Maybe you’re a political powerhouse, a media mogul, an elite CEO—whatever it is, you’re big.

Cue an instant mental shutdown. She’s staring at the screen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and for once in her life, completely speechless.

“… Wait, wait, wait. What?!”

First, she replays every conversation the two of you have ever had, wondering how she missed the signs.

Second, she assumes you just didn’t tell her because… well, why would you? She wouldn’t have believed it anyway.

Third? Immediate concern.

Because she knows powerful people. She’s been around them.

And most of them are monsters.

But you? You’ve always been kind to her. Sweet. Playful. The same way she is with you.

…So why does this still feel like a dream?

When you finally come home, Angel is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, a frown on her lips—but her eyes are soft.

"Sooo…" she tilts her head. "Is this the part where you tell me I’ve been secretly dating royalty, or—?"

You try to explain, but she just leans closer.

"And when, exactly, were you gonna tell me that you're kind of a big deal?"

Pout. Full pout.

But she’s not actually mad. Just incredibly intrigued.

The more she learns about your influence, the more protective she gets.

She knows the price of power. She knows the pressure. The weight. The expectations.

And she knows what it’s like to need approval.

She’s quiet for a moment before reaching for your hand.

“Are you happy?” Her voice is gentle.

You nod, but she studies your face carefully, trying to find the cracks.

“You promise?”

If you squeeze her hand, reassure her? She melts.

She wants to believe you. So badly.

Angel is soft with you in ways she isn’t with the world.

She may be a perfectionist. She may be needy for attention. But with you?

She doesn’t have to perform.

She can just… be.

And that’s a rare, precious thing.

And she will make fun of you for the way you talk in "serious mode."

"Ooooh, look at you~ all professional and intimidating~"

But deep down? She’s proud.

She just expresses it through teasing.

She knows power changes people.

And she worries about that. About what it might do to you.

But she also loves you too much to let it push her away.

“No matter how big or important you are…” she murmurs, curling up against you. “You’re still mine.”

And honestly? There’s no one else in the world she’d rather love.

V

The moment, you open your video feed to see him for the first time he knows who you are.

V already knows who you are.

He’s rich. Powerful. Connected. No one reaches his radar without him knowing everything about them.

So when your face appears on his screen, he isn’t surprised.

What surprises him is the fact that you recognize him, too.

You tilt your head, lips curling into an amused smirk.

“Mr Valentin Viljoen, right? We’ve met before.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Yes. And you are—”

“I'm your kind!” you interrupt smoothly, leaning back in your chair. “Without ever spilling a drop of blood.”

That makes him pause.

His posture tenses. Just for a second.

Because… that’s not wrong.

He’s seen your name in places that matter—a ghost behind the curtains of power.

You don’t get blood on your hands.

You hire people to do it for you.

At first, he’s wary.

You are the kind of person he hunts. The kind who orchestrates death while keeping their hands clean.

The kind that believes their cause justifies the means.

And yet…

You don’t silence everyone. You don’t kill for profit or ego.

You kill corrupt politician. The ones who slip through the cracks of the system. Like him.

He watches you closely after that.

“You play God,” he says one night, his voice measured. “Deciding who lives and who dies.”

You meet his gaze, unshaken.

“So do you.”

The two of you challenge each other constantly.

You push him to see the necessity of what you do.

He pushes you to consider the weight of it.

“Your assassins are no different than the people I kill,” he says coldly. “They’re just a tool you use to maintain control.”

You hum thoughtfully. “And you’re just a weapon that wields itself.”

Silence.

A game of chess with no clear winner.

But there’s one thing he can’t ignore.

You don’t kill the innocent.

Your network, your power—it’s built on a foundation of purpose.

And whether he likes it or not…

You’re not the villain he expected.

He watches you more than he should.

He listens to how smoothly you speak, how effortlessly you manipulate a conversation without a single lie.

He hates how drawn he is to it.

“You play dangerous games,” he mutters one night.

You smirk. “So do you.”

And he hates that you’re right.

He’s used to keeping his distance.

But you make that impossible.

The sharp way you tease him, the way you dance on the edge of his moral code.

It gets under his skin.

“What the hell are you?” you ask one night, head tilted. “A hero? A killer?”

His lips press into a thin line.

“What are you?” he counters.

It happens slowly.

At first, he tells himself he’s just keeping an eye on you.

But then it becomes habit.

Seeking your voice, waiting for your messages, analyzing your movements.

He finds himself protecting you before he even realizes why.

Because the moment someone tries to take you down?

He’s already one step ahead.

“You should leave,” he mutters after taking care of a hitman sent after you. “Disappear.”

You laugh softly. “And let them win?”

His jaw clenches.

He should walk away from you.

But he won’t.

Because for all his righteousness…

He can’t let you go.

[chiaseedbaby]

☀︎Teasing Devil☀︎

Pairing: Solivan Brugmansia x Male! Reader

Hello lovelies!! This is gonna be my first time writing a full smut fic, I really hope you enjoy it ^^

Tags: dryhumping, soaking, orgasm denial, overstimulation, begging, spanking, marking, and bondage <3

_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_

Sol was a patient person, at least he tried to be. He held his tongue when people made comments about his style or the way he spoke. He barely reacted to direct insults to his face, but the one thing he couldn’t handle, was teasing.

He absolutely despised being teased, it made him feel weak and helpless. Though, despite how irritating it was to be teased, it made him really, really horny. You of course knew this, and decided to take advantage of it.

“… Love? Why are you sitting on my lap?” He asked, looking up from his book for a moment as you parked yourself on top of him.

“No reason, just bored♡” You whispered into his ear, trailing your fingers down the side of his neck. Sol let out a soft whimper from the cold feeling of your fingers, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“You’re acting weird, are you alright?” You ignored his question and pressed a kiss to his collarbone, then one to his nose, then his temples, then his cheek and then finally one soft peck to his lips, subtly rubbing your butt right on his thigh, making him tense up. “Love… don’t do that…” He said with a shaky breath.

“Hm?~ What’s wrong Babe? You okay?” You ask with faux innocence, looking up at him with a subtle but mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Y-Yes I-I’m fine… but… are you doing this on purpo-“ Just as Sol began questioning you, in came Crowe to beg for your help in stopping Brittney from beating Deryl to death because he took her phone.

“Oh, okay Crowe! Bye babe!! I’ll see you later!!” You called as you ran with Crowe to stop the attempted murder about to commence, while also planning how you’d mess with Sol later. Oh this, is going to be fun…

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☀︎NSFW BELOW☀︎

You laid in bed with Sol, resting your body on top of him, your head resting upon his chest. “Baby?” You coo, crawling up to kiss his jawline again.

“Hm?” He responded, his eyes closed as he was half asleep, listening to an audio book. “Is there something you need love?” He asked, his hand coming up to rub your hair.

You giggled, palming his cock gently. “No~ Just wanted to hear your voice…” You said softly. Giggling from the sharp breath he took.

“Love… you’re starting a game you might not be able to finish.” He growled opening his eyes and wrapping his arms around your waist. But right as his hand reached your shorts, you stopped him.

“Nuh uh~” You hummed, booping his nose. “No touching♡” Sol stared in disbelief.

“I’m… not allowed to touch you? Why?” He asked, looking at you with confusion etching his face. “Did I… Did I do something wrong?”

“No love, I just wanna try something… different.” You smiled, reaching over to your nightstand. Sol’s eyes followed your hand and widened when he saw you pull out a bundle of silky green rope. “Can you put your hands above your head Babe?” You questioned, already unbundling the rope.

“Y-You’re going to tie me up?” He said, his voice shaking with fear and a bit of excitement as you nodded cheerfully.

“Yup! It’s gonna be fun! Don’t you think?” You smirked, pushing his hands above his head as you guided yourself onto his lap. As you tied his hands up in a pretty little but really tight bow Sol stared up at you, mesmerized, never expecting you to ever take control like this. “Are you comfy baby?” You ask sweetly.

“I-I’m alright Love.” He whispered, still staring.

“Good! Now let’s begin~” You say with a sultry tone, grinding your hips on his hardening cock. “How’s that feel?” You question while slowly pushing shirt up.

“F-Feels… G-Good…” Sol whimpered, his hands instinctively trying to go grab your waist. “P-Please don’t stop…” He murmured, trying to slow down his rapidly beating heart.

“Hm… You don’t want me to stop? Do you?”

He looking up at you nodding. “Wanna t-touch you… please?” He whined at you, hands still struggling with the ropes. He wanted you, he needed you, he was going to get out.

You smiled at his whine, leaning down to start leaving marks all over his neck and upper chest, grinding your hips harder on him.

“F-Fuck!” Sol gasped out, arching his back a bit. “L-Love I’m c-close…”

“Oh are you? Hm? How close?” You stared down at him, gouging his reaction, and when he was right on that edge, right about to cum, you stopped, lifting your hips above his clothed cock. “Oops~ I slipped off~” You hummed, at his desperate groan. He thrust his hips up, trying to get that delicious friction back.

“C-Come back. P-Please? I want… I want to cum please!” He looked up at you with the neediest look you’ve ever seen from him.

“Awww baby… I’ll start again, don’t worry.” You began grinding again, holding his face into your hands. “Baby… are you crying?” You stared at the tears that slid down his cheeks.

“N-No…” He pouted, looking away from you. Your heart clenched at his desperate behavior, but also didn’t want to stop teasing this poor man. So you brought him right to that edge once again, and stopped. Repeating this process again, and again and again. Every time he whined and begged you to let him cum, but you weren’t ready to yet.

“Aw my poor silly baby, you really really wanna cum don’t you, why don’t you be a good boy and beg me mo-“

SNAP!

“Shit…”

_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_☀︎_

To be continued…

Hi lovelies!! I wanted to post this for you so you guys could have something to read for now. Since it’s taking me so long to fully finish this, here’s the part one, you can expect part two as soon as I’m done! (๑>◡<๑)

Also… happy late Valentine’s Day!

[pinkteethmarks]

GOOD AND PLENTY; K.B

witchy tip

➤ love spells work better when cast during a waxing moon or a new moon as it symbolises new beginnings

20. bona et multa

m.list.

a soft knock rang through katsuki’s dorm causing a slightly nervous shiver to travel up his spine. the love spell gave him confidence to act like a love drunk fool but now he was faced with the reality, the fact that he does feel strongly about you and does not exactly know how to convey those feelings properly.

he got up from his desk chair and opened the door slowly, as through he feared what was standing behind it.

“hey.” you breathlessly said, holding up the giant tub of peaches and apricot yogurt as well as two spoons, your face pleading to be let in as a shy smile was plastered onto your face.

katsuki’s eyes wandered between the tub and your face, it looked apologetic and soft. your eyes gleamed with hope and the way you slightly bit your lips in apprehension sent his mind spinning. how could he ever say no to a girl like you?

“come in, you witch.” he gruffed out, heading inside his dorm as you followed suit, a bright smile not adoring your beautiful features.

you moved to sit in the middle of the floor, thinking that either you both would sit down or that he would take a seat on the bed.

“what are you doing? sit on the desk chair, i’ll stand.” he scowled.

“no, it’s fine, i’ll stand! it’s your room anyways.” you smiled.

there you go again, making things hard for him with that damn smile that lit up a room and your effortless selflessness that melted his heart. gosh, he really hated you.

more so, he hated how you made him feel and how you could manipulate him with a single look.

‘damn minx.’ he thought to himself as he stared at you for a little while, his hands becoming clammy in his pockets and causing tiny explosions to explode in his hands.

“do what you want, i don’t care.” he muttered, sitting on the chair as you got up to put the yogurt on the table. you handed him a spoon, opened the tub and started eating.

“so, where do you wanna begin?” you asked after swallowing the spoonful you just took in.

katsuki stayed silent, choosing instead to continuing scarfing down large spoonfuls of yogurt.

“okay, i’ll just start with the love spell then… i’m sorry.” you started.

“it wasn’t fair to do that to you, i didn’t do it on purpose. i was so angry with you beforehand and i decided to do a bad luck spell but for some reason i did the wrong ingredients and… well you know the rest.” you apologised, offering a sheepish smile before going in for another bite.

“and i’m sorry for what i said before, about you not being easy to love. previously, i said i didn’t mean it but i think what it is is that i didn’t mean it in the way i put it across. i meant that this- ” you gestured between the two of you. “was hard. loving you is the easiest thing i’ve ever done in my life kat, this whole journey was hard was what i meant. constantly feeling hopeless was hard, seeing that second year happier than ever after hearing about you two was hard, feeling as though my love was unrequited was hard. i’m sorry for saying that, i knew right afterwards that i hit a really sore spot and i don’t want you thinking i did it on purpose.” the more you spoke, the more it felt like there was more to say.

yet, you cut it there. so that you could allow katsuki to process everything and hopefully reply.

“i- uhh, well… it’s not exactly like i made things easy for you.” katsuki muttered awkwardly, his eyes trained on the tub to avoid eye contact with you.

“listen, i get it. i can be… difficult or whatever the fuck you wanna call me, but it just annoys me when the one person i thought could handle me sudden backs out.” katsuki said slowly, talking about his feelings were hard for him but through therapy and having crybaby best friends, he’s managed to learn how to do it.

“i understand, and trust me, i am not backing out.” you responded firmly, causing katsuki to finally look up at you, a smirk growing in his features.

“damn right you aren’t, your stuck with me forever now.” katsuki chuckled.

“right where i wanna be.” you smiled in response.

“but i do have to say something… i, um, i am.. kinda- sorry.” katsuki struggled to get it out.

even though he sorted out his problems with izuku, apologies were still quite hard for him. it felt awkward and clunky coming out of his mouth, but you very much appreciated the effort he’s made.

“katsuki bakugou apologising in 4k?” you joked

“shut up you wannabe mage, a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.” katsuki scoffed.

“someone’s been hanging around ejiro for too long.” you further joked.

“anyways… i just… i was doing a lot of thinking about everything that happened before hand and i realised something, i never apologised for leading you on for so long and that whole second year thing.” katsuki explained.

“i never meant to lead you on, i was just scared to be honest. i didn’t think i was, the man you needed or that i could even become the man you needed. plus, the only reason i texted that extra was because, i was planning on asking you out and i need to test out my skills on some loser. i wanted it to be perfect, only the best for you. but she ruined it by opening her big mouth and causing a shit ton of rumours.” your eyes were fully blown out wide as katsuki explained everything.

you thought back to everything, how the whole reason this whole love spell conundrum started was because of that second year. just for you to find out, she was never even the main goal for him to begin with? he did it all for you?

you felt so stupid now.

you slapped your hands onto you face and groaned loudly, feeling embarrassment crash into you like a wave and drown you as you realised you started a whole problem over nothing.

“i feel so dumb, i feel so stupid. please, kill me now.” you muffled out through your hands.

“you should and i will, if you had just waited instead of spinning your shit, we would’ve skipped all of this. you would’ve been my girlfriend by now.” katsuki rolled his eyes, pretending a blush was not presenting itself on his face.

“so confident that i would’ve said yes?” you joked around, hands still covering your face.

katsuki pulled you on his lap, peeling your hands from your face slowly as his crimson pool washed any other feelings away, keeping your focus on him.

“of fucking course you would’ve said yes! what, we have a little arguments and now all of a sudden you thinking of other guys?! fucking cheater.” katsuki yelled, ruining the slightly romantic moment.

“calm down kat! yelling down this entire building, damn. who even said i was thinking about other guys?!” you laughed.

“yeah, well, you’re mine and that’s that.” katsuki replied angrily.

“are you… asking me out?” you raised an eyebrow.

“sure, if that’s what you wanna call it.” he muttered out softly.

“ask me properly, then.” you smiled as you playfully hit his chest.

“ok, be mine.” katsuki said sternly.

as soon as he finished that sentence, you crashed your lips onto him. this time, there was no internal conflict, no moral integrity being questioned nor was that feeling of forbidden desire. this time, there was no question about it, it was completely right.

you two melted into one another, becoming whole as you both kissed each other feverishly. katsuki’s lips slightly quivered with nerves, you can tell he’s still new to this - it was unlike the kiss done while he was under a spell, this was raw and real.

you felt as though you were high, you could taste the faint whispers of peaches left on his tongue, you could feel his his heartbeat spell out your name, chanting for your body and mouth to call to him, respond to him.

you were in heaven.

after a little while, you pulled away, both your lips slightly swollen from intensity of the kiss and grins decorating both of your love struck faces.

“holy fuck, was it that good the last time we kissed?” katsuki sighed out as his eyes were trained onto your lips.

“definitely not, guess this is what love does to a person.” you giggled.

“good, because i like this and i love you.” katsuki said, his eyes bouncing between your own and your lips.

“say it again.” you laughed giddily.

“i love you.” katsuki repeated.

you squealed as you peppered his face in kisses, his heavy blush intensifying by the second.

“nerd.” katsuki rolled his eyes, pretending to be nonchalant about you, his first love, finally being in his arms after so long of all these stupid games.

and he’ll be damned if he ever loses you again. like he said, you’re his and his only forever.

NOTES; IM BACK (never left but now i’m properly updating !!) but omg this fic is FINSIHED (except for the epilogue but you get it) THANK YOU SOO MUCH FOR SO MUCH SUPPORT DURING MY FIRST EVER FIC?? LIKE HELLOOOOO lowkey gonna miss my baby, but check or easy with oliver aiku and im cooking up a haikyuu sakusa vs iwaizumi fic so just… LET ME COOK. ANYWAYS THANK YOU GUSY AGAIN, ILYSM ❤️

[moonshynecybin]

any humble updates on airport au...

context. SURE man what the hell. i actually have a good ass chunk written after this but hey. this is right after vale shows up at PI post sex dream and marc nearly crashes his scooter. happy birthday to these two filthy animals

Vale, like a mosquito, shows up at his box later that day, just before Marc is about to head out of the paddock. Probably because it’s a flyaway and he can’t show up at Marc’s motorhome to plague him there, and because he doesn’t know what house Marc and Álex are renting on the island.

He also, as a man put on the planet to consternate Marc, brings a good bottle of Merlot. And what with all of the recently healed very public animosity, it’s not like Marc can turn him away.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“What was that about, this afternoon?” Vale asks immediately, rummaging around in the cabinets in Marc’s rider’s room and conjuring two cups without asking Marc if he even wants a glass. He’s pretty sure that the mug that Vale is eyeballing to see if it’s dirty is Jose’s.

He folds his knees up on the little couch in his rider’s room, a small act of self protection. He’s directly post-shower, and his hair is wet, his skin overheated. It's all a little — exposed. Like Vale might happen across his guts if their conversation winds down the wrong path. “I have a race tomorrow, quali, too— maybe I don’t want any wine.”

“God, I am glad I retired before they made us do sprints,” Vale cranks out the cork, then sniffs the bottle and makes a comically considering face until Marc breaks into a smile. He raises an eyebrow in the direction of the couch. “Well, do you?” He asks about the wine.

They sit and Marc takes his glass. Vale has unsubtly poured him a humongous portion.

“You didn’t answer me,” Vale ponders, sipping like a cat. “You know, you are not as good at lying as you think you are, it’s just that no one has the balls to call you out on it.”

Marc privately thinks that Vale is actually historically very bad at telling whether he is lying. He does not share this, he just crosses his arms on top of his knees.

“Hah, you should see my mom— she always let me blame stuff on Álex when we were young, it would make him so mad, and I would always get away with it.”

Turning towards him, Vale twists out of his hoodie, and Marc catches a soft strip of skin as his t-shirt rides up. The band of Vale’s underwear. He bites his lip and looks away. This is embarrassing.

“Hm, a born criminal, then? Not a learned one?” Vale is saying, throwing his hoodie over the chair and settling back on the couch.

Marc really hopes Vale has enough grace to let this afternoon go. He doesn’t have a lie ready, really, that he thinks Vale will believe.

“No, please. Most of those tricks I learned from you.”

“Like what?” He’s looking at Marc with big, innocent eyes.

He knows exactly what, he just likes to hear Marc say it.

“Lots of things. It’s probably the reason I was second place at Jerez in 2013, instead of third.”

It works, and Vale guffaws. Marc knew that it would— He used to love it when Marc would do shit to Jorge. Marc used to love doing shit to Jorge for that exact reason.

“Marc, please, please. We are in Australia, you have to pay your respects to Mick Doohan for inventing that move. He’s probably only about twenty meters away.” He drops his voice into a whisper. “Be careful, honestly maybe he can hear you.”

Marc looks at the ceiling, responds gravely, “I’m not a Repsol Honda rider anymore, I can do what I want.”

“Cin-cin. Hey, me neither,” Vale says brightly, and clinks his cup (José’s travel mug that says LESS TALK, MORE COFFEE) against Marc’s (a protein shake bottle that is missing its lid).

He can do what he wants. Marc turns that over, chewing on the edge of a thumbnail. He’s always thought so, but this is a little bit different. He changes the subject.

“Álex wants to go shopping on Monday at the airport, before our flight home. His girlfriend— it is her birthday on Wednesday, and he wants to get her this at one of the stores there, you know,” Marc pulls up his phone, finding a picture Álex sent him of the necklace. It's— Marc doesn't like it, but Marc’s picky. “And I think it is such a bad idea. It is so ugly, too much. He’s going to scare her.”

Vale looks for a second at the photo, picking at one of his nails, and then looks over at Marc.

“You wouldn't get that for your girl?”

“I wouldn’t get her something like that.”

“Well, what does she like?” Vale takes another pull of his drink, a little more subdued now. His face looks– pinched, for some reason. “Your girl. Maybe she has some ideas.”

“Oh, um.”

Vale just stares at him until he breaks. “No, no girlfriend. With travel, it's hard, you know.” Marc puts down his wine, leaning down to grab his racing boot and fiddle with it. “So. Not really looking.” The strap won’t close. He might need to get one of his backups tomorrow, for the race.

After a moment he notices Vale is still looking at him.

“Hm.”

“Yeah,”

“It’s hard.” Vale agrees, and then goes silent. “Tell Álex that the necklace is not so good. Try simple. Expensive.”

After a taught second where the both sip at their wine, Vale looks like he wants to say something more, but when he starts talking it's bright, airy, unrelated. Some story about him and Mick and being a Honda rider at the tobacco money fueled turn of the millennium, hands moving in the air as he mimes some poor mechanic scrambling to switch a tire. Marc watches, and he can’t stop looking at his hands, his neck, the way his mouth curves around syllables, the slant of his posture.

The thing he is realizing, while Vale boyishly shakes his head in a disapproving impersonation of Jeremy Burgess, is that— this hot fixation he’s discovered, it isn't a one-off. It's not the past, it's here, and it's now. He’d thought a little space would clean things up, work the frustration out of his bones, but the lack of space is serving to be just as clarifying a force. He sits and he stares. It's not just a dream or being pent-up from a long season, he’s not even sure that this is new. It doesn't feel like it is, it feels a lot like when he was 15 and meeting him, like when he was 20 and friends with him. Like when he was 21 and at the Ranch. Like when he was 22 and feeling like he was going to throw up, boring holes with his eyes in the side of Vale’s neck and willing him to look at him.

Hero-worship, he’d thought. The thrill of being friends with Valentino Rossi. People usually grow out of that, don't they? Marc didn't, and now he knows why.

He can do what he wants, Vale had said, except that he doesn't know that he can. Because what he wants, what he thinks he wants, well. That’s not really an option.

He takes his first sip of the night, and the Merlot bursts earthy and light on his tongue.

[nowayimbored]

Same As It Ever Was

Summary: You had tagged along with the Winchester brothers for a few years at this point, and had yet to take a vacation. With a break in between cases, it seems like the perfect time. However, the vacation turns into anything but a break when you go missing.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, platonic!Dean Winchester x Reader

WC: 6,100

Notes: This idea has been gnawing at me for DAYS a reasonable amount of time. Pardon the length, I have a lot to yap about. I was inspired by the song 'Once in a Lifetime' by the Talking Heads. :) Enjoy!

TW: Angst! Fluff! Brief moment of "suicide" & mentions of death.

It seemed like you and the Winchesters never got a break. Everything was always heavy on your shoulders, your communal burden to bear. However, there was a break in between cases, a rare phenomenon these days. You were in desperate need of a mini vacation. Pitching it to Dean, however, might have proved to be the hardest part.

“Please Dean! We deserve a break, something nice for a change. Don’t you agree, Sam?” you looked over to the taller brother. He nodded, but put his arms up in defense. “I’m staying out of this. But she does have a good point…” Sam trailed off, a certain tone in his voice. Dean rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in exasperation, “Fine.” 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard convincing him. 

You knew everything was taking a toll on him too, but he was always so stoic on the outside. You could only imagine what was going on behind his emerald green eyes.

“Where to?” Dean asked as you slid into the front seat of the Impala, trying to flee the Texas heat. Sam slipped into the backseat, yawning. “Don’t care, but preferably somewhere with smooth highways.” You chuckled, looking back to see Sam propping himself up against the door already, cozying himself enough to take a nap. “I could use some sun and water. Fishing, swimming, suntanning, the whole nine yards!” you replied excitedly. “Good enough for me,” Dean responded, smiling over at you. 

And with that, you were off, headed towards the nearest lake. Sam’s soft snores could barely be heard over the music Dean had put on, a band you were unfamiliar with. Every once in a while, you would sneak glances at Sam, reveling in his peaceful, sleeping frame. He almost seemed too big for the backseat in the position he was in, but you knew it had always been his comfort spot, right behind the passenger seat where Dean used to sit.

You had a small crush on Sam for a little while now, but you knew it would be foolish to act upon. You were sure he didn’t see you more than a best friend or little sister, just as Dean had. After the third or fourth glance of yours toward Sam, Dean piped up, “You know, you should tell him.” You flushed, looking out the window at the passing of shrubs and blurry road lines to hide your face. “Tell who what?” You tried to deny, putting as much cluelessness in your voice as possible. 

Dean scoffed and let out a chuckle, “That’s some great acting. Almost like Rooney Mara in A Nightmare on Elm Street.” You sneered and rolled your eyes. “Dean, there’s nothing to tell him,” you dismissed, shaking your head. “I see the way you two look at each other, like two beat puppies. It’s a little gross and sappy, even for me,” he quipped. You opened your mouth to reply, but settled on a playful middle finger shot his way. He smiled, a chuckle his only response.

You had never noticed Sam looking your way, was Dean right or just egging you on? That question had you pondering for the rest of the ride to Canyon Lake, a little way outside of San Antonio. Dean had pulled into a shabby motel on the outskirts of town. It looked slightly run down, but you couldn’t complain. At least it was a room to yourself and a mattress to sprawl out on. 

Dean went inside to reserve two rooms, one for you and one for them. Sometimes, to save on costs, you three would share a room if they had a pull-out couch or cot available. You always insisted on taking the latter, but Sam would never let you win the argument. One time, he went as far as to move you to his bed while you slept, while he took your spot on the couch. 

Sam was awake now, thanks to Dean slamming the door on his way out of the car. “Mornin’ sunshine,” you greeted in a thick, terrible Texas drawl. “Morning,” he croaked, sleep still heavy in his voice. “Where are we?” You opened up the passenger side door and swung your legs out, “Canyon Lake, Texas. Dean’s grabbing us a couple of rooms.” You made your way to the trunk, closing the Impala’s door lightly. 

Sam exited the car as well, joining you to grab his duffel. “How’d you sleep?” you asked as you grabbed your bag from the car. Before he had a chance to respond, Dean walked up. He handed you a key, “Number 27, we’re right next to you in 28.” “Thanks,” you said, wrapping the keychain around your finger. You found your room quickly, there wasn’t very many to pick from. 

The motel room wasn’t anything to write home about. It was small, outdated, and the paint was faded. There was a queen size bed in the middle of the room, covered in threadbare sheets that look like something that came out of your grandma’s house. The air was stale and dusty, making you sneeze as you walked in and shut the door behind you. You opened the single window the room had and turned on the AC to get the air circulating. 

You laid on the bed, lost in your thoughts, still focusing on what Dean said earlier. Did his words hold any truth or was this just a play to try to get his brother laid again? The air conditioner struggled, whirring and squeaking, the only noise besides your quiet breathing. 

It was almost like meditation, getting lost in your thoughts of Sam. 

Your stomach gurgled, breaking your concentration. You sat up, looking out the window. The soft breeze rustled the sagebrush in front of the motel. The sun was lower now, nearing its end of service for the day. You slid off of the bed, combing your fingers through your hair prior to making your way out the door. You knocked on Sam & Dean’s door before entering, not waiting for them to answer. 

“Hey, I’m hungry, who wants pizza?” You asked as you walked in, closing the door behind you. “I’m in,” the brothers said in unison. “Jinx, you owe me some pie!” Dean called out with a huge smirk. Sam smiled and shook his head, hair ruffling with the movement. You googled the nearest pizza place and placed an order for delivery, you didn’t need to ask what they wanted after spending as much time with them as you had. 

“Anybody in the mood for a movie?” Dean asked. Sam looked up from his book towards you, seemingly trying to read your mind. “Depends, what movie?” you ask, shooting Sam an inquisitive look. Dean scrolled through the TV guide mindlessly, naming off each movie. “…The Truman Show, Forrest Gump, Click, Groundhog Day… c’mon make up your mind! I’m running out of movies,” Dean complained, eyes flicking between you and the screen. “Forrest Gump, I haven’t seen that in a while,” you decided, only half interested in the movie. “Finally,” Dean muttered under his breath, selecting the option on the screen. 

The pizza was delivered shortly into the movie. You made yourself comfortable on Sam’s bed, laying on your stomach with your arms propping you up to get a better angle of the TV. You swore you felt Sam’s eyes rake over your body several times, but decided it was your overactive imagination. After all, you were wearing an oversized shirt and athletic shorts, not exactly your definition of eye-grabbing or sexy.

After Forrest Gump was over, Dean insisted on watching Se7en for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. By then, the sun had set and the pizza was gone, only some crusts of Sam’s and crumbs left. Your eyes grew heavier as the night went on, parts of the movie skipping as you came in and out of consciousness.

You were awoken by a blanket being draped over you. You sucked in a breath and stretched, rolling over to your back to see Sam, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Sorry, you looked cold,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “No, thank you. I should probably get back to my room, though,” you said in a sleep-laced tone. “No, if you’re comfortable here, I can take your room,” he replied.

You thought on it a second, before Dean’s snores interrupted you. “No thanks, you can tune out Dean better than I can,” you chuckled, slowly sitting up and stretching your arms above your head before gracefully bringing them down on either side of you. Sam smiled and let out a soft, breathy laugh in response. You stood, joints cracking and groaning, silently making your way towards the door. Sam followed, opening the door for you, “Sweet dreams.” “Goodnight Sam,” you replied as you brushed a hand against his shoulder. 

A blush grew in your cheeks, but you ducked into your room before he had the chance to notice. You locked the door behind you, tiredly plodding over to your rented bed. You flopped down, your head barely hitting the pillow before falling asleep. One of your many talents.

The next morning, you awoke to a knock on your door. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! Let’s get some grub,” Dean’s voice called from the other side of the thin wood. Leave it to Dean to always be thinking of food. “Be there in a minute!” you called through the door, already on your way out of bed. You ruffled through your bag, trying to decide what to wear. You didn’t have many choices to pick from, so deciding on a shorter sundress came quickly. 

You didn’t have many clothes, let alone nice clothes, so this was a treat. You scrounged up your bathing suit from the bottom of your bag, slipping it on underneath your dress. You struggled for a moment to tie the top of your bikini, but finally managed after contorting yourself around in the mirror. You opened your door to Sam, standing right in the doorway. “Hey, uh, Dean asked me to come get you, said you were taking too long,” he mumbled, looking down at you. 

“Here I am!” you smiled playfully. “Did you grab your swimsuit?” He shook his head no, then quickly dipped back inside his room. He reemerged a few moments later, Dean and swim trunks in tow. The three of you started off towards the Impala, the sun already almost unbearable. ‘The perfect kind of day for a swim’, you thought to yourself as you loaded into the car.

Dean drove to a grocery store just a few blocks from the motel. You picked up sunscreen and food for lunch, you planned to have a picnic on the sandy shore of the lake. Dean grabbed a donut for breakfast, while Sam grabbed a protein bar. You were never much of a breakfast person, but you grabbed a smoothie from the premade section as something to tide you over.

You checked out and headed over to the Impala, the sun blaring down. The drive to the lake was short, or perhaps you were just very excited. It had been a while since you’ve taken a break and even longer since you went swimming. Dean parked his baby in a shady parking spot, toward the end of the lot. You hopped out of the car, towel and cooler in hand, and eagerly headed towards the water. 

Sam and Dean headed toward the changing area as you searched for a spot to claim for the day. Finally, you found a nice area close to the water with a bit of shade and soft sand. You gently laid your towel down, placing the cooler next to it. Sam and Dean had caught sight of you and headed over as you opened the cooler, grabbing a beer for everyone. It was five o’clock somewhere! 

When they had reached you, Dean grabbed a beer with a soft “Thanks,” as he popped the top and took a swig. You tried not to stare at Sam, but he was shirtless and the sun was hitting his frame perfectly. He looked sublime, like an angel sent from above. Sam smiled, “Starting a little early, are we?” You returned his smile, breaking your gaze off of his toned chest and teased, “When in Rome, Samuel,” He scoffed and rolled his eyes, grabbing a beer from you, “It’s Sam.”

Dean laid his towel a few feet away from yours, taking a seat in the shade. You popped the top off of your beer, taking a swig before setting the bottle in a cupholder on top on the cooler. The breeze carried the smell of lake water, earthy and inviting. You took a deep breath, inhaling in the refreshing smell before sliding your dress off, revealing your bikini underneath. 

“I’m gonna hit the water,” you called out behind you, towards the boys as you skipped across the hot sand towards the water. You couldn’t look at Sam, getting lost in his muscular build was too tempting. You could feel his eyes, though, staring at you from his vantage point by the cooler. 

You slowly waded into the semi-clear water, its small waves lapping at your ankles, then your shins, thighs, all the way until you were finally submerged at the chest. You turned around, looking towards the shore at the brothers. Dean had already invited himself to your neighbor’s spot, chatting up a cute girl. Sam was sitting in the shade, next to the cooler, watching you. You waved at him before turning around, pushing off from the last spot you could touch on the lake’s bottom. 

You swam further out, a few hundred yards from shore. You could see Sam still, but he looked like a little blurb on the horizon, Dean was nowhere in sight. You dove underneath the calm surface, looking to get your hair wet so it was out of your face. Something brushed against your leg, almost tangling against you. Your heart skipped a beat, even though you told yourself it was probably a fish or some sort of plant. 

You quickly reemerged from the lake’s murky drink, treading water and wiping the hair away from your face. You looked around, but your surroundings seemed…off. Was there this much foliage? You started swimming towards shore, which seemed closer than before, but with each stroke of your arm your worries faded further away. After all, you needed to relax, that’s what your mini-vacation was all about. 

As you got closer to shore, you stood up, walking up to the bank. A corgi bounded up to you, clearly very excited. You smiled, bending down to pet it, “Hi pup, where’s your family?” The dog barked happily in response, running around your legs. “Eve! Let your mom get out of the water,” a familiar voice called out. You head swiveled around to see Sam, shirtless and gleaming in the soft sunlight. 

You smiled at him, a soft blush creeping up in your cheeks. “Hey honey, here’s your towel,” he said, offering you a neatly folded beach towel. You gladly accepted, covering your frame with the oversized cloth. You looked around the recreation area, it didn’t feel nearly as hot as it did before you got into the water and it wasn’t as crowded. You told yourself it was just the chill from the lake, but something seemed off. 

Sam bowed down to kiss your lips, too surprised to move or reciprocate, you stood there, eyes open as he brushed his lips against yours. “Woah, that…” you managed to squeak out. “After all this time I still take your breath away, huh, Mrs. Winchester,” he chuckled, brushing a stray wet strand of hair behind your ear.

When did you two get married? Hell, when did you start dating? “What are you talking about?” you questioned, backing a few steps away from Sam, or what seemed to be him. “Honey, are you okay?” he asked, concern laced in his deep voice. You paused, trying to take everything in. The water lapped at the shore, quietly crashing into the bank. A wave of calm washed over you, quelching any worry you had.

“I think I’m just tired,” you dismissed your feelings, placing your head on his muscular shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you protectively and kissed your forehead. “Let’s go home then, sweetie,” he cooed into your ear, kissing the top of your head once again before breaking his embrace. 

He called the dog – Eve, that was her name, right? – and she came bounding over, small legs working overtime. “Let’s load up, pup,” he said, walking over to a white Chevy Silverado. He opened the door before grabbing the dog and placing her in the vehicle. He closed the door, walking around back to close the tailgate before opening up the passenger door. You had stood in the same spot he left you in, a slight headache starting to form.

Something was off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

You slowly walked over to the truck, barefoot and still wrapped in the beach towel. Sam stood, still waiting by the passenger door, a smile plastered on his face. “Hop in, pretty lady.” You picked up your pace a bit, quickly closing the gap between the two of you. Holding the towel with one hand, you used the other to hoist yourself into the tall truck. Sam shut the door after you, making sure you were fully inside before doing so. 

Sam walked around the front of the truck, opened the door and gracefully slid into the driver’s seat. With one push of a button, the truck roared to life, and you started on your way down the road. The first part was bumpy, but quickly smoothed out as the gravel transitioned into pavement. You spent the entire ride looking out of the window, semi-familiar surroundings passing you by. 

‘Eve, I’ve a feeling I’m not in Texas anymore,’ you thought to yourself as you pulled up in the driveway of a sturdy two-story residence designed without the least bit of personality, a white picket fence spanning the perimeter.

Again, you heard water lapping around you, just faintly enough that it seemed like a memory. Your head throbbed for a moment, before another wave of calmness washed over you, curing your headache. Everything was going to be okay.

Sam cut the engine and looked over at you, seemingly studying your face. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he observed, reaching a large hand towards you. You nodded, trying to ease his worry, “Yeah, I think the sun sucked out all of my energy.”

He chuckled, placing his hand over yours, fully engulfing it. His hands were soft, not at all hardened by scars and calloused like you remember. You made a mental note to ask him about his moisturizer routine. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, shutting the truck off with his other hand. He removed his palm from yours to undo his seatbelt buckle from the lock, with a click he was free.

He opened up his door, swinging his legs out, feet hitting the pavement with a soft thud. You unbuckled your seatbelt, head still fuzzy, in the same motion opening the truck door. “Woah, almost got me there!” Sam called out, dodging the opening door. “Shit! Sorry,” you apologized, reaching out to grab the door, but missing as it swung further open. “Don’t worry about it, honey,” he soothed, offering his hand to help you down.

You accepted, taking his hand in yours and slid out of the truck. Eve hopped into the passenger seat, taking your place, tail stub wagging. She leaped at you and you quickly caught her, loosening the towel you still had wrapped around your body. “Woah, be careful,” you told her, scratching her neck with the hand closest to her head. Sam closed the truck door behind you, fiddling with the fob in his hand to lock it. 

You slowly walked up the driveway, ditching the towel along the way, Eve still in your arms, Sam just behind you. He stopped to pick up your fallen cover, gently draping it over his arm. The porch creaked as you climbed up the steps towards the front door. Sam fiddled with his keys, metal on metal softly clanking, until he found the right one and opened the lock. He pushed open the door and gestured for you to go first. “Thank you,” you smiled to him, setting your dog down before entering the house. Eve disappeared around the corner as Sam closed the door behind you two.

The entryway was cozy, perfectly designed to your standards. Looking towards the living room, the stylistic choices carried, inviting a certain warmth and cohesiveness to the space. “Wow, this place is beautiful,” you whispered to yourself. “I know, you did such a great job. It’s not as beautiful as you, though,” he replied, slipping off his shoes. You blushed at his compliment, before mumbling a quick “Thank you.” 

You didn’t remember designing a house. Hell, you didn’t remember buying a house. Thinking back to seeing Sam at the lake, you didn’t remember seeing any of his scars across his body, or his tattoo on his chest. What the hell was happening? How did you get here, in this bizzarro world?

The sound of waves breaking against shore suddenly slammed back into your head, sending you reeling. You tried to steady yourself against the wall, but reached out to nothing. Sam had caught you instead, steading your frame against his. The sound of waves ebbed away slowly, replaced by a massive headache and a wave of tranquility. 

“Honey, are you okay? Do you need to lie down?” Sam asked, his voice distressed. “Yeah…maybe that would be good,” you agree, steadying yourself. “Hold on tight,” Sam commanded before quickly lifting you up, bridal style. He gave you no time to react, typically you would protest but with everything going on, being in his arms made you feel safe. 

Sam carried you up the stairs and down a short hallway into a bedroom, you assumed it was the one the two of you shared. Pictures of your wedding day, Eve, and family dotted the walls. The bed was soft, molding to fit the shape of you. “Can I get anything for you? A glass of water? Tylenol?” Sam offered, brushing his hand softly against your cheek. You nodded, head pounding with each movement. 

Sam disappeared out of the room; you could hear his footsteps quickly descending down the stairs. You climbed under the flannel bedsheets, the warmth making you feel a smidgen better. Your husband quickly returned with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol, setting both on the nightstand closest to you. You propped yourself up on one elbow to grab the Tylenol. You popped two into your mouth, then took a swig of water to wash them down. 

The water felt good on your parched tongue, you didn’t realize how thirsty you were. You finished off the glass of water in a few loud gulps, Sam watching your every move as if you would break with the slightest touch. “Can I get you anything else?” he offered. You shook your head, laying back down, cozying yourself into the covers. “Okay, just let me know, I’ll be downstairs,” he cooed, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

You smiled up at him, everything was perfect. 

You slept until the morning, soft rays of sunlight illuminating the room. You stretched, your body faintly aching. You looked over to the other side of the bed, but it was empty, except for Eve. She greeted you happily, licking your face. You ran your fingers through her soft fur, scratching under her collar. Her tags jingled, catching your attention.

You grabbed onto her nametag out of curiosity, it was a simple red tag in the shape of a heart. Her name was on the front in a typewriter-esque font. On the back, your and Sam’s phone number with an address: 817 Pleasant Street, Miles City, Montana. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, but you couldn’t place why. Something just felt…off.

The feeling quickly faded, replaced by something softer, seeing Sam emerge from the walk-in closet in a suit and tie. Hot was the only word that came to mind. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he greeted you with a soft smile. “How do you feel?” “Better,” you replied, sleep making your voice scratchy and deeper than normal.

“Good, I was starting to worry about you,” he admitted, making his way over to the side of your bed. You smiled up at him, stretching, your creaking bones thanking you. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be home for lunch today. I have court and I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day,” he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. You heart beat harder in your chest, “What did you do?” you asked, worry creeping into your tone. 

He chuckled, “Very funny. It’s for the Mills case.” “Right, the Mills case…” you confirmed, unsure of what he was talking about. “I love you so much,” he murmured against your ear before giving you a sweet peck on the lips, just short enough to leave you wanting more. He stood, raking his eyes over you before turning towards the bedroom door. He picked up a briefcase from beside the door and with that, he was off, bounding down the stairs and out the door. 

You slowly climbed out of bed, making your way to the attached bathroom. You came face to face with yourself as you flipped the light switch, a warm glow illuminating your frame. You decided to take a shower. The warm droplets pounded against your skin, which made you feel a bit better. Even the bathroom was decorated beautifully, black with golden accents shining through. 

The rest of your day was spent with Eve around the house, a welcome distraction in this slightly off world. Maybe the world wasn’t off, you started to think. 

Maybe you were. 

You quickly cleared the notion from your head, it was probably your migraine from yesterday lingering in your brain, jumbling things around. 

Sam arrived home a bit after 5:30, but you were prepared. Dinner was set out on the table, tonight you were having chicken and broccoli alfredo. The two of you sat at the table in the dining room, chatting back and forth about your days. This is how you figured out your husband was a criminal defense lawyer. “How was work?” Sam inquired, piercing a broccoli floret with his fork. “Work? Uh, work was…” you trailed off, trying to find some words to fill the space. “Are the Issacs’ still giving you trouble? Why can’t they pick out a tile color?”  Sam playfully jested, rolling his eyes. 

The perfectly curated house made sense now, you were an interior designer. You let a breathy laugh escape your lips, trying to mask the confusion. Your headache slowly snaked back, lapping at your temples. You thought your ears picked up on water purling again but instead you pushed the annoyance to the side, deciding to spend the evening winding down with your husband and dog. As the moon started to rise, the both of you decided to hit the hay before it got too late.

The pattern continued for a few weeks, then weeks bled into months. Your headaches slowly diminished over time, by now you rarely even got a whisper of pain. 

~

It was a Saturday, your favorite. It meant that Sam was all yours, no work for either of you, just an endless day of relaxation and fun. Fall was coming to a start, so you had decided to spend the weekend deep cleaning instead of out on an adventure like you typically would do. Dusting was first on your list, admittedly it had been a while. You started in the entryway, running the Swiffer over the pictures that hung on the walls. Actually, you never stopped to look at them on your way out the door. 

A face stuck out to you, but who it was seemed fuzzy around the edges. You just couldn’t place him. You shook the feeling, continuing on your dusting journey, which took up most of the morning. You met Sam in the kitchen around noon, his back was turned as he prepared a salad for the two of you, a quick and easy lunch. “Hey, who’s picture is in the entryway? He’s got short tousled brown hair, green eyes…” you trailed off on your description, noticing his shoulders tense. “Babe, that’s Dean…remember?” he said, turning around. 

It rung a faint bell, but you weren’t quite sure where to place him. “Yeah, right, sorry,” you apologized, deciding to drop the subject to save him from discomfort. He let out a small, sad sigh, “I miss him every day.” You walked up, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, hoping it would say what words couldn’t.

The rest of the afternoon continued like normal, the both of you caught up in books, Eve between you, cuddled tightly into a ball. Afternoon dripped into evening and the two of you started getting ready for bed. Tonight, however, sleep evaded you. Sam’s soft snores echoed throughout the bedroom, but that had never bothered you before. You tossed and turned, hoping for sleep to overcome you.

Finally, it occurred to you.

Dean was Sam’s brother. Dean wasn’t dead. He was alive, you had just seen him a few months ago in Texas. You shot up, body drenched in a cold sweat.

This was not your house.

Sam was not your husband.

What was going on?

Before you could think deeper into the conundrum that you faced, the sounds of water violently slapping against shore, churning, angry, made your head pound. It felt like you were right next to the sea as a bad storm rolled in, pounding the coast, only the coast was your head. Your hands flew up to your ears in a desperate attempt to block out the noise, but to no avail. 

You stumbled out of bed, disoriented by the pounding in between your temples. Bleary-eyed, you staggered down the stairs, eyes scanning over the key holder before you found what you were looking for: the truck keys. You hastily made your way out of the door, leaving the door open to not risk waking Sam. 

Or whatever was pretending to be him.

You gripped the side of the house tightly, the sounds of water growing into a symphony of a tsunami, a loud roaring, hissing, terrible noise. The siding was rough under your fingertips, paint chipping off as you dug your fingernails in. This confused you even more, the house seemed real. However, you knew deep down that it wasn’t.

None of this was real, it had to be a dream. 

Right?

You pulled yourself together just enough to clamber into the truck, pushing the button to start it. It roared to life and you spent no time to let it idle before throwing it into reverse and high tailing it out of the driveway. You sped off into the night, head pounding and vision burring. ‘Thank god it’s the middle of the night’, you thought, ‘Nobody is out on the roads.’

You followed the highway to where it began, the lake you and ‘Sam’ had visited months prior. It was empty, of course, except for a few frogs that called the water their home. You could have heard their calls if your head wasn’t still reeling, the water turbulence getting impossibly louder, despite the calm lake.

Tears fell down your face, you didn’t know what to believe anymore. This life was perfect, was all you ever wanted…almost. You battled with yourself, head throbbing through it all, clouding your judgement, were you right? Were you wrong? What was going on? Deep, steady breaths did nothing to calm you. 

Staring out at the lake from the driver’s seat of the truck, nothing was clicking, the pieces still impossibly jig-sawed. Then it dawned upon you, an old wives’ tale.

If you’re about to die in a dream, you’ll wake up.  

The idea was half-cocked at best, but you had nothing else to go off of. If nothing else, it would make the throbbing stop. You buckled your seatbelt and made sure it was secure before rolling down all of the windows in the vehicle. The pounding was causing spots to blur your vision, your head feeling on the verge of exploding.

You took another deep breath, exhaled until your lungs were empty, then floored the gas pedal, heading straight for the lake.

The truck crashed into the water, sinking impossibly fast. Water poured in through the open windows, icy cold. You tried to take a deep breath, but inhaled nothing but the murky waters.

‘My God, what have I done?’ you thought to yourself, silently choking, lungs burning. 

The sound of beeping surrounded you now, slow and steady. One of your hands felt heavy and warm, while the other was cold. “Please, please, wake up. I need you, dear God, I need you. I love you, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I’m sorry,” you faintly heard a familiar voice beg, your arm raised up by an unseen force, hand placed against something scratchy. Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but you managed to squint, the bright lights blinding you. Weakly, you turned your head, trying to get away from it.

Was this the bright white light everyone talked about?

“Hey, are you with me? Please,” the voice sounded clearer now. “I’m here, it’s okay, I’m never going to let anything hurt you again,” the voice, now recognizable as Sam’s, promised. You managed to open both of your eyes to half mast, sneaking a peek from under your eyelashes. 

He looked worse for wear. His face looked older, deep purple bags under his tired, sunken eyes, beard scruffier than a five ‘o’clock shadow. He breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank God, you’re awake.” You took a shaky breath and slowly exhaled, forcing your eyes open all of the way. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did, you could see you were in a bleak hospital room. “What happened?” you tried to muster out, but all that fell from your lips was a weak, “What…” 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” the tired man reassured you, gently patting your hand. “It was a djinn; it swept you under the water. Turns out, there’s an underwater cave he was using for his lair. You were there for a few days, we thought we had lost you forever.” You exhaled a short breath from your nose, turning your head to face away from him. 

“Hey, look at me,” he pleaded. You slowly turned your head back over, obliging his request. “I need to tell you something, and I know this probably isn’t the best time, but I need to get it off my chest.” Sam stated, his grip tightening on your hand. Before you could say anything, you meekly cooed, “I love you too.” in a scratchy voice. Sam smiled and wiped away a tear that was forming in the corner of his eye, “I love you so much more.” 

~

It was a rough week of recovery, but you were finally ready to ditch the hospital gown for your regular loose-fitting flannel and jeans. Doctor’s orders were to take it easy, and between the two brothers, especially Sam, you knew it would happen. Sam threw your bag into the trunk of the Impala, slamming it shut. “Ready to hit the road?” he asked, placing a hand on the small of your back. “Moreso than ever,” you replied, placing a kiss on his cheek. “C’mon lovebirds, daylight’s a wasting!” Dean called out, dipping into the driver’s side of the car. 

You chuckled, smiling from ear to ear as you made your way to the passenger seat. Sam raced in front of you to open the door, shutting it behind you after you slipped in, sliding on the leather seat. Sam took the seat behind yours, squeezing your shoulder as Dean turned up the radio, classic rock blaring.

Everything was the same as it ever was, maybe even better.

[starlit-rook]

I am physically incapable of choosing a sole partner for Rook because *picks up all the Companions and shakes them* I mean, just look at them! I'm supposed to only want one! This is still very WIP levels, since this is the first time I've actually sat down and described their relationships together, so some of them are very sparse atm.

So, yeah, they're all a web of romantic/platonic/whatever they want -to call it, group.

Lucanis and Emmrich are Lance's main squeezes. (I've been contemplating a Blighted Treviso with Lucanis and Lance getting together officially later after the game but haven't made a decision yet). Primarily he lives with either one or the other.

Emmrich is the main one Lance pursued, since he was the eldest of the group, it felt good to have that sort of stability with someone whose been through things and knew what he wanted. He becomes a lich because of Lance's encouragement, though with the way I'm spinning my story, Manfred is still around (the way that whole thing spun out in-game still frustrates me.) They do dates when they can, proper fine dining and touring places dates, as well as funeral planning dates. Being Dalish and growing up in the Crows, Lance has a much more open mind about topics such as death. When Lance finds unconscious Nevarran habits creeping into his mannerisms, Emmrich about proposes to him on the spot. Lucanis: it took a long, long time for anything more than fleeting romantic feelings to bloom between them. They were able to develop a close friendship after the Blighting of Treviso, a small miracle with how Lucanis buried himself deep away from others. There's a key moment, in the Lighthouse, when Lucanis comes across Lance trying to keep himself together after so much has happened, that it starts to crack Lucanis's walls. They both have this sort of 'will be the leader but also needs someone to follow' personality that lets them swap the roles between them, a relief to know that if they need it, all they have to do is lay their head down on the other's lap and all their leadership responsibilities and titles and all that junk is flung out the door for a short respite. There's a big piece of Lance that will forever be guilty of what happened with Treviso, even though logically he knows it's not his fault. Spite, of all people, is able to soothe him the most of this (Lucanis also logically knows this, but it's difficult putting that kernel of hurt away.)

Taash and Davrin are big, big friends with benefits types. Taash and Lance share a strong bond through queerness; Lance transitioned when he was fairly young, been through all this shit for years at this point, so being able to guide Taash through that minefield has them thick as thieves. They do a lot of the more outlandish/frisky things together that Taash usually wouldn't do with Lace. Davrin: found they make better friends than full-time lovers, though their heartstrings do tug on them more often than they'd like. Lance is neither an animal person nor a parent type, so while his support in Davrin figuring out how to deal with Assan, it wasn't the best. (Assan though does now have a firm favorite spot in Lance's heart). Like with Bellara, they bonded over their shared Dalish history, both of them having left the Clan at a young age for various reasons.

Harding, as sweet of a woman as she is, she also reminds Lance of one of his prior relationships a little too much, so he keeps this relationship in the friendzone. (It was Bobber, a fellow Dalish elf who was the sweetest boy around, able to get past Lance's walls and bring out the softness in him.) OTOH, because of his prior relationship, Lance is much more equipped to deal with Lace's problems with dealing with the Titan's anger and her own lack of self.

Neve: Friends/Business partners with benefits. Lance adores hunting down clues and studying people with her! Once getting past each others walls, they make sure to check in on the other, that they're taking care of themselves and generally not running themselves into the ground. Lance encourages a sense of freedom and security in Neve that is hard to find elsewhere. Meanwhile Neve will help keep Lance's feet on the ground.

Bellara: girlfriend, shares her primarily with Neve (look girlfriends can still have sisterhood together, okay?) She has the ability to work with ancient tech and such that boggles Lance; he can pull people apart like nothing but give him an artifact and he'll be blowing up the continent. He delights in sitting nearby after a long day, asking a question or two about what she's doing, and sitting back and basking in her knowledge. Does he understand half of what's going on? No. Does he greatly enjoy these sessions? Yess. Bellara very much appreciates him being her wall to bounce ideas off of. Their time together is often spent staying weeks out in the wilderness, exploring whatever they can find to bring back to the Lighthouse, the other Veil Jumpers, etc.

They all still work in the Lighthouse, it's become a sort of stronghold for their group, expanding and shrinking as need be. Every few months they try to all get together and have a big reunion, share stories, experiences, knowledge and indulge in others they haven't seen in a while.

And then, there's Solas. A whole different and very unique kettle of fish that requires its own post. Though for a small detail of them; Solas was tricked into the Fade and can still talk to Rook, their blood bond unbroken.

Rook Introduction Hour 2/14/25

Happy Valentine's Day! I hope everyone celebrating is having a wonderful time! 💞💖❣️🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏿👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽👨🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼💌🩵🫶🏼🥰💝💘❣️

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

🎶 L is for the way you look at me /O is for the only one I see /V is very, very extraordinary /E is even more than anyone that you adore! 🎶

Today's Question(s): NOW it's all about 💕Romantic love💕! Who is/are your Rook's LI(s)? Do they go on dates together frequently? Where do they like to go together? What's the most romantic thing that Rook's ever done for them? That they've ever done for Rook? If they had unlimited time and money, and no obligations, what would they do for each other? Is there anything Rook or their LI(s) want to say to each other that they haven't yet, for some reason? If they were to settle down together, would they want to start a family? Do you have any headcanons about anything they did together during the game that wasn't shown? And lastly, do you have any pictures of Rook and their LI(s) that you want to share?

Hopefully there are enough questions for everyone to find something they're excited about! Have fun, and thanks for sharing!

(Also, if you are looking for more DA themed Valentine's day content, taamlok made a new romance themed ask game, and corvus-frugilegus is sending silly valentines! And those of you playing on PC can also download the Veilguard of Love mod that metamancer-io made, and turn your Veilguard romantic! Hope you have fun!)

[shadowed-yet-vibrant]

It’s fascinating how little the US at large knew about Walz before this week, but at the same time… it makes sense. He wasn’t their governor. They haven’t seen the incredible work he’s done first-hand, and they haven’t had years to appreciate his authentic charm.

He’s never been a politician who sought out the limelight - everything Minnesota has done in this historic year of progressive legislation and policy has been relatively quiet. He’s not on the road jockeying for the latest sound byte on CNN or some podcast - he’s working to implement the policies people want. He’s tweeting about Mountain Dew. He’s at the state fair eating fried food and talking to his constituents. This is the governor we know. A man who cares deeply about the work he does and the people he represents, not the fame, not the clicks.

He’s genuine. Minnesotans know that. Now it’s time to sell that to the rest of the country.

[pseudowho]

"--and this is the staffroom," Gojo sing-songed, swinging open the door on your First Day Tour, with you a few steps behind him, "--ah! And that's Nanamin. Say hi, Nanamin!"

A tall, suited blond man looked up from his spot on the sofa as you peered in; at first, he simply nodded to you, disinterested. Then, Gojo spoke again while leading you out.

"--he's not very fun, don't worry-- no sense of humour."

Your final glimpse as the door closed, was of the blond man's irritated scowl.

It was true; Kento clearly didn't make people laugh, for he was either too mean or too subtle to be funny. This was the case, at least, until you. And you had no idea what your laughter did to him.

You had formed an alliance of respect, an easy bond that would have been camaraderie if not for Kento's standoffishness. You felt him hover nearby on joint missions, close enough to lunge to your rescue, but far enough that he could resist your magnetism.

Talking, and surveying the abandoned school, you spoke aloud as you walked down the stairs.

"So perhaps I'll take the East Wing, and you take the We--ergh!"

You reeled back, having walked headfirst into a buckled ceiling. Kento stepped to your aid, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, and lifting your chin to look at your forehead. He huffed, barely a puff of breath through his nose, wiping dust from your forehead before grumbling.

"You'll be alright. Not much in there, anyway."

You burst into laughter, and Kento electrified, absolutely rigid. You patted his chest, still giggling as you walked away, cooing back over your shoulder in a way that utterly melted him.

"So mean."

You soon learned that Nanami Kento was possibly the funniest man at Jujutsu High. Dry and unforgiving in a way that made your brittle colleagues crumble, you found yourself, instead, choking back laughter every time he crippled one with another savage put-down.

When Yuuji arrived late to a mission, Kento stepped over to him and, poe-faced, pulled up his shirtsleeve to show Yuuji his wrist.

"This," Kento hummed, flat, "is a watch. You can buy one at any good supermarket."

When a waiter slopped coffee over Kento's shoulder, Kento dabbed at it to the waiter's frantic, apologetic bowing. Kento raised a placating hand and insisted to the confused waiter.

"It's alright. I never liked this suit anyway."

When you stood at the staffroom window with him, watching a monsoon in companionable silence, Kento murmured over the rim of his mug.

"Lovely day."

He had timed it just-so, and barely concealed his lopsided smirk when you choked on your tea. Shoko walked in, drenched, looking at you and Kento in dismay. You coughed, opening your mouth to speak, but Kento got there first, firing shots.

"Is it raining?"

Shoko scoffed, sputtering, while you buckled against the windowsill.

Kento grabbed a hand towel and an umbrella, heading to the door. As Shoko reached for the towel, Kento pressed the umbrella into her hands instead, his expression flat, but his voice edged with a feral pleasure that made you come undone.

"You'll need this."

Kento's meanness was tempered only by his self-deprecation, and when you took as good as you gave, you felt his icey facade melt away completely, revealing such warmth.

It was no wonder you were drawn to each other, when the only reason neither of you laughed together, was because you were in a constant stand-off for who could remain poe-faced the longest. Kento always won.

Still, you felt the need to break him; you had cracked smiles, or the occasional chuckle out of him, but nothing more. You knew nothing more than the truest irony would do it.

The day came; you arrived, to your usual staffroom rendezvous, covered in blood. Kento paled, abandoning his book to rise immediately and reach you in three long strides.

"--you're hurt-- we'll go to Sho--"

"Kento. Stop. It's not my blood-- it's Gojo's."

Kento did a double-take, his eyes narrowing in disbelief, so you explained.

"Gojo invited himself to teach me about Curses that are 'above my paygrade', so he took me to one. I told him this Curse was clearly more powerful than it looked, and Gojo told me to step back so he could handle it. Said he'd even do it without his Infinity on. So I stepped back."

Kento's nose flared, barely perceptible.

"...and?"

You took a deep breath. "So, Gojo has a broken nose--"

Kento broke down with a wheeze, before bursting into a rich, deep rolling laughter that split the clouds with sun. His hands clasped the windowsill, his eyes crinkled, and his shoulders shook with wicked, throaty mirth.

You felt yourself becoming drunk off him, utterly intoxicated by his laughter. Kento couldn't stop himself, trembling with schadenfreude to the point of indecency.

Finally, sighing and straightening as if exhausted, Kento wiped his eyes with the side of his finger, and smiled at you with sweet adoration. Laughter still threatened to break through as he begged you.

"Would you-- would you like to go out for dinner? With me?"

You paused, your expression pained.

"Ah...no. No, thank you."

Kento froze, his face beginning to fall. You looked down at yourself, and announced, still deadpan.

"It's just-- I'm covered in blood, you see--"

That sent Kento over the edge again.

You remained content throughout the years of your marriage, for Nanami Kento to be viewed by others as boring and humourless. You found yourself jealously greedy of his rare laughter, anyway.

After marriage, you viewed it as the highest badge of honour to make him laugh like that while he was buried inside you.

[rieamena]

"mama!"

your seven year old daughter climbed onto your bed, bouncing on the mattress before settling into your warm embrace under the blankets. running a hand through her pink hair, you answered softly, "yes, sweetheart?"

it was almost like your genes didn't put up a fight at all. your child, chikara, was the spitting image of her father, your husband, ryomen sukuna. same hair, same face shape, same facial features, the only thing that seemed to be your contribution was her personality, and even then, sometimes you'll see your husband's characteristic scowl on her little face

"how did you and daddy meet?" "well, it was–"

"what's goin' on in here? conspiring against me?" sukuna's voice filled the room as he leaned against the door frame, a cheeky smirk on his face. you saw your daughter's face brighten up as she jumped down to run to her father, "daddy! daddy! mommy's gonna tell the story of when you first met!" sukuna immediately looked at you, his index finger barely being fully wrapped by his daughter's hand

"she asked me to. guess watching all those romantic dramas with her rubbed off on her." you giggled, earning a scowl from him. "shut it woman. you know i hate them." "yeah..., that's definitely why we watch 90 day fiance every sunday together." "you got a problem with— stop tryna move me brat!"

"but daddyyyyy," she whined, still pushing against sukuna's body, "i don't wanna miss mommy's story!" "we're literally seven feet away from her."

your daughter pouted and stopped trying to get her dad to move. letting go of his finger, and leaving him at the doorway, chikara plopped herself down at your side with wide, eager eyes, "go on, mommy, tell me! i wanna know everything."

you smiled, looking at sukuna, who rolled his eyes but gave a small nod. "alright, sweetheart. it all started one day in the park when i was watching over megumi, and your dad was taking care of his younger brother, yuuji…"

"yuuji?" chikara interrupted, her face lighting up. "uncle yuuji was there too?"

"yep, yuuji was just a little kid back then," you said with a soft laugh. "he was running around, being his usual energetic self, when he tripped and scraped his knee. your dad, being the great caretaker he is—"

"—i was plenty good at it," sukuna muttered

you shot him a look and continued, "—didn't seem too worried. he told yuuji to stop crying."

"i did not say it like that," sukuna cut in, pushing off the doorframe and coming closer to the bed. "i told him to toughen up. gotta learn how to handle a few scrapes."

your daughter giggled, clearly entertained by the back-and-forth. "but mommy's a nurse, so she went over to help, right?"

"exactly. i couldn't just sit there watching, so i went over, knelt down, and started cleaning yuuji's knee. and i told your father—" you paused, giving sukuna a mischievous smile, "—that he should care more about his son instead of telling him to stop crying."

your daughter gasped dramatically, eyes wide with anticipation. sukuna groaned, running a hand over his face. "i knew you'd bring that up."

"and what did daddy say?" she asked, leaning in as if she could hardly wait

"he looked at me and said, 'that's not my son, that's my brother,'" you mimicked sukuna’s low, irritated tone. "i was so embarrassed!" sukuna chuckled at the memory, shaking his head. "you should've seen your mom’s face. all high and mighty, like she was about to call child protection services on me or something."

you couldn't help but laugh, too. "anyway, i patched yuuji up, and to make up for the misunderstanding, your dad suggested we set up a playdate for yuuji and megumi."

"a playdate?"

"yup," you nodded. "though i think your dad might've had other reasons for giving me his number." sukuna scoffed, folding his arms. "that didn’t happen."

you raised an eyebrow at him. "oh? so your eyes didn’t sparkle when i smiled and told you goodbye?" sukuna groaned again, this time louder. "my eyes did not do that."

chikara giggled harder, clearly enjoying the banter. "i think daddy liked you right away!" you smiled softly. "maybe he did. i mean, why else would he take me to a skate park for our first date?" sukuna rolled his eyes. "you said you wanted to learn how to skate. i was just being nice."

"uh-huh. sure," you teased. "and he was so good at it, zooming around, showing off. i'll admit..., he did look kinda cool! i, on the other hand, spent most of the time falling."

"which is why i had to keep catching you," sukuna added, sliding into the empty space next to you on the bed. "mommy fell? did daddy save you?" chikara asked, her face lighting up at the idea

sukuna ruffled her pink hair. "more like i had to stop her from breaking every bone in her body." you rolled your eyes at him. "i wasn't that bad."

"yes, you were," sukuna said, smirking. "you almost took me down with you half the time." smiling at the memory, you leaned in to kiss your daughter's forehead. "but it was fun. and after that, we went out for ice cream, and your dad actually smiled for real that time."

"daddy smiled? really?"

sukuna shot you a half-hearted glare. "i smile."

"not back then you didn't," you teased, poking his arm. chikara turned to her dad, beaming. "i wanna learn to skate, too, just like you and mommy!" sukuna chuckled, wrapping an arm around her

"maybe one day, brat. but you’re probably gonna fall as much as your mom did."

"hey!"

gulp... sorry if sukuna is ooc, im tired and im on my period but i really liked this request so...

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes @cupcaketeddybehr @tomikixd

@e-dollly

[fakebwitch]

rafe finds your panties in his car [smut, jerking off, perv!rafe]

part two

you had an appointment to get your nails done, rafe was at an important business meeting and couldn't take you, since a friend of his was picking him up his car was in the garage, you asked him if you could use his car, and he said yes.

as you get back you parked the car in the garage, turned off the car while picked up the things you had left scattered around the car, putting them back in the bag, and that's where you had an idea.

you thought, rafe had let you use his car by paying for your new set of nails, you had to somehow thank him. a grin grew on your face as you rose slightly from the seat, your hands went under your skirt finding the elastic band of your panties, you grabbed it pushing it down and once you got to your ankles you pulled them completely off. your grin grew even more as you put the lace panties on the gearshift.

after completing your little work of art, you grabbed your purse and keys, opened the door and got out of the car, locking it. you made your way inside the house, the sound of your heels walking on the floor caught his attention.

"hey baby" he greeted you with a smile, getting up from the couch, "rafeyy" you said immediately running into his arms, he pulled you toward him grabbing you by the hips, 4 hours without seeing him was too much for your liking. "how did it go?" he asked with a smile at your clinginess as his hand gently stroked your back, "all good" you replied pulling away from him slightly with a smile, showing him your nails.

"they're perfect baby" he said as he looked at them carefully, he knew you didn’t play about your nails, "i know, aren't they?" you said with a smile turning your hand toward you, looking back at the design for the twentieth time.

you slipped your hand into your jacket pocket pulling out his car keys, "here they are" you said shaking them in front of his face, he grabbed them as you said "thank you so much baby, i love you" you said giving him a kiss, he smiled into the kiss as he whispered "i love you too".

as he deepened the kiss in your head you couldn't help but think of the little surprise you had left for him in the car, just waiting for him to find out. you knew very well that he loved your lingerie, one way or another he was always trying to steal some panties from you so he could keep them when, as he said, “he needed them," and you also knew what for.

the next morning rafe woke up early, he had to attend another business meeting. it was a stressful week, he was full of commitments regarding work finding himself having little time to spend with you. he grabbed the keys of his car as he yawned while heading to the garage, the phone rang in his pocket causing him to sigh as he rolled his eyes, he took it in his hands reading the name of the contact who was calling him, he sighed again deciding to answer it, it was one of the men he was in business with.

"hey, what's up?" said rafe trying to sound as unbothered as possible, the last thing he wanted to do right now was to have a call regarding the various problems that kept coming up. as the man took up the conversation, explaining that business would slow down for reasons he would list for him later, rafe opened the garage door, letting out occasionals little "mhm."

he pulled out his car keys, pressed the button and without looking inside the car opened the door and sat down. "yes, i was aware of that, i just talked to hollis about it yesterday and we both agreed that..." he froze when out of the corner of his eye he saw something white that caught his attention, he shifted his eyes to the mysterious object.

he took a deep breath realizing it was your underwear.

“rafe? are you still there?" the man's voice rang on the other side of the phone, rafe took a few more seconds to look at the piece of underwear and then answered, "y-yeah i'm here sorry, actually i'm kinda busy right now, i'm gonna call you when i'm free" he quickly came up with, wanting to end the call as soon as possible.

"oka-"

before the man could’ve finished rafe immediately hang up. his hands reached out to grab the garment, his fingers rubbed the lace. he looked at the inner part, that was in contact with your pussy, noticing a small wet spot, he didn't think about it for a second and brought the panty closer to his face, his nose made contact with the fabric, inhaling strongly as your smell flooded his nostrils. you just knew how to drive him crazy.

he couldn't help but think about being between your legs as he continued to breathe in your scent, making you feel good as your hands pushed him closer to your pussy, his cock twitching at the thought of having his lips on your wet folds.

as he kept the panties close to his face, with his free hand he quickly untied his belt, unbuttoned his pants pushing them down just enough along with his underwear to get his now semi-hard cock out. his head thought of your sweet taste, your little whimpers when he overstimulated you too much as your smell intoxicated his brain.

with his right hand he began to lightly rub his length, little sounds escaped his lips, muffled by the fabric of your panties. he went further as with his thumb he stroked the tip, pink and swollen, screaming to be inside you, his hand tightened even more around his shaft quickly rubbing the part just below the tip, it drove him crazy.

he kept rubbing as he imagined his hand was yours, little drops of pre cum were coming out of his tip, mixing with his rapidly working hands, creating obscene wet sounds.

his wrist beginning to ache, from how fast he was moving, as he lingered for a few seconds with his thumb, rubbing the tip. he was a mess of moans, his legs twitching as his breathing grew deeper and deeper, his body temperature now crazy.

he moved your panties away from his face and wrapped them around his cock as he resumed rubbing his hard cock with his hand, continuous whimpers escaped his lips as the lace rubbed against the delicate veins of his cock.

"fuuuuck" he breathed, he didn't think he could hold back much longer. he pushed his hips upward as his hand worked up and down his length, his head turned back as continuous moans mixed with cursing escaped his lips.

"h-holy shiit..." he murmured through clenched teeth, the rough fabric of the lace touching the soft tip of his cock made him shudder, his cock throbbing in his hands, eager to cum as soon as possible.

he was in pure ectasy, totally overwhelmed by the pleasure he was experiencing, the only image in his head at that moment was you, and you were helping him finish himself off. "oh y/n please..." he said almost crying, his voice cracked with pleasure as his hand moved even faster down the length, he hadn't even realized he had begged you when you weren't even there.

as his hand tightened around the tip, images of you filled his head, thinking about the way your eyes looked at him every time he thrust into you mercilessly, the way your tits bounced as his body slammed into yours, as his hand grabbed your neck making your eyes roll as he pushed you to the edge, that image was enough to make his cock cum.

"oh fuck me...." he managed to say as his hand moved slower, riding his high, moans and whining came from his lips as he pressed the tip making sure not a drop of his liquid was wasted.

half of it was on his hands, but most of it had ended up on your panties. he let go his grip on his cock, feeling overstimulated as he tried to catch his breath. realization hit him soon after, realizing the 'obscenity of the act he had just performed.

did he regret it? no. had it been one of the best handjobs? yes.

[sinner-as-saint]

drag me under

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader 

Run-through: After what has to be one of the most exhausting and exasperating meetings he’s ever had with the Bishop and Mother Superior, Father Charlie desperately needs a quick release. It was wrong, he knew and he’d repent for it later. Except, what he thought was going to stay as a secret between him and God ends up involving a third witness – you. 

Themes: smut, explicit language, mentions of infidelity, degrading kink

Fuck. He was close. 

He’d shut himself inside the confessional booth a few minutes ago because he absolutely needed to get his mind off certain things. Those meetings always left him feeling like a damned pressure cooker, and he always needed to let out some steam after. 

All that arguing, and having to keep his cool and maintain composure when all he wanted to do was yell and tell them all that he was right and they were wrong. It had to be the generational gap, but sometimes he felt like he was being tortured with how much his mindset differed from those of his superiors. Why couldn’t they just let him do things his way? 

But he pushed all that aside for a moment. Just a moment, that’s all he needed. Fist wrapped around his throbbing cock, his spit and precum giving him just the right amount of lubricant, his head thrown back against the thick wood as he worked his fist up and down his cock, as fast as he could. 

He tried to keep his gasps and moans as quiet as possible. It was late in the afternoon, there wouldn’t be anyone around during this time, but just in case. A groan left his lips anyway, and he bit his lip immediately after. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… 

He could hear how fast his fist moved, the friction was almost just as good as how he remembered sinking into a warm body felt like. Almost, not quite as exhilarating though. 

Fuck! 

A few more tugs, a couple more unrestrained moans later, and he came with a loud sigh. Spilling all over his hand, gasping for breath as he blinked a couple times, already feeling his thoughts flowing much easier. His all black suit, his collar around his neck didn’t feel as tight and constricting anymore. 

He quickly cleaned himself up with a handkerchief he’d have to put in the trash later, he sighed one more time as he made sure to fix his clothes and was about to walk out of the booth when he heard a timid, soft, almost hesitant voice ask: 

“Are you done, Father?” 

He froze. 

Shit. 

He cleared his throat. It sounded like a young woman on the other side. He tried to look but the screen only allowed him a partial view of your face. Okay, okay, don’t panic. He could still get out of this situation. Maybe you didn’t hear what he was doing. Maybe you’d just gotten in here. Maybe you were too naive to even know what those sounds were. 

He cleared his throat again, “How, uh, how long have you been waiting for?” He tried his hardest to sound apologetic for making you wait. 

A moment of silence. Then you replied, “Long enough.” 

That voice. He knew that voice, didn’t he? 

He said your name out loud. A pause then, “Is it you?” He asked. 

A sigh. Then, “Yes, Father.” 

Ah. He let out a quiet breath, relieved. 

He had no reason to worry if it was you. You were what he called a lost little lamb, too innocent for her own good. He knew your family. They were nice people who frequented the church, and lately your parents had been worried about you since they found out that you had a troublesome boyfriend who was nowhere near the god-fearing type your family wanted you to date. 

He also knew that you, unlike your parents, were not seen very often at church. He saw you here and there, sometimes at charity events, or sometimes at the tennis court with your mom. But never in the confessional booth. 

Father Charlie sat up straight, looked ahead at the wooden door and asked, “This is your first confession?” 

“Yes, Father.” 

“And what would you like to confess?” He asked, knowing he was going about this all wrong. No signs of the cross, no ‘Bless me Father for I have sinned’, but he was impatient and… intrigued. What could a shy, timid girl like you have to confess?

“I… I slept with my boyfriend.” 

He couldn’t help but turn towards the screen. He watched you as you fidgeted and squirmed. “Did you?” He didn’t recognise his own voice. 

“Yes, Father.” You answered. “But that’s not all.” 

“Oh?” 

A trembled sigh left your lips, then you said, “While we were, um, when he was...” You struggled to speak. 

And Father Charlie felt weirdly interested all of a sudden, so he urged, “It’s okay, you’re safe here.” He cooed gently, using the soothing voice he always used with everyone. “Use your big girl words, come on. When he was, what?” 

“Father, I cannot say it.” Your words sounded heavy with shame. 

So he urged you even further, “Like I said, you’re safe here. Now tell me. When he was, what? On top of you? Fucking you? What happened, did he hurt you?” 

“No,” You said quickly. “No, he was… gentle.” 

Father Charlie raised an eyebrow, “And?” 

You let out a shaky breath and confessed, “I wanted him to…” You trailed off, “I know it’s wrong to want these kinds of things, but I didn’t want him to be gentle. I wanted him to be rough. To make it hurt.” 

Another shaky breath left your lips, and this time Father Charlie felt like he was the tormented one. He frowned as he looked down and noticed that he was hard again. Shit. 

He cleared his throat again. “I see.” 

But you were quick to add, “It’s wrong, isn’t it? To want things like that? Isn’t it, Father?” 

There was a strangely innocent desperation in your voice even as you referred to sinful things. The kind of innocence he wanted to take into his hands and crumble it into pieces but also preserve it at the same time. 

Fuck, he was hard. And it was painful because you were right there. 

“Depends,” He answered, “What other things do you find yourself wanting?” A small, quiet gasp left your mouth. Father Charlie caught himself smirking at the sound of it. “And don’t lie. I can’t help you if you lie.” He noticed movement on the other side of the screen. Maybe your hand touching your neck out of nervousness. 

“I… I like being told what to do. I like authority. I like…,” You gasped, as if not believing you were actually saying all this out loud, “I like it, I mean I like the idea of men being mean to me, in bed. I want them to take what they want from me, with consent of course. But I don’t want them to be gentle about it.” 

Oh fuck. 

“That’s, uh…” He found himself at a loss for words. His cock was making his trousers tighter. His hands were shaking with the need to grab and feel a warm body. Preferably that of a shy young woman who thought she should be ashamed of her desires. “Yes, that’s not right.” He did his best to sound stern and disappointed. 

A soft sound came from the other side. Sounding a lot like a sniffle. “I’m sorry, Father.” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “I should go.” 

It all happened too quickly. The sound of the door opening, the sound of you trying to rush and get out. Before he knew it, he was out of the booth as well and stopping you from leaving. Your wrist in his hand, his chest heaving, tears down your face, a shocked look in your eyes. 

“Did I say you could leave?” He asked, looking down at you and noticing the way you didn’t even fight him. Aww, a lost little lamb indeed. 

“No.” You whispered, going along with the movement as he walked you backwards until your back hit the nearest wall, beside the booth. 

“You’re disobedient,” He noted, “I should punish you for that.” 

“Yes,” You mumbled, like you were ready to be punished for your sins. 

“Yes, what?” He chided. 

“Yes, Father.” 

And oh, how he would’ve loved to have you on your knees in front of him. To have his cock in your mouth. To make real tears stream down your face, ruining your makeup. But he didn't have too much time. 

He stepped closer, trapping you between the wall and his hard body. He noted the way your eyes remained fixated on his white collar, those teary, innocent eyes. You didn’t even know the treasure you were. 

“Look at me,” He ordered. 

You did. Unable to look away once you did. 

“You’ve been a bad girl, you know that, don’t you?” He asked. You nodded at him. “And I need to punish you, because I need to make sure you’re good from now on, don’t I?” You nodded at his words again. “Good,” He whispered, then grabbed both your hands and placed them on his shoulders as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours. 

He fucking that little gasp of surprise that left your mouth as he kissed you, hot and messy. His hands reached down and bunched your dress up before he slipped his hand in between your legs.

He chuckled into the kiss when he felt your flimsy underwear. “See now, good girls don’t wear things like this. You understand?” He whispered, running his knuckles along your wet folds and smearing your arousal around through the thin fabric. “I’m gonna have to take it off, okay?” 

You nodded again. 

And he did, he slid your underwear down until it fell to your ankles. He watched as you stepped out of them and he immediately slid his knee in between your legs, followed by his hand again. “This is all part of your punishment,” He whispered into your ear, and watched how you shivered upon feeling his warm breath. He slipped his two fingers into you with ease and smirked against your skin as he felt your arousal coating his fingers, which he curled inside of you, hitting all the spots which made you gasp and moan.

You whimpered and closed your eyes, sighing and moaning when he leaned down and nibbled on your skin around your throat. He chuckled, sliding his fingers in and out of you, “See what a little slut you are? Cheating on your boyfriend, and letting me touch you however I please,” He scoffed, “Is this what you came to do? Was this your intention?” 

You bucked your hips against his hand impatiently. “Please,” You murmured. 

He pulled his fingers out, and messed with his belt, undoing it and the zipper on his trousers until he pulled his cock out. “Please what?” He asked, rubbing his wet fingers along his hard cock, “Huh? What do you want?” 

You looked up at him, pleading with your eyes. 

“Oh?” He taunted, “You want this cock? Huh?” He leaned in and grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks together, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke in a lowered voice that sent shivers down your back, “Does this little slut need a cock in her?” 

“Yes,” You murmured, unable to take it anymore. 

“Yes, what?” He growled. 

“Yes, Father.” You quickly corrected yourself. 

He smirked, smug. Then he lifted you up until you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your back against the wall, and the two of you partially hidden by the booth. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you moaned out loud. 

“Shh,” He reminded you, “Quiet.” 

“Please,” You whined, eyes shut. “Please, Father…” 

“Shut up,” He hissed as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. “Shut your needy little mouth up.” 

You moaned as he pushed himself into you. Stretching you out as he went. His nails digging painfully into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours sliding into his hair as he filled you up nicely. 

“So fucking wet for me…” He whispered against your cheek as he rocked in and out of you. “I bet you’re not this wet for your little boyfriend, huh? Does he feel this good? This big?” He chuckled. “Does he know you let random men fuck you?” 

You were a mess, moaning and whimpering when he began moving in and out of you. His cock reached places that had you whining out loud. 

“Shh,” He hissed again, “Shut up, you little slut. Shut the fuck up.” He groaned as he fucked you. He kept an eye on your surroundings, just in case someone wandered in. 

But you kept moaning like crazy so he did the only thing his lust-filled brain could think of, he brought out his soiled handkerchief from earlier and shoved it in your mouth, and slapped his hand over your mouth. “Yeah, that’ll shut your filthy mouth up, huh? Is this what you wanted? Your boyfriend doesn’t fuck you like the needy little whore you are, does he?” 

Your moans sounded muffled now, and he fucked you relentlessly, earning more and more muffled whines and moans and whimpers out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. He loved the way your eyes rolled back when he fucked you harder, reaching deeper. 

He pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the wall with each thrust. “Filthy girl.” He sped up into you again, making you cry out. “So fucking desperate, aren’t you? You couldn’t help but spread your legs for me, huh? Even for a man of God? You couldn’t help it.” He taunted. “What else would you do for me? Would you come here everyday and let me have you? Hmm? Would you let me fuck your needy little pussy like your boyfriend can’t?” 

He knew you couldn’t answer him, so he chuckled and continued as he felt your walls clench around his cock. Fuck, he had missed this. He’d missed making a beautiful girl lose control while he was inside her. He knew you couldn’t think right, he was so fucking deep inside you that all you could do was whine and cry, and let him take what he wanted from you. Which is exactly what he did. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking you harder and faster against the wall. 

His hand left your mouth, making sure his handkerchief remained nice and snug in there, and reached down until he wrapped his fingers around your throat, he squeezed just enough to make your eyes widen. “Yes,” He goaded you, “You like that, don’t you? Your messed up little head likes this,” He taunted. “It’s filthy in there, isn’t it? You think about these things at night? When you touch yourself before going to bed? Is this what you’ll be thinking about from now on?” 

Your body shuddered, trembling in pleasure. He looked down and noticed the slight cleavage of your sweet little dress. Fuck, he wished he had time to really peel it off your body and have you crawl around naked just so he could look at you. He was sure he could spend a lot of time just looking. 

“He doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” He chuckled, his body moving expertly against yours, “No, how could he? He’s just a boy. He wouldn’t even know what to do with a dirty girl like you.” He leaned in, whispering against your wet cheek, “This is what you needed. I’m what you need.” 

Your mind was a foggy mess already, and he could tell by the muffled by wanton moans that he could still hear that you were so, so close. 

“I bet he doesn’t even come inside you, does he?” He scoffed, “I think he’d be too scared to do that.” He pulled away and looked into your eyes. “But you want me to come inside you, don’t you? Remember, it’s all part of your punishment. You wanna be a good girl and take all of it, don’t you?” 

You nodded quickly, more tears streaming down your face. 

“Go on then, you little slut. Come for me. Come all over this cock like the needy, desperate whore you are.” He let out a strained moan, “I said,” He spoke, menacingly, “Come for me!” 

Your body tensed up, legs tightening around his waist, hands tugging at his hair, before you let go and came undone around his cock. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching his neck and a loud muffled moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. 

Father Charlie groaned as he came shortly after, spilling inside of you. And fuck, even he could feel how much he filled you up. 

He pulled the now wet cloth out of your mouth as you both felt his warm cum dripping down your inner thighs. He replaced the handkerchief with his fingers, gliding two of them across your tongue, in and out of your lips as he said, “You’ll come back, won’t you?” He whispered against the corner of your mouth as you caught your breath while sucking on his fingers. “Now that you got a taste of what it’s like, you’ll be back as often as you can just to let me fuck you again. Won’t you, little lamb?” 

—

a/n: call me sister megan bc i’m frothing–

[celestemona]

⋆˙⟡ — FOUR TIMES MUALANI SUSPECTED SOMETHING WAS GOING ON (AND ONE TIME SHE WAS RIGHT)

pairing: kinich x reader

cw: no pronouns mentioned. ajaw is in a vacation. slight but not slight pda. mualani overreacting but she is a sweet. best friends trio. pyro vision reader mentioned. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Mualani knew Kinich and you were friends—close best friends, just like you two were with her—but lately, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. 

It started with little things, almost too subtle to be noticeable but somehow it didn’t escape from her perception. Things like how Kinich, ever the quiet guy, had begun lingering a little too long when he talked to you, or how you’d run all your way to the Scions of the Canopy's village just to welcome him back after a mission. 

At first, she didn’t pay too much attention thinking you guys were just being more affectionative and caring to each other. However, as time passed by, it has been shown to be more than a mutual friendly appreciation and certainly beyond a mere coincidence. 

I.

The first time Mualani noticed something different was in an early morning by the coast, watching the waves curl and crash. She often started her day stretching at the shore and riding the first waves of dawn. But this time, as she rounded a cliff, she spotted Kinich and you sitting on a rock overlooking the sea. The two of you were close enough that your arms brushed every time the wind picked up.

Kinich’s usual stern expression was softer than usual. Mualani squinted at you suspiciously. Were you... holding hands?

She jogged closer, but just as she got near enough to say something, Kinich quickly stood up, putting a considerable distance between you and himself. “You're up early,” he said, his voice in its usual calm.

You smiled warmly. “Hey girl! How are the waves? We were just discussing about it.”

Mualani tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “You were? Really?”

You let out a light and confusing laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course.”

She didn’t quite buy it, but you didn’t give her any reason to push further. “Well, the waves are good today! You guys joining?”

Kinich only gave her a polite headshaking, while you nodded smiling. Maybe she was imagining things.

II.

Except she wasn’t. 

A few days later, you were hanging out by Tequemecan Valley' canyons with Kinich standing quietly while you and Mualani chatted. However, every time she glanced toward him, Kinich seemed to be watching you a little too intently. It wasn’t the usual hunter’s focus; it was softer, caring, almost like... adoring.

The girl squinted, pretending to be interested in some flowers nearby while keeping an eye on you two. You didn’t seem to notice anything, or if did, you didn’t mind. You just kept talking, your laughter filling the air.

When Mualani caught Kinich staring again, she couldn’t help but ask, “Kinich, you okay? You’ve been zoning out all day.”

He blinked, his neutral mask slipping back into place. “I’m fine.”

“He’s just tired from all the training,” you teased, winking at him.

Mualani raised an eyebrow, astonished by the scene before her eyes. Something was definitely going on.

III.

The third time came on a day when Mualani was guiding a group of Sumeru’s travelers near the springs when she spotted you and Kinich again, standing by the water. As she approached, she saw Kinich leaning down to whisper something to you, his lips close to your ear. You giggled softly in response.

Wait a minute... Kinich never whispers to anyone. Much less in such an intimate way and even less to make someone laugh. Mualani's instincts flared up immediately. What was he saying? And why did you look so happy about it?

She cleared her throat loudly as she walked up. “Hey. What are you two whispering about?”

Kinich straightened up quickly, crossing his arms. “Nothing important.”

You smiled at her, but there was a glimmer in your eyes that made the girl even more suspicious. “Just a silly joke,” you said lightly.

A joke, huh? Mualani filed it away in her mind. This time she was very determined to figure out what was going on between you two.

IV.

It was late afternoon, and Mualani had just finished surfing when she saw you two by the waterside. Kinich and you stood close, so close as it has strangely been, and for a brief moment, she could have sworn Kinich was about to lean in and kiss you.

She froze, watching from a distance as you smiled up at him, your palm softly pushing his chest away. Were you two really about to kiss? It couldn’t be just her angle view. Could it be?

But just as quickly as it happened, Kinich stepped back, his usual stoic demeanor falling back into place. You turned and waved at her, your smile as bright as ever.

“Lani. Hey! How was the surf?” you called out.

Mualani, still in shock, shook her head. “Uh... good. Really good.”

She stared at you both for a moment longer, convinced she’d almost witnessed something, but there was no proof. Again.

V.

In the several days that followed, Mualani continued to witness that strangeness that kept repeating itself every time you thought she wasn’t around, creating a certain tension between her and you and Kinich—although she doubted that you had noticed any difference, treating her as you always did from the beginning.

Even if it relieved her to know that nothing had changed in your friendship, the surfer couldn't help but feel upset too. Was it that bad if she found out? Didn't you trust her the same way she trusted you? She wanted to be able to release all of her thoughts and ask you if maybe there was something in your bond that was bothering you. But she didn't. And so, things remained the same.

That was a quiet evening, and the moon hung low over the mountains. Mualani had been taking a stroll, enjoying the peaceful night, when she stumbled upon you.

This time, though, there was no mistaking it—Kinich and you stood together under some trees, locked in a slow, deep kiss.

The girl’s cheeks burned as red as the pyro vision you hold so dear closely, eyes widely opening and heart skipping a beat. She gasped, louder than she intended, and both of you quickly turned toward her. You blinked twice before smiling stiffly, even daring to look a bit embarrassed, while Kinich gave her a calm look, his hands still resting on your waist.

“You two!” She exclaimed shaking her head, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier! I mean, I knew something was up, but really?”

You bit your lip while Kinich just blinked at her, slightly starting to look more guilty as well.

“We didn’t mean to keep it from you for long,” you said as you stepped out of Kinich’s arms and reached for her hand. “We were just... taking our time.”

Mualani arched an eyebrow. “Taking your time? You two were being so weird and annoying with all those suspicious interactions for weeks now! I’m supposed to be your best friend!”

Kinich rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “We wanted to keep it quiet,” he said, his voice low. “At first, anyway.”

Mualani softened, her fake scold melting away into genuine affection. “Still, I would’ve loved to know sooner,” she said, her tone gentler now. “You know me better than anyone else. You know I would never judge you,” she sighed as she watches the sorrow on your face. “Nevertheless, I’m really happy for you both. Really am.”

You beamed and even Kinich’s usual stoic expression seemed to relax slightly.

Mualani continued, her voice full of warmth. “I’ve always known you two had something special. And now that I know for sure, you better believe I’m fully on board with this!” She shot Kinich a playful look. “Just make sure you treat (Y/N) right, okay?”

Kinich nodded, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “I will.”

You squeezed Mualani’s hand, your eyes sparkling with gratitude and pure happiness. “Thank you, Lani. Your support means a lot to us.”

Mualani grinned, pulling you both into a tight hug. “Just don’t keep secrets from me again, alright? I’m always here for you two.”

You all laughed but shared a quick but sweet bond moment, the atmosphere light and easy. And somehow, Mualani couldn’t help but feel like everything had fallen into place just the way it was meant to.

“But just for your information. If the day comes of you get engaged and don’t tell me immediately, I’ll crash the proposal myself, make a huge scene, and tell everyone how long I’ve had to put up with your not so secret glances and not so subtle hand-holding. Trust me, it won’t be pretty!”

[connorsui]

Marked in Metal

Caleb... loves ... buying you rings.

It wasn’t something you directly questioned—at least, not seriously. He had always been like that, always finding little things to slip into your life as a form of joy. Bracelets, necklaces, little earrings here and there.

But ...rings?

Oh, those were his favorite.

— Princess cut, Briolette, Trilliant, Radiant.

Oval and round. The entire catalog.

And it wasn’t just about the aesthetic. No, it was something else entirely—something unspoken in the way he always lingered just a second longer when slipping the ring onto your finger, something in the way his eyes darkened with quiet satisfaction whenever you lifted your hand, light catching on whatever new piece he had picked out for you.

Like now for instances.

"Here," he said one afternoon, handing you a small velvet box. His voice was casual, but his fingers brushed yours when you took it from him. "Saw this new piece on my way home and thought of you."

You barely glanced up from your work before popping the box open, the soft click of the latch followed by a quiet inhale as you took in the ring nestled inside. A smooth sterling silver band, sleek and polished, with fluted rose gold prongs holding a citrine gem. The cut was extravagant, the kind of thing that should have been reserved for engagement rings, but you had long stopped questioning Caleb’s taste.

"Caleb," you groaned, rolling your eyes but still sliding it onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as they always did. "You have to stop doing this."

"And why should I?" He smirked, leaning back against the couch, arm thrown over the backrest as he watched you admire the ring despite your protests. "Looks good on you."

You twisted your fingers, letting the metal catch the light. He could see it in your face—the way your lips curved slightly, the way your brows relaxed—that moment of pure, genuine appreciation. He memorized that expression every time.

Because no matter how much you insisted it was too much, you never turned them down.

And he never had to worry about you asking how much they cost.

But it wasn’t about the price anyway. It was about the way you wore them, the way your hands danced through the air when you talked, your fingers adorned with pieces he had chosen. It was about the quiet thrill of watching everyone else notice, of knowing that every time someone asked where you got them, your answer was always the same.

"Caleb, obviously. He’s the reason I have half my jewelry box."

That was enough for him.

But this one was different.

"Wait, Caleb?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, amused and lilting. "Did you know this was engraved?"

You held up the ring between your fingers, tilting it just enough for the small inscription inside to catch the light.

.C.

Delicate, subtle, almost invisible unless you were looking for it.

He raised a brow, feigning nonchalance. "Oh? …I don't actually remember seeing that anywhere?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You seriously didn't notice?"

"Guess not." He shrugged, and you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

"I don’t think I believe you."

He didn’t respond, only watching as you lifted your phone, snapping a picture. Within minutes, your messages flooded with the usual teasing.

"Another one? Does Caleb just collect rings for you now?"

"That’s basically a proposal, babe!"

"Correction. This is the one billionth proposal"

And, as always, your reply was the same.

"Of course it’s Caleb. Who else spoils me like this constantly?"

He loved that. Loved knowing that when others have noticed the rings on your fingers, they knew exactly who put them there.

But even when he adorned your hands, his own ring was different.

It never sat on his finger. It had its own place, strung securely onto the same chain as his tags, resting against his chest beneath the layers of his uniform.

Same material, same weight.

But the chain never left his body. It was there in the dead of night, cold against his skin. There in the thick of the day, clinking softly against metal. It was there when the world was loud and chaotic, when exhaustion pulled at his bones, grounding him with the quiet weight of something real.

Something that brought him back to you.

And when he returned home?

when he was finally home, the chain came off—but the ring never stayed in some forgotten drawer.

No, it belonged in the same place it always did.

Right where you were—pressed close against his heart.

[bunny-jpeg]

i have this little thought bouncing around in my head! single father simon. (a drabble)

*shrug*

simon ends up with his daughter winnie after her mother abandons her at his doorstep. he was the father, it was his turn to take care of her. simon could handle warfare, he could handle guns and sweat and metal. he could handle blood and bruises.

but a fussy newborn was a little too much for him.

enter you, it was your summer off from university and you were making extra money by babysitting for parents who couldn't afford weeks of posh summer camps. it was decent work and you were pretty good with them! so being concerned for your neighbour, simon's well being, you offered to watch winnie.

simon very well fell in love with you the moment you took the baby girl into you arms. winnie instantly got settled into your grasp, almost like you were her mother.

"what a lovely baby girl." you cooed, you looked at her with such affection already. you looked at simon and smiled, "she looks too cute to be yours." a playful jab.

you watched winnie while simon was at work. you didn't know what he did for work, but you tried not to ask too many questions. all you knew was that the checks didn't bounce when you cashed them.

but being with winnie for so many days had gossip go through the apartment building. you had a baby with simon? why were you in two separate apartments? where did the lovely newborn sleep? she SHOULD be sleeping with her mother (you).

when you tried to correct them, simon always said, "ah don't worry. we'll be havin' our own place soon enough!" his large hand snaked around your waist.

you just looked down at winnie who was sound asleep in her stroller. she couldn't care less who her mommy and daddy were. it wouldn't be hard to be the mother she'd otherwise be without, right?

that was the angle that simon too.

you'd make the most perfect mrs. riley. you were already taking care of winnie, but also him when he came home. you shouldn't be the nanny, you should be winnie's mama.

"she really loves you." simon remarked when you went with him to the pool.

you were in a one piece swim suit and you were making sure that the baby was out of the sun and had sunscreen on. you didn't want her to get sick or burned.

currently she was resting on your chest while you were in the shade. in your free hand you had a book in it and the other was on winnie's back. you said, "i don't know what you're talking about." as if you hadn't heard the comments from the little old ladies about how sweet you two looked.

"look like a real mama."

you looked to him and raised your eyebrows, "i thought i was the babysitter, mister riley."

simon placed a hand on your thigh then rubbed up and down, "nah."

it didn't take long for you and simon to get intimate. he asked you to stay because winnie had been having trouble sleeping. you two shared a glass of wine and then you found yourself face first into simon's bed. the scent of him filled your head as he fucked you into the comfortable mattress.

he loved the sound of your pussy as he fucked you without much abandon. the thickness on your hips would only grow once he made sure his next child was inside of you. you'd be such a good mama, unlike that previous bitch who left him.

maybe there was a good reason why she left him.

cum clung to the fuzz on your pussy lips and was a bitch to clean in the shower come morning.

he woke you up and said, "she needs her mama. she gettin' fussy, doll." then watched you stumble around to find clothes to wear while you checked on winnie as if the little girl was your own. his hand was wrapped around his cock. he wondered how many more times he could finish in you before you stumbled back to your apartment.

the answer was four.

it wouldn't be easy carrying for a sprouting little baby plus the baby boy you were currently pregnant with. you've put school off for a little while and moved in with simon, your due date was in the middle of the semester. now you were trying to figure out what food was good for a teething winnie while also trying to manage the riley son that was occupying your womb.

you were making dinner for your growing family with a cute little maternity dress of. simon was at the table with winnie. he knew that one day he'd have to tell her that you weren't her actual mama. but you were raising her and her little brother too.

"see there's mama." simon said in that grumbled voice of his, pointing in your direction.

you didn't imagine that you would've ended up as a stay-at-home mother to two children who were than a year apart. but as you felt the shift of your 'second' baby inside of you, you smiled.

you heard winnie make a little noise to get your attention. you checked on the pot of sauce on the stove before you turned away to check on your little girl.