#they both have the worst taste in men possible

[musicalmoritz]

CEO of “I hate my wife” jokes

[writing-until-i-drop]

Breeding Kink | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader | wc: 1,008

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! Oral (fem receiving), unprotect p in v (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk, mentions of pilot death, lmk if I missed anything

a/n: this isn't the story I thought I'd write but it's what came out when I put my fingers to the keyboard???

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Bradley had been back from deployment for two days, having spent that time sleeping and eating as much of your cooking as possible. This deployment had been rough, he had been sent out on a sixth month mission that had taken a year to complete with only intermittent communication home, and one of the other pilots had burned in around the eight month point, something your husband was having a hard time recovering from. 

The two of you were laying in bed, Bradley’s head on your chest, his calloused hand resting on your stomach. You lazily carded your fingers through his hair, which had grown longer while he was at sea, texting with Phoenix about plans for brunch that weekend. Bradley started to rub wide circles over your stomach, tickling you.

“Roo,” You giggled, “What are you doing?” 

“Thinking,” Bradley shifted so that he was laying between your legs, both hands resting on your stomach. You put down your phone, freeing your hands to rest them on his shoulders. 

“You want to talk about it?” Bradley didn’t respond right away. You patiently waited for him, watching him as he cradled your stomach, pressing soft kisses all over it. 

“Freighter had two kids waiting for him back in Missouri,” Your heart broke for the pilot and his family. Your worst nightmare was getting a knock at your door while Bradley was deployed, men in uniform waiting on your porch to tell you that he wasn’t coming home to you. “My mom used to say that I was the only thing that really helped her get through my dad’s death.” Bradley looked up at you with sad eyes, still holding your stomach. 

You knew what he wanted to do. The two of you had talked about having kids one day, when the time was right. The idea of getting your pregnant usually drove Bradley wild, leading to spur of the moment sex around the house, nothing but pure filth leaving his mouth. It was hot as hell every time but you had never really gotten into it to the level your husband had. Except what he didn’t know is that you had gone off your birth control a few months ago.

“I want to have a kid with you, sweetheart,” Bradley whispered, eyes flickering downwards, not meeting yours. “Not just because I might not come home one day because I’m going to do everything I can to come home but because I think we’re going to be the best parents.” 

“Then let’s do it, give me a baby, Bradley.” 

The look of surprise on Bradley’s face was precious. You wanted to snap a picture of it but before you could reach for your phone, Bradley was kissing you hard. You sighed into the kiss, spreading your legs so he fit more easily between them. You were wearing one of his shirts and underwear but both pieces of clothing quickly ended up on the floor alongside his pajamas. 

“I love you so much,” Bradley kissed down your neck, between your breasts, paying special attention to your stomach.

“I love you too,” You moaned as he settled between your legs, placing your legs over his shoulders. Bradley ate your pussy like a starving man, obscene noises filling the room as he licked and sucked, sliding two fingers in when you were wet enough. After a year of no sex, it was a mix of pleasure and pain but you were dying for more. 

“So fucking good,” Bradley kissed the inside of your thigh, “Missed you so fucking much.” 

“Missed you,” Your back arched as he pressed in a third finger. “Gonna cum,” Bradley doubled his efforts, rushing you towards your climax, and he didn’t stop when you reached it. Bradley kept going until you were pushing him away, overly sensitive after so long apart.

“Think you’re ready for me?” You tasted yourself on his tongue as he kissed you and you moaned against his lips. “You ready to have my baby?” 

“Please, Lee,” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I want to have a baby.” Bradley notched himself at your entrance then paused, giving you a serious look.

“Are we actually about to do this or are we just practicing?” You could tell this was important to him, he’d be okay with either answer because he loved you, but he wanted this to be the real thing.

“I’m not on the pill anymore,” You promised, leaning up for a kiss. “We’re going to have a baby.” 

“Fuck yeah we are,” Bradley’s kissed muffled your moans as he thrust into you in one quick stroke, his cock stretching you, filling you completely. “Gonna put a baby in you,” He promised, setting a deep, steady pace that had your back arching and toes curling. “I’m going to fill you up and fuck my cum back into you, make sure it takes.” 

“Fuck,” You gasped as he pulled your hips, shifting you into a position that let him hit even deeper inside of you.

“You’re going to look so pretty, tummy all swollen with your baby.” Our baby. Those words hit you like a ton of bricks. You were going to have a baby with Bradley and you were over the moon. “Shit, I’m not gonna last.”

“Cum inside me, baby,” You wrapped your legs around his waist. “Give me a baby.” Bradley reached between you, rubbing your clit until you were right there on the edge with him.

“Cum for me, honey.” And you did, falling over the edge of your second climax, Bradley following right behind you. The warmth of his cum filling you with the possibility of getting you pregnant was overwhelming, the sensation heightening your orgasm that much more. “That’s it, honey. Milk my cock, take every fucking drop.”

When Bradley finally pulled out he grabbed a pillow and shoved it under your hips, keeping them angled up so nothing leaked out. 

“I love you so much,” He kissed you sweetly, “So, so, so much.” 

Taglist: @wanderingsoul6261 @halflifejess @kyemna @alipap3 @yutangwl @teacupsandtopgun @glenpowellluver @closetspngirl @that-one-fangirl69 @starshinegrl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @sarah-bear706318 @shanimallina87 @atuman @carolina-on-my-mind03 @winelover27 @cherrycola27 @cevansbaby-dove @runawaybaby3 @helloitzholly

“I love you too, Roo.”

[moonlight-prose]

PICK YOUR POISON

➻ 01. ATROPA BELLADONNA

a/n: the october season calls for me to delve into the grotesque and gothic story ideas i save up year round. so that's what this is! i love the idea of logan howlett stuck with an immortal reader. but there's a twist. our lovely reader isn't a mutant, but someone cursed to live life in the worst way possible. i hope you enjoy the small journey these two go on and happy spooky season!

summary: life as a lumberjack gives him the freedom to pretend he's human. that he hasn't lived enough lives to leave him withered and weary. ready for the grave that will never come. until he happens upon an unmarked grave in the middle of the forest and his life changes forever.

word count: 4.2k+

pairing: lumberjack!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: NOT EXPLICIT BUT DARK THEMES AHEAD, gothic themes, horror, necrophilia (kind of!), death, graves, vomiting, tw: blood, feral reader, poison, immortal!reader, curses, witchcraft of some kind, chance encounters, they're both a little unhinged in this one.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The forest is silent save for the rhythmic thump of an axe against wood. Life doesn't exist in the small sphere of dead branches and fallen leaves. No bugs, no birds. The wolves hunt elsewhere; the prey have all but abandoned a place where death permeates the air.

What was nature to do when someone so unnatural had been laid to rest?

He knew he was too far from the predetermined area. The yellow tape was marked for trees ready to be chopped down. But the sound of the men laughing about some bar they found had set his teeth on edge—a rush of anger from deep in his chest now resurfacing quicker than he liked.

Some days were better than others. Some days he could join in on the laughter, make simple conversation, and pretend to be normal.

Other days he felt the clawing urge to bite and snap and dig his claws into flesh rear in his head. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore that unhinged sensation. Even if he wanted to. On those days he preferred to be alone. Away from humanity, separate from what they wanted from him.

They saw him as a man.

Not an animal.

That should be enough to appease his restless spirit; give him some peace after so much chaos.

His teeth ground together in his clenched mouth, sweat sticking to the back of his neck despite the cold weather. The axe felt like an extension of his arms. Hacking away at the base of a tree he knew would make enough noise to draw attention once it tipped. That didn't deter him from repeating his swing. From baring his teeth and growling through it in order to dig out what calm he could.

The blade wedged itself halfway into the bark before he heard it. The stifled scream of a woman. His body went stiff, head whipping around to see if someone had followed him. The instincts from before—days spent as a soldier still burned into his nerves—began to overtake his senses as another muffled scream pierced his eardrums.

He left the axe behind, heart thumping an unsteady beat in his chest as he made for the forest. Trees blocked what little sunlight poured through dense clouds; the air a murky fog that chilled his lungs with each breath. He could taste the sap dripping off tree bark on the tip of his tongue—his mind clinging to the edge of sanity as he moved.

Twigs snapped beneath his boots, leaves cracked with the weight of his body, but Logan couldn't think about moving silently. Someone was getting hurt. He could practically smell their fear. The heady coagulated tang of blood spilled over the forest floor.

"Hello?" he called out, emerging through the thicket of branches.

A small clearing gave way to what little light remained in the afternoon. Petrichor lingered in the pockets of clear air, familiar enough to set his earlier anxieties aside. Fall in Canada shepherded rain forward with a heavy hand.

He knew the woods would be soaked come morning. Any signs of life lost to the pelting drops of rain that dragged hail right alongside it.

His feet stopped at the edge of freshly packed dirt, a shovel tossed to the side with a dent in the metal large enough to resemble the size of a skull. Sucking in air, the hair rose on the back of his neck when the shriek sounded again. Pained. Anguished. As if someone was fighting to claw their way to the surface.

"Fuck," he gasped, dropping to one knee—fingers burrowing in the moist soil and heaving it over to the side. "I'm here. I've got ya!"

Another muffled cry filtered through the layers of dirt as he dug with heaving breaths. Sweat prickled along his forehead, dripping down his temple. The brine of salt dripping onto the already muddy area. What hope he could grasp onto began to slip through his fingers; now dragged beneath the surface of an already haunted forest.

Logan stumbled back when a hand shot through the dirt, piercing the ground by his foot. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide as an arm appeared, fingers grasping for leverage in the loose topsoil. He'd never experienced terror before. True fear that lingered in the bottom of his chest, echoing a solemn tune he wanted to rip from his flesh. But the sight of someone clinging to life filled his lungs with water.

You could feel it. The dirt and stones that packed themselves beneath your nails, slicing open what remained of the once pretty nail bed. It happened later this time. Took longer than you expected. Crimson blood mixed with the black soil as you vomited what stuffed itself into your lungs; the impacted earth was too heavy for your body to hold onto and thus the result remained the same.

Somehow it felt worse each time.

A cry of agony pierced the brume—splitting open the silence that could no longer exist. And with another heave, you managed to free yourself from a shitty dug grave with barely enough dirt to cover.

Sucking in a lungful of air, you collapsed to the ground. Body nude and streaked with mud. You couldn't tell which parts of you were sliced open this time around, could barely make out the color of the trees through the thick layer of fog. But the leather brown boots two feet away caught your attention instantly.

With a whimper, you lifted your head—eyes latched onto the broad man above you who looked ready to lose his breakfast, or join you on the ground. Perhaps both with the way his paled face stilled at the sight of you.

Of course, the time it took to return would fuck up your plans for solitude. Of course, you would have company at the worst possible moment.

This part was never easy.

"Hi," you meekly rasped, voice entirely gone from how many times you screamed.

Harrowing silence became the space that hung between your body and his. You curled your toes to force the blood back down through your veins. Hands holding an unsteady shake that would take a good hour to dissipate. You began to notice the color of his flannel—a deep umber with lines of brown. The scent of cedar permeating the air; sap a thick sweetness you could practically taste in the back of your throat.

Senses took a few moments to return back to their original vigor. Yet you couldn't allow yourself to slip into the you from twelve hours ago.

Not when the man still watched you, eyes overflowing with dread. You wondered if he was real. Would he flinch if you swung a fist at his shin? Or was your dilapidated mind conjuring him in a hallucinatory haze you'd eventually break free from.

Pushing yourself up on trembling limbs, you managed to contort your half paralyzed body into a sitting position. The feeling would return to your numb core; the steady drip of life slowly seeping back into your veins the longer you remained still.

Movement seemed to puncture a hole in his stupefied mind—yanking him back to reality. He dropped to one knee with a heavy exhale. "Who the fuck did this to you?"

You wanted to laugh. You nearly did laugh.

How were you meant to tell this complete stranger that you in fact...did this to yourself?

"Are you cold?" he asked as if you still held the capability to speak.

When it became clear you had no intention of offering him any sort of explanation, he promptly cussed under his breath. Hands stripping off the brown leather jacket that hung over his clearly muscled form. You tried to shake your head, hoping he'd get the hint and simply leave you alone.

The cold didn't harm your already frozen skin. Not when a rush of blood coursed through you—pumping an unhealthy amount of adrenaline back to your now racing heart.

He draped the heavy fabric over you anyways, securing it to cover what skin he could. His eyes fixed on the side of your face. What a goddamn gentleman. Hilarity of this entire situation flickered brightly in your mind, forcing a jolt through your body that had him rearing back a few inches.

He must not be used to the sight of someone coming back from the dead.

No one would be. Unless they understood your current predicament.

"Do you have someone I can call?"

Again...silence became all that lingered in your mirrored confusion. You pleasantly discovered that you liked the sound of his voice. He felt his stomach churn with the eggs he scarfed down an hour and a half ago. Oh what a hapless pair you made. Two strangers bound in this tight knit bond of befuddlement.

"Can you speak?" He pushed for you to give him something.

You nodded, trailing the curve of his jaw with your gaze. If you had to guess his profession, you'd pick lumberjack. That made the most sense as to why he found himself standing at the foot of your grave trying to help you escape it.

Although you supposed he might have just been on a stroll through the woods; seeking time to himself. An escape from the busy world above ground. You peered into his clouded hazel eyes - plucking what you could from her expressions alone. This was a man who didn't seem drastically horrified by the sight of you coming back to life. Rather lost in murky thoughts of how.

Again the aforementioned question you loathed answering left his plush lips.

"Who did this to you?"

Sighing, you felt the blood begin to rush to your legs, a tingle of awareness entering your system. You were coming back from the state of rigor mortis. Which meant that stick around here would no longer be an option. As much as you were inclined to entertain the idea of getting to know him, the reality was far too bleak for him to accept.

He was a mere human, you were something else. It would never work.

“What’s your name?”

Agitation clearly lined his nerves the longer he crouched beside you. He’d never receive the knowledge he wanted, never get to the bottom of this otherwise grueling mystery. The longer you stayed, the harder it would be to leave. Putting him out of his misery now was the only option you had.

The only one that might guarantee his safety.

“Please. Let me help you.” His sincerity struck your heart, causing it to twist until the jagged edge of pain spread through your entire body.

They always sounded this way.

Hopeful. Intrigued.

Too many people, too many broken souls.

The path of your existence was littered with unsalvageable pieces of those you allowed to wander into your life. You refused to say goodbye to someone who clutched your love too tightly. Who never understood what this meant—the horrid depth of what you were forced to endure. You’d never be able to find freedom in love, never find hope that things might one day be different.

Eventually your curse would kill them in the end. And you—the sole survivor—would be left to pick up the fragmented shards of your armored walls.

With a pained groan you stumbled to your feet—legs shaking like a fucking fawn right after birth. He shot up beside you, hands outstretched in case you collapsed. But after so many years, you’d grown used to the sensations of a body that fought against you. The sight of him made you grin; a man so large, so imposing, somehow looked small compared to your mangled body.

Oh, how you’d remember him.

Tucking his kindness into the depths of your heart—fondly looking at it more often than you’d ever admit.

Dragging the leather jacket off your shoulders—much to his dismay—you tucked it back into his grasp. For a brief moment, you traced the shape of his eyes with your gaze. Solidifying the hazel in your mind, the hints of dark umber speckled through the iris. Eyes that would haunt you for years to come.

You wanted to ask what caused him such anguish—what had he been through—to hold an unfathomable amount of grief in eyes so tender.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the unbearable scratch in your throat dissipating the longer you were alive.

“Wait–”

With surprising quickness, you walked past him, trembling with each step. Your stomach gnawed at your insides—the vacant sensation in your body determined your next course of action. Where you were heading with no need for direction.

This wasn’t unusual. Hours spent in the ground was bound to force your body to find its sustenance one way or another. Even if you weren’t technically alive. The adrenaline would wane, leaving you rattled—in a panic about the way your soul plunged into an infinite expanse of darkness. A place with no path.

Over the decades you managed to get a handle on your body;s tells. The routine it formulated to deal with the ancient magic coursing through your veins. Sparks of a past self never to be touched again; no matter how much you bargained.

Heavy footsteps trailed after you, entirely unaware that silence wasn’t his forte. He still clutched the jacket aimlessly, unaware that the temperature dropped rapidly the longer he remained outside. You’d grown used to the behaviors of men who found you. Their incessant need to follow, to see if they could get away with what they wanted.

The same fucking song and dance; a battle you learned to evade swiftly and without mercy.

You stuck to the carved pathway created by your own footsteps trekking the same ground over the span of many years. Those who worked this deep in the forest rarely stuck around to find out who dared to live this far away from humanity. Many assumed an old psychotic woman, man, or spirit, resided in the run-down cabin.

Others whispered of a witch cursed to roam in darkness for all eternity.

Though both were merely myths spread by bored townsfolk.

You often wondered what they would do if they found out that neither strayed far from the actual truth.

Each year that came and went people dared themselves to check—to see for themselves if the stories held a bit of authenticity to them. They more often than not, left scared out of their wits at the sight of a naked woman trailing dirt in across the threshold of an archaic home.

Your shadow persisted in his personal mission—five feet away, lumbering through the silent forest like a bear with no real direction. Scaring him off should have been your first priority. You knew the longer you sanctioned this behavior the harder it’d be to get him to fuck off.

Although you couldn’t deny the instantaneous attachment you felt for a man with such a tortured soul.

Perhaps some part of yourself could see the fragments that went missing harbored in his heart.

Like a fool, you continued on the familiar trail—giving yet another aimless person leeway in your life. Regret hung heavy in your heart—a promise of what would inevitably come to pass screaming in the icy air.

Your breath forms a cloud with each puff; the exertion far too much for your freshly revived body to handle. Later when you were adjusted once more, the remorse would return within each stiff joint that pleaded for an ounce of rest. Whether you wanted to partake in the act never remained up to you—rather an inescapable future that awaited you with open arms.

The cabin stood on the remnants of an old cemetery. Bits of cracked stones that once housed names were scattered around the front. Moss clung to walls built of worn in bricks that had seen better days. You liked each part of your home. The haunting beauty that kept others out, gave you the solace you needed on days like this. Here you could pretend you were a normal person, not someone stuck with the scars of wounds that never remained.

Of pain you held no proof of.

The path was lined with plants of varying species. None of them should have survived the weather in Canada, yet like you they persisted.

Just as fucking stubborn and determined to remain alive.

Kicking a loose stone over, you reached for the rusting iron key lodged into damp dirt. The man stopped speaking long before he followed you here. Probably coming to the same conclusion they all did. You were not going to listen to a single thing that came out of his mouth.

You had to hand it to him. He knew where he stood in a situation like this—given your relatively calm exterior.

The door creaked with a weathered groan as you pushed it open. A bag of grave dirt hung on a nail in the wall to your left, an old shovel stood propped against the entryway, and a trail of dried herbs were suspended from the ceiling. You inhaled the scent of home with a grin; finally at ease within the place you knew well. A line of hooks held blankets for this very situation—heavy wool lined coats beside them.

Instead of grabbing one, you reached for what was still tucked in the pocket. The thud of his boots against the front step echoed loud in your ear. That seemed to be all you needed to hear the warning bells signal in the back of your mind. Allowing him to shadow you had been fun, but the truth still glared in your direction.

You didn’t know this man—you never would.

Better safe than sorry.

Spinning your heel, you jammed the silver dagger against his throat, forcing him to stumble back. His hands clutched at your wrists, eyes wide with the shock of what just happened. You didn’t want to admit that a small part of you liked seeing him this way. Yet no fear could be found in the darkened hazel. Merely a hint of concern—pity.

That only served to piss you off. He dared to follow you home, thinking he could enter your house without permission. In such a case as this you faced him with the fire that fueled your inhumane rage. The match struck against your heart, igniting sparks that existed long before he was ever born.

“You’re not welcome here,” you spit, eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a snarl.

He held every right to look at you as if you were a feral animal he accidentally cornered. You knew you resembled one. Right down to your hackles being raised—bloodlust burning in your glare. If he wasn’t careful, he would wind up with a split open throat and you’d have one hell of a mess to clean.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he murmured.

“You followed me home.”

Swallowing thickly, Logan felt an old familiar ache rise in his chest at the sight of you. He’d been where you stood once. Desperate to be left alone; angry at a world who abandoned him. The thought of you believing the worst in him left bile climbing the back of his throat, shame burning hot in his stomach.

“Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You grinned yet a dullness remained at the center of your eyes. “I’m alive. You can go.”

“You crawled out of a grave,” he growled.

Only to be met with one of your own. “No shit.”

“You live alone.” The knife pressed down against his skin, red welling to the surface in an instant. “Who put you there?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

You held no reservations against cutting him open. You’d done it before and would do it again in a heartbeat. Logan could see that clear as day. This wasn’t about him attempting to help. He’d surpassed that half a mile ago when you began to walk it off like you knew what was happening. And perhaps he was stupid to keep standing there in a pathetic attempt to tame you.

But he needed to know what happened.

Simply for the sake of his own sanity.

“I won’t hurt you bub,” he echoed, releasing your wrists with a soft exhale. “That’s not why I came.”

The anger dulled like the blade of your knife at the sound of his voice. Putting your faith in someone to uphold their words wasn’t something you excelled at. In fact, you found it was easier to bite first before you even bothered to bark at them. A feral animal who held no sense of safety—who thrived in bitter chaos and would until the very end.

But for the first time…you found yourself unable to fight against someone who stood before you like a mirror from a past life. The anguish in his eyes resembled your own. A fractured window that spilled light along the darkness, even if it didn’t belong. Even if you were born to exist in the vacant nothingness they put you in.

“Help me out here,” he murmured.

Before you could silence it, you laughed. Short and stunted and still layered in the gritty rasp from earlier.

“Fuck you.”

He sighed, stepping forward—his throat opening even further. You expected him to flinch, cuss loud enough to scare the varying corvid that often perched in the trees, but all that remained was that damn sincerity. The echo of a man who you somehow understood exactly what ran through your mind even before you let him in on the secret.

Logan kept his eyes locked on yours, even when his body screamed for something else. He wasn’t a stranger to having a blade to his throat, nor to violence in general. But even with the intent of killing him clear in your gaze, he knew something else stirred beneath the surface of your mind. He latched onto the quick pace of your heart, clamoring for a deeper look behind the walls of your impenetrable armor.

“I know what it’s like.” Your eyes went wide for a brief second before you resumed your previous stance. That remained enough for Logan to feel he touched on exactly the right thing.

“You don’t know anything.”

“Believe me bub,” he retorted, lips curling into a half-hearted grin. “I know what not dying feels like. Even if you want to.”

The breath was punched from your lungs, body going still as the waves of disbelief washed over you. He grasped your wrist gently, prying the knife from his throat, and you watched his skin stitch itself back together. The only remnants of your violent act was left in a stain of red he promptly wiped off.

You had half a mind to try again. Test the proof he so blatantly showed you without an ounce of shame. He seemed to catch onto your interest quicker than you expected—his palm spreading wide beneath yours and hand forcing the blade along his skin. A gasp fell past your lips at the sight of his body healing rapidly—the cut nonexistent within seconds.

Logan felt pride pierce his chest. Unfamiliar and yet entirely welcome.

“How…”

“I’ll explain it bub,” he uttered, drawing your attention back to him. “If you tell me the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

He huffed, moving close enough to feel the warmth emanate from your bare skin. “I’m pretty good at spottin’ bullshit. Someone put you in that grave.”

“Yes.” Blindly you reached for a jacket behind you, slipping it on as his eyes took in the small bits of your home he could see. “I did.”

His head snapped back to you, lips set in a firm line. “What do you mean you did?”

“It’s a long story.” You waved your hand as you tied the jacket’s belt around your waist.

“I got enough time to hear it.”

Turning back towards the entryway of your home, you didn’t bother to bite back the smile that bloomed across your face. Somewhere in the back of your mind the voices of years past shrieked in horror at the choices made in the past hour.

How could you drag another soul into the darkness? Torture them with the duress of your life—of what you were forced to endure. Was it merely to appease the growing ache of loneliness that gnawed at your heart. A constant hunger you could never satiate.

He didn’t deserve what came next.

No one did.

But you were a selfish person who had tolerated far too much—who gave up every piece of your heart to keep others safe. For years you claimed you were better off alone. Only for the sight of his ability to fracture that part of yourself in two, burying it in a shallow grave with the hopes of no resurrection.

One day you’d come to regret your choice. You always did.

Tonight however you would give yourself this. Time spent in the company of another, even if it might end in a tragic disaster.

“Would you like some dinner?” you asked over your shoulder, too afraid of what his response might be.

His lips pulled into a grin as he crossed the threshold of your home—placing his jacket on the now vacant hook. “I’d love some.”

note: i handwrote a giant portion of this & proceeded to type it on my brother's laptop. so if there's mistakes forgive that. i don't have a laptop rn and i'm working with literal scraps.

[capr1pengu1n]

A little victim-less crime

Summary: Upon losing a bet, your consequence is to dress up in an outfit of Edward's choosing, while he shares you with his colleague, Jonathan Crane

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader, threesome, dom!Edward and dom!Jonathan, slight scriddler vibes tbh, degradation, oral (m receiving), fingering, facefucking, hair pulling

Words: 3.4k

Notes: This is FILTHY guys i'm so sorry, this was inspired by a dream i had and i wrote it all in one sitting lmao. It was meant to be more of a drabble while I work on an anon request but um...yeah this happened. This is also my first time writing Jonathan so forgive me if his characterisation is a little rough. part two.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t keep us waiting doll, you promised.”

Hearing your boyfriend call to you gives you a rush of excitement and nerves as you stand in his apartment bathroom. Staring at the muted green tiles on the wall, you breathe slowly to prepare yourself before looking in the mirror to adjust your ears. Bunny ears.

You remember the playful bet you made with the two supervillains, hard to forget when you’re dealing with men like them. Edward, your lover, wasn’t too shy about sharing you with his friend, and as such you developed a taste for having both the criminals at once. He still had demands of his sadistic companion, like that he was not to use his fear toxin on you unless he had your explicit consent, even though Edward knows he still wouldn’t allow it; not sharing quite the same appetite for fear, especially yours. Since Edward’s pride also dictated that you could only be with Jonathan when he was present, you began to look forward to times when you knew the doctor would be coming to visit. It was one of such visits when you’d made the remark you were now slightly regretting.

“Oh come on, he clearly has to blink.”

You were referring to Jonathan’s uncanny ability to stare uninterrupted without blinking, causing Edward to chuckle. “Not if he can help it, although I suppose you could always try and outlast him.”

“Outlast me? Please, she couldn’t possibly.” Jonathan drawled, whiskey glass in hand as he smirked. He knew what he was doing, feeding into the competitiveness you tried to hide.

“I can…I’ll prove it.” You replied, overconfident. Before Jonathan could reply, Edward chimed in.

“Why don’t you make it a bet, my dear?”

This caused intrigue to be felt in the room, as you and Jon looked at Edward, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Perhaps, if you win, both me and Jonathan have to…be your servants for an allotted time.” He started, causing Jonathan to scoff. “Now now Crane, don’t be a spoilsport.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly and ask, “and what if Jonathan wins?”

“Don’t I get to decide? Since I’m the one doin’ all the effort here.” Jonathan murmured, before Edward smirked a little.

“I’m sure you’ll be pleased with my choice. If Jonathan wins, you have to wear something of my choosing, and be ours for the night.”

You couldn’t deny the offer was tempting, having them both at your beck and call would certainly knock their egos down a peg. Although you had no idea what on earth Edward planned on dressing you as if Jonathan won. But what’s the worst that could happen?

“Fine, deal.”

You can almost hear those two words in your head as you look at yourself now, twisting your body to look from every angle. All your curves were squeezed into a tight black corset style bodysuit that even had a cotton tail on the ass. You were floored when Edward had sent you into the bathroom with the instructions that your costume was on the side of the bath, expecting maybe some plain lingerie. But a playboy bunny suit? You’d blushed the whole time you put it on, pulling up the nylon stockings and attaching the wrist cuffs and bowtie neckpiece. Despite your initial hesitance, you’re sure they’ll like it as you spin in the mirror. It certainly doesn’t hide anything.

“Doll, you’re testing our patience.” You hear Edward say sternly from outside, so you reassure him you’ll be out in a moment. Taking a deep breath, you adjust the silly bunny ears on the top of your head for a final time and leave the bathroom, heading down the small hallway to the living room where the two men were sat.

The tension could be cut with a knife as they both look at you, momentarily stunned. Jonathan’s face seems more shocked; clearly Edward had kept it a secret from him what exactly you’d be wearing. But even Edward’s face looks a little stunned, his eyes greedily drinking it all in as he watches you step forward. Unsure what to do, you stand there, placing your hands behind your back in a submissive way they both seem to appreciate.

“Oh sweetheart, look at you.” Edward remarks, grinning now as he adjusts himself in his seat. “Come over here, give Crane a closer look.”

You know he likes that, reminding everyone in the room that despite the dynamics at play, he still is the one that has full control over you, he’s still the one letting Jonathan see you like this. Obliging him, you move over to where the two men sit on the couch.

“Ain’t she pretty.” Jonathan hums, leaning forward a little to properly inspect your curves.

“Well, I think this was a tremendous idea by me.” Edward says in a self-satisfied manner, before gesturing to the floor. “But I don’t think you should be standing right now, should you dear?”

You shake your head before you even realise, getting on your knees in front of them, keeping your back straight so you look eager. Jonathan huffs out a small laugh, flicking the bunny ears on your head. “Real cute.”

Biting your lip softly, you have a good idea of how this is going to go as you feel Edward’s hand tilt your chin up, stroking your cheek softly with his thumb.

“Are you going to be a good girl for us? Or should I say, a good bunny.” He teases, relishing in how condescending and demeaning it sounds to call you a bunny. Especially since you’re the one who got yourself into this position. Regardless, you nod obediently.

“I’m nice enough to admit that Crane probably deserves the first go, since his freakish eyes won us this sight of you.” He relents, leaning back a little and dropping his hand.

“Damn right I do.” Jonathan mumbles, glaring at Edward having not missed the subtle insult. You hesitate before starting to undo the scarecrow’s belt, not missing the way his eyes flash. “Oh, what an eager bunny you seem to be, that right darlin’?”

He helps you to rid him of his belt and slacks, as you decide to play up the whole pet angle and nuzzle your face into his bulge. A groan is heard from above you as he pulls at your hair a little. “Dirty thing.”

Tugging his boxers down, his cock nearly hits you in the face as he holds you in place with his grip. You look up at him, waiting for permission which causes a rush of blood to go straight to his dick. “Look so good, lookin’ up at me like that.” His voice sounds rougher, emphasising his southern accent in a way that sends shivers up your spine, and forces you to clamp your thighs tightly together. Pushing you forward a little, you get the hint and lick a stripe upwards, repeating the motion a few times.

“Arch your back.” Edward says suddenly, his smug smirk never wavering as he demands you. “You’re my bunny too, remember? I want a show.”

Doing your best to do what he asks, you arch your back to emphasise your ass, even giving it a shake for him. His eyes are fixated on the cotton tail, before nodding as if to tell you he’s pleased. But Jonathan clearly isn’t happy with the change in focus, tugging your hair sharply to get you to continue. Breathing deeply, you open your mouth and start to suckle the tip of his cock, before slowly sinking down and bobbing your head. You’re rewarded with a low sound from Jonathan, making the heat between your legs worsen. Jonathan has never been a particularly loud lover, so any sound you can get him to make is a win, you think, as you keep sucking. Your hands grip Jonathan’s thighs, giving you leverage as you bob your head.

Edward watches the sight, mesmerised as he always is. He’ll never admit it out loud, but seeing both of you like this turns him on to no end. Captivated by how your lips look wrapped around the closest thing he has to a friend, causes him to grip his own thigh tight. You make a soft noise around Jonathan’s cock as you pull off for a moment, licking up it and looking up under your eyelashes. He strokes your cheek softly, his way of praising you without words before you begin again.

“You can do better then that, bunny.” Edward mocks, his hand finding itself in your hair as he starts to slowly move your mouth up and down Jonathan’s length. The doctor takes a sharp intake of breath at the sudden change, as Edward forces you deeper before pulling you nearly all the way off, repeating the action. You moan softly, the vibrations sending shocks up Jonathan’s back as he watches you.

“Good little pet, letting me take control.” Edward says lowly, still controlling your pace. “Show us how good you are. Hands behind your back, lace your fingers together.”

You stutter out another whimper as you do what he instructs, lacing your fingers behind your back. Your reward however seems to be your boyfriend pushing you down faster now, almost trying his best to trigger your gag reflex. Jonathan’s hand finds a home on your shoulder, his fingers tracing the soft skin of your collarbone. You gag softly as Edward pushes your mouth nearly to the base of Jonathan’s cock, pulling you up to catch your breath before shoving you back down. He repeats this over and over, time blurring as you let yourself be used like this.

Despite the fact you can barely think, the one thing you can realise is how strangely intimate this feels. Not for you specifically, but for the two men above you. Edward essentially pleasuring Jonathan himself, with you acting as the toy. Although you can’t dwell on that for too long when Jonathan’s hips start to twitch and thrust up into your hot mouth, causing tears to form in your eyes from the intrusion. Still, you do your best to relax your throat as Edward keeps maneuvering you up and down, your bunny ears sitting askew halfway down your hair.

“Gettin’ close girl, where should I cum hm?” Jonathan rasps out, asking you as if you had the hope of answering as you splutter and choke on his length. Instead, you do your best to look up at him, your thighs pressed together but offering your drenched cunt little relief.

“Maybe I should paint that pretty doll face of yours, or that body in your slutty outfit.” He mumbles, and you swear you’ve never heard him this talkative before while you go down on him. It makes you shiver, before a small groan escape his lips. “Or maybe I’ll just let you drink it all up.”

You make a pleased noise, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth as Edward keeps pushing your down further and further on Jonathan’s cock, your nose practically brushing against his pelvis. Jonathan’s hips twitch and his thigh tense, before he cums inside your mouth with a loud groan. Edward holds your position as his partner finishes, before he pulls your hair and lets you off his length.

“Don’t swallow. Be a good bunny and show us.” Edward taunts, knowing how embarrassing the request he’s making of you is. Still, you relent and stick your tongue out for the two criminals, eager to hopefully get a reward for your obedience.

As Edward looks at you both, his friend panting and spent, and his girl on her knees in front of them with cum painted on her tongue, he feels the rush of power and dominance that he craves, his ego through the roof now.

“Good girl, swallow.”

So you do, tasting the bitter cum before catching your breath properly. Your knees slightly ache from being on the floor this long, but you stay with your fingers interlocked.

“So, you gonna fuck her?” Jonathan finally speaks, glancing at Edward, however the narcissist simply shakes his head. You should feel a little embarrassed at how callously the two men discuss this, but you’re so desperate for your lovers’ attention you don’t let it bother you.

“No no…I think I’ll have the same.” He grins, before heat rises to your cheeks. You go to move into position between his legs before he speaks again. “On the sofa.”

Jonathan moves over to accommodate you as you get up next to him, before leaning over until you’re eye level with Edward’s crotch, adjusting your bunny ears. Your boyfriend hums appreciatively and runs a hand down your spine, feeling the material of your costume beneath his fingertips.

“You know what to do.” He says coldly, as you scramble to undo his belt. Meanwhile, Jonathan is greeted to the sight of his life as he practically has your ass in his face. He can’t resist the temptation to gently run his hand over the back of your thighs. The motion causes your desperate state to push back against him, and Jonathan scoffs a little.

With the assistance of Edward, you finally have his cock in front of you as you repeat the action from earlier, licking from base to tip a few times. To watch you jump, the man on the other end of you suddenly spanks you harshly, the gasp escaping your lips pleasing him. Edward utilises this to grab your hair and push you down on himself, not as harshly as before. You start to suck eagerly, bobbing your head up and down as he allows you to set the pace.

Jonathan spanks your other cheek before massaging your ass firmly, enjoying how your body bends and contorts from this angle. He notices that your bodysuit connects at the crotch, and he smirks before tracing his finger along it, ghosting your cunt through the material. You can’t help but let out a noise around Edward’s cock, needy for anything as you grind against the digit.

“Oh, you dumb little pet. Are you that needy?” Edward starts, ever the motormouth even when getting head. You nod around him.

“I suppose I could make m’self useful.” Jonathan says, a teasing lilt in his tone as he gently traces the seams of your bodysuit.

“You want that? Want Crane to play with you, bunny?” Edward asks, revelling in your needy whine. “Seems like she does…”

“Wouldn’t want her clawing at the furniture.” Jonathan remarks, and before you can remind him that you’re a bunny, not a cat, Edward pushes your head down just as Jonathan rips open the crotch of your bodysuit. You gag softly, feeling as Jonathan strokes up and down your dripping folds; Edward hadn’t left you any underwear to go with your costume. His finger trails up to gently play with your clit as Edward lets you breathe. Moaning, you tilt your head to look up at your boyfriend and observe the smug look etched onto his features before you go back to your job, sucking with vigour as Jonathan increases the pressure. Before long, he trails down and pushes a finger inside your cunt, the sound of how wet you are seemingly echoes around the room.

Both you and Edward let out a groan at this, your cunt finally being filled as you back yourself up on the doctor’s fingers, before he graciously adds a second one. The slick sounds of his digits fucking your pussy can barely be heard over the equally depraved sounds of you sucking Edward like your life depends on it. Your boyfriend is in heaven, truly having the best show of his life in front of his eyes. You can feel your bunny ears slip down again as Edward runs his fingers through your hair, before he corrects them on top of your head.

“So slutty, must be quite the honour. To have pleasured both of the most wanted criminals in Gotham, hm?” Edward teases, always having to mention himself even when trying to make you more wanton and desperate.

“I suppose that’s just what bunnies like her are made for.” Jonathan joins in, moving his fingers quicker and harsher. You moan out around Edward, the condescension making your clit throb. Your lovers’ hips twitch a little, forcing his cock deeper as you relax your throat. Making an almost pornographic slurping noise, you double down on your efforts as Jonathan pleasures you more and more.

“So good, what a good slut.” Edward praises, his hand running down so he can move his thumb over your cheeks as you suck.

Your pussy tightens at his words, Jonathan feeling this and smirking more. He uses his other hand to spank your ass again harshly, wanting to keep you on edge. Curling his fingers a little, your eyes roll back as you’re filled from both ends. You can’t deny that you love this, love feeling like a plaything for two men that strike fear in the majority of Gotham’s citizens. It makes you feel powerful in your own way, having almost tamed them in a manner of speaking. As you push yourself down so Edward’s cock hits the back of your throat, you know that you have the riddler addicted to you and the devotion you give him. You know just how to make him feel like a king, how to give him the praise and attention he feels he deserves, and you love giving it to him for moments like this. Where you can just switch your brain off and let yourself be a pet, a bunny, for them both.

“God, what a mouth.” He mumbles, slapping your cheek gently to punctuate his words as he barely suppresses yet another groan.

“She really is somethin’ else.” Jonathan agrees, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace inside you.

“And all mine, aren’t you?”

You realise that despite it all, this is Edward’s way of asking for reassurance, and you’re all to happy to nod around him. However, with the intense onslaught of sensation, especially now that Jonathan has slipped his other hand around your thigh to rub at your clit, you know you’re getting close. You pull off Edward with a pop before hurriedly speaking.

“Getting close…” you warn them both, before going back to your blowjob as Edward moans softly at your announcement.

“Yeah? Gonna cum sweetheart? Cum from being the riddler’s pet bunny?” he goads you, as he watches you moan desperately around him. “Don’t you dare pull off. Want to watch you cum with my cock in your mouth, understand?”

You nod, as Jonathan speeds up his firm circles on your clit. You’re in heaven, the comforting weight of your boyfriend on your tongue as Jonathan fingers you into oblivion. After a few moments, you’re cumming on Jonathan’s fingers with a moan, the intensity causing your whole body to shake. Edward groans at the sight, gripping your hair in place before thrusting up into your mouth. You swear you’re still orgasming, letting him use you as your mouth goes slack. It doesn’t take long before Edward finishes in your mouth with a grunt, letting go of your hair. You pull off and swallow, before taking sharp intakes of breath. Only then does Jonathan pull his fingers out of you, crudely wiping them on your ass.

Edward pulls you up, letting you rest against him, stroking his hand up and down your back gently.

“That alright?” he asks, like he always does. With your nod, he relaxes a little more. “You looked truly delectable in that costume. I really did make the right choice.”

“What was it between?” Jonathan pipes up. He never really is one for aftercare, but still sticks around, occasionally stroking an area of your body absentmindedly.

“This, or a maid outfit.” He explains, looking at your form with a smirk. “I went with something classy.”

“Classy?” you repeat, “You can practically see my whole ass.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Jonathan asks, causing you to scoff and giggle.

“Well, the iconic playboy bunny outfit design was finalised in the early 60s by a French designer, so yes I’d argue it’s very classy.” Edward says, adjusting the bunny ears on your head. “Playboy bunnies are also required to know and identify 143 brands of liquor, and bend down in a certain way to serve men their drinks.”

“Alright alright, I’m not going that far.” You say with a small laugh, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Not yet.” He mutters teasingly.

[starryeyeddreamer21]

I think Alastor would ALWAYS have a problem with the people his friends are dating

I bet he often flaunted how close he was with Rosie to every single one of her husbands and Rosie thought it was hilarious. Those two are scheming or gossiping 24/7 which means when they talk they are standing very close and whispering so no one would hear what they say. Every single one of her husbands hated it and it was step one of their downfall EVERY SINGLE TIME

He's absolutely killed/helped kill Niffty and Mimzy's exes and men that wouldn't leave them alone in general (this is literally canon with Mimzy)

He constantly says Charlie is too good for Vaggie even when him and Vaggie become more civil but it's fine because he's joking... Mostly

And when him and Vox were still close??? Omg he was convinced Vox had the worst taste in men EVER and him ending up with Valentino honestly just proved his point

It takes a little bit of a turn with Husk and Angel because he's just equally unimpressed with both of them like he'll look at Angel and be like "Really? The drunk?" And then he'll turn to Husk like "Really? The whore?" And then decide that neither of them can do better in the most derogatory and secretly caring way possible

[mooningningg]

"𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛 𝐲𝐨𝐮."

Flirty enemies to lovers with jjk men.

gojo, sukuna, and megumi, (f).

genres, warnings, trope. fluff! | cursing ig! | enemies to lovers! |

notes i. I'd be happy to see my request and submission box filled rn, pls.

⋆.ೃ࿔*Gojo.

•you hate gojo, he hates you. Oh boy, just the thought of his white hair irritates your whole being, shakes your bones in anger, his name ever so leaves a bitter taste right on your tongue. It was serious both of you didn't like each other, oh so you thought was the case.

•you see, to gojo. When he sees something he's interested in, he likes to get their attention, well that's exactly what he's doing with you.

•being an annoying piece of shit = your attention.

•you really had no idea why he even started to bother you at some point but it grew to the point that you came to a final choice that you hated the man, absolutely despised him!

•but if you did... Why was it you found yourself enjoying his lips devouring yours.

The sound of sloppy kisses bounces off of the walls as gojo pushed you further more onto the wall behind you in an empty classroom if it was even possible, it was like your lips were the only thing presented to a starved man, which gojo played as at that moment. He was needy, so desperate, his hands roamed all over you, not leaving a spot untouched.

You couldn't believe yourself, absolutely unbelievable. You were arguing him at first and not even a second after you found your lips against his, and surprisingly, his lips felt like heaven when it was shut and only moved against you.

"I hate you so much." You mumbled in between the kisses and he replies, "you're the worst person on the face of the earth." "You suck." "You suck more." "Literally want to kill you." "Already planning your funeral."

˚ ༘♡Sukuna.

•Oh boy(2), being enemies with him if that's what you call is such a pain in the ass, istg. This man will NEVER stop bothering you, he likes to see you stressed out and angry, but he lowkey thinks it's cute that's why he likes to piss you off.

•his playboy, rebellious antics, is the reason why you hated him, he was bad news, always a troublemaker. He liked to break the rules and well... You liked to go by them not break them, but sukuna found himself interested more on breaking you.

•you intrigued him at some point though, when he started bother you he was legit hating on you but as time flew by, he somehow liked your attention on him.

•and now, these days he started flirting with you, but still a mix with being a pain in the ass, and you were confused wether you liked it or not, because he was... Charming, indeed, but a delinquent.

You placed the book right on the spot on the shelf you took it from back, after reading the title and summary you found no interest to read it for the day, you continued your search in the library, fingers brushing on every books spine, trying to find something interesting to say the least.

And when you did, you took it from the shelf and smiled slightly at your accomplishment, turning around to head to the safest place to read said by you.

Unfortunately, you were met by a big chest in front of you, the familiar scent of his perfume meets your nose and as if on time you rolled your eyes just like that.

"Move, jerk." You harshly bite, glancing up at him to look him in the eye and he stared down at you with that usual smirk of his that you wanted to slap off of him more than ever "and why would I." The pink haired replies, not flustered at all he brings his hand to place on the shelf right beside your head, he leans down to have his head leveled to yours.

"Because you're in the way, are you dumb." You say in a more demanding tone, meaning what you had said, he chuckles mischievously at your statement, "if you weren't so pretty you'd be six feet under the ground, you just piss me off, so fucking bad. The way you run your mouth all the time like, jesus christ woman do you never shut up." He suddenly rants in your face, saying all that with a smirk.

"You think I'm pretty?"

*ೃ༄Megumi.

•he was mean, not really. He was just brutally honest, serious and you kind of did not like that about him because he was mean to people, he was totes not your type. He was just straight up blank, not a single smile ever can be seen on his face and you found it annoying how someone can look and feel so miserable.

•it was mutual, he found you annoying also. Always running your mouth, like you can never shut up, he was annoyed with people that were loud but you, oh he was annoyed on another level. You go on over and over, over a topic that made no literal sense and the next you were over another topic.

•but maybe the things you found annoying about each other was overcomed by the liking you two had for each other also, and you may never guess what happened next but that's right. You both are officially secretly dating no body knew what or how it happened. The transition was... Complicated, ehe.

"HEY GUMI HAVE YOU SEEN MY SHAMPOO I CANT FIND IT ANYWHERE." Yuuji literally yells as he barges into the bathroom with which he assumed only megumi behind the shower curtain, "Yuuji..." Megumi calmly tries to get his attention but no, the pink haired was rather easily distracted that explains why he was unfocused about what megumi was trying to say, he only focused on finding his shampoo, "like I thought it was here, because I literally remember putting it here but i-" "Yuuji, I'm not exactly alone in here..." Megumi was too shy to say, "huh what?" And just like that you peeped through the shower curtains with an innocent smile as if you weren't butt naked inside the shower with your significant other, which turned out to be yuuji's roommate.

"Hey, yuu." You say with a sweet smile, yuuji instantly became flustered and as he was taking his steps back towards the door but still looking at you, " oh uh hi I'll just..." Knocks multiple things over, "...leave you two alone." Knocks more things over, "also I think your shampoo is over there." You pointed right at it but yuuji didn't even take a glance, "um thanks Y/n, I'll just.." *awkward finger guns*.

notes ii. this isn't proofread btw :).

[feanoryen]

Finweans ranked by Aura

Feanor - So powerful he sucked the life force out of his mother, invented a ton of cool shit, had more children with his wife than any of the other Eldar, died in battle while his body combusted into flames because he was just that hot, & the King of the Valar who he hated cried over him.

Earendil - Cool as hell, has a wife who's cool as hell. Predestined to be a hero even though he comes from a basic vanilla bloodline (besides his great grandpa Fingolfin). Even though most of his ancestors were nobodies or flops, most of his descendants that came after him were cool as hell.

Maedhros - Might have been higher than his father & cousin if he didn't khs, Lowkey an Aura loss moment but he makes up for a lot with his gorgeous red hair, height, surviving Morgoth's torture, & sorta fulfilling his dad's dumb oath.

Fingolfin - The only good thing his bland vanilla mother did was give birth to him. He was a total badass I've got to admit even as a Feanorian stan. Him crossing the helcaraxë & his death were top Aura moments.

Elrond/Elros - They're twins so they can share a spot too. Both badass as hell.

Fingon - Called "the Valient", braids gold into his hair, saved his sexy redheaded cousin, & became King of the Noldor. Everything about him screams Aura.

Galadriel - Despite the fact she's a Feanor anti (Booooo!!!), she admittedly has a ton of Aura. She's smarter than possibly everyone else here given she survived when the rest of her generation either got themselves killed or spends all their time being a sad beach cryptid.

Gil-Galad - Cool as hell, managed to make an alliance Maedhros could only dream of.

Maglor - Has a couple Aura loss moments but in the end he LIVED which is an Aura gain. Also gets Aura points for having the best voice in Arda.

Celebrimbor - Pretty rad dude, love how he's more like Feanor than his father Curufinwe Jr is, unfortunately he died.

Finrod - His death is cool as fuck. Looses points for cockblocking his little brother & dying for that basic joe Beren though.

Caranthir - Goth Icon. Love how despite his raging anger issues he's also an awesome guy you'd want to be friends with.

Finwe - A massive flop in a ton of ways but definitely still has Aura. Looses Aura points for failing Feanor & choosing to marry an unsexy Vanya when he could've waited for his sexy talented silver haired Noldo wife to come back to life. Only good thing about him besides his awesome hair is that he's Feanor & Fingolfin's father.

Aredhel - Cool as hell but has terrible taste in men. Her whole white aesthetic & her wild personality gain her Aura points though.

Turgon - The only cool thing about him is that he built Gondolin which wins him some Aura points. Looses Aura points for getting played by his nephew & dying pathetically though.

Idril - She's cool I guess, the only thing of note that she did was give birth to the chad Earendil. Tuor is such a basic guy though, he's not the worst but she could do better.

Aegnor - Cool hair. Pulled a baddie. Fumbled the baddie.

Angrod - Not the most stand out Finwean but he seems to be a mama's boy & he didn't do anything wrong so I'll put him above the family flops.

Finduilas - She's a sweetie but she looses Aura points for falling out of love with a great guy like Gwindor & falling in love with Turin the walking L.

Celegorm - Stupid as hell for trying to use a powerful half-Angel as a political weapon against her father. Looses more Aura points for getting abandoned by his dog & dying at the hands of said half-Angel's 30 y/o mortal son while he's over 1000 y/o. Gains some Aura points for being able to talk to animals, his hair, & his hot bastard energy.

Curufin - Feanor with 99% less Aura. His only achievement is having Celebrimbor yet he still couldn't even succeed at being Feanor 2.0 and having 7 kids to continue the family line. Had the chance to kill Eol but didn't which led to his favorite cousin dying (that's a huge L).

Finarfin - Takes after his mother in the sense he's vanilla af. The tiny percent of Aura he has is from his Noldo side obviously and he used that to pull a baddie like Earwen. All his kids get their Aura from their mother's side.

Orodreth - I like the guy, but he's definitely a dumbass with no Aura. He inherited a kingdom but isn't particularly good at anything. His only accomplishment is possibly fathering Gil-Galad.

Maeglin - Orodreth might have no Aura but this guy has negative Aura. His childhood sucked but he's such a walking L that's he's somehow more of a loser than both Celegorm & Eol combined.

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 8

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 

Chapter Synopsis: You’ve arrived in Paris and have successfully infiltrated the catacombs. However, things take an unexpected turn for the best and worst.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

The train approached the station right on time, the brakes smoothing out right onto the platform. By now, the train station was busy with people. It wouldn’t be hard to lose someone within the crowd. That was why it was so important to tag the targets instead of relying on eyesight alone. 

From a suitable distance, the 141 tailed Makarov’s men, making sure to blend in when necessary. It wasn’t hard to look like one of the many groups of tourists in Paris. An odd group, but a group nonetheless. Soon enough, you halted the chase, allowing the targets to head to their destination. If you followed them all the way to their secret entrance, you all would be spotted immediately. For now, it was wise to head to a hotel spot nearby and track the targets by computer. The men weren’t used to hotel hopping so much. According to you, it was much less conspicuous to stay in a hotel rather than a guarded building on behalf of the United States government. 

Not that they were complaining. They were grateful to have comfortable beds while on a mission. There were many, many missions that required them to sleep on the ground. Sometimes they didn’t have sleeping bags or cots with them. The actual beds have led to most of them getting better rest than normal.

This hotel looked just about the same as the last one. Pretty generic, clean, and only local art on the walls that looked similar to the many artists on the streets. The room pairing was the same as well. Soap and Ghost in a room, Price and Gaz in the other, and one all to yourself. You didn’t mind bunking with any of them if it was necessary. Right now, it just wasn’t.

Ghost was a little disappointed that you didn’t invite him to stay with you, but he wasn’t surprised. Admittedly, a part of him did love the chase. He also had a new motivation when it came to you. Complete the mission and convince you to stay. He knew that you were wavering when it came to the possibility of going back off the grid after everything was over. While he wasn’t sure what you would end up doing if you decided to stick with him, he didn’t care. He just wanted you by his side.

Perhaps if you could see how capable he was during the final stages of the mission, you would.

You all sat in a bedroom, carefully tracking the targets and their luggage. On a large map, Gaz began to trace the trail for Paris on the surface. Price was going through local cameras as well to determine their secret entrance. Soap was looking at a laptop that kept track of them with red dots. All of it took coordination and relying on each other. When it came down to it, the 141 was like a well-oiled machine.

As soon as Gaz noticed that the tracking route didn’t match the Paris roads and Price lost sight, Ghost and you began tracking the targets on a different map. A massive map of the catacombs. When men went one way while the luggage went the other, you both picked out a focus and traced them on the map. The targets went deeper into the catacombs each minute, amplifying just how dangerous this mission was going to be.

The targets were far from where tourists were allowed to be. It seemed like they were venturing into parts that haven’t even been discovered yet. If the 141 wasn’t careful, they could get lost or die. Whichever came last.  

The team spent hours mapping it all out. By the time you all had a better grip on the labyrinth layout, it was nightfall. 

You’ve skipped lunch with the team in order to memorize the route. Worst case scenarios, you lose light or lose the map. Memorizing the routes could save you if the worst happened. It took you a long time, though. By the time you did, you were starving for dinner.

Thankfully, Simon saved a room service plate for you. He didn’t like the fact that you skipped lunch, but he decided it wasn’t worth the fight. All that mattered was that you had something in your stomach for dinner. Not that you were completely engrossed in your meal to really enjoy it, though.

During dinner, you went over the plan with the team. It was proving to be much too dangerous to have all of you enter the maze of bones. There needed to be backup on the surface. It was finally decided that you, Ghost, and Gaz would go into the labyrinth while Price and Soap tracked you from above. Before leaving, you would plant trackers on yourselves. Then, after entering the maze, Ghost and Gaz would separate from you to head to a different part of the catacombs for standby. You would follow the target route, refine the map with new discoveries, and find Makarov to assassinate him. 

If Makarov wasn’t there, you would call him there. However, that meant spending a night underground. 

As everyone geared up in their rooms, you sat alone in yours. You’ve never been nervous about a mission before. You have always kept your cool, confident that you would be able to finish the job no matter what happened. In and out. Undetected. The fear of death never even had you anxious. Now? Now it was different. There were actually many things on the line for you. Too much at stake to make any mistakes.

There was a soft knock on your door before it opened up. Simon stood in his full gear. Bulletproof vest, helmet, boots. Everything that told the world that he was a soldier. As much as you wanted to admire it, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, your gaze focused on your twiddling thumbs.

“Hey, you alright?” He came closer, kneeling in front of you to see your face better. Having you be nervous was making him nervous. What could possibly have you, the greatest assassin in the world, rattled?

In response, you shook your head. “I never feared death because I never had a life. It’s different now.”

“Oh. . . Hex. . .” He called out, his gloved hand caressing your cheek. For the first time, you leaned into his gentle touch. It nearly had his heart explode for you.

“Sorry. This won’t be a problem once I’m down there and I find my groove. I’ll be okay.” You reassured him and yourself. Giving yourself a pep-talk was new too. 

Just for a moment, Simon wanted to share this short time with you. To be the one to calm your nerves. He lifted his mark partially up, kissing you deeply to break your anxious thoughts. When his kiss finally registered in your brain, you couldn’t help but kiss him back like it was the last kiss you would ever share with him. If things went wrong, it may very well be. 

When he pulled away, his eyes were sharp. Confident. “You’ll be perfect. I know you will.”

Your chest stung painfully at his words of encouragement. Focusing on what could go wrong wasn’t helping you believe in yourself. All you needed to believe in was Ghost. With a resolute nod, you accept his support. “Yeah. I’ll be perfect. Thank you.”

His heart swelled at your quick recovery. If he could, he would follow you all the way through the catacombs and back. 

Simon gave you one last kiss before pulling down his mask again, already missing the feeling of your lips pressed against his. You felt that absence as well, hating and loving that you could now never imagine a life without his kisses. That just made you more determined to finish the job with grace just how you’ve always done. 

~

In the dead of night, Ghost quietly peeled back a manhole cover, revealing nothing but sewer at the bottom. Gaz raised a brow at the reveal, expecting to see bones on bones already. You double checked the map to make sure this was the correct entry point. Unfortunately, it was.

One by one, you climbed down to the sewers, careful not to land in the waters. Ghost spoke into his earpiece. “Entry successful. Can you read us?”

“Crystal clear, Lt. Be careful down there. Who knows just how many of Makarov’s men are there.” Price stressed, carefully watching the monitor from the safety of the hotel bedroom. Soap was tasked with coordinating a mass arrest and seize of weapons once Makarov was confirmed dead. He was on the phone coordinating the plan while Price focused on his team under Paris. 

Carefully, you made your way through the sewers, following the same path as the targets from earlier. The walk already felt long as it was dark, cold, and quiet save the sound of water dripping every so often. No chit chat. No small talk. All focus.

Eventually, you all came across a dead end. Gaz and Ghost began to feel the wall, trying to determine if there was a secret they were missing. You checked the map to confirm your positions. Just as Gaz swiped his hands over the left side of the wall, he felt something out of place. A piece of brick that jutted out just slightly compared to the others. When he pressed down on it, the wall popped open, waiting to be opened like a door. Gaz relayed the information to his captain while you marked it on the map. On Price’s end, he marked a similar map, wanting to match yours with each new discovery. 

Beyond the wall was nothing but pitch black darkness. There was no light for what seemed like miles. When you all turned on your flashlights, you were met with the remains of people from floor to ceiling. Bones dating back hundreds of years surround you. It was eerie. It was somehow a little worse than being surrounded by freshly dead bodies. Perhaps it was the more profound sense of death that made the endless halls feel grim. 

Ghost couldn’t help but feel a bit creeped out as well. Skulls were his signature icon, wearing one right on his face. Yet here, it didn’t feel right to wear his mask so blatantly. It was like all of his kills were haunting him now through the bones of thousands. 

Gaz let out a shuddering breath, trying to get himself under control. It wasn’t a pretty sight, being down there. He wondered how the hell tourists felt so excited to visit this place voluntarily. 

For you, it all just felt like a bad omen. 

“Let’s go. We don’t want to linger for too long.” You announced, trying to shake the heebie jeebies off your shoulders. The others followed closely, listening for human life when their flashlights didn’t reach far enough into the depths. 

After walking for a few miles, you finally approached the anticipated fork in the path. It was time to go your separate ways for now. As you stared down your path, you took off your jacket along with your tracker. Ghost’s eyes narrowed, a fire already erupting in his chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The stagnant air was cold, already giving you goosebumps beneath your long-sleeved shirt. “They may search me if we need to go with Plan B. As soon as they find the tracking device, radio, and earpiece, they’ll kill me. Or capture me for interrogation. Either way, that’s not ideal.”

“How are we supposed to know where you are then? How are we supposed to communicate?” Gaz question, growing worried about your sudden decision as well. 

You threw your jacket to Kyle, him catching it with his fast reflexes. Ghost clenched his jaw tight, almost cracking teeth. He didn’t like this one bit. But, if this is how you perfected your craft, he had no choice but to accept it.

From your pocket, you took out a small bobby pin that matched the color of your hair. You pressed the button on the end, causing it to start connecting to the 141’s earpieces. A new dot popped up on the monitor that Price still watched as well. Through the bobby pin, you spoke softly, your voice coming through their ears. “This is a new piece me and Kate have been working on for a while. It’s more discreet. This will be hidden in my hair and less likely to get spotted even with a search. Any complaints?”

“Hear you loud and clear, Hex. Good thinking, bringing a discreet backup. I’ll have to ask Kate to get me one of those.” Price praised, lightening the mood. Ghost still had complaints, but he kept them to himself for now. There was something heavier weighing him down.

Simon didn’t want to split up. He thought that he would have no problem with it back in the hotel room when he was comforting you. Right at the moment, however, he didn’t want you to go. Especially without your jacket. 

Before you could go off on your own, he pulled you in for a tight hug, not caring if Garrick saw. Kyle, being pretty intelligent about these things, pretended that he didn’t see anything and turned around. Simon would have to treat him to a drink later. 

“Be careful, kitten.” He squeezed you tight, the hug almost crushing your lungs. In response, you wrapped your arms around him too. Well, as much as you could with all that gear on him.

Reluctantly, he let you go, allowing you to look up at him once more before turning to disappear into the darkness. When Simon turned to go on their designated path, he heard a familiar voice snicker in his ear.

Soap was having a little laugh. “Kitten?”

“Can it before I decide to add a new set of bones down here.” He threatened, something that even you heard from down your skull-decorated corridor. 

In the cover of darkness and a faint flashlight, you made your way down the catacombs. At this point, you were completely relying on your map and instincts. The halls never seemed to end. It was so difficult to determine how much further you needed to go as well. Taking a deep breath every step, you moved forward. 

Suddenly, there was a yellow light in the distance. One that casted haunting shadows on the walls. There were voices too. Voices engaged in casual conversation like it was a regular Tuesday night at work. This was it. You were finally close to finding the main center of this operation. 

Hiding in the shadows, you waited for the men to pass before going down the path behind them. More light illuminated the way, ensuring that even Makarov’s men could come back safely. The confidence Makarov had in this secret was amazing. Few guards, a few too many lights, and footsteps standing out on the dirt floor. It didn’t take long for you to figure out the guards’ path pattern either.

You lowered your voice to a whisper, the bobby pin coming in clutch. “Found their hub. Preparing to infiltrate now.”

“Copy that. Ghost and Gaz are in position as well. Keep us updated, Hex.” Price answered back, carefully watching your new dot enter the heart of the operation. Hopefully, if things went well, he was planning on trying to convince to stay with the team as well. You’ve been a good influence on the group. You’ve challenged them to think outside the box, take the time to think about unexpected possibilities, and to rely on the psychological aspects. 

John couldn’t remember the last time they were so close to catching Makarov since his escape from prison. It felt like they’ve been chasing after him for forever. The fact that you were able to get a step ahead of him, something the 141 has failed to do until now, meant a lot. The fact that you were willing to put yourself so close to danger spoke volumes about your character too. 

The team could really use someone like you.

For now, Price would table that conversation for later. He needed you to come back safe first. 

Sneaking around the operation was quite easy for you. The guards were pretty lax in terms of security. With how narrow the catacombs were and how many boxes of weapons they had, you were able to get pretty perfect cover. On your map, you marked down where you were as well as the amount of weapons were down with you. You relayed the information to Price and Soap, them also take note of it on their side.

Everything was going smoothly. Except, there was no sign of Makarov anywhere. Not even a mention of his name from his men. You had a bit more area to explore, but that seemed like a waste of time. There was no evidence in knowing if Makarov would come personally within the next hour or the next week. You were genuinly hoping that it wouldn’t have to come down to this. “No sign of Makarov. No evidence of future arrival. Plan B.”

From Ghost’s position, he and Gaz looked to each other. It looked like they were going to be down there longer than planned. They did have the option to leave and come back later when Makarov does finally arrive, but they would never do that to you. Not after all that you’ve done for them. They were going to stay down here with you for as long as it will take. Ghost confidently spoke into his earpiece. “We’ll be here.”

“Plan B is a go.” Price confirmed, his muscles tensing up more than they were before. Everyone was feeling more tense. They were nervous for you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was going to happen. Then, you emerged from the shadows, hands up in surrender. It took a whistle to get someone to notice you. Once someone did, everyone was pointing their guns at you. Questions were yelled out to you in different languages you couldn’t understand. It wasn’t until someone big and burly came over and spoke to you in English that things could get a move on.

“You! Who are you?! How did you come down here?” He growled, his finger hovering over the trigger of his pistol. 

Calmly, you explained yourself, careful not to make any sudden movements. “I’m an assassin. I wish to speak to Makarov for employment.”

“And you infultrate our operation to do so? How do I even know that you aren’t lying to me? Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now and save everyone the trouble.” He argued, his muscles aching to fill you with bullets. Something about you didn’t seem right to him. However, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t impressed that you had found their operation.

“I consent to a search if it will make you feel better. All I have is a knife in my boot and a twin pistols on my hips in terms of weapons. Take them. I figured that sneaking in like this would catch attention. I’m pretty good at my job. I can be a very valuable asset.” You promised, hands still in the air, not even flinching to defend yourself. 

The men looked between each other, silently trying to decide what to do with you. Their boss gestured to your body, prompting a few men to take your weapons off your person. Paranoia of more was quelled thanks to you wearing tight clothes. “She’s clear.”

“Anyone follow you down?” The boss asked, his tone becoming more relaxed. 

You shook your head and chuckled a little. “I wouldn’t be a very good assassin if there was. Search me for communication tools.”

They were buying your performance, not even realizing that they were taking orders from you like dogs. The 141 listened carefully through your bobby pin, fists clenched as they tried to keep it together. They couldn’t help it. They were protective of you now. 

Ghost heard the shuffle of clothing, imagining how those men have their dirty fucking hands on you for a thorough search. He wanted to storm right through the catacombs to you like a demon from hell to cut their hands off. Doing so would compromise the mission, but it would probably feel worth it. He had to bite his cheek when he heard you hiss.

Someone got a little too handsy with their search, your tone biting as if you really will bite. “Hey! Watch your fucking hands!”

“Just being thorough, girl. Follow me.” The leader finally said, his men ushering you along right behind him. Price and Soap carefully tracked your position, making sure that their map would be able to lead them right to you when the time came as you were unable to update yours. 

You were led to a more open corridor that was divided into sections almost like rooms. In one of them was a small table, two chairs, and a small battery lantern, much like a makeshift interrogation room. You were guided to have a seat, to which you complied. Across from you sat the one in charge around here while a couple of men with rifles manned the exit. The rest dispersed, business as usual. 

“So, you’re telling me that you want to help Makarov. Why?” He questioned carefully, his eyes scanning you for any kind of slip up. Any indication that you weren’t who you said you were. 

You leaned back in your chair casually, arms across your chest. “I’m only interested in going through an interview with Makarov himself.”

He have a mocking laugh, not knowing that he was eating right out of your palm already. “What makes you think he’s gonna come all the way here just to interview you? What do you think this is? A cooperate job? Why do you think you are so special?”

Smirking, you shrugged your shoulders. “I found and broke into this operation, didn’t I? You may have the rest of the world fooled, but if I can waltz right through your skeleton entrance, it won’t be long until your enemies do. You guys need help. I can provide that.”

He raised a brown and stroked his chin in thought, his brain mulling your words over. You had a point. By the time they noticed you, you were already right in the middle of their big secret. There was obviously a loose end somewhere. Makarov wouldn’t be happy with that. Perhaps they could use the support of a skilled assassin.

“What’s your name, girl?” He asked, interest piqued. 

“Don’t have one. Wouldn’t be a good assassin if I did.” You lied effortlessly like it really was the truth. 

A few seconds passed before he finally took the bait. If anything, Makarov would kill you instantly the moment he suspects something wrong. The ghost weapon parts were going to need a final approval too before being shipped out. 

With a heavy sigh, he caved. “Alright, girlie. I’ll leave this business you have with Makarov. You have to stay here, though. Unless told otherwise, you will not leave this room.”

You were left alone in the open room, obeying the order for the sake of the mission. You could hear some sighs of relief from the bobby pin close to your ear hidden within your hair. First part was over. However, that didn’t mean that the hardest part was done with. Things were only going to get more tense from here on out.

You spend hours sitting and doing nothing. You couldn’t even engage in any conversation with the 141. If you weren’t going to die from a bullet, you were going to die from boredom. When the boss of the catacombs operation came back, you nearly sighed in relief. “Makarov will be here within the next twenty-four hours or so. Until then, you are confined here. Good luck, girl.”

After that brief interaction, he left once again, leaving you to wait out even more. No food. No water. Little light. Nothing to do but wait.

The same went for the 141. At least they had each other in closer proximity, though. You, on the other hand, had no one by your immediate side. Hopefully, this would be the last time you would have to be alone like this. 

~

There was no telling if it was still night or day. There was no telling as to how much time has actually passed. Ghost and Gaz had been quite on their end, cutting of communication briefly to avoid you or them being discovered. Soap and Price were silent too, trying to work out final steps on their end. After a certain period of time, you truly felt isolated. This wasn’t like being alone in your cabin. There, you had the sounds of nature surrounding you, books to read, things to do. You could see sunlight and moonlight from your windows. 

Here, there was nothing but bones, dirt, and the tiny light of the lantern. Even the men guarding you decided to turn in for some rest, situating themselves further away from you, but still in close enough range to notice an escape attempt.

A chill ran through you, making you rub your arms with your hands. You were beginning to get tired and hungry. Just as you tried to slip into a cat nap to pass the time, a low voice woke you back up. Hearing it felt like you were being brought back to the land of the living. “Hey, kitten. How are you holding up?”

You didn’t say anything back for a moment, listening for eavesdroppers. Your voice dropped to a whisper so faint that it was like a spirit speaking. “Fine. You sure you want to keep using that nickname right now?”

“I had Price patch us for a private line for a moment. Gaz is sweeping the areas around us. It’s just you and me.” Ghost reassured, grateful to hear your voice like this. He didn’t like you being isolated the way you were. At the very least, he hoped that his voice would provide you with enough company to tie you over for several more hours. 

Your heart felt lighter already just hearing his voice through the pin. Quietly, you go up from the chair to lay on the floor, not caring if you were getting dirt all over yourself. You just needed to stretch your back and legs out. Try to relax as best as you could. “What time is it out there?”

“Nearly noon. It doesn’t feel like it.” He groaned, hardly believing that there was sunlight somewhere himself. It was way too damn dark under Paris.

“Tell me about it. I can’t tell if only a couple minutes have passed or a couple hours. Time seems to stand still down here. The skeletons aren’t helping.” You half-joked, causing Ghost to actually chuckle. The dark sense of humor that you were demonstrating now made him miss you more than he already did. 

A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two of you, both of you feeling more secure in the dark now that you have heard each other’s voices. Yet, an unsettling feeling began to take over your stomach, tying it in knots. “Ghost?”

“Yeah?”

“If anything goes wrong, you’re prepared to say goodbye to me, right?” You shakily breathed out.

The nature of your whisper still nearly knocked the wind right out of him. The way you said it, like it was an absolute, an unavoidable inevitable, scared him. Genuinely. “I won’t let something like that happen. I’m not gonna lose you.”

Suddenly, you bolted up from the floor, ears trained on a sound you heard further down the catacombs. You almost thought that it was just the illusion of darkness getting to you until you heard it again. Faint chatter from afar. A familiar voice that you have only heard through tv speakers. 

“Y/n.” You confessed your real name to him with a heavy heart. 

Simon almost didn’t register it. His heart nearly stopped beating. “What?”

“Y/n. My name is Y/n.” 

Before he could say anything, let alone find the words to say, he heard the chattering too from your end. The voice was undeniable. Quickly, he radioed Price to reestablish the communication lines again. “Captain. It’s Makarov. He’s arrived early.”

You returned to your chair, dusting yourself off just before the man of the hour entered your line of sight. With a sinister smile, he entered your room and took a seat across from you. “It’s not every day that I have someone demand to go through an interview with me. In fact, I never held a formal interview before. Nor took demands from anyone. This better be worth my time.”

“Trust me, Makarov. The information and help I have for you is gonna be worth both of our time. I would be lying if I said that their was something out of this for me too.” You faked a gracious smile, something you weren’t sure was selling it enough.

Thankfully, you had Makarov’s attention. For now. 

“I’m listening.”

-

Taglist:

@eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @dory-98 @cum-tea-and-towels @completelymarveltrash @watersquirtpewpewboomm @thychuvaluswife @sweetheart-im-the-boss @anotherrickinthewall @bluewinter39 @fortunatelydecadentstudent @transparentsheepsheep @rhaenryawhore @randomlyblues @issssawrap @lachimolalaa3 @callsign-pyro @corruptcrybaby @kdadss @lexuria @dookiedanish@horagamu @bitchvxbes @aldis-nuts @hellhavevibes @annyis @lunaryst25 @xheera

[onesidedradiostatic]

This ship is so fun to me, I’m aro and bi so in a sense I can feel certain elements to both ends of this one sided ship and using that to play with the concept further is.… probably what’s gonna lead to me writing bad fanfiction for this ship.

All this being said I can’t help but see Vox as likely being polyamorous cause like. Yes he’s clearly horny for Alastor in the worst way possible. But he also clearly is into Valentino and the way he looked at Angel in that one scene definitely gave jealous “you’re taking up all of his attention away from me” vibes to me.

Poor Voxxy just wants attention from a man who could kill him and honestly who could blame him

oh yeah I absolutely see vox as polyamorous that's why I have never seen staticmoth as even remotely being a rival to one-sided radiostatic LMAOO they co-exist to me. his taste in men…. certainly is something!!!

[signedeclipse]

would you ever write a part 3 or an epilogue for All For You?? I'm dying to see hantengu try to confess and explain himself

All For You | Part Final [Hantengu X Reader]

Reader is Human Female | Fluff | Part 1 + Part 2

Recomended Song - I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

The air tasted sweeter than usual, your chest rising as you pulled in a wide waking breath, sharply whistling an exhale.

That had to be the best sleep you'd gotten in ages, but despite that fact, your body ached in the same way it did when you used to go on missions. It felt as if…

You'd been manhandled by a demon… or four?

A shaky hand rose and pushed the mess of your hair back, just to keep it out of the way, all while using your wrist to rub one of your eyes with a much needed yawn.

"Huh."

The light blue colour of your extra bed set seemed to have replaced the one you usually slept with. But, when could you have done that? Using both hands to grab the edge and push it off your body, you were surprised to see yourself entirely naked, and very much bruised.

Not only that, but the soft smell of your lavender soap was noticeable.

Had you done something messy and cleaned up? Certainly you weren't at full thinking capacity yet, but you'd remember that many events.

And bruises? That looked like fingerpr-

"Oh. Oh my-" Your hand fell into your hands, hiding the red tint that fell upon your cheeks.

Wallowing in the embarrassment, a sharp nailed hand weakly pushed the sliding door of your room open, catching you at the worst time. In a moment, you grabbed the sheets to cover yourself, knees pushing up against your chest in an attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Hantengu!" It was him again, the one you recognized and not the four that had intruded on your peaceful evening mere hours ago.

"Im sorry! I-I- you hadn't woken up in an entire day! I was just, just-" Despite pushing the sentence on, he seemed to be at a loss for words, while also not caring about the fact that he had walked in on you naked.

Silence fell between you two, and while you had no idea what he could be thinking of, you were flashing between glimpses of last night's events.

"Who… those men." You had pointed a finger at him, and he seemed to shamefully back away a step or two, albeit on his hand and knees.

"Yes, yes you are correct, they are me." He was hiding his face into one hand, letting his curled black hair help cover his face, unable to look you in the eye. He remembered it alright, remembered every angle, and every curve.

You only sighed, laying back down to relax your aching muscles, staring at the scaffolding ceiling.

"I can't say I expected any of that, I'm not that familiar with how demons work, I'm just glad I'm not, you know… dead-" 

"Never! We could never kill you!" Fractically, he crawled towards you, shakily holding a hand inches from your head, before caressing your cheek.

He was warm, much like his clones, but his hands much more calloused and rough, as if they'd worked far longer. It was a comforting gesture which you leaned into, and you could tell he enjoyed the fact by the way he hitched his breath.

"So that was the best way you could make me yours?" In the sincerity of the moment, you still found a way to joke, which simultaneously eased and increased his nervousness.

"Well-"  "You don't have to say anything, I accept."  "Accept?"  "Yes."

He still seemed to be discontent with what you were providing, though listened carefully when your hand brushed against his, pushing his hand further into your cheek.

"Yes, I accept being yours."

Author Note -  I wanted something a little shorter but still sweet to tie off the series, so I hope this was a good little ending! Thank you for requesting <3 Props to the first Eclipse Series!!!!!!!!!

Word Count - 604

[minhoskofi]

u want more?

pairing: bestfriend!byounggon x bestfriend!fem!reader genre: non-idol!au, smut (minors dni!), some fluff warnings: grinding, teasing, edging, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, “baby”, "love", choking, unprotected sex, begging, use of "fuck", marking (hickeys) word count: 3.2k

As the evening sun cast a warm glow through the windows of Byounggon's cozy flat, you slumped onto his couch, clutching a tub of ice cream like it was your lifeline.

Byounggon, your ever-reliable best friend, observed your disheveled appearance with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation.

"Again?" he murmured, shaking his head as he handed you a tissue to wipe away your tears.

You chuckled humorlessly, your voice muffled by the ice cream. "Yeah, again. I swear I have the worst taste in men."

Byounggon's eyes softened as he watched you devour the ice cream, a pang of protectiveness swelling in his chest. He had seen you go through countless heartbreaks, each time picking up the pieces of your shattered heart with unwavering resilience. And each time, he wished he could shield you from the pain.

"Maybe it's time for a change of scenery," he suggested, a spark of spontaneity igniting in his eyes. "How about we escape for a while? Just you and me, away from all this mess."

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. "Are you suggesting a getaway or a pity party?"

Byounggon grinned, his dimples deepening. "A little bit of both, maybe. But mostly a chance for you to recharge and have some fun."

You chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the thought of spending time with Byounggon.

"Alright, you're on," you agreed, a small smile playing on your lips. "But you're paying for everything, got it?"

Byounggon rolled his eyes playfully. "Of course. Consider this my treat for having to put up with your ugly crying face all these years."

You swatted his arm playfully, unable to suppress your laughter at his teasing. "Come here," you ordered, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

“Come where?”

You savored the last spoonful of ice cream, letting out a contented sigh as you set the empty tub aside. You patted the empty space next to you on the couch. “Here. Cuddles. Now.”

A faint blush crept onto Byounggon's cheeks, his heart fluttering nervously at your request. Lately, he couldn't deny the growing… warmth he felt whenever he was close to you, the way his heart seemed to skip a beat whenever your laughter filled the room.

"So clingy," he retorted, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions swirling within him as he settled onto the couch beside you.

You snuggled up against him, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you tentatively, the scent of your hair filling his senses. His heart hammered in his chest as he resisted the urge to bury his face in the crook of your neck, to hold you close and never let go.

As you drifted off to sleep in his comforting embrace, Byounggon watched over you with an unusual tenderness. He couldn't tear his gaze away from your peaceful face, illuminated by the soft glow of the evening light filtering through the window.

But as time passed, he began to feel the uncomfortable numbness creeping into his arm. Despite his reluctance to disturb your rest, he knew he couldn't bear it much longer.

He eased himself out from beneath you and gently scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he made his way to his bedroom.

Laying you down on the bed with the utmost care, he tucked the blankets around you snugly, ensuring you were comfortable before tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face.

As you stepped into the luxurious lobby of the hotel, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of its opulent beauty. “You can’t possibly afford this,” you breathed, turning to Byounggon with wide eyes. 

“Already did,” he bit back.

As you approached the reception desk to check in, the hotel staff greeted you warmly… and then apologized profusely. 

Shit.

They explained that there had been a mix-up with the reservations. The last double bed room had been already booked, and they were left with only one room available, with a shared bed. 

A surprise for no one.

You exchanged a hesitant glance with Byounggon, unsure of how to proceed. “I told you to book beforehand.” 

Sharing a bed with your best friend shouldn't be a big deal, right?

Byounggon, ever the picture of composure, simply shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Looks like we're bunking together, partner. Hope you don't snore."

As the first light of dawn filtered through the hotel room’s curtains, you found yourself stirring from a fitful sleep. 

Your limbs were tangled in the blankets.

A distinct lack of warmth enveloping you.

With a groan, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and turned to Byounggon, who was blissfully unaware of your growing irritation as he slept soundly beside you.

"Seriously, Gon?" you grumbled, poking him gently in the side. "You moved so much last night, I swear, I felt like I was in the middle of a wrestling match."

Byounggon let out a soft snore in response, his arm flopping lazily onto your side of the bed, effectively stealing even more of the blankets in the process. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, tugging futilely at the fabric in an attempt to reclaim your share.

"And don't even get me started on the snoring," you continued, "I could've just rented you out as a white noise machine."

Byounggon let out a snort in his sleep, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he shifted slightly, sending a sharp jab of pain shooting through your side where he had inadvertently elbowed you.

"Ow!" you exclaimed, shooting him a mock accusatory glare. "Are you doing this on purpose now?"

He was completely unfazed by your complaints.

With a huff of frustration, you grabbed your pillow and began to mercilessly pummel him with it, determined to rouse him from his deep sleep.

"Lee Byounggon! Wake! The fuck! Up!" you exclaimed, landing a harder blow with the pillow. "I can't take it anymore! You're snoring like a chainsaw, stole all the blankets, and now I'm starving!"

Byounggon stirred groggily, blinking owlishly, "Huh? What's going on?" he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm hungry!" you whined, launching another assault with the pillow for good measure. "And I can't sleep with all your tossing and turning. It's like trying to sleep on a roller coaster!"

Byounggon let out a sheepish chuckle, finally fully awake as he sat up in bed, the blankets pooling around his waist. "Sorry about that."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His hair tousled from sleep and eyes still heavy with drowsiness, he looked effortlessly adorable and undeniably attractive at the same time. The sight caused a flutter in your chest, and you couldn't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Snorting softly, you quickly tried to compose yourself, mentally chiding your traitorous heart for its sudden fluttering. You busied yourself with the excuse of fixing his hair, reaching out to gently run your fingers through the unruly locks, attempting to smooth them down.

"Uh, your hair's a bit of a mess," you mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant despite the warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Let me fix it for you."

“You're one to talk. You look like you just rolled out of bed yourself."

You rolled your eyes in mock annoyance, though the teasing glint in his eyes only served to deepen your blush. "At least I'm not the one who snores like a bear."

Byounggon chuckled, leaning into your touch as you continued to smooth down his hair. "Fair."

As you sat at the edge of the hotel’s pool, dipping your toes into the cool water, a sense of tranquility washed over you. 

Beside you, Byounggon crouched down, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in close. "Hey, I've been meaning to tell you something," he teased.

You raised an eyebrow, curious as to what he had up his sleeve. But before you could respond, he pushed you into the water with a playful shove, sending you splashing into the pool with a yelp of surprise.

Determined to get back at him, you didn't immediately swim to the surface but watched as Byounggon treaded water, clearly worried that he had gone too far. 

After a few seconds, he dove into the water, swimming towards you with a serious expression.

He grabbed you from underwater, pulling you into a tight embrace and wrapping your legs around his waist. "For fuck’s sake, don't scare me like that, you idiot," he scolded gently, his voice soft with concern. "I thought I hurt you.” 

You felt his heart racing against your chest as he scolded you.

The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin as you pressed closer to him. And as you found yourself between him and the pool’s walls, his body pressed close against yours, you couldn't ignore the sudden awareness of the closeness between you.

The way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the feel of his wet skin against yours, the way his arms held you securely - it all sent a shiver down your spine. 

As you returned to the hotel room, the exhaustion of all the swimming settled in, and you couldn't help but feel the overwhelming urge to just collapse onto the bed and succumb to the pull of sleep. 

"Hell, no. Be for real now," Byounggon was towel-drying his hair as he paced back and forth in the room before plopping on the bed. "We can't just waste the day sleeping! There's so much to see and do - waterfalls, hiking trails, beautiful beaches. We can't miss out on all of that!"

You let out an exasperated sigh, flopping onto the bed with a tired groan. "But I'm exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for a week. And besides, isn't the whole point of a vacation to relax and recharge?"

You continued to bicker back and forth, each stubbornly clinging to your own viewpoint, until you couldn't take it anymore. 

Straddling Byounggon, you leaned in close, trying to persuade him with your most convincing arguments.

"Come on, Goni," you pleaded, your hands resting on his shoulders as you looked into his eyes with determination. "Let's just stay in for now, order some room service, and go for dinner later. We can explore tomorrow when we're feeling more refreshed."

But as you spoke, you failed to notice the shift in his demeanor - the way his breath hitched slightly, the way his eyes darkened with lust. And as you leaned in closer, trying to sway him with the warmth of your proximity, Byounggon's hands found their way to your hips, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. 

Byounggon couldn't help but stare at you. He had always found you beautiful, but he had never told you that. He didn't want to risk ruining the friendship. But seeing you on top of him like this, talking about your vacation plans and whatnot - it was too much for him to handle.

He tried to focus on whatever you were saying, but his mind was elsewhere. Down in his pants, to be exact, where he was getting extremely turned on by the feeling of your body pressed against his.

As you continued to ramble on, Byounggon's thoughts were consumed with images of the things he wished he’d do to you. 

Running his hands through your hair. 

Kissing your lips.

Holding you close. 

Fucking you silly.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face.

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at you, trying to hide the bulge in his pants. “No, not really, no. I’ve told you not to do this”, he replied, his voice slightly strained.

You raised an eyebrow, confused “Do what? What's wrong? You’re being weird,” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

Byounggon took a deep breath and decided to take a chance.

He gently grabbed your hips,

“This…”,

then pressed you hard against his growing erection,

“is what's wrong." his voice was lower than what you were used to.

"You've been sitting on top of me for the past few minutes and I can't focus on anything but this,” he confessed, looking into your eyes.

Your eyes widened in shock as you felt his hard member pressing against you. 

You had never noticed how much your own best friend turned you on, or you him.

After a moment of silence, Byounggon broke the tension, “I know. I shouldn't have done tha-”

You shushed him, placing a finger on his lips, “It's fine. We're both adults. And besides, i-it's just a natural reaction.”

You couldn't believe what you were saying, but the way your body was responding to his touch was too much to ignore. So, you did a test roll of your hips against his lap, causing him to suck in a breath.

“Don’t play with me.”, he warned.

But you kept grinding against him, feeling the heat building between you. Byounggon's hand wrapped around your neck, pulling you in closer. Your heart raced as you felt his breath on your lips, the anticipation almost unbearable.

You parted your lips slightly, inviting him to close the distance, but he hesitated. 

You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between desire and the fear of crossing a line with his best friend.

But you weren't about to let him pull away. You leaned in closer, your lips hovering just inches from his, silently urging him to take the leap.

"Goni," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Don't overthink. Just go for it."

He hesitated for a moment longer, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. But all he found was a fierce determination, a longing that mirrored his own.

And then, finally, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a hesitant but passionate kiss.

It was intoxicating, filled with years of pent-up feelings and passion. You couldn't control the moan that escaped from your mouth as you ground your hips against Byounggon's, causing him to grip your waist tightly.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed wet ones along his jawline, your hands moving eagerly to rid him of his shirt, fingers tracing the contours of his chest. You tugged at the fabric, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, your own following it soon after. 

Feeling emboldened, Byounggon leaned back, pulling you onto his chest as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.

His hands roamed over your body, sending more shivers down your spine. You arched your back, unable to get enough of him as you pressed your body against his, feeling every inch of his skin.

You slipped a hand under Byounggon's waistband, your fingers grazing his throbbing length.

Byounggon pulled away from the kiss, panting heavily. “Are you sure you want to do this?”  

“I want it. And I'm sure,” you replied, your hand now firmly gripping him.

That was all the confirmation Byounggon needed. He flipped you on your back, moving lower, biting and sucking on the skin of your neck, leaving marks, pressing kisses along your collarbone before reaching your breasts. 

He looked up at you. A lustful spark in his eyes. Then took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing, causing you to arch your back, letting out a soft moan.

Your hips bucked against his hand as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your panties, flicking his fingers over your clit.

Your moans grew louder as Byounggon removed them and spread your legs apart. He took a moment to admire you before leaning down and lightly licking your slit. 

Your fingers tightened in his hair as he continued to tease with his tongue.

But he wasn't satisfied with just teasing you. He wanted to taste you. Fully. 

He slipped his tongue inside, lapping up your wetness and causing you to let out a strangled cry. He moved his tongue in circles, teasing your walls before flicking over your sensitive spot.

You gripped at the sheets, your body writhing with pleasure. Byounggon's mouth was working wonders on you, and you could feel your orgasm building. But before you could let go, Byounggon pulled away, earning a frustrated whimper from you.

He climbed up your body, hovering over you with a smirk. “You taste so good,” he whispered before capturing your lips in a rough kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips and it only turned you on more.

He positioned himself up at your entrance. Teasing was, apparently, his thing. He slid only the head of his cock in and out, watching your reactions.

You moaned in frustration, “Please, just fuck me already.”

But he continued to slide just the tip in and out, watching as your eyes rolled back in pleasure, “And if I just continue teasing you like this?”

"Fuck, please, for fuck's sake!" you breathed, craving him like your lungs craved oxygen.

After what seemed like an eternity, Byounggon finally pushed himself inside you, filling you completely. You both let out a moan, as he slowly moved in and out, savoring just how tight and wet you were for him.

He couldn't resist teasing you a little more, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in. Your moans grew louder with each thrust, nails digging into Byounggon's back.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he picked up the pace and pounded into you, thrusting in and out with a force that made you gasp. 

He pulled back before plunging back in, setting a fast and rough pace. And as your moans filled the room, Byounggon couldn't resist wrapping his hand around your throat, choking you just enough to bring you to the edge again.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” You cried out as you reached your peak, your walls clenching around him.

“I’m not intending on stopping, love.”

He continued to pound into you, his pace quickening as he chased his own release.Your legs were shaking and your voice had turned hoarse from screaming, but you really didn't want him to stop. You wanted more.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely audible.

He lifted your leg and placed it on his shoulder, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, spreading you wider, plunging back inside. Harder.

“You want more, baby?” Byounggon growled, his hips slamming against yours with each thrust. "Hm?"

You only nodded, your head spinning from the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your body.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a hungry kiss, his hand reaching between your legs to rub your sensitive clit. Your moans were muffled by his mouth.

Byounggon could feel you getting close again and he wasn't far behind. He quickened his pace, his own moans joining yours. Your body tensed and you screamed out his name as you came, your walls milking him for all he was worth.

He collapsed on top of you, panting and covered in sweat. Byounggon wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing your forehead.

“Best friends. Right?” Byounggon whispered with a smile.

“Oh, fuck you, Gon!” you laughed.

“Bet I did.”

a/n: this fanfic is purely fictional and solely for fun. the character(s) mentioned do not represent in any form or way the celebrity/ies, but merely using their name(s) and appearance! do not translate or repost. all rights reserved /© minhoskofi/

[theshoesofatiredman]

Video by Satvik Soni (@stvksn) on Instagram

Transcript:

I just moved into a new apartment and this is a letter to the girl who lived here before me. Look, I don't really know anything about you. All I know is that you have terrible taste in belts and the worst taste in wall art I've ever seen. Anyway, I was cleaning out the cupboards and found this book that you left behind. The book starts with the story of a woman sitting scared in a car while a man tries to break down her windows. of course. The man eventually succeeds, of course, and pulls her out before the car is smashed by an oncoming train. of course. The book then goes on to tell you that in your homosexuality, you are like the woman in that car. This is followed by fifty pages of convincing you to step out of it. When I rot in bed, which is happening quite often nowadays, your ghost stays in here with me. She tells me of the nights you spent reading that book. The nights you spent hoping for a man to pull you out of your car. The nights you spent apologizing to no one for no reason at all. Our landlord told me that you left this place to get married. I really hope you lied to him. Landlords don't deserve the truth. Above all, I hope your ghost finds some peace soon. I hope your God has asked for your mercy. I hope you've refused to forgive him. I hope you left this book behind on purpose and I hope you're drowning in women. You deserve all of it. Just get some better belts.

I was profoundly moved when I watched this earlier today. I found myself sobbing from the care in his message. I used to be the person in the car. For most of my life, I saw my homosexuality as the thing that could destroy me. It was my vice which, at any moment, could rise up and squeeze the life out of me. I was constantly at war with myself, seeking and destroying the parts of me that wanted other men, loved other men, yearned for other men.

In my journey to believe that I could get off the train tracks while still being in the car, I found my experience continually invalidated. What I hoped would become an invitation for the people in my life to explore other theological possibilities with me became closed doors, lectures, and bitter words. Where I hoped to be seen and heard, I found closed eyes and plugged ears.

Worse still, I found blame. I was the one who failed. My back was the one that was turned. My feet were the ones not running the race. I had become prodigal, wasteful with the riches of heaven. God was there waiting, arms open, perfect and blameless.

I've heard the car story from the pulpit before, probably read it in a book not dissimilar from the one the previous tenant had. I've regurgitated it in different contexts, wielded it as a weapon against a world I saw unconvinced of its sinful state. It cut both ways.

I can't help but feel deeply seen and loved by the fact that this man picked up only a small piece of my experience, and was able to understand the depth of the wrong done to me. He was able to imagine, for a complete stranger, the awfulness of holding homophobia sacred. And then, with a concision and precision that I am endlessly envious of, he said words I feel like I've been waiting years to hear:

I hope your God has asked for your mercy. I hope you've refused to forgive him.

[zeb-z]

Thinking about Pac and his self worth issues that stretch for miles, who will always be self sacrificing if there's a chance to save his family. He's twice repeated this risk taking for Forever, taking the pills to find a cure, and now going through the portal to find some stable way to get him back. Both times there is no guarantee for his safety, the process is entirely experimental, and the stakes are high - but that's okay, because it's only his life on the line, and in the grand scheme of things it isn't valuable (to him at least).

Thinking about how Pac took the happy pills cure while sobbing, how Cellbit told him he couldn't stop him from being sad but he wouldn't let him be alone - and now Cellbit has managed to leave him alone in legitimately the worst way possible. Not by getting lost or kidnapped, but by losing himself. Becoming so similar to a version of himself that Pac has to separate into an entire different person because of his trauma around their time in prison. Becoming someone Pac builds walls and barbed wire and lava traps to avoid, to push away. Last time he had Cellbit to finish what he started - and despite all those promises, this time all he has is himself.

Thinking about Tubbo and Pac's conversation while he was on the happy pills - "what are you learning?" "I'm learning that happiness has a price. and it's kind of worth it." How he is no stranger to the consequences, how he's aware of the dangers, and still he will pay for them time and time again. Anything for Favela 6. Anything for family. Happiness has a price, and for him it's everything.

Thinking about how it all worked out last time, but this time is different. Forever returned without even having seen Pac. This risk did not pay off, and now the guy who would burn himself to keep others warm is in literal hell trying to find someone who isn’t even there.

Thinking about a ship called Hope, and how Pac set off to find it, alone. About the Fed operation room he walked into, alone. About the portal he stood in front of, alone. How there has to be significance in this symbolism.

Thinking about Pac and his odd taste in men and his terrible self esteem and his loyalty and love for his family, and the way he can’t seem to catch a goddamn break. How despite all that’s happened, he’s pulled off the impossible before - surely, surely he can do it again.

[xxstraymoonchildxx]

This Couple is Unusual

Prologue / Next

Chapter 1: This Couple, negotiating

cw: none

As Charles Dickens once put it: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”.

The both of you sat in a horse carriage, cars being still not too common around that day, and looked outside the busy street.

England in the nineteenth century was a sight to behold. In awe you watched the people walking down the streets, clad in Victorian fashion - the men in suits, top hats (hopefully without mercury), and walking canes; women in long modest dresses with hoop skirts or bustles underneath giving a distinct shape and various little hats on skillfully made hair. You fit in perfectly with the clothes Asmodeus provided you with. Satan was dressed to the nines, the striped pine green waistcoat over the pristine white, high-collared shirt hugged his muscular frame nicely; the dark coat he wore fluttered slightly behind him when he walked (he couldn’t help himself and only wore one sleeve, the other draped over his shoulder casually). The ascot around his neck matched his black pants and shiny dress shoes. You matched him well - the bodice underneath the dress - white with pine green stripes - emphasized your waist but wasn’t too tight; the long-sleeved waistcoat had frills in the front that opened under the bust like a curtain and ended in your back with a large bow. Around your neck was a necklace with a cat pendant Satan gifted you for your last birthday. 

All that being said sadly didn't distract you from the fact that it smelled so bad. 

Occasionally little boys ran onto the bumpy roads, scooping up what the horses left behind. (You hoped none of those children would get themselves hurt or worse.) Not only that, the industrial smoke carried over from the factories, and people still threw things into the Thames that didn’t belong there (mainly human and industrial waste, and unsurprisingly the occasional corpse)

“I am grateful we didn’t visit London during the summer of 1858,” Satan stated after he saw you wrinkle your nose in displeasure ”I've read about it recently, it was labeled the Great Stink. There were various artists depicting their idea of a shinigami riding along the Thames during that time.”

“Guess it was easier to drop everything into the river. I can’t believe the working class had to bathe in that polluted water, like, eww. Bet Barbatos would've gotten a heart attack from those rats running around if he was with us.” 

Satan hummed in response, looking back outside the window.

You passed the central street that had various shops aligned next to each other.  Somewhere had to be one of the subsidiaries of the sorcerer's society where you would meet one of your teacher’s acquaintances, Viscount Laurent Cavendish who was responsible for the finances there. He was the son of a vineyard owner who made business with high society and offered wine tastings, perfect for making strong connections.

Satan helped you out of the carriage, the strong grip he had on your waist made your cheeks turn pink. The coachman handed you your luggage and wished you a nice day. 

The subsidiary looked like every other building in the business area, disguised as a bank (and also functioning like one for cover). You went inside, walking to the front desk of the entrance hall. An elderly gentleman sat behind the oak table.

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” he asked politely. You took out the letter from Solomon stored inside your bag, handing it over while introducing Satan and yourself. The man’s eyes widened, looking at the demon in surprise, then back to you. “We need to speak to Viscount Cavendish as soon as possible.” He nodded and made a quick phone call with a hushed voice. Not even a minute later you were escorted to Cavendish’s office.

You expected Laurent Cavendish to be a middle-aged man but you were mildly surprised to have someone sitting in an office chair who can’t be older than thirty. Auburn hair framed his oval in a style that reminded you of Mephistopheles and dark blue eyes looked up from his paperwork to eye you thoroughly. Come to think of it, the way he looks at you, judgingly, reminds you a bit too much of the aristocrat demon. He signed you to take the two seats in front of his desk.

“I’ve never expected this shady man to get himself an apprentice. Say, is his cooking still as horrendous?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Nearly killed me once.”

Cavendish sent you a crooked smile, just for a split second, before leaning back in his armchair, folding his slender hands. Back to business. “So, what brings you here? I assume you aren’t interested in opening a bank account.”

“We are interested in the Whitechapel Murders. We plan on acting as reporters from a foreign country. Unfortunately, we don’t have the proper connections in the Londoner scene,” Satan answered and you continued “But my teacher recommended you, Viscount, saying you’re a powerful man in the Sorcerer’s Society and Londoner Underworld”

You hoped to tickle his ego to the best of your abilities. To drive it home, you opened your suitcase - enchanted so you can put as much as you want in it like in the RPGs Leviathan often plays with you; basically unlimited inventory space - and brought out a gift box, addressed towards the man in front of you and put it on his desk. “We can pay you for your troubles, of course”

Curiously Cavendish opened the present, hummed with a twinkle in his eyes, and closed it again. 

“Very well. The murders are all over the newspapers but Scotland Yard is, unsurprisingly, still clueless. Our Society isn’t interested in the case per se, but of course, we are up to date about everything even if we don’t involve ourselves in such … events. The victims are brought to the funeral parlor Undertaker; the owner is involved with the underworld as well and is a reliable informant, despite his unique personality. I’m also acquaintances with one of the Yard’s chief staff, Sir Redcliff. Although I’d advise you strictly to be discrete with any valuable information.”

Satan looked at you and nodded. Cavendish took a sip of his tea after this long monologue. “I’ll provide you with the necessities and wish you all the best. Please wait in the entrance hall. My secretary will bring it to you once I am finished.”

After shaking hands with him, or rather with Satan, you were escorted outside. But not without his calling something out to you right before the door closes:

“Beware the Queens Watchdog, Earl Phantomhive!”

“Well, that went smoothly,” Satan said, guiding you inside the called carriage. The Viscount supplied you with a hotel reservation as well as various objects for bribing purposes - like a bottle of expensive wine for the Yard and credentials. “He must be quiet in debt with Solomon to go for such length. I wonder what was in the present you gave him” You thought about it for a moment “Eh, I guess some rare ingredients or magical items. I didn’t look inside.” The blond demon let out a laugh “I am surprised, by how noisy you usually are”

“Hey!”

Half an hour later, you arrived at the hotel. It was nothing too fancy from the outside, a two-star equivalent from your own time maybe? You stood before the entrance door when you suddenly heard a gentle meowing noise. 

Satan was quick as always, crouching down to pet the little creature in front of him “Are you all alone?” he cooed, petting the few-month-old kitten. In the blink of an eye, not two, but three and four emerged around the corner. You watched it with a grin. 

//What magnificent creatures. What an adorable little family~// Blushing, he played with the litter of cats. He didn’t hear the sound of protest from around the corner.

It wasn’t until another set of hands appeared in his line of sight. He looked up, staring into a pair of reddish-brown eyes. 

Bonus:

Earlier that day:  Y/N: Okay, we should change into more time period-appropriate clothes *takes off top* Satan: HOLD U-!

__________________________________________________

Finally done it. Had like no time to write last week thanks to being short-staffed.I might edit something in case I notice spelling mistakes. I usually use Grammarly but it doesn't catch everything.

[izaneko]

♥︎- tokyo revengers/izana x f!reader🤍❤️

♡- summary: inspired solely by this panel. i was rereading this chapter earlier, it excited me honestly way more than it should have.

♥︎- warnings : minors dni fem reader. cursing, pet names, izana beating up some random dudes, intercorse, smut

it was something about watching him beat the shit out of six other men and how you strangely felt turned on. you couldnt help but have remorse for the poor souls getting their asses handed to them by your seriously enraged boyfriend as he absolutely destroyed these guys one by one but at the same time you couldn't stop thinking about how sexy it made him look- and you found yourself having to shift yourself fixing your skirt cause of the slick wet coating on your thighs. as youre watching these dudes get there shit completely wrecked by izana your mind kept traveling to the worst possible places with him. you kept thinking bout when he was finished with them how you wanted to take him off to the side somewhere secluded, pin him down with your thighs and kiss him as you mercilessly grind your hips into him. you wanted him so bad it began to hurt yet for some reason you couldn't take your eyes off of him. he was spectacular. right before he finished off what little strength the last guy barely had left, he stopped for a second to check on his girl cause he always wants to make sure you are safe and caught you looking at him with a face that hes used to only seeing when you were beneath him. when he saw the way your skin was dusted pink and how your eyes were filled with such desire made him solid in less than a second. he put his already ruined opponent out of his misery with one last powerful blow letting go of his hair, tossing him to the side. right away he started to walk over to where you were seated amongst the heavenly kings, for protection of course and as arrived he had only one thing to say. " can i talk to her, alone.." it wasn't a question. kakucho stared at him confused and respectively informed him that you were unharmed and there was no need to worry but he simply laughed, and ignored him as he responded instead to you " c'mon baby, theres something real important i gotta talk to ya about .."

--------

the only thing that you could hear fill the air around you two other than your mismatched breathing was the moist noises his dick made thrusting in your pussy and the sound of his earrings as they swing rapidly in rhythm. he filled you completely and you screamed a little when he first went all the way in. the way his large purple eyes stared down at you with such affection you didn't know how much more you could honestly take. his hands found your thighs as he grabbed onto your plush cause he felt himself starting to drown inside you. you felt so fucking good around him and he felt his body jump whenever you would squeeze his length with every sexy sigh you let out. his movements became faster and you felt a taste of your first orgasm start to come on. you gripped his back knowing how this would end and he smiled cause he knew exactly what that had meant from you. he repositioned his feet on the ground to firm his stance and grasping your hips pushed inside, fucking into you with every last ounce he had left. you felt his cock press up deep in you that left such a pleasing ache it made a tiny whimper escape you. when he heard it, he leaned in to kiss your lips and as he did his silver trim tickled your cheeks that made you orgasm with such intensity that you instinctively began to cry out his name. " fu-ck, izanaa .. wait." he felt you grip down hard. there wasn't enough warning to stop as he felt himself come entirely in you. while you both desperately tried to even your breathe he held your limp body in his arms against him and kissed your forehead as he said, " damn that's why your my queen."

©izaneko - all rights reserved.

please do not copy / reupload or modify my writing.

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It's funny when these people pretend to like book! Rhaenyra, and when they explain why they like her, they basically describe her in the same way that people who hate her do.

También es irónico cómo estas personas se llaman a sí mismas "equipo de mujeres malvadas" y luego lloran y vilipendian a Rhaenyra porque no quería estar en una fiesta de cumpleaños donde le iban a faltar el respeto, y luego dicen que estaba siendo mala con un niño, del que ni siquiera ha hecho una broma inofensiva. ¿Se supone que debo creer que te gustan personajes como Cersei cuando ni siquiera soportas a un adolescente con razones justificables para estar enojado?

Yeah I've got manyyyy issues with people like op. Like you said, the way they describe Rhaenyra is...telling. As is how they describe Alicent.

First of all: op claims that Alicent tried to "mend the relationship" between Rhaenyra and Aegon. That's just false. Alicent proposed Viserys marry Aegon to Rhaenyra, in an attempt to get Aegon closer to the throne. Which is partially why Viserys refused to approve the match.

Op is engaging in a lot of speculation, like the claim that "Daemon manipulated Rhaenyra" into hating her siblings. There's literally no evidence that Rhaenyra hates her siblings prior to Luke's murder. Is she close to them? Not her brothers, no, but she did have some kind of relationship with Helaena, as is implied by her calling her "my sweet sister, Helaena."

I'm not going to go into how op sees Daemon, but I will say, how they view him and Rhaenyra is basically just how Hess does. Rhaenyra isn't allowed to form her own opinions on her family, negative or otherwise, and Daemon is an evil monster.

I will agree with op that Rhaenyra isn't a good person, however, that's the only time. The things op accuses Rhaenyra of are...really not true other than the fact that she fed Vaemond to Syrax.

They accuse her of "offering her brothers for Laenor...she hosted a lavish feast in a starving city, she was a woman and let the men do the fighting."

Let's unpack that. The quote op is referring to concerning Laenor is:

"My half-brothers would be more to his taste," [Rhaenyra] told the king.

Fire & Blood: Heirs of the Dragon - A Question of Succession

This is taken out of context in the worst possible way by op. Rhaenyra is arguing with her father about marrying Laenor, trying to convince him not to force her to marry him. She's referencing the fact that Laenor is gay, she's in no way "offering" her brothers to him. This is an intentional choice to interpret Rhaenyra's choices as they're written in the worst possible light.

Op continues this with a very tired argument many Rhaenyra antis use: that Rhaenyra feasted in KL. The only evidence of this happening is from Septon Eustace. A man who wasn't even in KL, was noted by the writers of F&B to be unreliable due to his hatred of Rhaenyra, and who literally crowned Aegon. So, using critical thinking, we can infere that the idea that Rhaenyra feasted in KL is extremely unlikely.

As for the fighting, yes Rhaenyra didn't fight. That was due to the fact that she had no training and was recovering from a traumatic miscarriage. Normally I wouldn't point this out as an issue, but op groups it in with Rhaenyra's "flaws". Somehow, Rhaenyra not fighting in battles is a mark against her as a person. Again, intentionally a bad faith interpretation.

No, I agree with op that HOTD's changes to Rhaenyra are shitty, but the reasons are just very off. For example:

I agree with parts of this, but I do want to point out a few things. Such as, why are they calling out Arya fans? Like what does that have to do with anything? I'm sure it's because Arya is a non-conforming woman, which op isn't a fan of, considering their seeming obsession with femininity. It shows how op's personal biases are influencing their view of both the show and the book.

I'm right there with you anon on the their spiel about Aegon's birthday. Rhaenyra was being disrespected and undermined by everyone after the birth of her brother. Is it any wonder that she wasn't excited to go to an event where everyone was expecting her to be disinherited? Op literally was just saying how they loved Rhaenyra "hating" her siblings lmao.

Op also complains about the white hart incident, as well as Aegon's prophecy. This is very much a revealing complaint. They said they hate Rhaenyra being made into the "protagonist" of the show. This is interesting since Rhaenyra is the protagonist of the Dance in the book too. She's morally gray, but it's still a fact; the greens are the antagonists and the blacks are the protagonists. The white hart was confirmation of Rhaenyra being the true heir, something which is also true in the book. I don't understand how that fact being affirmed is wrong.

As for Aegon's prophecy, this is something almost every single Rhaenyra anti has complained about. This is something GRRM himself told the showrunners he wanted, which some people complain is a retcon. It's not, the books aren't done yet, this is GRRM giving us new information about his unfinished work. It also confirmed how off the rails D&D's ending is according to what GRRM has planned for the books.

Anyway, op also really hates daemyra, another thing that's very much book accurate. Op purposefully chooses to ignore any textual evidence that daemyra was more than a political alliance, but they have a history of picking and choosing canon.

I very much agree with you anon about how shallow op's love of Cersei seems to be. They strike me as the kind of person who refuses to see the grayness GRRM is known for. After all, they are frothing at the mouth at the idea of Rhaenyra being a complex character, so I somehow doubt that they can appreciate Cersei's complexity.