#their throats say ‘I WILL REVEAL MYSELF’ but that’s not as funny

[yeeclaw]

I decided to translate the tattoos on the Smiling Men from The New Mutants, and I just thought y’all should know their right fists say “LOVE” in Russian

[nanaslutt]

Just a funny thought that since Choso can control his blood or whatever, what if he can control his boners…😭

-🩻

I've been inspired ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

ʚ cont: fem reader, kinda sub choso, oral(m!r), edging, dirty talk, teasing, body worship(?)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Do you really have to look at me like this? It's so embarrassing." Choso complained, holding his t-shirt over his crotch as he averted his eyes. You kicked your legs behind your body as you laid on your stomach on top of your bed, Choso standing in front of you. "Well I wanna get a good view of it don't I?" You teased, reaching out your hand and caressing his upper thigh, just under where his hands were blocking.

"Don't…" Choso whispered, feeling his face heat up at the sudden attention. "If it goes up just make the blood go somewhere else." You teased, laying your head down on your arm, your eyes staying locked on Choso's large hands that blocked his crotch. "It's hard to do that," Choso whined, gripping your wrist and pushing it back toward your body.

You retracted your arm, crossing it under your head with the other one as you laid on them. "How so?" You asked, your eyes finding his. Choso's gulp was almost audible. Your eyes looked so pretty and wide when you looked up at him from this angle. "I want to be aroused when you touch me like that… so forcing the blood away is kinda like edging myself," Choso explained, making a small smile creep onto your face.

"You're so cute Choso." You praised, watching how your words made his cheeks turn pink. "Fine, I won't touch you anymore, I'll just watch." You said, smiling up at him. Choso averted his eyes when he couldn't take your sultry stare anymore, his eyes dropping to his hands over his crotch. "You've obviously done this before, so how did you find out you could do it?" You asked, watching as Choso let his t-shirt drop to the floor as he began slowly working on his belt.

Choso's blush grew deeper at your question as he pulled the belt out from the loops in his pants. "Sometimes I'll wake up and my…" Choso cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room, "It'll also be up… down there. It's easier to just force it down like that rather than touching myself." He explained, sliding his pants down his thighs. You listened to his words carefully as he slid his pants off his legs, his porcelain skin getting revealed to your eyes.

"Next time it's like that when you wake up just wake me up Cho, I'll take care of it." You said, slightly teasing him but you were serious with your words. Choso's eyes found yours as he stared at you pointedly, almost pouting. "Sorry sorry," You laughed, forgetting Choso was already having enough time keeping his boner down as is.

Choso hesitated before pulling down his pants, his thumbs just resting under the band of his boxers. "What's wrong? Did ur' hands stop working? Need some help?" You offered, picking your head up and resting it in your hands, elbows perched on the bed. "You've… never seen my dick soft before," Choso said, his face scrunching a bit in embarrassment as he tried to cover his crotch with his fingers while keeping his thumbs under his boxers.

You smiled before finding his eyes, waiting till he looked at you before you spoke. "I have. When you were really sick and I had to bathe you remember? I saw it then and it was perfect." You said, reassuring him. Choso looked like he wanted to say something in response, but he just pressed his lips together in a pout and looked down at himself, at the bulge in his boxers from his soft cock.

You don't know why Choso was so nervous, his cock was huge even when it was soft. He took a deep breath before sliding his boxers down, the short black hairs on his pelvis being revealed slowly, making you subtly press your thighs together. Your mouth started watering when the base of Choso's dick was revealed, he was moving too slowly for your liking, but he was extremely nervous so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Once Choso had completely stepped out of his boxers, he stood in front of you awkwardly, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. "Choso." You said softly, raking your eyes down the expanse of his body before they landed on his face. "Come closer, don't have to be so nervous baby." You teased, taking his soft thigh back in your hand again once his feet met the edge of the bed, his cock now level with your face and very close to it.

Choso caressed the side of your face, the once teasing touch on his thigh now welcoming and comforting. You leaned into his touch and kept your eyes on his, wanting him to calm down a bit before you gave any instruction. Once Choso's heartbeat had slowed, and his breathing was steady, you looked down at his cock, noticing how it twitched softly every so often, most likely from Choso trying to keep his boner down.

You smiled nice and big for him when you were ready, finding his eyes for a moment before looking back down, focusing on his cock. "Ok, lemme see it." You said. Choso released a shaky breath as he shook his head. Goosebumps ran down his back as you caressed his inner thighs, your soft, cool hands feeling calming against his burning skin. Your mouth fell open in a small O as Choso let the blood slowly flood back to his cock.

His dick was at full hardness in under ten seconds. It rested only inches from your face, twitching strongly as you oggled it. Choso watched you watch him grow hard, fighting the urge to not cover his face in embarrassment as his face flushed furiously, feeling like heat was radiating from it. Choso's hand shook against your cheek, his whole body vibrating with nervousness.

You looked back up at him sweetly, smiling as innocently as possible. Choso looked like he was holding back, but he also looked very vulnerable, making your heart swell tenfold. Maintaining eye contact with him, you leaned forward and stuck out your tongue, finding his cock with the hot appendage using your peripherals. Choso's jaw fell open as he sucked in a shaky breath when your tongue met with his hot cock, his eyes staying locked on yours as they fluttered in his head.

You giggled almost inaudibly before you wrapped your lips around his cock and licked your tongue around his soft tip, the taste of his pre-cum immediately flooding your tastebuds as he dripped into your mouth. Choso gasped quietly as you bobbed your head slowly down on his cock, taking it deeper and deeper, little bit by little bit. His eyes fluttered when you moaned around him, the sound vibrating around his cock.

You focused on sucking air in through your nose when your lips hit the base of his cock, his dick snugly in your throat. Choso weakly kept his hand on the top of your head, his body shaking as he took in how warm and tight your throat felt. Choso finally broke eye contact when you swallowed around him, your throat contracting around his cock.

His head tipped back as his jaw fell open in a groan, his eyes falling shut. You giggled around him as you bobbed your mouth on his cock hands-free a few more times, taking him into your throat each time, making his hand curl against your head, his nails raking over your scalp softly. You hummed around his base for a moment, leaving his hard cock snug in your throat for as long as you could before you needed air before you pulled back entirely, a string of saliva connecting you to the tip of his cock.

Choso's head tipped back down to look at you, your lips swollen and wet from just throating his dick. You looked up at him with a dopey smile, one full of mischievous. Choso kept his hand on your head as he waited for you to continue, only you didn't, speaking instead, "Make it go back down now." Choso swore his heart shattered in that moment as he tried to make sense of your words in his pleasure-riddled brain. "Huh?" He asked softly, his eyes half-lidded with lust.

"Your cock, make it go soft again." You instructed, nodding your head at him. Choso bit his lip between his teeth as he fought with himself internally. He didn't want to do that, at all actually, but the thought of saying no to you sounded just as bad. With a small sigh, Choso looked away and let the blood run back into his body, away from his cock.

His dick softened in front of your eyes, slower than it had gotten hard the first time. When he was fully soft, he looked back down at you, gauging your reaction. "Good boy." You praised, looking back up at him through your lashes. Leaning forward you pressed your still wet lips against his soft cock, the skin feeling much softer than before. "Thank you Choso, that's all. You can put your clothes back on now." You instructed, smiling at him innocently.

You watched the gears try to turn in Choso's head as you sat up and grabbed his face, pecking him on the lips before you slid off the bed and reached down to pick up his clothes, pressing them against his chest once you gathered them. "I'll give you some privacy to change." You said. Standing on your tiptoes you pressed a kiss to his hot cheeks before walking past him and out the door, shutting it quietly behind you.

Choso stayed still and unmoving in your bedroom for a good minute or so as he waited for his brain to catch up with what had just happened. With a sigh and a pout he started putting his clothes back on, he knew you would never leave him unsatisfied like this, he figured you had something bigger planned, a reward maybe, if he listened. So Choso did just that, keeping his boner down as he clothed himself before leaving the room to join you in the living area.

[akaashislover1]

How I think the jjk guys would join you in the shower…..

Yuji Itadori, Choso Kamo, Megumi Fushiguro, Takuma Ino [EVERYONE IS AGED UP TO THE PROPER AGE]

Yuji Itadori

He probably would bang at the door(which you’d have locked for reasons to follow) pleading that he’d have to pee.

“Go use the bathroom downstairs!” You yelled over the running water. Funny how he suddenly had to pee as soon as you started the shower.

“Please, baby, I gotta piss if I take one more step I’m gonna wet my pants!” He frantically exclaimed, trying the door handle.

“No, you’ll just make me late. Again.”

It was quiet. No begging, knocking. Nothing.

You sighed as you reached behind the shower curtain to unlock the door.

“Quick, get in here before I change my mind.”

Choso Kamo

You had undressed and jumped into the shower, the hot water welcoming you in.

“I also have to have a shower before we go to.” Choso politely urged you.

You peeked your head out of the curtain and looked at him brushing his teeth.

“Why don’t you just get in here now?”

Choso coughed on a bit of toothpaste. His hair was slicked back by one of your makeup headbands.

His face was so flushed but pale at the same time.

“W-what?! But you’re in the-”

“Cho. We just had sex last night, why are you acting like you’ve never seen me before?” You laughed and choso felt his face turn red in embarrassment.

Suddenly you dragged him into the shower before he could even take off his boxers.

He had his eyes closed respectfully.

“How are you gonna wash me up if your eyes are closed?” You asked and he opened one eye at a time.

When you gave him a smile he started to relax.

He took a moment to take the view of you in.

His throat lumped up in a knot as you passed him the soap.

Maybe he should’ve started showering with you sooner.

Megumi Fushiguro

He probably would already be in the shower.

“Can I join you?” You would ask him as you peeked through the shower curtain.

Megumi let out a breathy chuckle as he made eye contact with you.

“No, all you’ll do is try to fool around. We gotta meet Itadori and Gojo in an hour.”

You gave your boyfriend a stare and a scoff in an attempt to make him feel bad for you.

It didn’t work until you began to speak.

“Fine I guess I’ll just to take a nice long shower. By myself. Good thing that one has got an amazing shower hea-”

“Get in here.”

Takuma Ino

“Hey, babe! Please come in here quick! Hurry! It’s an emergency!” You screamed from the shower.

A few seconds later you heard the quick rumble of his footsteps.

The door opened and revealed to Ino’s eyes you lying perfectly fine soaking in the tub.

“Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” He asked out of breath.

You nodded your head no but a pout made its way to your face.

“The water is too cold without you.”

Ini rolled his eyes playfully,

“I can see the steam coming from the water, you liar.”

You shook your head no as Ino kept his eyes contact with you.

“Remember when I asked if you wanted to join me when I had a shower and you said no? Remember that babe?”

“This is different! It’s a bath. A shower is so quick and you hog all the water! Don’t you wanna soak with me?”

Ino gulped the nervous rock that was stuck in his throat as he thought about your bodies soaking in the tub.

Sighing, he answered, “Fine, but I am still offended from earlier.”

Woohoo!!🎉 I actually really like this one I think it’s pretty cute!!

Might make a part 2 with some other fine ass jjk men. 🩵🩵

Link to part 2💜

[hajimeseyo]

“Tell me something about yourself that not many people know.”

“What's this?” he asks, voice laced with amusement.

“Just answer me, ‘tsuya.” you grumble, head lolling over the side of the bed you're currently spread out on, peering at his upside down figure. “I'm bored.”

Mitsuya hums thoughtfully, pen tapping against the table absentmindedly. Both your homeworks lay abandoned on his table, you having already given up a long time ago and pestering him to do the same, despite his best efforts to stay focused and finish them.

“I have a dragon tattoo on the side of my head.” he says casually.

“WHAT?????” you leap up from your spread-eagle position to gape at him properly. His lips curl into an impish grin at your reaction, the sight sending butterflies flying through your stomach. You swat them away in favour of focusing on the more pressing matter at hand. 

“Yeah.” His hand comes up to tap at the right side of his head. “Right here.”

You scramble off the bed, nearly tripping over yourself as you rush to his side. “Whaaat the fuck. You're the last person I'd expect to ever have a tattoo.” you say as you pull up your chair next to him, plopping down on it.

He huffs in amusement. “I am in a gang, y'know.” 

“I know, but you're like, more well behaved compared to them.” You pause, peering at his face suspiciously. “...right?”

A mischievous smile is all you get in response.

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to the side of his head, peering closely at the short lilac hair, trying to catch a glimpse of the tattoo. You can't see anything, though, due to all the hair fully covering it.

“Can I…?” you raise your hand hesitantly. He nods, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to where the tattoo supposedly lies, the warm touch sending sparks flying through your skin.

Carefully, your fingers gently part his hair to reveal the scalp below. The slight shiver as your fingers make contact with his head doesn't go unnoticed by you, although none of you say a word.

And there, under the lilac strands, you catch glimpses of furling strands of black ink, coiling and curling into something resembling—

“A dragon?” you murmur.

Mitsuya hums. “Mhm. I designed it myself. Cool, huh?” You can hear the pride in his voice.

You snort, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “I suppose.” Following the strands of ink, you trace down the side of his scalp, mesmerized by the intricate design. Despite your seemingly unimpressed response, you found the tattoo really beautiful, the art style unique and artistic, the way it curves along the side of Mitsuya's head so naturally you wouldn't be surprised if he said he was born with it. Lost in your concentration, you don't notice Mitsuya's slowly reddening cheeks, closing his eyes as his head subconsciously leans into your gentle touch.

The two of you stay like that for a while, in comfortable silence, him enjoying your ministrations, you too absorbed in admiring every detail of the tattoo to notice. 

Until you trace the final curl of the dragon's tail, the trail ending making you snap out of whatever trance you were in, face immediately flushing a deep red as you realized you probably spent way more time touching him than you should've. Your hand instantly jolts back from his head as if it touched hot iron. At the loss of your touch, Mitsuya's eyes slowly fluttered open, gazing lazily at you, the sight once again sending some weird, hot feeling shooting through you. Damn this man and his stupidly pretty face.

You clear your throat, trying to act natural. “Why have a tattoo when you can't even see it under all that hair, though?” 

That question catches him off guard, and he barks out a laugh. “There's a funny story behind it, actually.”

He goes on to tell you the story of how he got the tattoo, from meeting this boy called Draken, to playing games at the brothel, to deciding to become a delinquent and accidentally matching tattoos with Draken. Your jaw dropped more and more as the story progressed, mostly from how unexpected and wild the entire thing was.

“Damn.” you laugh when he finishes. “And here I thought you were this good, well-behaved child who got roped into the gang business by their friends. I mean, abandoning your sisters to graffiti a wall?” you shake your head in mock disapproval. “What a bad child you are.” 

His lips stretch into a sly grin, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “Oh? Really, [name], you should've known by now.”

He leans forward until his lips are right by your ear, voice coming out in a teasing whisper.

“I can get quite naughty sometimes.” 

...

You're quite certain your face is in flames. 

You sit there, short-circuiting, as Mitsuya leans back into his chair, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Fumbling, you glance around desperately from something that will save you, and your eyes land on the abandoned exercise books on the table, the whole reason you were at Mitsuya's house in the first place. 

“Oh! Would you look at that! Our homework! That we still have to finish!” You pull your chair back to the other side of the table hurriedly and bury your face in the books, your homework suddenly being the most interesting thing in the world. You hear him chuckle, but he doesn't say anything, picking up his pen and continuing with his work. Your heart finally stops racing, and you think that you're safe until—

“[name]?”

“Hm?”

“I enjoyed that very much. Feel free to do it again if you want~”

“...”

This boy is going to be the death of you.

(part 2 here!)

[boyfriendstevie]

Idea: bf!!stevie who’s lovesick and has to Jack off after every date, and you who somehow get that information out of him

Something silly but sweet! <3

omg i'm so sorry this took me so long, i've been hella busy. but i finally got around to writing it and it got away from me!!! i hope this is what you were looking for hehe | gn!reader, handjob, kind of slightly subby steve? idk. 1.4k. mdni!!! 18+ only!!!

happy to help

“What were you doing when I called last night?” Your question is totally innocent, completely curious as to why Steve didn’t answer when you called his house, and yet, he flushes, pink crawling up his neck to his cheeks. “Thought you would’ve been home by then.”

“Yeah, I-I was—“ Steve stutters, suddenly nervous as his mind flashes to the memories of what he’d actually been doing. 

You pout so sweetly it kills Steve, your bottom lip pushing out, brows furrowing, “Well then why didn’t you answer?” He knows you’re not mad with the way your fingers play with his as you stare up at him. 

“Uh…” he’s not sure how to answer without revealing that he’d dropped you off at home after your date, went back to his own house, and immediately had to jack off to the thought of you. 

It’s not his fault, okay? You’re perfect in every way — funny, kind, smart, and yeah, so fucking beautiful. The relationship is still fairly new, so you haven’t had sex yet, which is totally okay, Steve would never pressure you to do anything you didn’t want to do, but he’s still a man. He has needs, alright? So, yeah, he has to jerk off as soon as he gets home every time he sees you. 

And last night, he hadn’t been expecting you to call so soon after your date — not that he would ever mind — so he was a bit preoccupied, with his fist around his cock, filthy sounds echoing in his room as he fucked up into his hand, wishing it was you. And then you called, pretty voice crackling over the answering machine, and Steve was done for. He’d called you back, of course, just as soon as he’d cleaned up, so you were none the wiser. 

When he doesn’t answer your question right away, you giggle and tease, “What, were you jerking off or something?”

Steve’s eyes go wide at that, cheeks impossibly pinker as he stumbles over his response, “Wh-what? No, I—“

You quickly sit up from where you’ve been laying in his lap, your own eyes going wide as you giggle again, “Oh my god! You totally were!”

Even though he doesn’t have any reason to be, Steve is thoroughly embarrassed, head tipping back onto the couch with a loud groan, hands pulling from your grasp to cover his face. He speaks from behind his hands, voice weak and muffled, “Shut up! So what if I was. I’m not saying I was, but if I was…”

“Stevie,” you coo softly, fingers wrapping delicately around his wrists, pulling them from his face, “there’s nothing wrong with that! Hell, I got myself off last night, too.”

Steve nearly chokes at that, shifting uncomfortably, “Oh my god, you can’t just say that shit, babe.”

“Why not?” you know you’re being a menace now, but you can’t help it. 

“‘Cause I’m gonna have to do it again!”

“Well, what if I wanna help?” you ask coyly, pushing your lips out into another pout as you lean in closer to Steve. 

“Christ, baby—“ Steve’s chest heaves, eyes darting almost frantically from your eyes to your lips, “I-I don’t… don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with yet, and—“

“Stevie, I just said I want to. If you want me to, that is…” 

“Shit, of course I do, honey, I just—“

“So let me,” you huff, cutting Steve off with a kiss as you shift up onto your knees. The couch cushions dip as you throw one leg over Steve’s lap and settle against his thighs, mouth still on his. 

Steve’s breath catches in his throat at your sudden movement, hands moving to your waist to hold you close as you kiss.  It’s a bit messy, your lips sliding against his as your hands make their way down his torso, fingers playing with the string of his sweatpants. You can feel him hard against your thigh, and fuck, you want nothing more than to touch him. So you do, hand slipping under the band of his sweatpants and underwear. 

This is not how you expected your first time doing this with Steve to go, but you can’t say you’re mad about it. He fucking full-body shudders as your thumb brushes over the tip of his cock, fingertips trailing down his length until you can wrap your hand around his cock near the base. You stroke up towards the tip, though it’s a bit difficult with his boxers still on. 

“Can you… ’s hard to touch you like this, can you just—“ you’re not even finished with your question before Steve is shifting you off of his lap so he can shove his pants down his hips. You know Steve’s big, it’s not exactly a secret, but you’re more than a little distracted at the sight of him, “Fuck, Steve, you’re huge.“

He’s already flushed, but the color travels to the tips of his ears and down his neck. He opens his mouth to say something, or maybe laugh, but it gets cut off when you spit in your hand before curling your fingers around him again. You pump him slowly, nearly painfully so, and he groans, a sound that makes you feel hot all over, “Ah, baby, f-fuck—“

“Like that?” you ask, finally pulling your gaze away from your hand to glance up to his face, and find him with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, eyes fighting to stay open. 

“Faster?” Steve pants, eyes meeting yours for only a moment. He’s mesmerized by the motion of your hand, how it looks around his cock. Your hand is so much prettier than his, and he wants to commit it to memory for when you’re not around. 

You hum in acknowledgment under your breath and do as he asks, picking up the pace of your hand, twisting your wrist as you stroke up towards the head. Steve’s eyes squeeze shut, no matter how hard he’s trying to fight it, a stuttered breath escaping his lips as he presses his head to the couch cushions behind him.

The moles dotting his tanned skin that you love so much are on full display, and you can’t resist the urge to lean in and press wet kisses to the expanse of his neck, trailing them up towards his jaw. Steve whines as your hand tightens around him, thumb rubbing over the messy slit of his cock when your hand comes back up. He really is making a mess, precum dribbling from the tip and down the shaft, smearing across his tensed stomach, near his belly button. 

You watch in awe as his tummy clenches, his cock twitching in your hand. It seems like he can’t help himself as his hips thrust up into your touch, another whiny moan escaping his lips, “Oh god, honey, you’re so— nngh— god, you’re so perfect, y’hand feels so good—“

“Y’gonna cum for me, Stevie?” you ask softly, nipping at his neck and his jaw, your hand trailing down to his balls to fondle them gently, “Gonna cum all over my hand?”

“Yes, oh fuck— fuckfuckfuck, baby, ‘m so—“ he’s babbling nonsense, you can only make out half of what he’s saying, and you have to admit you kind of like the way he’s at your mercy, whimpering and fucking himself into the tight grip of your fist. 

“Please cum for me, wanna see you when you cum, baby,” you murmur, doubling down as you stroke his cock quickly.

When your thumb brushes over the tip again, Steve finally cums with a moan of your name, pearly white as it spills over your hand and onto his tummy. He looks so fucking pretty, too, eyes closed in bliss, cheeks pink and glowing, hair falling into his face as he chases his high. It makes your core burn with want, and you hope Steve’s up to the task after he comes back down. 

You keep pumping him, a slow up and down, the wet, filthy sound of your hand on his cock filling the quiet of the room. Steve all but whimpers as his chest heaves, hand shooting down to wrap around your wrist in an effort to get you to stop, “Okay, okay, baby, christ, you’re gonna kill me.” 

It makes you giggle and you finally pull your hand away, bringing your fingers to your lips. Steve swears he’s died and gone to heaven when he watches your pretty fingers slip into your mouth to lick them clean of his cum. You hum around them before pulling them from your lips with a small pop and give Steve a grin, “How was that?”

“A million times better than my own hand, honey, you don’t understand.” 

“Well, I’m happy to help, Stevie.” 

“Sooo… next time you call and I’m… busy, I can just answer anyway?”

“I’d prefer if you do.”

[sanguineterrain]

your most recent jason fic has me in a bit of a chokehold and its bc you do so well with the dialogue and the banter!!

HONEYLOVE???#?*×& i need to be physically restrained (i appreciate your fics respectfully)

anyways, the fic has me thinking: imagine it's the same reader, but they know Jason's alive and they're back to being friends again (skipping over the drama of "YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" "yea lmao sorry ily tho") but there's this tension now. and since Jason's not working with a mask anymore (and he's slightly more vulnerable with r), it's him who gets flustered and it's r who does the flirting playful banter. maybe it ends with a kiss (˘ ³˘) ?

i'm such a sucker for a flustered Jason and there's something that tells me he gets really weak in the knees for someone he adores >:) anyways, you can always choose to write this or not but a very big, fat thank you if you do

the reaction pics are SO FUNNY i'm glad you enjoy this au <3

jason todd x gn!nocturne!reader. pt 3 of vigilante reader. this is basically reader just being feral over jason :> they speak for all of us, really. love confessions, tension, somewhat flustered jason, more sparring lols.

pt 1 / pt 2

****

Jason Todd is alive. Jason Todd is sitting two feet away, talking about a case.

You can't quite believe it. You went home two days ago and expected to wake up to the whole thing being a dream or the result of a Poison Ivy hallucinogen.

You can't stop staring at him. It's weird. You're being weird. But you can't help it.

Every time you see Jason, you want to look at him for as long as possible. You don't want to forget his face. This new face. Scarred and hardened, but still good. Still loved.

And, well. It's not like Jason's bad looking. Sure, you thought he was cute when you were teenagers. Resurrection makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera.

But now? Now, Jason makes your heart stupid. You can barely contain your desire. It's been two weeks since he revealed himself, and every time you see him, you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from showing him what he does to you.

Sometimes you think he sees right through you, but if he does, he never acts on it.

"—listening. Yo. Ground control to Major Tom. Are you with me?"

Jason waves a hand in front of you. You blink.

He's unmasked and in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and dark jeans—the most comfortable you've seen him, actually. His hair is still wet from his shower.

"Sorry," you say, suddenly zeroed in on the three droplets of water sliding down his neck. "I'm listening. Just looking at you."

"'Cause I'm so pretty?" Jason asks, batting his lashes.

You reach over without thinking. He freezes when you wipe the water off of his neck. Then you tuck a curl behind his ear.

"You should let me blow-dry your hair," you say, taking your time in dropping your hand. "It'll take ages to dry in this humidity."

Jason's eyes have gone wide. Pink splotches bloom on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uh." He swallows. You watch his throat bob. "Thanks. Maybe... next time."

"I'll steal Dick's. He's got the fancy sixteen setting one."

That makes Jason smile. "Hm. Some things never change."

His eyes crinkle at the corners. Fondness swells swiftly in your chest.

You stay like that for a moment, caught in each other's orbit.

Jason breaks it first, leaning away. "Right. You should probably get back to the Manor. Br–the others'll probably think I kidnapped ya."

You shrug. "I quit."

"What?"

"Bruce was getting on my last nerve. I can't work with someone like that."

Jason snorts. "Join the club. Look, I can't say I'm not thrilled that you're stickin' it to the old man. But if this is 'cause of me... I wouldn't be mad if you kept workin' with him. Honest. If that's what you wanna do, don't let me stop you."

"Jason." You rest your hand atop his. "I joined this life because of you. To honor you. You taught me how to help people, not Bruce. You taught me what it meant to be kind, to be a part of something bigger than myself."

To love, you don't say.

"I..." He shakes his head. "You became Nocturne for me?"

You close your eyes, then open them. You've cried so many times. You don't want to stay in your grief any longer. Not when he's right in front of you.

"When you died, I..." You take a deep breath. "Nocturne was something to ground me. I think Bruce recognized that. I think he knew how much you meant to me. He didn't have to take a chance on me, and I appreciate that he did. But I've realized that he doesn't know everything. Can't see what's right in front of him sometimes."

You squeeze Jason's wrist. He sighs.

"God, I'm sorry," he says.

"What're you sorry for, Jay? You came back. That's all I ever wanted."

Jason chews his cheek for a moment. Then he stands, chair scraping the floor.

"C'mon," he says.

You follow him to the living room. He moves the armchair, the couch, and rolls up the rug. He disappears down the hall and returns with two thick mats. He tosses them onto the floor.

"Uh..." you say. "What're you—"

"'M gonna show you what y'did wrong that night on the roof."

"Wow. Can't believe you're still single. Being reminded of my shitty combat skills gets me so hot."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Alright, smartass. Just 'cause you quit the Bats doesn't mean you won't go out there and keep helping people. I know you. The least I can do is pick up where Dickface left off in your training."

"The least you can do, huh? I think you just wanna pin me against the floor again," you say, smirking.

He clears his throat. "That—no."

"No?" You step closer and look at him through your lashes. You're so close, you're touching his chest. "What happened to tying me up 'cause I was out when I shouldn't have been? Isn't that another educational technique?"

Jason's throat bobs. "That wasn't—I was just saying things."

"Hm. That's too bad."

You skip right past him, onto the mat, and hold out your arms.

"Okay. Put the moves on me, J.P."

It takes Jason a moment to craft his usual poker face. When he does, he groans. "'M not an evil Gilded Age financier. Still don't like 'J.P.'"

"But you like me-ee," you sing-song.

He shrugs. "Sometimes. Until you give me a heart attack and run into a burning building."

"Wish I could've seen your face for that one," you say as you steel your shoulders and secure your feet.

"Better you didn't. I'm sure there was a vein or two popping outta my forehead." Jason cracks his neck. "Ready?"

"Lay it on me, big guy."

"You first. Attack me like you normally would."

So you do. You step forward and throw a punch similar to the one from your rooftop spar. Jason catches it, of course. But this time, he locks you in a hold. One leg is between yours, and your arms are twisted behind your back with one hand. Humiliating.

"Dude!" You wiggle. Jason doesn't yield. "Jay, come on. No petty criminal is gonna know how to do all that."

"I know. The point of this is for you to know how to use someone's size against them."

Jason presses his cheek against yours. You tamp down your shiver. You can hear his heartbeat.

"Take a breath," he murmurs.

You close your eyes and breathe. Jason's grip doesn't hurt, but you're frustrated by how predictable you are. How he knows your body. A part of you is missing in not knowing him the way he knows you.

"Alright," he says. "Think. What part of me is exposed?"

"Not the important parts, I hope."

You can feel his eyeroll.

"You're hilarious. C'mon, focus. What can you attack?"

"Um... your legs. You trapped my arms, but my and your legs are free."

"Good." The praise warms you. Being this close to Jason will never get old. "What else?"

"What else? Do you have a tail I don't know about?"

"Sucha wiseass," he says, mouth close to your ear. "Your head. You're still able to move your head, and you're close to my face."

"Yeah, I'm not headbutting you. Out of the kindness of my heart."

"I appreciate that, sweets. Sweep my leg."

So you do. Jason goes down easier than he normally would for your benefit.

"'Kay," he says, once again underneath you. Now you have his hands pinned. "Good. Remember what went wrong last time?"

"You bucked me off like a Clydesdale."

He smiles. "Yeah, okay. So what'll you do different?"

"I'm not in my suit," you say. "I don't have extra weight in my boots."

"No, but you don't need it if you keep my legs apart."

"So that was your plan all along, huh? Perv."

Jason coughs. "Ah-hum... I—c'mon, lock my legs."

You grin and spread Jason's legs, using your knees to keep him immobile.

And then you just stare. This time, it's not because you're thinking about the miracle of resurrection (though what a miracle it is). No, you're just thinking, once again, about how your best friend got really, stupidly pretty.

And how you really, stupidly wanna kiss him.

Jason still looks young, but his jaw is now defined. He's got a five o'clock shadow coming on. His lips are full and pink. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose. The nose that still has a bump from when he broke it during a fight with Riddler.

You remember how he played it off for weeks. Bruce said that didn't even cry. But when you asked if it hurt, Jason had said yes.

You wonder when the last time Jason cried was. You wonder how much pain he's suffered since.

You wonder if he knows he's got your heart in the palm of his hand.

"Hey," Jason says. His voice is soft. Shy. "I lose ya again?"

You shake your head. "No. Never."

"There somethin' on my face?"

"You're a lot to look at," you say. "Pretty, pretty boy."

That gets an undeniable reaction. Jason Todd has never been able to take a compliment. You've been exploiting that all day.

Perhaps you know him better than you thought.

He exhales sharply, like you've sucker-punched him. His eyes dart to you. Waiting.

"Your eyes are green," you say. "Like, mixed. Blue and green."

Jason nods. "I—yeah. The Pit. Changed 'em. Changed me."

You lean in. His gaze flicks to your mouth. You watch his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow.

"They're still pretty," you say. "Always had pretty eyes, Jaybird."

"Heh, right. Even with this shit?" He points to the scar that crosses over his right eye, stopping at his lip.

You let go of his wrists—not that you were holding them that tightly anyway. If this were a real fight, you would've lost ten times over already. Considering how much of you is touching Jason, you happen to be winning hard.

You trace the puckered white flesh with your thumb. Jason flinches but doesn't pull away.

"Your face could never turn me away," you say. "Never."

He closes his eyes and shudders. "Y'too nice to me. Always so nice t'me. Even when we were fighting. Why're ya so good?"

Your lips are a hair from his now. "I don't know how to make it more obvious, Jaybird. I'm absolutely insane about you."

Jason's eyes fly open. He sees your mouth and his breathing increases. You smile.

"Yeah, want you bad. No place I wouldn't follow you. Do anything for you."

Jason makes a strangled noise in his throat. You grin.

"C'mon, big guy. I'm right here. Come have me, Jay. I'm yours."

Jason soars up and kisses you. Swallows you, really. His hands hold your waist for dear life. You wrap one leg around his.

You nip his lip. Jason whines softly. Delicious.

You grab his face, fingers tangling in his curls. Jason sits up, slotting you against him. One hand supports you on your back, the other on your side.

"God—" He breaks away, just barely. "You're way too good for me. Had sucha... sucha crush on ya when we were kids. Y'so sweet."

You blindly find his throat and bite, hard enough to leave a mark. Jason makes a guh sound. You lick the bite to soothe it.

"Missed you," you say into his skin. "Missed you so goddamn bad, Jason."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he babbles, clinging to you as you kiss up his neck. "Yeah, missed you too."

"Not letting you go," you say, almost snarling. You're angry with want, angry at the world for keeping this from you for so many years. "It's you and me now, Jay, mkay? Gonna be mine?"

"Always been yours," he says, panting. Jason finds your lips again. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated. Full of love. "No one but you."

You haven't fallen behind. You're starting anew.

"Never been anybody but you."

[starrgazed22]

LET THE GAME RUN OUR DESTINY

Jim Halpert x fem!reader Word count: 900 words Warnings: Nothing, just fluff, I guess. Summary: You decide to play this game you bought, The Sims 2, to cure your boredom in the office.

Another boring day at Dunder Mifflin’s, but not really.

The camera zooms in on your computer monitor from a distance, revealing you’re playing The Sims 2. You hear a door thud, Michael coming out of the office, and you quickly hide The Sims with your mail.

──────

(your interview with the camera crew)

“Jim helped me install this game I bought yesterday, called The Sims. It’s so addicting.” Cut. “No, just random characters, that I chose at the start of the game,” you clear your throat. “No one specific.”

──────

(Jim's separate interview with the crew)

“Yeah, I helped her install it, but if she gets into trouble because of it,” he throws his hand into the air, “I have nothing to do with it.”

──────

The cameraman pans over to your face, catching you being extremely focused on the game.

Time today goes really slowly, but the game is saving it. Not for Jim though. Jim is so bored, he hasn’t talked to you the whole afternoon because of the game. The game literally sucked you in. He decides to walk over to see what you’re playing. You quickly hide it, acting like nothing just happened. Jim raises his eyebrows.

“What? Nothing,” you try to play it cool.

“Come on, let me see! I am curious what it looks like.” He tries.

You blush a little, pretending you’re going through your mail. “No.”

He looks at you hurt. “Alright then, I’ll go back to boring myself, also known as, doing work.” He playfully grunts.

You chuckle at his joke, minimizing the mail window to play the game again.

After some time, the lunch break comes. You decide not to worry about the game being opened, because no one will go around your desk anyway.

Jim, still on a call with a client, signals you to go ahead, and you walk to the break room first. Jim finishes the call, hanging up the phone. He wants to throw away his Jell-O cup, still from the morning. He goes to the nearest trash can, which is next to your desk. He throws it away, suddenly amazed by something on your desk. He leans to get a closer look at your screen. He smiles to himself.

“She did us in that game. Me and her.” He smiles downwards. “Oh, she said those are random characters?” He chuckles. “What a coincidence.” He stretches all the a’s in the last sentence.

Jim finally comes into the break room, sitting down at the table.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey, Jim.” You smile at him as you slurp in your noodles.

“So, how are we doing?” He asks casually.

You respond, not getting the secret message behind it. “I’m doing pretty good, did all the calls Michael told me to do.”

“No...” He chuckles. “I meant, how are we doing?” He asks, pointing his head back to the main room.

You look at him, genuinely confused. Suddenly you realize it. You put your head into your palm, covering your eyes in embarrassment.

Jim chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s okay, really,” he reassures you, sensing your embarrassment. “It’s funny. By the way, thanks for making me look like Prince Charming.”

You peek through your fingers, a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have spent a little too much time on your character,” you admit.

Jim grins, taking a bite of his sandwich. He leans back in the chair, the chair making a small squeak. “Alright, so, what’s our story in The Sims? Are we a family? Colleagues? Maybe lovers?” A small smirk plays on his lips.

You feel your cheeks heating up again. “Well, I didn’t get too far with the storyline yet, but we’re housemates. We live together.”

“Oh, really?” Jim raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “Housemates, huh?”

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “It just seemed easier than having to switch between two houses all the time, you know. Plus it saves money.”

“Yeah, right,” Jim says with a big amused smile on his lips. He leans forward, his eyes locking with yours.

You stare at him, heart pounding. “What?”

Jim shrugs, still smiling. “What if we let that game decide what we do in real life.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

He chuckles softly. “Whatever happens in the game we have to do. Up for the challenge?”

You feel a smile spreading across your face. “Alright, then.”

Jim’s grin widens. “Great.” He stands up, finishing his sandwich. “Shall the computer decide our destiny.”

You shake your head with a smile, feeling a rush of excitement as you watch Jim leave the room.

You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee before heading back to your desk. You walk up to your desk, stopping in disbelief. You see the screen, the characters stopped in time while they’re kissing. You look over at Jim, who is trying to hold in his laugh, avoiding eye contact. You deduce he did that. But you still feel a bit of blush run over your cheeks.

“Very funny, Jim.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile.

“What! You agreed to let it run our destiny.” He shrugs his shoulders at you.

You resume the gameplay, seeing what the characters will do next.

“Wow, they’re heading to bed now,” you announce with sarcastically no emotion.

He bursts out laughing, trying to keep quiet.

Such a dork.

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ A (FAKE) DOCTOR’S ORDER — “It’s just a cough.” Aventurine x Dr. Ratio (MLM)

Word count: 1.3k

Contains: MLM, Aventurine x Dr. Ratio, ill Ratio, Aventurine caring for Ratio, not-so-subtle flirting, affection, kissing, cuddles, caresses + more.

A/N: The Aventio/Ratiorine brain worm made me write this. Art cred: @/meronppaii (X)

It was a usual day for Aventurine. After all, he’s always willing to push his luck to see how far he can get. Forcing open the handle of Ratio’s office, he prepares to chime his usual greeting until his eyes meet with a seemingly unconscious torso resting atop the somewhat cluttered desk.

“What the— Are you—” Aventurine pauses, immediately looking around to assess the situation. “Veritas. It’s not funny.”

Despite several attempts of communication, there was still no response. Not even a murmur. Rushing over to the body, his hands fumble as he searches for a pulse. Ratio stirs, a low grumble escaping his lips. Aventurine scoffs, instinctively retracting his hands as Ratio forces himself up straight. 

“Well? What was all that about? I thought you were dead.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m—” Before he could finish his sentence, he began uncontrollably coughing, spluttering on his words.

“You look awful. Should you be working like this?”

“It’s just a cough.”

“A cough. Right. There’s no colour on your face. I’ve never seen you look so sick before.” Aventurine leans against the desk, moving the scattered paperwork into the correct piles. “You should get some rest.”

“I don’t need you telling me what to do.” Ratio sneers, snatching away the work documents from Aventurine who was likely to have already destroyed their order.

“I’ll get you some tea then.” 

“Don’t bother. I’m sure that wouldn’t help anyone.”

“You know I’m capable of doing things, don’t you? I’ve taken care of myself from a young age. Who do you think looks after me when I get ill?”

“…” Ratio rubs his forehead, recognising his wording may have come across as too snarky. “I don’t like sugar in my tea.”

“I wasn’t putting sugar in it anyway.” Aventurine sighs, a lengthy exhale as he heads towards Ratio’s kitchen. While he won’t directly admit it, the occasional belittlement does sting—like a gash straight across a bare chest. All he wanted to do was help, after all.

An herbal tea intended to soothe clogged sinuses was in the process of being concocted. Whether it be the flu or a cold, it should help ease his airways and prevent further mucus buildup. The tea was steaming, perfected to the best of his ability. Taking the mug, he returns to Ratio’s office, placing it on the desk.

“Thank you.”

“I thought I’d never see the day.” Aventurine snickers, pulling a spare chair to the opposite side.

“This doesn’t—” With the mug hovering by his mouth, Ratio hesitates to take a sip.

“I know. It doesn’t smell good—it doesn’t taste good either. It’s not supposed to.”

With Aventurine’s eyes glued to him, he takes a deep breath and sips the tea. Unbeknownst to him, it wasn’t as bad as he was anticipating. It was drinkable, to say the least. Despite the warm liquid soothing his throat, the chesty cough persists, making the dull ache in his throat grow stronger.

“I was coming to ask you if you wanted to go out for a drink, but it looks like that will have to wait for another time. Shame.” Aventurine taps a pen against the desk, revealing the doodles left in the corner of Ratio’s notebook. 

“Were you? Or was that part of something you had planned?”

“Oh, how hurtful, Veritas. Can I not take a good friend out for fun anymore?”

“You always have something planned. Do not act coy.”

“Fine. But, the offer for drinks is still on the table. When you’re feeling better, of course.”

“I’ll consider it.” Ratio places the mug down, rising to his feet. His hands clutch the desk, veins protruding as his grip hardens.

“Do you need any—” Aventurine stands, reaching out to stabilise Ratio’s hunched body. A hand swats him away, leaving him standing there unamused.

“Look down.” Ratio speaks, suddenly dishing ominous orders out.

“Where exactly?” Aventurine’s eyes scan Ratio’s lower half, darting from his crotch to his sandals.

“Do you see?”

“See…?” Aventurine cocks his head aside, still unsure of what he’s intended to be looking at.

“I have a pair of functioning legs. I don’t need any assistance with walking.” Ratio brushes past Aventurine as he hobbles towards the door, his forehead pressed against the frame when he eventually makes it.

“You…” Aventurine pinches the skin between his brows, placing his hand in the middle of Ratio’s aching shoulder blades. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Lacking the energy to protest, he grants Aventurine permission to guide him to the bedroom. Now inside of the elegant room after navigating through the winding hallway, Aventurine strides towards the bed, unwrapping Ratio’s arm from around his neck. That’s until he was met with a slight issue. No matter the amount of strength he exerted in trying to pry Ratio’s arm from around him, it wouldn’t budge.

Suddenly, the two bodies topple down onto the mattress. Flustered by the abrupt tumble, Aventurine attempts to scramble from atop Ratio’s body, but the arm remains locking him in place.

“You’re not talking. Do you want me to play doctor or something?” Aventurine gazes down at Ratio whose expression remains unchanged. Somehow, that sight heightens his nerves.

“I feel unwell.” Ratio’s finger twirls around the longer strands of Aventurine’s hair before travelling down his face, cupping his cheek.

“Here, let me check your temperature.” Sweeping back Ratio’s hair, he plants his palm flat against his forehead. “You’re warm.”

“That doesn’t work when your hands are cold. I’m bound to feel warm.” Ratio chuckles, a sweet sound carrying no malice. Redirecting Aventurine’s hand, he leaves it resting on his chest. “You aren’t doing bad. It was a fair try.” 

“You’re being too kind. Are you sure you’re not the one with a secret plan?”

“There is no plan. All that I’m stating is simply the truth.”

Aventurine’s eyes glimmer, his lips curving up as Ratio’s sincere praise replays in his mind. Though they often butt heads, it’s hard to deny that the connection between them exists. Neither one of them is that unintelligent. The ability to suppress their emotions, however, is something they both lack. A force too powerful to combat.

Much like the gem, Aventurine had a beautiful glow to him. His facial features create a composition that works in perfect harmony. Ratio would never admit that though, not outwardly. Perhaps he’ll make him work harder if he wishes to find that information out. He knows he is far more than capable.

Drawing closer, Ratio’s breath ghosts Aventurine’s face. His eyes are locked onto his lips which had been freshly moistened. He wasn’t stupid at all. Closing the distance, their mouths join. Ratio’s breath hitches, readjusting his position as Aventurine leans all of his body weight down. It was always so intense with him; nothing ever starts slow.

Nipping at Ratio’s bottom lip, Aventurine’s tongue meets with his, deepening the kiss drastically. If Ratio wasn’t hot previously, he certainly was now. The heat was radiating from him, causing Aventurine to tug at his own clothes for some air.

Eventually pulling away, Aventurine’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his pupils blown out from the intimate experience shared. His eyes travel down to Ratio’s hands which are gently massaging his hips, thumbs swirling circles across his skin as they slipped under his clothes. A cough sounds out, snapping them both back to reality.

“Wait. Won’t I get sick too?” Aventurine wipes his lips clean, although the action is already irreversible. 

“It’s likely. I’ll take care of you if that’s the case.” Tugging him down by the arm, Ratio traps Aventurine in an embrace, one of his legs wrapped over his. Within seconds, he senses his body relax, his cheek resting on the mess of blond hair on top of him. Aventurine’s heartbeat slows—all feelings and thoughts are overwhelmed by burning compassion. Although he cannot see his face, Ratio can picture the soft expression, regardless of the lack of evidence. “Stay with me tonight.”

[ornii]

|| My Kind of Crazy ||

Harley Quinn X Male Reader

So after Binge Watching Barbie, rewatching Suicide Squad, Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn), don’t forget that part, and The Suicide Squad, my appreciation For Morgot Robbie has increased more than it already has. Adore her. So, here’s part one of ?

(Any Tags I forgot please let me know.)

The Stench of rotting carpet, old wood and the tinge of blood was in the air. But this was all a part of the plan. Inside that old decrepit apartment you had your pistol Aimed at a man standing before you, Batman. Yes, The, Batman. A series of choices lead to this moment, but it wasn’t always like this. You were his Robin, his Boy wonder. Now you’re the shadow hiding within Gotham. Your foot was placed on the chest of another man, who’s cold and chilling laugher echoes though the room, Joker. It was on this same day, that you were Abducted; tortured, and subsequently Killed by the Very man. A Trip in the Lazuras pit changed you for the worst. But to your surprise after your revival, Joker was still alive, and Batman hadn’t sunk revenge for your murder, and all you could ask was…

“Why?” You as under your Helmet.. “Why him?” You said, Batman was stoic, silent.

“Who are you..?” He grumbles, his voice modulated to avoid detection, “You don’t know? I’m hurt.” You say with much sarcasm, you grip your helmet and tear it off, showing your face to Batman, even with the small J scar under your eye, it’s obvious who you were. Out of all the people he thought, he never expected his old Sidekick..

To be under the Red Hood.

Jokers eyes lock with the scar and he laughs much harder.

“Wow, now THAT, is funny!” He has his grilled toothy grin, and you placed your foot higher right on his throat. The wheezing laughter continues slowly.

“You don’t get to talk.” You growl at him, and then turnt your attention back to Batman.

“You know, I forgive you for not saving me, you can’t save everyone. But why, why is HE still alive?!” You scream, the rage and trauma building up in you finally. “After everything he’s done, he’s crippled, broken, murdered people! Why, why is he still here?!”

“You don’t understand… you never understood.” He said to you, and you scoff.

“What? That you can’t do it? That you don’t have the spine to! It’s too hard isn’t it?” You ask, Bruce shakes his head.

“No, I know it’s easy, he deserves to die a thousand times over, but if I killed him, i wouldn’t stop myself… I’d justify it, then I’d justify killing someone else, and it’ll keep going.. and I’ll sink further, and further into the dark.” Bruce said, you shook your head.

“You can’t control yourself… I’m not talking about Dent, or Penguin, Even Harley!” You toss the gun, Bruce instinctively catches it but, obviously isn’t capable of holding a gun.

“Do it, shoot him. Kill one, and save millions of lives… you’re the Batman right! You save people, don’t you? So save them! And kill him!” You demand, Bruce stares at you, both of you unwavering in your convictions. But he simply dropped the gun.

“No… I’m sorry, (Y/n).” He said in a solemn whisper.

“Fine!” You yell, revealing one last trick up your sleeve. an explosive set in the entire apartment block, revealing the dead man’s switch in your other hand. Joker laughs as he looks around it all beeping. He turns to Batman, and just smiles

“You, you found a way to win! But to lose everything! AHAHAHAHAHA—“ he laughs, reveling in the chaos as you let go of the switch, Batman made a choice, and now all three of you had to live with it, and in a flash, an explosion, it all faded to black for you.

You’ve been playing that in your mind for the past year you’ve been in Belle Reeve. Sitting in your orange room, captive. The 4x4 room kept you isolated, only for a bang at the door.

“Inmate. You’ve got a visitor! Stand up, face the wall.” He yells, you weren’t keen to listen to others. You stood up, facing the door, cracking your neck.

“Any of your men step in, I’m sending ten of them to the ICU.” You said, very calmly, the door opens and they rush in, training with the Batman made fighting multiple enemies a breeze, punches, kicks and knees flew all though the room as you delivered counters, combos and ruthless tactics. But all fun even came at an end as you were apprehended and locked into a chair. Struggling like a dog you strained to get out, you were wheels around Belle Reeve as you see eleven stretchers head to your cell.

“Told you..” you mutter, struggling in the binds. Being wheeled into an interrogation room, you kept your lips purse until you saw your visitor, she wore a women’s suit and skirt, her eyes deep brown like mud drowning you in muck. Amanda Waller. You looked around and saw that the room was being monitored by a single camera. She gave one officer the nod and he presses a button, the red light on the camera fades off.

“You’re not as scary as I expected.” She said, holding a file she sat down across from you. You knew about Waller, working with the Batman gave you some intel on contacts. And she was the nastiest one of all.

“Waller?” You ask.

“In the flesh.” She responded and opened your file, reading it off.

“(Y/n) Todd, Father was a factory worker, died due to Gang related activity. Mother was an addict, died years ago, leaving you alone, but you see.. that’s where it ends, as if you faded off the planet of the earth. Until you resurface a year later.” She said, all of that was true.

“What’s your point?” You ask. And she reads off another page.

“Peak Physical fitness, durability, speed, Agility, Strenght. Master Of Arms and a Genius level intellect… you are a dangerous and powerful individual, so I’m offering you a chance to cut your sentence down..” she offers

“You’re bluffing..” you struggle in the binds more, but Waller keeps her dead stare.

“Do I look like I’m bluffing?” She said, you stop and she looks you in the eye. “you complete your task, you get years off your sentence, you fail.. you die. Fairly simple.” She said, a million thoughts raced though your mind, but one did.

“Get out, Find Joker.. Kill, Joker.”

“…Im in.” You said, Waller takes her file and closes it. “Good, get his bomb in and relay with the others.” She says, your attitude shifts pretty quickly, “bomb?” You ask, “What do you mean bomb?!” You yell, but nobody said anything, being wheeled away you were held down by officers and a needle injected right into the base of your skull. Granted it wasn’t the worse thing that’s been done to you, still hurt. Finally reaching the breaking point you were wheeled outside, the sun finally hitting your skin and you found yourself surrounded by soldiers, many wounded, others preparing for what seems to be a war.

You turn your head left to spot someone you know too well, Deadshot. Seems he was also canned to Belle Reeve, and to your left was a woman you knew too well, Harley Quinn, also a prisoner. Your blood began to boil even more than before and you were ready to throttle her, but with all these soldiers here, you doubt you’d be able to do it without getting filled with lead. So you bid your time as any Hunter would. A Soldier approached them, and looked them up and down.

“Unlock 'em.” He orders, the soldiers obliged and your restraints are removed, you sit up from yoyr bindings and look further down your line. You even spot Killer Croc, in all his, Lizardy goodness. Harley Stretches and keeps her off putting smile. Closest to Harley was a man adorned with Tattoos, ElDiablo was his name, you heard a few reports about him from Batman.

“Mmm! Hi, boys! Harley Quinn. How do you do?” She said, obviously no one said anything. It was dead silence until she looks around. “Huh? What was that? I should kill everyone and escape? Sorry. It's the voices…” she said, but laughs, “I'm kidding! Jeez!…That's not what they really said.”

The soldiers aren’t done assembling their Squad, more soldiers drag over a sack that’s fighting pretty furiously.

“What do we got here? Twelve pounds of shit in a 10-pound sack. Welcome to the party, Captain Boomerang.” He watches them cut it open, Captain immediately swings on the first person he sees. The Soldiers pin him to a wall.

“Hey, what's going on, man? Hey, one minute I'm playing Mahjong with me nanna, then this red streak hits me outta nowhere.” Boomerang pleads.

“Shut up! You were caught robbing a diamond exchange.”

“I was not!”

He Totally Was.

There was one last member, Slipknot, the man who could climb anything, which was an odd ability set, it nonetheless he was here. The man before them all was Colonel Rick Flag.

“Listen up! In your necks, injection you got, it's a nanite explosive. It's the size of a rice grain, but it's powerful as a hand grenade. You disobey me, you die. You try to escape, you die. You otherwise irritate or vex me, and guess what? You die.” He says, which throws a wrench in your plans to escape, Harley obnoxiously puts her hand up.

“I'm known to be quite vexing. I'm just forewarning you.”

“Lady, shut up!” Flag yells, and then composed himself, “This is the deal. You're going somewhere very bad, to do something that'll get you killed. But until that happens, - you're my problem.” He explains, Deadshot looks him up and down.

“Mmm. So was that like a, uh, pep talk?” He asks.

“Yeah. That was a pep talk. There's your shit. Grab what you need for a fight. We're wheels up in 10.” He said, crates of gear was brought in for you and your “Teammates.”

“You might wanna work on your team motivation thing. You heard of Phil Jackson? He's like the gold standard, okay? Triangle, bitch. Study.” Deadshot, with those very inspiring words to flag suits up with everyone. You open your crate to see the old gear you had, still in damn good condition, and you suit up, Your body armor and jacket lined with shuriken, explosives and throwing knives, a combat knife strapped to your leg. Twin M1911 Dual Handguns, mint condition. And your helmet, still holding one scar on it, you take the helmet out of its case and stare at it. Your eyes waver for a moment to your other teammates, everyone seems to have some dumb gimmick, but your eyes dressed down Harley, not by your choice of course, you’ve been cramped in a hole for nearly a year, and the first woman you see was stripping down in front of you. An urge came over you and you knew exactly what it was, she finally gets her shirt on and sees almost every guy staring.

“What?” She said, they all quickly go back to doing what they were supposed to do, you as well, pushing those feelings down. You keep looking at your mask, Deadshot does the same thing with his.

“What? Won't fit anymore? Too much junk in the trunk?” Harley said to him.

“Nah. Every time I put this on, somebody dies.” He tried to shake it off, but couldn’t that.. this wouldn’t be a normal contracts

“And?” Harley said.

“I like putting it on.” He admits, she smirks and grabs her mallet, “Goody. Somethin' tells me a whole lotta people are about to die!” She sounds so giddy.

“Yeah. It's us. We're being led to our deaths.” Diablo said.

“I don’t plan on it.” You said, looking down the barrels of one of your 1911’s.

“You know something we don’t Mate?” Boomerang asks, “No.” You reply. “I just don’t plan on dying again.” You mutter.

“What you a zombie or something?” Deadshot looks unimpressed. “Something like that… point is; Been dead, done that… I plan on getting out of here..” you say, and turn to Harley.

“I’ve got business to take care of.” You made your claim pretty obvious but it didn’t matter to you, escape is the only plan, and getting this explosive disabled. “You don’t seem to giddy like these guys..” you ask El Diablo, “I’m not here to hurt anyone man.” He said. Deadshot was the first to let them all know.

“Y'all might wanna leave old boy alone. He could torch this whole joint. Ain't that right, ese?” He looks at Diablo, who calmly shows his hands, flames emitting from them, but low ones:

“Ain't got nothing to worry about from me. I'm cool, homie.” He says, Flag returns to them, holding a tablet with Amanda on screen.

“Behold the voice of God.” He said, and she gives them the rundown. “For those of you who don't know me officially, my name is Amanda Waller. There's an active terrorist event in Midway City. I want you to enter the city, rescue HVT-1, and get them to safety.” She orders.

“I'm sorry. Uh... For those of us who don't speak good guy, what is HVT-1?” Deadshot asks.

“HVT.. High Value Target.” You say, “It’s like a bounty, Basically a rescue mission.” You explain, Deadshot nods, admitting you made it sound much less cool. “The only person that matters in the city, the one person you can't kill. Complete the mission, you get time off your prison sentence. Fail the mission, you die. Anything happens to Colonel Flag, I'll kill every single one of you. Remember, I'm watching. I see everything.” Waller ends the communication and Flag turns to Deadshot

There's your pep talk.”

“Compared to your shit, she killed it. So that's it? What, we some kind of Suicide Squad?” He asks, Flag ignores his question and leaves.

“I'll notify your next of kin. Alpha, Bravo team. Mount up!” He orders, you look around to the team you’ll be forced to work with. All of them, criminals in their own right, but for now they’re the thing between success, or all of you dying painful deaths. You put on your helmet and the detective mode still works, turning it off. You load your guns and walk to the helicopter.

Task Force X, has been activated.

[toxintouch]

yk how in veres likes on his character sheet it says he like cooking (badly)…… WHY HAS NO ONE DONE A FIC ABOUT THAT YET‼️⁉️⁉️ THAT SHOULD NOTTT BE A WASTED OPPORTUNITY. i’m not even joking im ab to send this to so many people because i can’t let this go to waste 😞

Here u are anon!  For the record, you are completely free to send this prompt around wherever you’d like!  It was such a fun idea, I’d love to see more takes on it. ^^

Warnings: Vere talking Innuendos? Innuendos.  So many, and I don’t guarantee that they are funny lol.  Just a general silly vibe and imo: absolutely  tooth rotting fluff.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅SOUS CHEF ‧₊˚♡₊˚

You find yourself wandering through Lowtown during the lunch hour, trying to decide what sounds like a good meal.

Your mouth waters at the scents being carried on the breeze, a plethora of pleasant aromas wafting out of the eateries nestled inside the Amaryllis District, so fragrant that you can smell them all the way down on the bustling streets of Lowtown as long as you stay downwind.

However, if there’s one nice thing about knowing Leander it's that you also know you don’t have to go that far (or spend that much) for a delicious lunch. 

Near enough to the Wet Wick, there’s a series of side streets that make up an eclectic amalgamation of Lowtown and the Amaryllis District, and in it: a small and inconspicuous eatery.  The menu changes often, though you aren’t sure if that’s out of innovation or necessity, but the food is always filling and reasonably priced.

You follow the winding streets, getting lost for a brief moment before correcting your course, traveling until you see colorful chipped girih tiles and wide, clean windows.  You let yourself into the shop, the now familiar sound of hinges in need of an oiling welcoming you.  

There’s an assortment of goods on display–jars of honey and spiced fruit and loaves of braided bread with seeds–all kept safely locked away beneath an enchanted pane of glass.

Looking around, though, you don’t see anyone selling said fantastic wares.

You call out, expecting the shop keep or her wife to come running but instead you hear…silence.

Followed by a loud metallic clatter.

You freeze, unsure what to do, what the threat is–if there’s even a threat?–but before you can make up your mind, you’re greeted by a most unexpected sight.

Vere comes out of the kitchen area, his hair swept into an artfully stunning up-do that reveals the long line of his neck and clavicle, blemished only by the heavy collar locked around his throat. 

He’s wearing a weighty linen apron over his clothing, presumably to protect his outfit, though–his long gossamer sleeves are completely discordant with the notion, making you think that maybe the apron is more of an aesthetic choice.

“What’s this–?  A mouse?  In my kitchen?” Vere asks playfully as you continue to stare, dumbfounded.  He wields a spatula in his hand like a weapon–swatching it into his off-hand like a riding crop with a decisive snap.

“Where is–?”

“–The shop keep?  Wherever she pleases–the shop’s closed on Mondays.”

(You really don’t like the way he’s watching you…  Or the way he keeps inching closer…)

You take a step backwards, your eyes never leaving his.  “Oh,” you say, bandaged hands reaching blindly behind you.  “I didn’t realize.  The door was unlocked, so…”  You trail off.

You find the doorknob at last.  You attempt to turn it only to find that it won’t budge.

“Was it?”

Vere saunters up to you, tail swaying behind him.  You manage to tear your eyes away from his predator stare to search for possible exits, though you know for a fact you won’t be fast enough.   You look back and he’s already in your space, crowding you against the entryway.

(He smells really good, actually.  Like leather and spice and the subtle cling of perfume and incense.  And beneath that, something–earthy–animalistic, but in a way that’s intoxicating as opposed to unpleasant.)

“I was just about to make myself a snack–how nice that a snack came to me.”

“Stop playing around.” You try to steel yourself and inject the perfect amount of scolding into your voice while combating his heated stare.  “I know you’re just fucking with me to try and get a reaction; you and I both know you’re not going to eat me.” 

If he was, he would have done it by now.  Sometime within the weeks you’ve known him.  …Probably. 

Unless he just likes to play with his food.

“I didn’t realize you knew me so well,”  he says, looking amused.  “Perhaps I didn’t plan to, but now I simply can’t resist.  You look so absolutely delectable, how could I possibly contain myself?”

You don’t get the chance to reply.  Vere’s countenance changes suddenly–you watch his ears flatten a second before you hear the screaming whistle of a teapot.  His ears twitch in annoyance at the sound, his perfectly sculpted face showing a sour sneer.  He gives you a sideways glance, calculating.

“Then again.  I find myself in need of a sous chef.  Congratulations on your promotion.  Come along now.”  He hooks a finger into your cloak and pulls you easily into the kitchen.  (To be fair, you don’t struggle.  Anyone would want to see where this is going, right?)

He releases you once you’ve crossed over the threshold, waving his fingers uncaringly towards a second apron affixed to a hook on the wall as he beelines to remove a glass teapot from the stove and stifle the noise.  He moves quickly as you watch, casually throwing aside the spatula in his hand in favor of an ornate silver teaspoon.  He measures a vibrantly colored tea into the inlaid steeping container of the equally ornate teapot and takes a pleased inhale as the tea’s fragrance blooms, humming as he flips over a delicate hourglass to keep track of the steeping time.

There’s silence for a moment–

Him watching the teapot and you watching him.

“Well?”  He asks, without looking up.  You’ve seen this look before, you think – this pensive, almost lonesome look that makes your heart ache against all better judgment.  “Staying or going?”

He grins when you put on the apron.  You search his face for some sincerity, but he’s all sharp teeth and tall ears, covering any glimpses of deeper emotion with a sheen of smugness.  He circles you once you have the apron on, taking in the image.

“Mm, don’t you just look adorable.  Very domesticated.”

You’re pretty sure that the word he’s looking for is domestic. But of course, he knows what he said and he meant to say it.  You decide that he’s probably betting on your correction, already armed with a witty retort.  You smooth the apron down while pointedly looking away, deciding that you won’t give him the satisfaction.  You hear him chuckle.

Since you’re avoiding looking at Vere, you look around the kitchen for the first time.

It’s a spacious workspace–moreso than the storefront, even.  There’s a large iron stove unlike anything you’ve ever seen, covered with magical runes and dials, with a large hearth built into the belly of it.  A plethora of pots and pans have been placed on the burners, left to sizzle and pop in the red hot heat.  

Oil is singing from the heated, shallow basins but you don’t see anything cooking inside.  

There’s a slab of meat diced into neat squares and a heaping bowl of lumpy batter set to the side of the stove top.

“What are you making?”  You ask, trying to make sense of the scene.

“Panko crusted fish filet.  And there’s a pasta in the oven.  For dessert, I was thinking–” he gives you a sly look, one that makes your ears feel warm, “hmm, well.  I just had a much better idea in regards to dessert.”  He makes a show of licking his fangs, the movements of his tongue slow and sensual.

You think you tied your apron too tight; your airway is feeling a little constricted.  It seems to be getting worse the longer you watch.

You clear your throat, tearing your eyes away.  More ingredients, most partially prepared, and a host of dirtied pots and pans greet you.  You turn your back to him as you explore, fully engrossed in all of the views that the mess of a kitchen has to offer.  You’re almost afraid to ask: “So, what am I here to help with?”

“Oh?”  You don’t hear Vere come up next to you, but you feel him brushing up against you.  “Does my darling sous chef require…instruction?  A guiding hand, so to speak?”  You freeze, feeling his breath against your ear, shivers running down your spine at his light and teasing chuckle.

But then he’s breezing past you, making a wide dramatic gesture toward the large tome perched surreptitiously on the counter.  “Lucky for you, I’ve a recipe.”  His tail wags swishes elegantly behind him as he beams with pride.

His tail knocks the whisk out of the mystery batter beside the fish filet but he takes no notice.

Vere hops gracefully up onto the counter, reaching for the batter.  He does an impressive twist in order to grab hold of another whisk and you take the time to appreciate that.  Then, with Vere occupied and seemingly ignoring you, you take a look at the recipe book.  

The text is old and withered with the occasional dash of sprawling spidery script painting the margins.  (Said writing is utterly illegible–you’re actually not sure if it’s in a language you can read, though if you squint you think you can see something that looks like the word ‘cake’.)  The page it’s opened to is ripped in half, rendering precious steps of the recipe lost to time.  You spot a mysterious bite mark piercing through the corner of the leather cover.

And can’t stop yourself from surreptitiously glancing over at Vere.  He’s moved on from the batter (which looks as lumpy as it did a minute ago) and is now eating skewers of raw fish with his nails.

“You’re not supposed to eat while you cook,” you say, the time worn words out of your mouth before you can examine your personal stance on them.

“Says who?  Some limp dick?  No shame in indulging, pet.”

“You’re not even gonna have anything left to cook,” you warn.

“Hum, sounds like my sous chef should get to work covering them in batter instead of just standing there before I eat them all.”

You roll your eyes, but follow through with instructions.  The space is unfamiliar and your movements are slow and unsure with Vere looming over you from his perch on high, watching.

One of the pans of oil gives an ominous pop.  “Hmm, sounds like it’s hot enough,” says Vere.  “Move over.”

“Is that safe?”

“For me,” Vere says simply.  “And it’s faster.  Now stand further back or you'll get splattered–and not in the fun way.”  Idly, he tosses a batter covered filet into the shallow pan.  The resulting hiss makes you both cringe.

As if on queue, the hourglass for the tea gives a gentle chime, lighting up with a golden glow.  (You’re beginning to wonder how this humble shop can afford all these magical items, but then again this is the city of secrets.  You’re probably better off not knowing.)  Vere’s ears perk up, pleased.  He tosses the remaining fillets in the pan without a fuss, setting lids on top of each to contain the oil, acting as if doing so is going to stop any potential disaster.

Main course forgotten, he moves on to digging something out from inside one of the many cupboards.  “Be a dear and cut this for me, will you?”  He hands you a delicate peach before heading to the tea pot, stirring the contents and adding what must be a priceless amount of honey.

The peach in your hand is overripe but still vibrant–amazing, as you haven’t seen fresh fruit at all since you came to Eridia.  Your mouth waters anew as you remember what led you here in the first place–your quest for a meal–and you’re almost tempted to take a bite, follow Vere’s advice and sink your teeth in.

“My, my.  I’m almost jealous.  I thought you only looked at me like that.”

Vere shushes the denial from your lips, bossing you around regarding how he wants the peach sliced before shooing you out of his way and finishing his remaining tea preparations,with the look of an artist at work.  The tea is a warm oolong color, made only more alluring once the infusion of peach is complete.

It’s refreshing, too, once Vere serves it to you over ice.

You can almost ignore the great plumes of smoke coming from the oven.

Vere cooks how others might enjoy a leisurely stroll. 

Which is to say, he seems to be having fun, but you’re not convinced he intends on really going anywhere.  Still, there’s a rhythm to it–a dance, though he leads you in expected loops and turns, changes the tune at a moment's notice.  He’ll get bored of the task at hand and find some new spice to peruse, demand you taste test an ingredient or give your opinion on a dizzying new flavor he’s concocted.

(He manages to convince you to sample a bit of cucumber soup from the cold box.  You retch, proclaiming it salty, downing another glass of delicious peach oolong–

“I can still taste it in the back of my throat…!”–and he cackles wildly.)

Thick locks of hair are falling out of his up-do by the time he’s satisfied, framing his face and bringing your attention, again to the inviting line of his clavicle.  He tosses his loose hair over his shoulder, preening.

The recipe book is basically ruined, and the pasta is null and void, but some of the fillets look mildly edible.  The artful garnish is beautiful, at least.  The kale and orange slices really bring out the crispy burnt bits.  Vere seems to enjoy plating the food a great deal, humming and rearranging and circling the display until he deems it arranged to perfection.

He’s elegant when he takes a bite, biting down with a crunch.  His tail goes very still for a moment, then shivers microscopically as he chews.  He swallows in a manner that you can only describe as dignified, dabbing his lips with a napkin.  You wait in anticipation, but Vere says nothing for a long time.  Then, he quietly takes the old recipe book and throws it away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t insist on you trying it too.

You end up snacking on some of the pre-made goods, drinking the remaining tea and lounging at one of the shop’s cozy little tables.  The mood is light and easy, and the view is magnificent.  Outside, there’s nothing but trash littered streets and urchins, but inside…the afternoon glow coming from the window illuminates Vere like a sunset, painting him in dazzling shades of gold and red and bronze.

Vere hums, peering at you pointedly through his sooty lashes.  “So, dessert?”

You can’t imagine the look that comes across your face–whatever it is, it makes Vere laugh.

“What are you giving me that look for?  My intentions are pure.” His voice is a masterclass in syrupy false-innocence.  “As clean as Leander’s bed sheets after–”

“Please don’t finish that sentence and give me any mental images,” you beg.  “I have to sleep there tonight, I’d rather not know.”

“Ignorance is bliss.”  Vere agrees, closing his eyes and appearing to bask in the sun for a moment.  His face does something that you don’t quite catch–some hidden expression–but then, he’s smiling easily.  He must really be relaxed if he can still smile seconds after thinking about Leander.  You’re still admiring him when the shadows against the walls flicker, and suddenly he isn’t sitting next to you any more.

Instead, he’s returning from the kitchen, a tray in hand.

He sets it down in front of you, revealing an assortment of strawberries and an ornate silver porringer of what appears to be melted chocolate.  Vere sets it down on the table, plucking the small dessert spoon from the chocolate once he’s seated across from you again.

“Occasionally, life does offer up something sweet to savor–only for those willing to go out and take it.”  His tongue darts out to lick the chocolate off the spoon in his hand.  He maintains eye contact as his tongue laves across the basin and–embarrassingly–you think you get a little lightheaded from the intensity with which your blood rushes to your face.  The crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you that he know exactly where your mind has gone.

Setting the spoon down, Vere instead picks up a bare strawberry, leaning in closer to press it gently to your mouth.

The chocolate is overly bitter–a little burnt, perhaps, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you’re tasting the remnants of it on Vere’s lips.

(Before leaving, you plop a few coins down on the counter as payment.  You brought enough to cover your food…but definitely not enough to cover the mess in the kitchen.  There’s really nothing you can do about that.  

You hope you don’t get blacklisted.  You’d like to come back next Monday.)

Hope you enjoyed if you made it this far! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[afro-hispwriter]

A Good Wife (Part 2)

gif by @vera-kozhemiakina

(Can you guys guess whats going to happen by the gifs;)

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Aegon ii Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

(Daemon and Laenas daughter)

Warnings- angst, mentions of Aemonds past cheating, 69, y/n gives Aemond a taste of pain, Aegons voice, Aegon is ooc big time

Part 2 of A Good Wife

part 3

Italics=Flashback

-

After you left, Aemond couldn't sleep, there was so much guilt weighing on him. He thought about everything he did wrong and everything he could have said to make it better. Why was it so hard? Why was it so hard to say he loves you? 

When the sun came up he decided it would be his off day, a day to spend with his sons and think about how he was going to talk to you. He got ready, not bothering to wear his patch. He walked into this sons' room and saw Aerys, already awake and squirming in the bed. 

"Hello my little prince." He says and grabs his son from the crib. Aerys giggles and places his hands on his fathers face. The jewel in the place of Aemonds eye had always intrigued the toddler, never scared him. Aerys then looked up at his baby and put on a goofy smile. He remembered when you told him what that means. It means the baby found something funny or they have soiled their pants. Aemond felt has arm grow warm and he groaned. He laid Aerys back down and took the tunic off of him, the cloth that covered Aerys beneath was clearly no longer able to use. Aemond scrunched his face and slid the cloth off.

"Father?" Rhaegar asked and he rubbed his eyes. 

"Morning." Said Aemond has he cleaned Viserys. 

"Where is momma?" Aemond turned to his first son.

"Your mother deserves some time to herself so im taking the whole day to spend it with you two." 

"Really?" 

"Yes my little dragon." Aemond helped Rhaegar get ready and grabbed Aerys. He stepped outside the room, he turned a corner and almost knocked someone down. He expected it to be a servant but it was you. "My lo-."

"Oh my little dragons, did your father wake you." You cooed at your sons, completely cutting Aemond off. Rhaegar wrapped his arms around you thighs and Aerys reached out for you. 

"Yes but he said he's taken the day off for us." Rhaegar looked up with his violet eyes. 

"Oh has he." You look up and him. Aemond takes you in, you're wearing the nightdress from the previous night, you looked relaxed and your hair was frizzy and slightly sticking out. 

"Yes im going to take them around the Keep, let you relax." He squinted his eye slightly.

"Hmm." You kissed Aerys’ cheek making the baby giggle. "Rhaenerya wants us all in the dinning hall for breakfast." 

"Would you like to walk together?" He asks and waits for an answer. You pass Aerys back to him and lean down to kiss Rhaegars head.

"No, but I'll see you three there, I need to make myself decent."

"You always look decent." 

"I still need to get ready." You say and scratch your neck, your hand pushing hair out of the way. Letting Aemond see the red, purple forming mark. His fist tightened and so did his jaw. You watched him tense up completely. "I'll see you." You walked past him and to your room. 

-

Your sobs were getting louder and louder. Your throat was raw and eyes were blurry. You were hurt, even more hurt when he didn't go after you. 

You reached the hall where your father, Daemon, slept along with his Queen wife, Rhaenyra. The Queensgaurd saw you coming and immediately stepped in your path.

"No one is to disturb the queen at this hour princess." 

"N-No im here for my f-father, p-please let me t-talk to him." You wiped your face and the snot that was running down. 

"No." He says and your about to try and reason with him but the door opened revealing Daemon.

"What in the seven hells is happening?" He pushed by some of the guards until he saw you. "Y/n?" He took in your state and immediately grabbed your face. "What happened? Are you alright?Where's Aemond? The boys?" He bombarded you with questions but you just closed you eyes and pushed your body against his and wrapped your arms around his torso. 

"Aemonds been unfaithful." You say and Daemon wraps his arms around you. 

"Whats going on?" You hear Rhaenyra say and you look over your father's shoulder. "Oh Y/n, Daemon bring her in."  She steps out the way and Daemon pulls away before wrapping an arm around your shoulder to lead you into the large room. Rhaenyra cleared a chair and you sat down in it.

"How many do I need to kill?" Daemon says and grabbed the Dark Sister sword, Rhaenyra slapped her husband softly on his side. 

"I don't know how many whores he's fucked, but the one I want dead isn't in KingsLanding." 

"What is her name?" You look up at him and shake your head.

"Are you going to kill her?" Daemon laughs and grabs your hand.

"Daughter, you know me better than that, and if you want her dead who am I to deny you?" 

"The one I truly want dead is my husband." 

"I will gladly take his life as well." You looked at him and raised your eyebrow. 

"I don't want him dead, I love him, even if he doesn't love me." You say sadly and Rhaenyra rubs your back. "I want him to hurt." 

"What do you need?" Asks Rhaenyra and you look at him.

"I just ask for no judgement or interference." 

"Of course not." 

"Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning." You kissed Rhaenyras cheek then stood up and did the same to Daemon. You said you goodnights and you walked out the door. 

You strolled down the halls, trying to find someone to devise your... plan. All the walking around the keep was tiring, you needed sleep. Especially after everything you've gone through. You on your way to the hall where guests usually stay when you heard clanging. You walked around the corner to see Aegon. Drunk. Vulnerable. Clumsy. Most likely coming back from a brothel. Ever since getting his annulment from Helaena granted, the prince is now free to do what he wants.

Perfect. 

"Aegon, dear cousin do you need assistance?"  Your older cousin turned around to see you.

"Oh cousin, what are you doing out here?" He chuckled deeply and tried to lean against the walk hut stumbled. "Your husband not satisfying you?"

"No." You say and that shocks him.

"No? Well I assure you if you opens the night with me, you will surely be, satisfied." With every word Aegon took a step forward towards you. You seemed to give it a thought and Aegon expected you to turn him down(as you always do). 

"Take me to bed then." You say and grab his hand and try to tug him but he pulls you back.

"Are you serious?" You places your hands on his chest and push your face close to his. 

"My husband has been unfaithful to me, fucking around and having fun, while I have to stay behind take care of our children, and uphold an appearance. I deserve some fun to." With your words you pushed your lips against his. They were soft and tasted like wine. 

He turned you around and pushed you against the wall, never breaking the kiss. He reached down and grabbed your ass through the thin material of the dress. He then bent his knees and pulls you up to signal to jump up. He pushed his crotch against yours letting you feel his growing hard on.

Aegon was sobering up as the moment went on. He slowly started walking away in the direction of his chambers. You realized it would be faster if you both just walked, so you hopped down. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you along with him. 

He practically kicked his door open when he got there. He started kissing down your neck and you unbuckled the hood he had on. Aegon sat down and started taking his boots off while you went back to the door and made sure it was closed and locked. You turned back to see him taking his shirt off, to say you did gawk at his bare chest and stomach is an understatement.

"Who would have known the whorish prince looked like this under his clothes?" You say and place two fingers under his chin and tilted his head up, making him look up at you with his purple eyes. His hands started to come up to your waist and just as he was about to set them on you, you shoved him  back on the bed. You then climbed on top of him and sat down. 

"Aemonds going to kill me." Mumbled Aegon and you placed your hands on his chest before starting to grind on him. "Aemonds going to kill me." He was now completely sober, aware of everything.  He tried to scramble away from you but you grabbed his arms and pinned him down. 

"He's not going to kill you, I'll make sure of it." He stopped struggling and looked you in the eyes. Then watched you sit back and grab the fabric of your dress. You pulled it up and over your head. Aegons eyes almost popped out of his head as he watched your breasts move up and down. 

He's not sure what came over him. He suddenly flipped you over so you were on your back. He fumbled with his pants before tearing them off. 

His cock popped out, it was leaking precum already. He was long and thick, but not longer than your husband. 

Aegon grabbed your leg and brought it up to his hip before grabbed his cock and jerking his wrist. He brought the tip to pass between your folds but before he could push in you stopped him.

"I will not be treated like on of your whores. Lay down." You instruct hum and Aegon looks at you in confusion. When he sees you are serious he draws back before climbing in the bed next to you. You went onto your knees on the bed and shuffled over his body. Your cunt just above his mouth. 

At this point Aegon knew what was going to happen. His tongue pushed its way out of his mouth, waiting. You rested your hands on his stomach and sat back on his face. You instantly felt his tongue protrude through your folds.

"Ooo." Your mouth slacked as Aegons tongue swirled around. He grabbed your hips and held you down tighter against him. Your eyes wondered to his lower body, his cock would jump ever so often. You reached out and grabbed the base. Aegon lifted his hips into the air at the feeling of your cold hand. You started moving your hand up and down his shaft, brushing your thumb over the head. 

"Fuck." He said into your cunt. He then shook his head, pushing his nose right in. You leaned forward, resting your chest on his stomach. You wrapped your lips around the tip then engulfed the whole thing. You gagged as the tip hit the back of your throat but you didn't pull back. Aegon pulled his face away and smacked your ass. "Taking my cock already." You hummed and pushed yourself back down on his face.  He opened his mouth widely and grabbed your thighs.

You started playing around with his balls. Aegon immediately tensed his stomach and pushed his hips up, forcing his cock farther down your throat. You gagged loudly, tears running down your face along with saliva running down Aegons cock. 

He lifted his legs and his feet firm on the bed. He closed his thigh against your head and when you tried to pull back he started thrusting roughly into your mouth. The obscene noises coming from you was music to Aegons ears. It spurred him on to go faster. 

A knot in your belly started forming. You started grinding back on his face, practically riding it. He opened his mouth wider and slipped his tongue inside your hole. You smacked a hand on his thigh and the other hit the bed. You moaned around his cock as you came, rolling your hips around. 

Aegon drank all of the juices that flooded his mouth. You kept grinding down on his face, he felt himself get lightheaded. He sloppily thrusted in to your mouth until he came, hard. Spurts of his cum filled your mouth and you swallowed all of it. Aegon patted your thigh roughly and you moved off, he took in a big breath.

"Not the worse way to go out." He says and you pull yourself off his cock. 

"I underestimated your skills to make a woman finish." You leaned back on your hands and Aegon shuffled over to rest against the headboard. You go to stand up but he grabs your hand. 

"Stay." You look at him in disbelief. 

"Since when did you ask a woman to stay?" You ask and sit back on the bed. He lets out a chuckle and wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you towards him. 

"You did say you underestimated me." You smiled and settled in next to him. He caressed your waist with his thumb and you slowly gained confidence to lay your head on his shoulder.

"Aegon." You say.

"Hmm?"

"Did you know about Aemond?" You ask him and he shifted. 

"I did, I saw him a few times in the brothels." He confesses and your heart clenches. "And I followed him to Harrenhall one time." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" You lifted your head up and look at him with glossy eyes. 

"I like seeing you smile." He says and you let put a breath. "Im not sure what's wrong with my little brother, he was the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros and this is what he does." 

You couldn't help but let out a smile. 

When you woke up you were cuddled up into Aegon. The sun was shining through the curtains, flashing you. You brought your hand up to his bare stomach and dragged and traced your fingers along the muscles. You then slowly lifted your self up and stretched. Aegon shifted and opened an eye.

"Leaving already?" He asks and grabs your hand and places a kiss on it.

"Yes, I must tend to my sons."  You say and grabbed your nightgown. You look back at him to see him watching you. "I'll see you again, don't worry." You lean down and kiss him on the lips.

-

You thought about the previous night as you walked through the halls. Part of you felt guilty but the other part of you felt relieved in a way. But when you bumped into Aemond, you couldn’t help but feel conflicted if you should tell him right then and there. 

So, you gave him an idea of what had happened. You pushed your hair to the side and watched him immediately dart his eyes to the mark. The mark his brother made. 

-

Everyone was already seated in the dining hall, minus Aegon but that was to be expected. The kids has their own table but Aerys sat with his father. 

You went down the steps and your father opened a chair for you but you took a seat next to Aemond. He turned his head to you and reached out for your hand but you pulled away. You reached for Aerys and plucked him out of the lap of Aemond. The baby immediately grabbed the top hem of your dress and tugged on it. 

“Y/n can we please talk?” Aemond leans over to you but you continue looking away. “I know that I was unfaithful, but I promise you my love it will stop. I will dedicate my self to our family.” You shifted in your seat. 

“Can we please not talk about this right now.” You whispered, Aemond drew back.

“Will you at least tell me you were safe last night?” 

“I was.” The next question Aemond wanted to ask was not appropriate for the setting but he needed to know. 

“Were you with anybody?” 

“Nephew, why don’t you leave your wife alone, she clearly doesn’t want to speak to you.” Says Daemon from across the table. Aemond glared at his uncle before looking away. 

“My apologies.” He whispered to you but you don’t look at him. Breakfast was quiet, you had loosened down your dress slightly so you could take your breast out for Aerys to latch onto. When he finished your handmaid took him away so you could finish eating in peace. 

As you were finishing your bread the doors opened, Aegon walked through them. He looked clean?

“Aegon, how nice of you to join us?” Asks Rhaenerya but she was just as confused as everyone else. 

“I just wanted to spend some time with my family is all.” He walks to the table, to your side. There was an open chair next to you and you instantly knew where he was going. He pulled the chair out a plopped right down next to you. He grabbed a plate and started serving himself some eggs and sausage before leaning over to you. “I truly hope you come by my chambers again.” 

Aemond couldn’t help but glare at his brother. But he also couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t move away from him like you usually do. It made him tighten his hand around his fork. 

Aegon leaned back in his chair and slowly his hand rested on the back of your chair. The look Aemond gave him was enough for Aegon to know to back off, but he wanted to know how fat he could take it. 

“Get your hand off my wife’s chair.” Warned Aemond and all eyes went to him. 

“I think your wife would enjoy my hands all over her, just as she did last night.” Aemond slammed his hands on the table and kicked the chair back. He took his dagger out from god knows where and held it to his brother. 

“Get the children out.” Orders Rhaenerya and the maids rush the children out and into the hall. Aemond takes long strides to his brother and holds the blade to his neck. 

“You forced yourself upon my wife? Give me a reason I shouldn’t slit your throat now.” He says and pushes the blade harsher against Aegon. 

“Forced? Your wife came to me.” Aegon says and Aemond breathes out a shaky breath before looking at you. Tears were running down your cheeks and you refused to look at him. Aegon took the opportunity and pushed his chair back against his brother giving him enough time to make a run for it. But Aemond was too quick and tackled him into the hard ground. Everyone gasped and Rhaenerya yelled orders to separate her brothers.

Aemond dragged Aegon across the floor and punched him in the face. You ran to them and grabbed Aemonds shoulder.

“Aemond stop it.” You tried to pull him off but he pushed you back making you stumble. Daemon walked over and roughly grabbed his nephew’s arm and pulled it hard towards him. Aemond stumbled and fell on his ass, he ripped his arm away from Daemon. Aegon scrambled to his feet and held his jaw. Aemond tried to go after his brother again but this time you stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest. “Don’t.”

“Brother you truly fucked up, you have the most beautiful girl in Westeros, she gave you two children and you decide to fuck whores and take a mistress.” Aemond tensed his jaw, knowing he was right. Aemond looked down at you and swallowed. 

“Hmm.” He let out and walked away. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath.

“Aegon-.” You started but he held his hand up and waved you off.

“Don’t worry about me, go to your husband.” He says and winces before walking past you and back to his spot at the table. You ran out of the hall and expected to see Aemond down the hall but it was empty already.

You ran to your chambers and burst through the door. 

“Aemond?” You look around the large room and you were about to check the bathroom when he spoke.

“Outside.” You walked out onto the balcony and see him leaning against the railing. “Im sorry for what I have done.” 

“The adultery or fighting your brother?” You ask and take your place next to him. 

“All of it.” Aemond turned to you grabbed your hand.  “I have clearly not been the best husband, or father.” You looked down at the ground. Aemond then slowly dropped down onto one knee. “I am going to make this promise to you. I will stop going to brothels. I will cut ties with Alys. I will dedicate my love to you and our sons, because my love you do not deserve the pain I have caused you, and I know understand the pain you are going through.” He places his free hand on his heart. “And im sorry that it was so hard for me to say that I love you.”

Tears streamed down your face and you tugged Aemond up to his feet and placed a hand on his cheek.

“Oh Aemond, I love you too. You get one more chance and don’t think for a second im just going to fall at your feet instantly, you need to work for it.” You tell him and he nods. “And I want to take Aegon as a lover.” Aemond looks down and bites his lips. 

“Tis only fair.” He sighs and rests his forehead against yours. “Enough of that. May I kiss you?” You nod immediately and Aemond wasted no time to press his lips against yours. 

-

A/n- sorry for any errors

[pedroshotwifey]

Hello lovely. Can I request #36 and Frankie please?

Thank you thank you

Hey, babe!! So I did something a bit different since I had two requests with the same number, and ended up making Frankie a sub in this one! If it’s not your thing or you simply don’t like it, there are absolutely no hard feelings and I would be glad to rewrite it with a sub reader ❤️

Pairing: Sub!Frankie Morales x Dom!F!reader

Tags/warnings: toys (dildo, cockring), anal sex (m), piv sex, dom reader, orgasm denial, top reader, sweet nicknames, fluff, smut, degrading names (once), probably overstimulation, double penetration (not rly lol i just think im funny)

W/C: 1.6k

Summary: Frankie gives you control for the night and you make sure he gets the most out of it.

Needy

“Oh, what a good boy,” you coo as you walk into your bedroom, peeling off your coat as you go. The sight that greets you is indeed worthy of your praise.

Frankie is sitting naked on the bed, his chest flushed where he’s leaned up against the headboard. His cock is in one hand, red and swollen from the multiple orgasms you already know he’s denied himself of—just as you’d instructed in the text you sent him when you left your work an hour before. He’s even put a cock ring at the base to make sure he follows your rules.

You made sure to be specific. It’s not often that Frankie requests for you to be in charge, but when he does, it’s usually because he’s trying to get his mind off of something. So you always do the best you can to completely take on the part and distract him. You love it when he’s in the more dominant spot, but you also love getting to be in control every once in a while. And you know Frankie does, too.

You pass him without a second glance and walk to the desk to drape your coat over the chair. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You huff a small laugh through your nose when you get no response. “You can talk, baby boy,” you tell him. You do take note of his good behavior, though. He waited for you to give him permission, just as he should have.

“Yes, I’m enjoying myself,” he breathes, and you can hear the eager truth in it.

You turn back around and smile at him. “I’m glad.” You start to strip out of your clothes, thinking about how you want tonight to go. A grin spreads across your face as you kick your shoes off, but you keep it out of sight of Frankie for now. “Go get one of your toys. Let’s make this even better,” you instruct.

Frankie tries to hide his own excited smile as he slips from the bed, but you see it. “What kind?” he asks.

“Any one you want, baby.”

You’re stripped down to your bra and panties by the time Frankie returns with a smallish dildo and a bottle of lube. He brings them both to you and you reach up to plant a small kiss to his lips. “Perfect. Go get back on the bed for me.”

He watches you for a moment, letting his gaze linger on yours for a moment before nodding and walking back to the bed. You swat his ass as he goes, which makes him shoot you a glare, and you raise an eyebrow in playful warning. You strip the rest of the way before you join him, toy in hand.

“Alright, show me,” you tell him as you climb onto the bed in front of him. His cheeks flush a bit, but he does as you say and parts his thighs, lifting them up and apart enough with his hands to reveal his asshole to you. You smile and lick your lips. He looks gorgeous, his weeping cock resting against the rolls of his stomach as it gets scrunched from his positioning.

“Ask me to open you up, sweetheart.”

His throat bobs before he indulges you. “P-please open me up,” he obeys quietly. His poor cock twitches as the words leave his mouth, betraying how aroused he is despite the sliver of embarrassment he’s showcasing.

“What’s that, honey?” you taunt. “Speak up for me.”

“Please open me up,” he looks into your eyes as he begs, letting you see the desperation there.

“Okay, I’ve got you, sweet boy.”

You pop open the bottle of lube, squeezing some onto your fingers before using your other hand to warm it. Frankie’s breathing picks up as you trail one hand down his cock and all the way down to his tight hole, where you insert your middle finger. He bites his lip at the intrusion, his face already contorting with the relief of having something inside of him. A few pumps, and you let a second one join, making him moan and squeeze around you.

“There we go,” you coo proudly. “Doing so good for me.”

He keens at your praise, eyebrows knotting together even as he does his best to keep his brown eyes open and pleading. You start to scissor your fingers, and his legs slip as his hips buck, trying to get you deeper. You laugh and slip him another finger.

“Needy boy.”

You finger him faster, crooking your fingers and finding that spot that makes him whine so prettily. You wait until he’s panting and starting to sweat before you remove your fingers, smiling wickedly as he protests. “N-no, please!”

“Just wait, honey, you’ll like this better,” you assure him as you reach behind you for the dildo. You coat it generously with lube and bring it to his hole, watching his eyes roll back as you start to slip it in. It’s not very big, but you know it’s his favorite because it always settles against his prostate and makes him see stars. He has bigger ones, but they just don’t hit the spot like this one does.

You slip it all the way to the base, listening to Frankie’s sweet moans tumble from his lips. When it’s in all the way, you don’t pull it out, but instead take your hands away and help him lay his legs back down comfortably. You can tell he’s questioning you, but he doesn’t voice it. You can see the exact moment it hits him right because he lets out a strangled yelp as his weight pulls him down on it.

He’s almost too distracted in trying not to drool to notice you taking his cockring off. You lean over him and set it on the nightstand, and then climb onto his lap and line the tip of his cock up with your already soaked cunt.

You love the way his eyes widen when he realizes what you’re doing, the panic that flashes through them as he realizes that he’s not going to be able to handle it all. You’re slipping down onto him before he can say anything, however, already moaning at the familiar stretch.

“Oh you feel soo good, Frankie,” you purr. Frankie just whines and grips the sheets, dueling his composure as he focuses on not coming the second you’re fully seated. Your toes curl at the feeling of him so deep inside of you, and you smirk upon knowing how he must feel right now.

You put your hands on his shoulders and use your knees to lift up slightly, and when you bounce back down, Frankie moans in a way that you swear should be fake. But it’s not. Because you know that as soon as you pushed back down, that toy he’s seated on slammed into his prostate.

It’s genius, honestly, and you’re not exactly sure how you haven’t thought of this before, keeping him sandwiched and forcing every thought from his pretty head. You moan when you look back down at his face. He looks thoroughly fucked, and you haven’t even started. His body is covered in sweat already, revealing his struggle.

You don’t show any mercy as you start to bounce atop him, focusing on getting his cockhead to slam into you just right. The sounds that he makes are filthy and unlike anything you’ve heard before. He’s whining and groaning and panting and moaning and you can’t get enough. Trapped between two sources of pleasure, you don’t think he can get enough, either.

“Oh, there you go, baby. You moan like such a pretty little whore for me,” you paint the words onto his lips, and he seals them with a sloppy kiss. You slip your tongue into his hot mouth, and you devour him as you start to feel your high approaching. His whines turn even more high pitched, and you know he’s there with you. Your fingers find your clit, and you start to rub tight circles to get you closer.

You quicken your pace, tightening that coil in your abdomen until it snaps and you squeeze like a vice around Frankie. His entire body jolts as he comes with you, moaning wildly and trembling the entire way through. His arms come up to wrap around you, his hips buck repeatedly—though you’re not sure whether he’s trying to get away from the senses, or get more.

You moan right along with him as you ride out your orgasm. Tears are streaming down his face, and you can’t help but lean forward and lick up one of the trails through your pleasured state. He feels so fucking good pulsing inside of you and filling you with his seed, even after you come down from your high.

You wait until his body stops shaking before you reluctantly slip off of him and scoot back to pull the dildo out. A string of warm lube comes with it, and the sight is almost enough to make you want to do it all over again. But you don’t, you instead toss the toy carelessly off the edge of the bed and lean forward again to gently kiss Frankie, who’s finally settling down a bit.

You’re glad the fan is on above you, cooling your bare skin as you lay down with Frankie, who has a massive, blissed-out grin on his face. You cuddle up with him, just as he likes to do right after sex.

“How was that, baby?” you ask, a little nervous since you went a bit harder this time.

“Fucking perfect,” he laughs quietly. “Thank you.” He moves over you and kisses you softly, cradling your cheek with one of his large palms. You smile into it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and basking in the bliss of simply holding him.

******

Look here if you would like to read more requested fics or request one of your own!

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

I would love something for Heisy (shocker, I know)! Maybe a patching-up fic of some sort; Gn!reader gets hurt from a soldat, lycan, or even a run-in with Miranda. Heisenberg wants to berate them for being so stupid as to get themselves hurt or risk getting killed, but he can't because he's just so damn worried. Bonus points if he goes/makes a point to destroy whatever hurt reader. Protective Heisenberg, my beloved ❤️

BARK BARK BARK ARF ARF WOOF

Feed The Machine

Karl Heisenberg x gn!Reader

Half-lidded, granite eyes narrowed down on a nasty gash stretching all across your upper arm, Karl brooded into the scruff of his beard and scrunched his nose in disapproval, the silvery metal of his glasses dropping down just enough to reveal the flickers of anger sparkling in his fixed gaze. Of course, he was angry. Angry at you most likely, proper mad with you for being stupid and fucking things up in a place a fuck up could easily cost you your life.

“Are you gonna say something or just stare, Karl?” You tried to joke, his disappointment so thick in the air that it roped around your throat like an invisible noose.

To your dismay, the Lord just huffed a deep grunt, eyes looking right through you as his calloused fingers made to pull slashed fabric from the cut.

“Ow!”, You flinched, but only briefly, not wanting to be any more of a stupid baby than you already were right now, “Don’t you wanna hear how that happened?”

“You gonna tell me regardless of me asking.” He eventually stated deadpan and harsh albeit right.

“Right…well…” Karl’s rough words pulled at you, letting you know that you’d gotten yourself into a real pickle here.

“Oh, c'mon now, kiddo. What happened?” He suddenly groaned out, not being able to hold that facade of strict anger for it was only fueled by his sincere worry about you.

Karl worried about you each and every day you went out into the factory on your own, not because he thought you to be incompetent or anything like that, no, he worried because he cared for you, knowing that the shadows and hangars alike held many dangers. One of them apparently has gotten to you eventually.

“A puddle. A stupid puddle had me stumbling down by the workshop, practically falling into a Soldat. Fucking thing wasn’t even on. No, did that all by myself.” You ought the self-deprecation to help, to be a somewhat funny ice breaker but Karl's eyes rendered hard again immediately.

“Stop that. Now.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, his mood swinging harder than his hammer lately.

“What have I told you? Feed the machine-.”, He expected you to continue and so you did, “Not be the food, yeah, yeah, I know. Hey! Huh? Where ‘r you going now?”

Karl got up and stretched, joints cracking dangerously.

“Gotta go dismember a motherfucker.”

[fairlyabookie]

Play

Author's note: floyd teasing [Reader]

Content warning: wholesome with a side of dark undertones

“Human life is boring!” 

[reader] feels a weight pressing down against them as they lean to eat their meal. Their lips thin with irritation, knowing very well who the culprit was. 

“Floyd, do you mind giving me space?”

They heave a sigh. 

“C’mon, [Reader], don’t be a killjoy.”

Much to Floyd’s blissful ignorance, [Reader] wasn’t in the mood to entertain the eel. They’d rather enjoy the sweet pastry that was right before them, a sweet relief from their busy school days. 

“I’m sure you must be busy from work, Floyd. We can hang out later once you’re done with work.” 

Floyd directs a pout to [Reader]. 

“I don’t want to!” 

Floyd is so troublesome. His capricious demeanor was one that many warned [Reader] about; such a fact haunted them even as they became friends - or were they? Oh wait, is hugging from behind and carrying me like a cat normal? [Reader] turned to glare daggers at Floyd. They didn’t like the fact that their own classmates were eyeing them both for the peculiar ways of ‘affections’ Floyd was showing.   

“What, Shrimpy? I got something on my face?” 

“No, I was just thinking about how stupid you look without your side bangs.” 

An orbital of gold glints dangerously as sharp fangs reveal themselves. 

“What did you say, Shrimpy?” 

The sudden change in Floyd’s mood sent the room’s temperature down by a dozen degrees, an icy aura emanating from the youth. Other patrons of the Mostro Lounge fear the worst, mumbling amongst themselves about a fight between [Reader] and Floyd. However, this mask that Floyd had put on wasn’t intimidation; rather, it was a guise to test [Reader]’s reaction, to see if they were scared when Floyd had flipped his switch. 

[Reader] can feel another headache blossom between their temples, their appetite for their dessert dissipating. Floyd certainly had a penchant for mood swings, a habit that was most certainly annoyed the majority of his classmates, as he relied on primarily on his interests alone to engage in activities that mattered most. 

[Reader] peeked over the eel’s shoulder, hoping to see Jade and Azul somewhere in the Lounge’s premises. They see no one, save the part-timers serving tables. 

Looks like I’ll have to deal with this myself. A sense of dread washes over them, reality settling in to a stark present. I have to consider my options: tell the truth or lie about something outright. Though judging from the threatening look in Floyd’s eyes, [Reader] couldn’t take the latter. Please don’t beat me into a pulp. They internally pray to themselves, licking their dry lips before answering: 

“Yeah, without that sidebang, you’d have a bowl cut!” 

Dry laughter fills the air, the only one laughing being [Reader]. The laughter dies down in their throat as Floyd steps close to [Reader], his nose pressed against theirs. 

“Can you repeat that to me one more time?” 

Up close, the heterochromatic eyes were unsettling, something that [Reader] hoped not to stare at for long periods of time; strong cologne lingering about Floyd’s presence, domineering and suffocating. Before, [Reader] had the courage to talk to Floyd in his moments of intimidation, but seeing him up close, they could feel themselves falter, an enigmatic creature staring back at them.

“Y-y-you’d have a bowl cut without your sidebang.” 

“Oh? That would be funny, wouldn’t it? I should ask Jade to cut my hair then!” 

Just like that, the mask of intimidation quickly changes into a cheery one, a wide grin curling at Floyd’s lips. He releases his grip from [Reader], returning them to their snack as he dashes away to work. 

“I’ve been wanting to try out a new hairstyle, so I’ll see you tomorrow with my new look! Bye, [reader]! I’ll be going back to work!” 

As soon as Floyd dashed out of earshot, [reader] had to heave a deep sigh of relief, their heart beating a million kilometers per second. They simply couldn’t take Floyd anymore! So he was just toying with me! They lament once more, blankly staring at their treat that shortly melted during their spat with Floyd. They peer over their shoulder, scanning for the familiar face. Much to their dismay, they glimpse a toothy grin with a glint in his eye, the grin widening to an eerie smile as Floyd vanishes into the shadows. 

 Oh, I’m in trouble. 

[Reader] can only pray for their sanity, as Floyd had them wrapped under his finger.        

[hannahssimblr]

Note: this update contains mention of abortion. Please proceed with caution.

Where the sun is unrelenting in the south, the Dublin sky is a woolly grey. I pull up to the curb on the Clontarf seafront, where a chilly breeze raises the hairs on my arms. The gate to Alison’s flaking blue townhouse squeaks in the same key it always did, and the grass that sprouts from between the cracks in the concrete slabs is longer than it was in the spring. Unruly, as my mother would say, before leaving a passive-aggressive note in the letterbox about it. I dodge the stinging nettles that have liberated the bush by the steps and knock on the door. 

She’s home alone. She assured me she would be, and it is strange to experience her house in such a state of emptiness when it’s usually so lively. Her sisters would be arguing over a hairdryer, and her mother yelling down the phone because the signal was bad at the back of the house. Today’s silence feels mournful. The hallway is a battlefield of laundry and boxes of junk, all piled up like they are ready for the dump, but those boxes have sat unmoved for years, dust building on chipped plates and plastic toys, sun-bleached of every colour but blue.

She brings me into the living room, where the wall paint cracks and peels to reveal the smooth, pink plaster, like flesh beneath skin. We sit together on a soft, floral sofa and Alison tucks her hair behind her ears. She looks raw, her freckled skin ruddy and taut from crying. 

“You’ve gotten tanned,” she says.

I don’t know what to say to that. 

“Wait there a minute. I’ll make you a cup of tea.” 

I take her hand to stop her before she wafts away to the kitchen to distract herself, murmuring, “I think we should talk about what you’re going to do.”

She chews on her lip, already chapped, and her eyes do an anxious tour of my face. “Did you tell Jenny Smythe?”

“No.”

“Because she tells everyone everything, you know, if Jenny Smythe knows, then everyone might as well know...”

“I haven’t.”

“Does she know you’ve come to Dublin?”

“She thinks I’m visiting my family.”

“Could have come up with a better excuse, I have to say.”

“Nobody is ever going to know about this except for me, I swear. I’ll take this to my grave.”

She shrugs. 

“Okay?”

“Okay, yeah.”

Holding her hands feels like the right thing to do, but it doesn’t surprise me that she flinches away when I try. The inches between us on the cushion feel like a mile. 

“So… How far along are you?”

She frowns at the floor. “Six weeks, maybe seven, I dunno.”

“Right! And, um, do you…” I clear my throat, “Like, does…”

“It’s okay that you don’t know what to say.”

I realise I have been holding my breath, and blow it all out of my nose until my lungs empty. I feel like I’m deflating, like the battered football on the lawn outside. “Any word from Aaron?”

“No, and I doubt I’ll hear a thing. He was going on about how he wanted to be single in college anyway, so, I suppose we’re just fast-tracking that decision,” a hollow, incredulous laugh escapes her. “And I’m obviously not invited to his debs anymore. Message received.”

“Do you have any of his friends’ numbers?”

“I’m not going around ringing his friends. I’m not a desperate person.”

“Fair enough.”

“God.” She shoves the heels of her hands into her eye sockets and rubs them, hard, choking out one dry sob while a hand on the broken mantlepiece clock ticks, stuck, twitching between one second and the next, “This is so bad, like, I can’t really even believe how bad it is. I can’t fully convince myself that it’s real.”

“You’re going to be fine, no matter what comes of it.”

“It’s actually funny, almost, because this is dead-on, exactly what everyone predicted. Why is it that I can’t ever seem to, like, rise above their crap expectations of me?”

“Don’t be saying that.”

“Imagine,” she says, eyes dancing enthusiastically with her own painful musings, “how they’d all be laughing about it, how obvious it’s always been that I’d be the one this’d happen to first. ‘Bet you a tenner,’” Her voice drops in imitation of some generic boy, “‘Alison Littler’s going to be the first one in our year to get pregnant.’”

“Nobody was ever saying those things… It doesn't just happen to people like you. It could happen to anyone, it’s just luck of the draw, isn’t it?”

“I was always careful,” she says. “Always. I know that nobody would believe me if I said that, but I was.”

I haven’t been. That first time, with Michelle, I didn’t have any protection on me and we carried on anyway, and years ago, that disastrous time with Clóda, I couldn’t really see what I was doing. I was too wrapped up in the moment, in the midst of the anxiety and the sand, to notice what had slipped. I shudder to think of myself in some grim alternate universe, next to either of them in a room like this one, having the same conversation. The only reason I never was is because of dumb luck. 

I stare at a piece of thread on the carpet. “You know, I’ll do whatever I can to help you, whatever you decide to do.”

Her voice is almost inaudible. “Thanks,” and I take her hand and run my thumb over the bumps of her knuckles, little freckled mountains. 

It seems gauche to bring it up, like the wrong moment, but it is the reason I am here. I doubt the right moment will reveal itself organically.

“How much do you need me to give you?”

She rests her cheek on my shoulder, her hand curling around my upper arm while her eyes stare straight ahead and unblinking. I’m certain she feels weird, unsubtle. On the phone she squirmed with humiliation, acknowledging our distance, the tactlessness of her request, her clumsy delivery, But I told her I didn’t care. Excruciating times call for excruciating questions, and I have never felt attached to money, truly lacking of, or protective of it.

She speaks, finally, “Around six hundred.”

“Does that include travel?”

“No. I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“You’ll need to go, right? To London, or Liverpool or something.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“So that’s what? Another hundred, maybe? And if you want to stay overnight-”

“I was hoping maybe I’d just fall down the stairs instead.”

I pause. “Was that a joke, or?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, I couldn’t tell from the way you said it.”

She peels a flake of skin from her lip and gives it a thorough examination before flicking it somewhere. I give her knee a shake so that she will look at me, and then she does, blue eyes frightened, stark against her pale features, light eyelashes, round lips, like a Botticelli angel. “Have you spoken to your friends about this? Who else have you told?”

“Nobody, just you. I don’t want anybody knowing my business.”

“But your friends-”

“They wouldn’t get it. They’d think that my choice is wrong, and they’d say all of this stuff to me that’d make me feel worse.”

“Alison…”

“No,” she insists. “I’m going to do this, and I’m going to pretend I didn’t, and then I’m never going to talk about it again, okay?”

“Okay.”

Tonight I will lose sleep over this conversation, the look she has on her face. Her fear, dread, resignation, even that dot of blood on her lip will repeat on me. I will mull endlessly over the things she goes on to tell me, her anxieties of being caught, being shamed, the loneliness of her journey, the clinic, and how they might judge her, and what she will do if she feels faint. Perhaps, she ponders, instead of waiting in the airport, she will go to the cinema after the procedure. Then, at least if she passes out, nobody will tell her she’s too ill to board a plane. Even when pooling our money together, her savings and the last of my summer allowance, there is no wiggle room for a second flight home. 

“Thank you for telling me this,” I say now, when things still feel okay, and the gravity of her choice has yet to sink in. 

“I kind of knew that you’d get it.”

We have this in common: born to a teenager. The circumstances were different, and our lives were too, but we both, Alison and I, know the strange, desolate pain of being mothered by a person who had either no desire or no ability to raise a child. 

At seven, I wasn’t supposed to hear my cousins discuss, in hushed tones, at Aunt Maureen’s dining room table, how Colette refused to hold me for months when I was a baby. About the myriad of excuses she made when someone passed me to her, like how she had left something in the oven, needed to wash her hands, make a phone call, get some air. I think that even if I hadn’t heard them criticise her, I might have known it anyway, on some deep, cosmic level, like how birds know to reject their defective young. It reveals something deep, painful, and true. Perhaps it would be stranger if I knew she had wanted me. At least now I don’t find her confusing.

“I’ll send you the money as soon as I get to the bank,” I say. “And then you’ll let me know when you’re going? If you need anything while you’re there?”

She says she will, and we hold each other on the floral couch, surrounded by all the random things in her living room until it’s time for me to go, and I know, even if I am the only one to ever know it, that I have done something good. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[mykoreanlove]

I loved your angst Jackson scenarios, can you do one with BM from Kard where his partner wants to break up with him but he's trying to prevent it but fails? Could be because he cheated or wasn't giving enough attention to them

Pleeeeaase and thank you

hey anon, thank you so much for reading and enjoying my stories - that means the world to me :)

you are the first request I ever had (yeyyyy) so I hope you like the story I came up with.

all the love xo

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BAGGAGE

“Where does this train even go?”, he mumbled under his breath.

Head tilted; he was watching the worldly scenery vanish quickly in front of him. He found comfort in the rapid change outside as his thoughts were racing equally hasty. He hadn’t heard from you in weeks but still he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He composed the memories of you the same way he composed his songs.

First, he imagined your breathtaking visuals: your bright eyes, your cute nose and sensuous lips. Then, he added the sounds of your cute laughter and silent gasps. And lastly, he imagined you saying the most beautiful words: I love you, Matthew. I can’t picture my life without you, you’re all I need. Thinking of you like that always filled his heart with the utmost love. The warm fuzzy feeling spread through his whole body, leaving him happy and fulfilled. That tender feeling didn’t last long though, as the most recent memories clouded his mind too soon. What started out as the loveliest tune turned into the most caustic remix. Now he saw your tearful eyes and worried frowns, heard your desperate screams and spiteful words and listened to you breaking up with him. Those warm and fuzzy feelings turned icy, numbing his whole body.

He took a deep breath. “Fuck, I miss her so much. What should I do?”, he muttered silently. Once again, he grabbed his phone and opened your chat. Your picture was still there. He felt the relief as he realized you had not deleted his number – maybe you missed him, too? Maybe you were looking at your phone and hoping for him to text you, too? Hyped up by his delusional fantasies he decided to text you.

Y/N… I miss you.

Eyes glued to his phone, not daring to even blink. His throat was dry, hands jittery and stomach tied into a knot. “She will answer, won’t she?” He gasped as he saw you typing. By now his heart was beating as fast as the train was going.

I miss you, too.

His eyes lit up as he processed those words.

You do?

Of course, I do. I think about you all the damn time.

Are you serious?

Yes. You wouldn’t believe how often I picked up my phone just to text you.

Yet you didn’t…

Yeah, I decided it was better not to.

Why?

I don’t know, I just felt like it wasn’t right.

It didn’t feel right? Texting me didn’t feel right?

He felt his blood boiling up again.

Yeah, to be honest I didn’t feel like you treated me well, so I backed off.

Oh, that’s funny of you to say. I felt the exact same way.

You did?

Yeah.. I really struggled those past few weeks.

I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, Matthew.

Why did you though?

Do you want me to be honest?

He had to think about that for a while. Did he want your honesty? BM often thought about the possible downfalls of your relationship. Did he spend too much time on his music? Did he spend too much time in the gym? Did he not make you feel loved? Did he not please you sexually? Was there someone else? He ruminated on all those questions countless times and never found an answer. So maybe it was time to finally reveal the truth.

Yes please.

When I first met you, I was head over heels in love with you. I know this sounds cliché but it’s true. I never met someone like you before. You showed me parts of you that I adored so much, and you also showed me new sides of myself that I got to love as well. I loved spending time with you. We always had a great time, didn’t we? Kissing you, hugging you, laughing with you, fucking you, talking about serious stuff with you – that all felt so comfortable. I knew that I didn’t want to be in a relationship when I met you but given the nature of all this, I changed my mind about it.

BM scoffed as he read the last sentence; the hurt of you dumping him still deeply ingrained in his heart.

You changed your mind about it? And yet you threw me away like I was garbage?

I can see why you would feel that way. But don’t you think you dumped me first?

NO?!

BM never had a heart attack, but this had to be it. What was that supposed to mean? “How the hell did I dump you first? I’ve been crying for weeks because you left me and now you have the guts to tell me I did that to myself?”, he was furious.

What the fuck do you mean?

Matthew.. Don‘t you think that you broke us up yourself?

Are you serious right now? No. No, I don‘t think that. At all. You abandoned me!!

You abandoned me long before I did. Has that ever occurred to you?

Well, enlighten me please, how did I do that, huh?

Weren’t you the one that decided that this relationship, this thing between us, could not work? Weren’t you the one that decided that it was doomed from the start? Weren’t you the one that declared that I was going to break your heart?

For a moment he forgot how to breathe. He stared at the screen, unable to answer, unable to process what was happening.

Weren’t you the one that got so much into your head and focused on your fears? Weren’t you the one that was dead set on me hurting you? Weren’t you the one distancing yourself because you were afraid?

Tears were forming in the corner of his eyes.

Weren’t you the one that was convinced that I wasn’t serious about you? Weren’t you the one thinking that I must be fucking dudes on the side and only be toying with you? Weren’t you so sure about me being an easy girl that simply fucks around? Did you honestly think I would not notice this?

By now it was hard to read the messages, tears completely clouding his vision. “I never said that to her, what the fuck. It’s… it’s like she saw right through me. She saw what I was thinking about her, about us. How is that possible? How did she grasp my fears like that?”

Y/N

I-

Matthew, I wanted to love you. I wanted to stay by your side and build this beautiful connection I thought we shared. But you painted me as the bad guy. You made me into this menace that only used you for sex. You saw me as someone taking advantage of you and that irked me. I got so disgusted by you, that’s why I left. It felt unfair – you took my beautiful love and turned it into something so ugly. What does that say about you?

BM wiped away his tears, pulling his black beanie further down. Shame was flooding his whole body now. He asked for honesty, and he got it, all of this was true. What kind of person was he? Why the fuck did he always assume the worst? Why was he always sabotaging love? Deep down he knew why but he never had the courage to share his dark fears with others. Would it have been different if he had shared it with you? He started typing his reply to you, being totally honest and transparent for a change.

Y/N, you are right. About everything. I am so sorry. I am so sorry that I hurt you like that. I don’t know why I can’t stop doing that. I guess I’m just fucked up. I made horrible experiences in the past and got hurt, badly. I know I shouldn’t compare you to the girls I dated back then, honestly, I couldn’t even if I wanted to as they wouldn’t stand a chance. But the hurt they ingrained in me still lingers and that’s why I did that. I was afraid that you would break my heart. I was afraid that you would turn out like they did. I was afraid that this was too good to be true. And by fearing all that I created a monster. Out of myself and out of you. I am so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Deep down I know how wonderful you are – that’s the reason I fell in love with you. My fear made me see things that were not there and by doing that I pushed you away. I get that now. I guess you're right – I did abandon you first, even if it was only in my mind. But somehow you caught on to that and now you’re-

BM’s breath got stuck in his lungs as he noticed your picture disappearing. He didn’t have the chance to finish his side of the story as you finished it for him. “Gone”, was the last word he muttered before he deleted his whole paragraph and put away his phone. He stared out of the window again, lost in thought, wondering if he could ever change.