#to make matters worse this was in a silent area

[beloveds-embrace]

Okay what if (and stop me if I'm wrong here I'm new to A/B/O) the guys see someone flirting with the designation-less reader and they start subtly start marking them with pheromones to tell everyone else to back off?

I love this idea so much ugh 😩 scenting in the omegaverse always makes me so jdjsjen and no worries! Nothing about what you said is wrong and welcome to the blessed cursed space that is a/b/o

Original post

It started with Price and Ghost stepping into the armory.

You hadn’t noticed them at first, too focused on trying to edge away from the overly friendly Alpha soldier who just wouldn’t take the hint, no matter how disinterested you made sure you looked. He was leaning in closer than necessary, voice dropping lower with each word like he was trying to make the conversation feel more personal. Though your nose picked nothing, you just knew he was probably, likely, drowning the area with his stench.

You didn’t know how to stop it without making a scene. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong- just too many compliments, too much interest in your plans after hours, too much weight in the way he said your name. It left you off balance, unsure if you were imagining the tension curling low in your stomach. Unpleasant tension, as if youmd accidentally eaten spoiled food.

These days, it seemed as if you either garnered no attention, and when you did, it was unwelcome attention. At least it was different and far more pleasant with the 141.

“So, love, I was wondering-“

Then Price cleared his throat.

It wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room like a gunshot, sharp and commanding. Both you and the soldier froze, heads snapping toward the sound, and there he was- Captain Price, standing in the doorway like he owned the entire building, eyes locked right on the man in front of you.

Ghost was just behind him, silent and still as a shadow, but the weight of him filled the room like a second presence- dark, heavy, watching, shoulders tense like Price. You’ve been with them long enough to tell when they are angry based on body cues, and right now, that’s what they were.

Not for the first time, you wondered just what they’d smell like. Would it be heavy and harsh on your nose? Somehow, you doubted it. Then again, Soap did tell you that angry Alphas smell like burnt rubber most of the time.

You eyed the way your… admirer’s nose wrinkled, jaw tight, eyes shifting around.

You hoped it smelled worse.

The soldier stumbled over a few words before making an excuse to leave. He didn’t even try to finish the conversation- rude- and barely managed to keep his composure as he slipped out the door.

Letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your shoulders relaxed slightly as you turned to thank them- but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way they were now looking at you.

It wasn’t anger, exactly. It was something… sharper. Something that made your pulse quicken and your palms feel clammy, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong.

But then Price strode towards you and nodded, low and firm, clasping a hand on your shoulder, and Ghost lingered just long enough to brush his shoulder against yours before following him out the door.

… weird Alphas.

“Weird Alphas.” You said outloud as well, huffing.

You thought that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

It was subtle, so subtle that you almost didn’t notice at first.

Soap was the easiest to miss, playful and touchy by nature so much so even one as people-averse as you were comfortable next to him by now. He slung an arm over your shoulders whenever you were nearby, leaning into your space like it was nothing. He’d linger there just long enough that your skin was warm before pulling away, flashing you a knowing grin you didn’t understand.

Gaz was more deliberate. He’d pass you things- gear, water bottles, paperwork, pens- and his fingers always brushed yours and lingered. Small steady touches, leaving traces of his warmth on everything he handed you, leaving traces of his warmth on your skin. When you worked together, he’d lean in close enough that his presence settled over you, wrapping around your skin like a second layer. Your shoulders and thighs would touch, and sometimes you swore you could feel a deep purr coming from him.

Price didn’t touch you often, but when he did, it lingered and was acutely felt. A hand at the small of your back to guide you through a crowded hallway. A warm palm resting against your shoulder during debriefings, right where your faulty scent glands are. Solid, steady touches that felt heavier than they should’ve- clearly intentional even to the likes of you, and yet you didn’t want to really, truly acknowledge them.

And Ghost- Ghost was the worst.

He didn’t say a single word when he draped his jacket over your shoulders after a long, rain-soaked training session, the heavy fabric still warm from his body and shielding you from the wafting chill. You’d tried to give it back later, but he pushed it into your hands with a low, demanding “Keep it.” That left no room for argument. You didn’t think much of it at first- just a practical gesture- but you caught the way the others looked at you after, the raised brows and faint smirks that made you second-guess what it really meant, especially when you found yourself wearing it long after the cold had faded. You’d tried wearing your own jacket, but the look he gave you had you sighing, leaving, and returning to wearing his.

You didn’t understand it at first, didn’t recognize it for what it was. But others did.

It was possessive. Territorial.

The stares started- quick, assessing glances from the other soldiers that led to widened eyes. People moved out of your way in the hallways, gave you more space than before. Conversations shifted when you walked into a room, voices dropping, eyes darting toward the men who always seemed to hover just behind you.

You didn’t know what to make of it.

And then Soap grinned at you over lunch one day where you wearing a shirt of John’s now and Ghost’s jacket, leaning close enough to bump his shoulder against yours, and said, “Looking good, bonnie. Don’t think anyone’s stupid enough to try sniffin’ around you now.”

It took you a second too long to process what he’d said. When you finally did, your eyes darted toward the others- toward Price, who didn’t even look up from his plate, and Gaz, who only smirked and in your shock, slipped the bracelet he was wearing on your wrist. Toward Ghost, who met your gaze with something dark and unreadable before leaning back in his chair like he wasn’t affected at all. No; he was satisfied, like a smug bear.

You swallowed.

It should’ve felt suffocating, overwhelming, but it didn’t.

It felt… safe. Secure in a way you didn’t know how to explain. The guy that had been bothering you had even requested a transfer.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t call them out on it.

But later, when Price pulled you in his face and rubbed his face, his chin and beard all across your neck, you didn’t move away.

The “good girl” you got was all you could think about hours later.

[writingwisterias]

Day 23: Praise Kink

ID! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Praise Kink, Training, Gun, Training room sex Masterlist

Of course, Leon had noticed your training had begun to slip, he was dragging himself to the shooting range with you every morning. No matter how hard he tried your score never increased. He could see your confidence slipping as the other recruits began to notice your low score. If he wanted to find you he was sure you were in the shooting range. You tried everything you could to get better and yet the more your confidence slipped so did your score. He could see the fire of ambition slowly die inside of you and decided enough was enough. 

He hated being awake so early, especially after he spent the night in some stupid bar he stumbled into. At least you were thankful for the extra attention he was offering. He saw you standing outside the door to the shooting range, two coffees held in your hands as you looked off into the distance. Your headphones looked like earmuffs over your head as you wrapped up warm to fight the winter chill. It was early enough the range would be empty, none of the agents assigned to training groups of recruits would be arriving any time soon, and the sky was still dark. Your frame is highlighted dimly with the street lamps. 

Your smile was brighter than any lingering stars as you saw him. Your sweater-covered hand holding out the hot drink to him. “I needed one so I thought you might as well” You spoke. He could hear your music as you pulled the headphones away from your head, they now hung around your neck. “Keep listening to music at that volume you won't need any ear protection when shooting” Leon teased. His heart fluttered at your shy smile blush coating your cheeks as your hands began rummaging your pockets for your phone to lower the volume.  

Easing into the training wasn’t the hard thing, it was just your aim. It was even worse than before everyone started teasing, Leon predicted the constant bullying from everyone else was a direct result. So instead of following the methods of all the other agents assigned to this task, he took a kinder approach. Hoping his praise and chilled-out attitude would help you relax and not overthink. It worked to his credit; your aim was improving and your score was slowly increasing. Yet your mind loved the extra attention Leon gave you, heart fluttering at every adjustment he would step closer to do. His rewarding words heading to other areas. 

You jumped slightly as he stepped closer to readjust your grip, his eyebrows pinching in confusion as his hands touched your hip. “You good? I didn’t mean to make you jump” Leon spoke. His breath tickled your neck causing you to flinch slightly, blush coating your cheeks as you felt bad for your reactions. You knew it was because you had woken up earlier than normal, your toy in your nightstand finding its purpose yet again after another dream of Leon fucking you. Having to face him after such a graphic dream was tough, his close proximity didn’t help either. 

“I’m good sorry, I don't know why I’m so jumpy today..must have been a dream I had” You half laughed. Leon clearly assumed it was a nightmare the way he nodded, silently agreeing with you. “I’m here if you want to talk about it. We have time before the others show up” 

He was too kind for his own good sometimes, his caring nature making him all the more alluring to him. You could have made up something, some random nightmare but Leon was smarter than that. He would have clocked on instantly. Instead, you chose the cheap side and said you didn’t want to talk about it. Leon just raised an eyebrow. 

“Our training sessions are a safe space for everything and anything…Do you trust me?” 

Your heart stuttered unable to think of a reply faster than the hot flush set in. “I do trust you…it’s just…just complicated” You muttered, your arms crossing over your chest as you met his gaze. You felt so small and shy like you were about to be scolded by a teacher. Once that was always nice to you and then you suddenly get into their bad books. “Complicated how?” Leon asked, his body now resting on the bench - nudging ammo out of the way to set his arms beside him. His hands looked so good, flexed over the edge of the table. His veins were now more prominent. They always looked well-kept. “Something on my hands?” he laughed meeting your eyeline. You broke out of your trance shaking your head. “No No, they just look good” 

“My hands?” 

God you were just making this worse. Digging yourself deep into a hole you weren’t sure you could get out of. Leon smirked, his teasing attitude written all over his face. He had already caught you out on your own lie, your body language speaking volumes over your words. Leon stood up, sauntering over to your stuttering form, his hands landing on your shoulders instantly calming you. “Do you ever relax?” He chuckled. Leon was so close, yet there was no gun in your hand. He was voluntarily in your space. “It’s hard to relax sometimes” You muttered back, hand rubbing the back of your neck nervously as you met his eyes. Leon chuckled, his face inches from yours. “Let me help you” 

He watched your features for any rejection, giving you time to process his request. His grin grew when he saw it, the subtle nod of your head. His lips were softer than you originally thought they would be as they landed on yours. They worked in sync perfectly with yours. His presence was dominating demanding control which you gladly gave him. Leon spun you around, walking you back towards the shelf he was just perched on. You worked on removing your leggings, whilst he focused on his trousers. The kiss never broke. 

He only broke it to hoist you up on the shelf, his body spreading your legs as he invaded your space. “You impressed me today. Seems our 1-1 time is working” 

Leon tasted like the coffee you had given him this morning mixed with the faint taste of whiskey he drank last night. It was intoxicating. Your tongue already craving more. His compliments melted your brain as his lips muttered them against your neck. Blemishes making themselves known with the sting he left behind. Leon sunk his cock inside of you with a groan. Your walls instantly welcome him, warming him. “Fuck..pretty girl having such a perfect cunt” He grunted as he began to move. 

He made sure you felt every inch, his hips pistoning inside you at such an insane speed. Leon’s hand gripped at your thighs, holding one over his hip as the other hand gripped at your head bringing you in for another kiss. Leon was bold and passionate with you. Worshipping every clench, moan or whimper you gave him as he continued to fuck you. “Such a good girl, I should reward you like this all the time and then maybe you’ll be the best agent there is” 

Your brain faltered at creating any form of a coherent response, the letters jumbling up as your head fell against his shoulder. His praise continued to tighten the coil in your stomach, almost ready to snap. “Be a good girl and cum before the others arrive, I want to feel it around my cock” 

He groaned loudly as you finally snapped, your cum instantly coating his cock coating his trousers. The forces of your orgasm caused his. He moaned as your legs tightened around him, trapping him inside as he coated your walls. “There's more if you break your record in front of the rest of them” 

“Seems like a worthy reward”

Taglist: @kasueli@luvrgreyy@michellekmsh@miss0giarra@cinnabunnysavvy@redollface@my-loved-figure-skates@luvlouiee@drawboo22@moth-quasar@nyxxoxo@crazy-b1tch

[letoasai]

Will work for food

DP x DC An idea that's probably been done before but... here it is again.

~~

It was not an ideal setting for this. Out in the open, debris being their only cover. An unnatural storm closing in. The area had been evacuated but there was still no telling how many civilian eyes could be on them at this very moment. 

The League was scattered, making this current group a touch at odds while away from the majority of their normal teams. 

Batman stood with Red Robin, Flash, Superboy, and Raven. It wasn’t a bad lineup, but things were getting dicy. 

A monster had appeared, a creature foreign to most of them. With it came storms of all kinds, winds, hail, rain. It was a mess but there was nothing natural about it. The hail shattered the pavement. The winds were picking buildings up off their foundations. The blue lightning went without saying. The ice was changing the terrain. The temperature changes were disorienting to most of the heroes.  

Worse was the fact that this creature seemed to be able to duplicate itself, spreading the chaos out to a much wider area. They were having trouble even touching the thing let alone capturing it. 

“Are you sure about this?” Batman asked, a deep frown etched into his face as he watched Raven mark out a summoning circle. 

“It’s the only idea i have.” She said bluntly, shivering from the sudden chill. “That thing is not of this realm. We need something else not of this realm to subdue it.” 

“I hear what you’re saying but summoning a demon to deal with a demon still leaves us with a demon.” Flash said, seeing the flaw in this plan. 

“Unless you know this one personally or something.” Red Robin offered, his voice exhausted. 

“It’s not a demon.” Raven said, tone irritated but it wasn’t like any of them were having a good day. “Depending on how you want to look at it, it’s far worse than a demon. That thing came from the Infinite Realm.” 

Superboy just grunted once, watching her put the finishing touches on her spell circle. “You said that in a tone that said it was in capital letters. What’s the Infinite Realm?” 

“Bad news and something we shouldn’t freaking touch.” Raven answered swiftly. She stood, eyes going over her work. 

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Flash asked quickly, all of them tensed as the wind started to pick up again. If a hurricane was thrown at them, there was little they’d be able to do about it. 

“Raven.” Batman’s voice was serious. “You’re sure?” 

“It’s all i’ve got.” She repeated. “This is not a problem this realm was meant to handle on short notice. We need help.” 

There were several things in that one statement he didn’t like. “Who are you summoning?” 

Raven was looking rather pale herself. “The Ghost King. The King of the Infinite Realm. I’ve heard word that he can be bargained with so… we’re gonna give it a shot.” 

She didn’t wait for permission from anyone else to throw in their two cents on the matter. She threw her hands out, alien words no one else understood on her lips. The chant repeated and the summoning circle began to glow a green that the present Bats didn’t care for. 

It crept up the walls of the summoning circle in oddly pretty patterns before a gaping void opened on the ground. Silently, a figure rose into the circle from that same void. The king was smaller than they’d been imagining the last minute or two. He was human shaped and sized, a black crown floating several inches over his head. He was a wispy figure, face hidden by a large hood but there were strands of white hair floating around their shadowed face. He’d had nothing but a smoky looking tail when he’d first appeared but that had now split into solid looking legs. 

Given his size, he seems like a young adult, but it was hard to say for certain without seeing his face. 

“Woah.” Red Robin muttered, Superboy agreeing with the sentiment. 

“Heroes?” The Ghost King wondered, voice soft and lethargic. “Interesting.” 

Raven bowed her head in a show of respect. “Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt summons. We have a dire situation and are willing to make a deal for your help.” 

“A deal…” His voice echoed gently. He spoke as if raising his voice would shatter the very air around them. “That’s not something to choose lightly. What do you want from me?” 

Raven swallowed, her body rigid with nerves. She was almost relieved when Batman took over. 

“As i understand it, we have a being from your realm here in ours. We are underprepared to deal with such destruction and-” 

“Of my realm?” The King interrupted softly, head tipped a little as his attention turned to Batman. “Who?” 

Flash laughed nervously. “We’re not on a first name basis or anything but the guy seems to control the weather.” He pointed up and the sky above them was darkening the longer they spoke. 

The King made a noise like he’d clucked his tongue and it struck all of them as a very human kind of gesture despite his title. 

“I can handle that. Your deal?” 

Raven inhaled again, this obviously being the part she was dreading. “Blood, i have the blood of the Demon Lord Trigon-” 

“Pass.” 

That drew everyone up short. The others didn’t exactly understand the significance of Raven offering her blood but it clearly wasn’t something she’d expected to be declined so quickly. 

“My soul then….” Raven muttered. 

“Raven, no!” Superboy hissed. “The fuck!” 

Batman was also eyeing her unhappily. “Absolutely not. You are not Constantine.” 

Fortunately for the heroes, each of which was ready to revolt for such a barter, the Ghost King waved the thought away. 

“Nah.” He tugged on his hood a little and Batman realized he was likely brushing away one of those white strands of hair from his face. “That’s the thing about being the King of the Infinite Realm. Souls come to me one way or another in time. No need to preorder them.” 

Raven’s shoulders sagged, eyes shifting as she rapidly tried to think of something else she could offer. 

“What do you want?” Red Robin asked before anyone else could say something stupid. “You’re the one that’s going to fight this threat for us. What’s a good deal?” 

The King turned to him and stared. They could only assume he was contemplating his answer when he hummed quietly. “Food.” 

“Wha…” Flash muttered. 

The Ghost King just nodded. “Food from your realm. It’s been…a long time since i’ve eaten.” 

“Really? Like we could go grab you a burger and that would be cool?” Superboy asked, a touch suspicious, but the King just nodded.  

“Deal.” Raven said before anyone would make it worse. “A meal for returning this threat back to your realm.” 

The King nodded again, and each of them backed up several paces when the walls to the summoning circle broke apart and the King stepped out. For the briefest of moments he seemed to nearly stumble under the gravity of actually ‘walking’ but he got over it quickly enough. 

“Can we offer you any assistance?” Batman asked. 

The King shook his head. “No.” He wandered off towards the storm, the floating crown on top of his head seeming a little larger. He moved confidently and with purpose. “Oh Vortex…” He called, walking into the winds. 

He sounded young, but all of them agreed immediately that they never wanted to hear him beckoning them the same way. His tone was dangerous, and he walked right through a car that had been flung in his direction. 

“Cool.” Red Robin muttered. 

“Simmer down, Red.” Superboy muttered. All of them wanted to follow, but with the unstable weather and a literal Ghost King wandering about, staying out of the way felt like the best option. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t dying of curiosity. 

Flash moved to stand beside Raven, making sure she wasn’t about to topple over because of the power it must have taken to summon a king from another dimension. “You good?” 

“Yeah.” she breathed out a sigh. “Honestly, this was an unforeseen best case scenario. You should really go get that food for him.” 

Batman moved to her otherside, hearing the voices over comms noticing a shift in what was happening. “You think it will be over that fast?” 

“Yes.�� 

“Well-” Flash looked up at the sky that was rapidly clearing. “Yep. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a blur but it was hard to believe a change was happening so quickly. 

“Has it even been a full minute?” Superboy asked. “I mean, damn…” 

“Someone better have been recording visuals.” Red Robin muttered. “We are absolutely missing something amazing.” 

“He’s the King of the infinite Realm.” Raven said. “It’s the realm that connects every other realm and it is as the name implies… infinite. He rules it. I don’t even think Trigon would dare mess with him.” 

Batman had his arms crossed, still listening to the amazed chatter over comms. “Should it be suspicious that all he wants is food?” 

“He made the deal.” Raven shrugged. “He could have asked for anything. Literally.” She stopped speaking when the hooded king returned. He was floating this time though only a foot or two off the ground. He didn’t look tired or dirty or anything. 

Just the same ethereal otherness he’d arrived with. “Done.” He announced. 

“What uh- happened to the guy?” Superboy asked, pointing vaguely at where the storm had been raging. 

The Ghost King just dug into his cape and pulled out…a thermos. “Souped him. He’s gonna have a little time out.” 

“Oh my god, i have so many questions.” Red Robin whispered. 

The thermos was put away and Batman was suppressing his own urge to ask a dozen questions over what just occurred. They’d been struggling with the Infinite creature for hours and countless lives had no doubt been altered. Clean up would take weeks if not months and this Ghost King handled it in minutes. 

“My food?” 

“On the way.” Raven said immediately. “Flash is one of the fastest men on the planet. He’ll be right back.” 

The King nodded and looked around before moving to a pile of bricks that had once been a fence. He sat down and waited, somehow looking regal among the wreckage. 

“So… I’m Red Robin.” Batman looked up again when his son was sliding closer to introduce himself. “Superboy, Raven, Batman.” He gestured and the King’s hood shifted as he followed Red Robin’s introduction of them. “Is there something we can call you or is your Majesty the most appropriate?” 

The Ghost King sat in silence for a moment before reaching up to lower his hood. The shadows that had hidden his face disappeared revealing a young man only a little older than Tim. Maybe around Jason’s age. His hair was indeed white, and was braided down the nape of his neck save for the tufts of hair that floated around his face. 

His skin was pale, and Batman thought it might have been gray or even blue in different light. His ears were pointed and his eyes were a haunting green. 

With the hood out of the way, the crown lowered to sit on his head. 

“Phantom.” He finally answered. “You can call me Phantom.” 

Raven bowed her head again and Red Robin beamed. “Thank you for helping us! We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

Phantom nodded again but without his hood to shield him there was something shy about the action. 

The Flash reappeared in a cloud of dust, two bags of fast food in one hand and a collection of drinks under the other arm. “I got a little of everything!” He announced. “Got some burgers and some chicken nuggets and fries and onion rings. There’s one of those little apple pies in here somewhere too.

Phantom took the bags with a small smile and set them beside him so he could go through them. Superboy helped with the drinks, setting everything down so Phantom could have his pick. There were three different sodas, a lemonade, and a water. 

It wasn’t fancy and probably wasn’t a fair trade of a meal for his services but he didn’t seem disappointed. 

In a flash of rings made of light, Phantom transformed. The otherness of him was still there, but instead of a noble king of a realm, a young…very living human was in his place. Black hair instead of white was still braided down his neck and the strands around his face hung limp instead of floating. 

Those eerie green eyes were now blue but that– oddly enough– was not the most startling thing about his transformation. He wore a large hoodie and jeans but his feet were bare. 

His hands and feet were almost skeletal, and his face was gaunt and starved looking. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin was a sickly kind of pale. 

He looked emaciated, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face when he ate one fry and then another. He took a sip from every drink offered to him and then took a bite out of the burger. 

They couldn’t help but stand there and watch, all of them transfixed over what they were seeing. 

Phantom took two more bites before wrapping up the rest of his burger and placing it back in the bag. 

“Not to your liking?” Flash asked, voice small. 

Phantom licked his fingers and shook his head. “No, it was good. I’m just full. I’ll take it with me and eat it later when i’m hungry again.” 

Batman could only imagine the size of his stomach. Stopping now was probably the healthiest thing he could have done if he wanted to keep the food down. He cleared his throat. “Are you alright?” 

“Mhmm.” Phantom nodded, the rings of light appearing again. He was back in his healthier looking ghostly form. That was an oxymoron, wasn’t it? A healthy ghost form… 

“You’re still alive.” Raven whispered, stuck in her shock. “The living shouldn’t… The Infinite Realm isn’t…” 

Phantom’s lips tipped up in a smile. “You’re right, but wrong. I’m both. I’m dead. I’m alive. I’m balance.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t been in a living realm for a while… guess i’ve been neglecting that side of me. Thanks for the food, it was a good deal.” 

He was gathering up the bags he clearly planned to take with him. 

“You should come back.” Red Robin spat the words out, likely before giving them any real thought. “I’ll take you to lunch. I’ll take you like… all the time. I am not going to pretend to know what you have going on but… shit, Agent A would disown me if i did not offer to feed you.” 

Phantom looked cold briefly. “Agent… A…?” 

Red Robin winced, “Code name for my grandfather. He’s an amazing cook.” 

“Red Robin.” Batman scowled at him. 

“Oh, what? He’s gonna give you the look for you not being the one to offer.” Red Robin said unapologetically, but the explanation had Phantom softening again. “What do you say? Lunch? Do i have to summon you?” 

“Jesus, Red. Let him actually decline or accept.” Superboy was snickering. 

Phantom looked between them, the confusion on his face clearing up after a beat. A piece of paper appeared between his fingers. It had some kind of squiggle on it none of them could read at a glance. He handed it over to Red Robin. 

“Have that on you, say my name. I’ll find you.” Phantom said. “I should…eat again.” 

“We…appreciate you helping us.” Raven added quickly, determined that they make a good impression. 

Phantom’s look grew warmer again. “It was fun.” With his bags and drinks in his arms, he wandered back over to the summoning circle. “I don’t mind helping when the trouble is severe and you were right. This particular problem was mine to clean up. Sorry about him, by the way. Vortex is an asshole.” 

Superboy and Flash both snorted. “Thanks anyway.” 

Phantom nodded at them again, floating in the middle of the circle before his eyes glowed that bright, toxic green again. He slipped inside the void and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, the remains of the summoning circle erasing itself. 

“So… That happened.” Flash muttered, not sure how they were gonna put this in a report to the rest of the League members. Batman wasn’t so sure either. 

“I can’t believe you were just hitting on the Ghost King, Red.” Superboy laughed. “I mean… Lunches?”

“What?” 

Raven was on her phone. “I am already telling Nightwing.” 

“What!? Hey!” Red Robin was looking between them. “I wasn’t hitting on him. You leave Wing out of this!” 

“No way.” 

“You asked him on a date, man!” Superboy grinned. “All the titans are going to know about this in the next hour.” 

“You guys suck!” Red Robin growled, his face a flame. 

Batman just sighed. “There’s clean up to do. Get to work.” 

He definitely did not need to think about his son’s audacity, coming onto a King of an entire realm. Where did he even learn that kind of behavior?

~~

Masterlist

[marril96]

Reasons

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Agatha wants to know why you wanted to go on the Road.

You knew you were in trouble when Agatha left the rest of the coven huddled around a fire and joined you in the forest area, away from prying ears.

You needed some peace and quiet. The trials were emotionally tasking. Risking your life day by day, doing things such as drinking poison and performing a song while fire raged around you…

It was a lot.

But this was your life now.You knew full well what you were signing up for. Agatha had warned you, loud and clear.

The choice to come here was yours, and you would make it all over again if given a chance for what you wanted — what you needed — from the Road wasn't something easily attainable. You'd be damned if you were to give up now.

Some things were worth risking everything for.

"Y/N," Agatha said as she approached you, casual, hands in the pockets of her coat. Like she were on a walk in a park rather than a dangerous and deadly Road.

"Yeah?" You weren't really in the mood to talk, your batteries still low from the latest trial. It didn't help that you didn't feel fully at ease with the others. The kid was fine, but the other witches made you nervous. You didn't trust them. You didn't know them.

The only one you really knew was Agatha. Which was why you just stood there instead of moving away or feigning sleepiness as she walked over, something clearly on her mind. It paid off to have befriended her back in the day. It was by pure chance, an encounter neither one of you expected, but, in hindsight, you were both glad it had happened.

She had earned a listening ear, someone to confide in, who wouldn't judge her no matter what. Someone who would have her back even if the rest of the world were to turn against her.

You had earned a protector in a world that was dangerous for your kind.

"We need to talk," Agatha said. Her tone didn't reveal much; you didn't know what to expect.

You turned to her. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's peachy."

"Is Jen talking shit about you again? My offer to punch her in the face still stands," you said. You'd nearly done so a couple days back, but Agatha had held you back. She could handle Jen, she'd said. Her words had meant nothing to her.

It didn't make hearing lies and slander about your friend feel any better, but if she said she was okay, then that was that. Agatha was centuries old; much older than you. She may have been powerless now, but she could still hold her own. She'd heard worse. She'd lived through worse. Some random witch's petty insults didn't bother her.

Agatha chuckled. "Jen is… Jen. But no, she hasn't said anything."

"Then what's up?"

"I need to ask you something."

"Why do I feel like I'm about to be interrogated?" you said, nervous. You forced a smile. "Are you back in your true crime mode? Are you gonna manhandle me until I confess?"

"That's cute," Agatha said, rolling her eyes, prompting you to laugh.

If you'd known Wanda Maximoff had cast a spell on her, you would have come and gotten her out of it sooner — or tried to, at the very least. That was the thing about friendships that lasted for centuries; a lot of time was spent apart. It wasn't unusual for one of you to disappear for a few years and then pop back into the other's life. You missed her when she was gone, of course you did, but she had her life, and you had yours.

It was only when she'd showed up at your door with Teen in tow that you'd finally found out why she'd gone radio silent for three years. And, much to your disappointment, the witch who'd done it to her was dead, so you couldn't even punch her for it, or call her a bitch to her face.

Such was life.

"What are you doing here?" Agatha asked.

"What do you mean?" you said, taken aback.

"On the Road," she clarified. "Why are you here?"

Because you wanted something you could never have without it. Simple as that. "You asked me to come."

"No, I didn't. I told you I was going. You demanded I take you with me."

Right. You'd hoped that little detail would slip by her. You should've known by now she kept track of everything; her mind was as sharp as her magic.

"I haven't seen you in three years," you said, hoping that would be enough of an explanation. "I wanted to hang out with you. And, like, maybe get some more power along the way."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Yes. She did. Multiple times in the past. Which was why, whenever the two of you needed to swindle someone — for whatever reason — she was the one doing the talking and you just nodded along and smiled.

"You did."

"Yes," Agatha said. "I did. Because you are."

You sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

"There's nothing to say."

There was a lot, actually, but you didn't dare open up that particular can of worms. Once it was said, it could never be taken back. So why say anything at all?

"Oh, is there?" Agatha said sarcastically.

"Don't do that," you said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Because you're my friend. Because I don't want to ruin this. "Because I'm asking you not to. That used to mean something."

"It still does." Her voice was soft. Tender. Gone was the sarcasm, the defensive sharpness. It was just her now. Your friend.

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because I want to know."

"Leave it alone." You knew she wouldn't. She never did.

"Y/N," Agatha said, your name but a whisper on her lips.

You sighed. Was she really going to do this now? Why couldn't she just take you at your word and put up with a little white lie? Why did she have to be so damn stubborn?

"Why did you want to come here?" She wasn't demanding. She wasn't prodding. She was just asking.

She knew you couldn't resist her for too long.

The perks of allowing Agatha Harkness to be your close friend. She knew you too well for your own good.

A lump formed in your throat. Heat bit at the back of your neck like a curse about to swallow you whole. Your heart raced, a marathon booming in your chest.

There was a silence, long, drawn out. Then, in your quietest, softest voice, you said, "You know why."

She always did.

She always knew everything.

Secrets weren't secrets for long around Agatha Harkness.

You tried to tell yourself that you were being careful, that your emotions were in check at all times, but the truth was, your poker face was worse than your lying skills. You just pretended you were doing a good job, and Agatha went along with it.

To her credit, she never tried to take advantage. She never made fun of you for it, or played games. The deal was friendship, and that's what she gave you. Nothing more, and nothing less.

"I want to hear it from you."

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. Your cheek burned like a fireplace. Your mouth trembled, holding the words back, wanting to keep them trapped forever. But what would be the point, really? The truth was bound to come out eventually.

The truth had been out for a long time, written all over your face. A big, scarlet letter for all the world to know how you really felt. What you really wanted, but never felt like you could have.

"You." It felt almost freeing to say it out loud, as if a weight had been lifted off your chest, allowing you to breathe in a way you hadn't for years. "I came here because I want you."

Really, what else could you have possibly wanted? You were satisfied with the power you had. You got by. Your life wasn't in danger. There was nothing for you to ask for, that you didn't already have.

Except for one thing you thought — you knew — was unattainable.

Agatha Harkness. One of the most powerful witches you'd ever gotten to know. Rumored to be cruel and ruthless, heartless. A remorseless monster. A serial killer of witches. Your best — and only — friend. The love of your life.

"Go on," you said after a few moments of silence. "Make fun of me."

"Now, why would I do that?" Agatha asked, appalled at the suggestion. Offended for sbe thought you knew her better than that.

Which was exactly why you were so afraid. She hid her feelings expertly. Rather than admit vulnerability, she preferred to go on the offensive. A scorpion stinging with its venom where it hurt the most. She cared about you, and she trusted you, but there was no telling how she would react to something like this out in the open.

You saw how she treated people. You watched her murder witch after witch and discard the bodies as if they were nothing. You watch her climb over others to prop herself up, to rise to the top.

What was to stop her from doing the same to you?

What made you so different?

Why had she never treated you any different than one would a friend? Why had she always had your back, without you even having to ask? Why had she taken lives — many, many lives — to save yours?

Why did she trust you with her story, with memories of her son and the failed romance with Rio?

Why did she feel comfortable to bare her soul to you and let the tears flow freely, a salty river down her face each and every time she revealed a piece of her history?

"I just…" You were nervous. You were scared. You wanted to die.

"You know, honey, you didn't have to be so dramatic about it," Agatha said, perking up. Teasing you like she usually did; a bit mean, but with no real malice behind it. Playful. A cat throwing around a mouse it had caught. "You went on the Road to score a date? Really?"

It wasn't really a date you were after, but her point stood.

You were stupid.

This was a stupid idea, and it had backfired, and now she was going to mock you for it until the day one of you died.

"You do know all you had to do was ask, right?" she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Like you'd ever give me the time of day."

Agatha pressed her hands to her hips, elbows sticking out. "Who's to say I wouldn't?"

Now she was definitely taking the piss. "Come on," you said, putting on your fakest smile you knew would never fool her. "You're this amazing, badass, smoking hot witch."

She preened at the compliments. The surefire way to feel heart. She was nothing if not an attention whore.

"You-you're everything." Your everything, and more. So much more. "And I'm a nobody."

"Don't you ever say that," Agatha said in her stern, no nonsense tone. No more Mrs. Nice Girl. All daggers and sharp edges. She grabbed you by the shoulders, fingers digging in, and looked into sour eyes so intently it sent chills down your spine. "Don't you ever think you're a nobody."

"Everyone else thinks that," you said quietly.

It was obvious the others didn't think much of you. You could see it on their faces; the lack of respect, the underestimation. Jen had called you Agatha's pitbull to your face.

That was all you were to them. A pathetic witch whose only purpose was to speak up for Agatha. She may have joked about Teen being her pet, but it was clear to them all that that was your job. Agatha's witch familiar who was hopelessly in love with her and barked — but never bit — at every perceived slight against her.

"Who cares what they think?" Agatha said. "You're an exceptional witch, Y/N. They are nobodies."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better."

"Does that sound like something I'd do?"

No. It did not. She might use those words to manipulate some poor, unfortunate soul, but not you. Never you.

She always said it to you like it was.

"I mean, you do like to manipulate people," you joked. "And you lie better than I do."

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Everyone lies better than you do."

"True." There was no denying that.

She sighed, exasperated. "You really are an idiot."

And then her mouth was on yours, and she was kissing you, and your entire world exploded into fireworks and sparks and electricity, and, for a few short moments, you weren't in a dirty, creepy forest but rather somewhere warm and welcoming, and you never wanted to leave.

Agatha was everything you had imagined, and much, much more. Fire and ice all in one. Sugar and spice and everything nice and cozy and so fucking delicious.

Hers was the taste you never wanted to give up.

She tried to lean her head back, to take a break for breath, but you grabbed her chin and kissed her again, and again, and again. Hunger like you'd never felt before overtook you. Your nerves were on fire, legs weak underneath you, but you held on, forced yourself to remain standing. To remain kissing her for you never knew when you would get another chance.

If you would get another chance.

"Honey, I may be immortal, but I still need to breathe," Agatha said with a chuckle, right against your lips. Playful. Teasing.

Deciding it was enough, you backed away. Your lips were swollen, tingling. The taste of her, all of her, still on them, lingering like a ghost of your past. Forever imprinted on your mouth, a tattoo you hoped would never fade. You never wanted to lose it. Never wanted to forget what it felt like to be kissing her.

"Sorry," you said, blushing, nervous to hell and back.

Agatha looked you in the eye once again with the same fire as earlier. "Never apologize for taking what you want. You're a witch. The world is yours for the taking."

"I don't want the world," you said. "I just want you."

"Done." She said it so casually, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

You didn't buy it.

You quirked up an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"You knew I was…" Completely and totally in love with her. "...into you."

"You have a tell," she said simply. She always could read people like an open book.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I wanted you to ask for it."

"But why?"

Agatha sighed. "Y/N, what is it that I've been teaching you since the moment we met?"

"Fuck the rules?"

She nodded. "Fuck the rules."

"To be unapologetically me," you said.

"Because…?" she prompted.

"I'm a witch, and I've got nothing to be ashamed of. If I fuck up, that's fine. Shit happens. There's nothing that can't be fixed with a little bit of magic."

Agatha grinned, brimming with pride. "That's my girl."

That's what you really were now. Her girl.

A part of you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that this was real. That it wasn't some dream or a hallucination the Road had inflicted on you as part of some fucked up trial.

The other part wanted to wrap her in your arms and never let go.

"Can I kiss you again?" you said, uncertain. Still not used to this new situation you'd gotten yourself into.

"You don't even have to ask," Agatha told you.

So you went for it. You kissed her. Once. Twice. Three times.

An infinite amount of times.

Later on, when it came time to get some shut eye, you kissed her goodnight, and she wrapped her arms around you. A protective cocoon, warm and safe.

And, in the morning, she was the one to wake you with a kiss of her own.

It was only fair.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @werewolfvpire @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans

[1mlei]

An unknown entity is tormenting a city (Gotham, Metropolis, etc, doesn't matter) and at this point nearly the entire Justice League is on location. And they are loosing, badly. The flaming green robot should have been easy enough for the entire JLA to take out, but none of their attacks have any effect, they can't even touch the robot, who is capable of devastating amounts of destruction. At this point the heroes have shifted their focus to rescue and evacuation efforts, while the JLD members present are scrambling to figure out how the hell to fight a being from the Infinite Realms. The idea of summoning someone from the Realms to help is brought up but ultimately dismissed as an absolute last resort, the risk of summoning something even worse being too great.

The robot is hovering in the sky, his mechanical face somehow morphed into a mocking grin as he looks down at the heroes. His arms morph into massive blasters, and the heroes hurry to get the area as clear as possible, then brace for impact. Except, nothing happens. And then, a loud metallic clang sounds. On the ground in front of the heroes lies the body of the robot, or what remains of it after falling 50 feet. They notice it's missing it's head. As the heroes look up to where the robot had been hovering a moment ago, they see a person flyi- no, just standing there. A regular looking kid with black hair, wearing an oversized ghostbusters hoodie and jeans, is standing on the roof right behind where the robot had been hovering. But what everyone can't help but focus on, is the decapitated head of the robot he's holding upside down in his hands.

Everyone there stares at the kid in... relief? trepidation? Mostly in disbelief, they watch as the kid looks at the head in his hands (there's a small flicker of something bright green sticking out of it) then down the side of the building at the body below. The kid lets out a pleased hum that is only audible to those with super-hearing, then turns around and walks out of sight.

The heroes are quickly snapped out of their trance and all hurry to get up to the roof, but in the 0.2 seconds it took them to get there the kid had disappeared, robot head gone with him.

They are later unable to find any clear footage of the kid, or any other clues on how to find him, he's simply vanished without a trace. .....

Danny had been busy studying for an upcoming exam, when he was rudely interrupted by Skulker being annoying outside. Phasing through his wall and invisibly flying over to take a look he finds several city blocks that have been levelled to the ground, and a Skulker hovering in the sky grinning down at his handiwork as if he's done something special. Danny is frustrated at being interrupted for this, and doesn't have time for a long, drawn out battle right now, so he lands on the roof behind Skulker and walks up to him silently. He quickly grabs the head of Skulker's suit and yanks, effectively decapitating him and making the body of the suit fall down on the ground. He checks to make sure that Skulker's actual blob of a body is in the head, then that the suit on the ground is fully powered down. Satisfied, he hums and walks away, turning invisible once more and flying back to his apartment, where he puts Skulker in a thermos for a time-out. Then he sits back down and begrudgingly opens his textbook to where he left off, unaware of the heroes collectively having a breakdown.

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and how they deal with their children and domestic life.

pairing: dad & husband! wriothesley, lyney and neuvillette x fem! reader.

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. pregnant reader is mentioned to introductions but not too elaborated. not beta read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

kazuha’s part. | part. ii

Wriothesley 

If outsiders had once been intimidated by the Duke's mere reputation, the announcement of your pregnancy elevated that fear to an entirely new level. The very mention of Wriothesley’s name was enough to unsettle even the bravest of men.

It was no surprise, really—Wriothesley’s demeanor during those months was enough to terrify anyone. He was often seen patrolling the corridors of the Fortress of Meropide with a perpetual frown and clenched fists, as if prepared for battle at a moment's notice. New prisoners, who already dreaded the idea of crossing paths with the Duke, now did everything in their power to avoid his gaze entirely.

What they didn’t know, however, was that beneath the icy exterior, Wriothesley was a bundle of nerves. The mask of aloofness he wore so convincingly was the only defense he knew against the overwhelming fear brewing in his soul.

Fortunately for everyone in the prison, including Wriothesley himself, you were there—attentive, reassuring, and endlessly confident. Your steady presence and unwavering support helped him find calm amidst his storm of insecurities. With your encouragement, he overcame his fears and finally allowed himself to celebrate the arrival of his son.

When that day came, even the guards seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. They silently thanked you, the Duchess, for the sudden shift in their boss. You merely winked in acknowledgment, sharing the unspoken understanding.

Little Cameron’s entry into the world was far from smooth, arriving during one of the most tumultuous times for your family and Fontaine alike. Your own health had been fragile during the pregnancy, leaving you weak and bedridden despite Sigewinne’s best efforts. To make matters worse, the political upheaval in Fontaine added layers of stress and uncertainty.

Wriothesley’s fear of losing both you and the baby loomed large, but deep down, he knew better than to underestimate you. His wife was nothing if not resilient. He held onto that faith as tightly as he held onto you.

Thankfully, Wriothesley’s faith was not misplaced. Against all odds, both you and Cameron emerged victorious from the harrowing ordeal of his birth.

“Please don’t scare me like that again,” Wriothesley said, his voice trembling with residual fear. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you both.”

“You really need to start giving me more credit, Wrio,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Your wife is far too stubborn to let herself be beaten by anything, even illness.”

Though Wriothesley had his doubts about fatherhood—his own troubled upbringing having left deep scars—he turned out to be an incredible father. His gentle affection was boundless, and not only you, but the entire Fortress of Meropide began to notice a softer side blossoming in him.

That didn’t mean he let his guard down completely. As the prison's director, he remained unwavering in his enforcement of the laws and its administration.

Still, it was a sight both comforting and amusing to see Wriothesley patrolling the production zones or administrative areas with a baby carrier strapped to his chest. Cameron, a tiny replica of his father, sat calmly nestled against him. Of course, no one dared to comment on the endearing scene, much less approach the new father uninvited.

Cameron, for his part, was a remarkably calm baby. Rarely fussy, he spent most of his time quietly observing his surroundings, his icy blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. Wriothesley found this trait endlessly fascinating and would often spend hours simply watching his son’s inquisitive nature at work.

You and Wriothesley were a seamless team when it came to parenting, balancing your responsibilities to both Cameron and the Fortress of Meropide. When Wriothesley was busy with his duties, Cameron was perfectly content in your care. Likewise, when you were called to perform your job as an interrogator, Wriothesley often retreated to his office with Cameron sitting on his lap. There, father and son would share quiet moments—Wriothesley sipping his tea, Cameron clutching a toy as he mimicked his father’s serious demeanor.

Like every first-time parent, Wriothesley experienced the highs and lows of fatherhood. Some nights, his past demons would awaken him, flooding his mind with fears of inadequacy. But those fears always dissolved as he watched Cameron grow—celebrating his son’s milestones, witnessing his small successes, and marveling at the honorable young man he was becoming.

In those moments, Wriothesley knew he had done well, that there was nothing to fear.

“Well, since we have nothing to fear,” you said one evening, a playful glint in your eye, “I suppose it’s time for me to announce that I’m pregnant again, huh?”

Lyney

Lyney liked to believe that even if you hadn’t met in this life, your souls would have found each other in another. Even if you belonged to different worlds, the thread of fate that bound you both would transcend time and space, drawing you together. It felt as though an invisible red string—one only the two of you could see—connected you, weaving a tale written by destiny itself. For Lyney, it was undeniable that the stars had aligned perfectly to lead him to you.

The love he held for you was unconditional, unwavering, and unshakeable—an immutable truth in the fabric of his universe. But that certainty deepened, expanded, and transformed the day you gave him the greatest gifts of his life: your twin babies, Quentin and Corinne.

Everyone in Fontaine already knew Lyney was a devoted husband. From the earliest days of your relationship, he had made your connection known, never shy about showcasing his affection for you, whether privately or in public. When your pregnancy was announced, his pride only grew. His characteristic smile became brighter, his steps more buoyant, as he walked through the streets of the hydro nation with you by his side, radiating joy and treating you as if you were the most precious treasure in the world—much to your delight.

His affection for you remained unchanged during your pregnancy, but now it was accompanied by an even greater attentiveness.

Lyney anticipated your needs and desires before you could voice them, always eager to ensure your comfort. His innate talent for understanding people made him not only a caring husband but also, as you would soon discover, an exceptional father.

And exceptional was truly an understatement.

You had only ever seen Lyney’s tears once—on your wedding day, when his eyes glistened with barely restrained emotion. That changed with the arrival of the twins. As he cradled his newborn children for the first time, tears streamed freely down his cheeks, his voice trembling as he whispered, “They look so much like you. They’re beautiful.”

Indeed, Quentin and Corinne inherited almost all their features from you, save for Lyney’s striking violet, cat-shaped eyes. Far from being disappointed, Lyney was overjoyed—he believed no one in the world was as beautiful as you, and he was delighted to see that reflected in his children.

Fatherhood transformed Lyney into an even more devoted man. Despite the challenges of balancing his duties with the House of Hearth and his magic performances, often requiring him to travel far from home, Lyney rose to the occasion with grace. He made it a priority to support you, especially during the sleepless nights. Whether it was feeding, changing diapers, or comforting a fussy baby in the early hours, Lyney was always there, sharing the responsibilities of parenthood without hesitation.

From the start, it was clear that Quentin and Corinne had distinct personalities. Quentin’s boundless energy reminded Lyney of his own enthusiasm, while Corinne’s calm, quiet demeanor mirrored Lynette’s. Lyney adored them both equally, cherishing the moments when Quentin’s giggles filled the air or when Corinne snuggled into his embrace for a nap.

While Lyney relished the thought of showing off his children to the world, he prioritized their privacy while they were young and vulnerable. He kept his family close, shielding you and the twins under his protective wing while teaching them to care for each other and grow into independent individuals.

Magic and illusions were constants in your household, with Lyney delighting in performing small tricks for the twins. Their wide-eyed reactions and gleeful laughter were the highlights of his days. As they grew, Lyney made it clear that his love and support were unconditional. No matter what paths Quentin and Corinne chose to walk, he would be their greatest supporter.

Though Lyney sometimes feared that the world might dim the sparkle in their eyes, he vowed to do everything in his power to protect their innocence. His actions, words, and unwavering love ensured that they knew, every single day, just how deeply he cared.

Neuvillette

In the beginning, it was a surprise for the people of Fontaine to see their reserved and dignified Iudex walking through the capital’s streets at your side. That shock only deepened a few years after your marriage, when the front page of The Steambird featured you with a slightly rounded belly, accompanied by an exclusive interview about your career and personal life. The issue flew off the shelves, with sales as abundant as the waters surrounding the hydro nation. Charlotte, ever the savvy journalist, wasn’t the least bit surprised—Fontaineians, after all, had an insatiable appetite for juicy gossip.

While the interview revealed little to sate the public’s curiosity, it didn’t stop them from spinning wild and absurd theories about your life. You, of course, found their speculation amusing and even played into it for your own entertainment. Neuvillette, however, didn’t share your sense of humor. Rumors about his supposed "lack of sensitivity" or imagined scandals involving his name often resulted in rainclouds replacing Fontaine's sunny skies.

The truth, hidden from prying eyes, was that you and Neuvillette had been planning to start a family for quite some time. However, the uncertainties surrounding his draconic heritage made the journey a cautious one. Neuvillette’s greatest fear was putting your health and safety at risk for a selfish dream. It was only after much reassurance, support, and medical guidance from Sigewinne that the two of you felt confident enough to take the leap. The result? The arrival of your beloved daughter, Éveline.

To say Neuvillette was a helicopter husband during your pregnancy would be an understatement. His meticulous care and constant attention, though rooted in love, sometimes left you feeling smothered. His devotion to even the smallest details, while appreciated, occasionally pushed your patience to its limits. Yet, when the time came, and you saw him cradling your newborn daughter in his arms, all the frustrations melted away.

At that moment, Neuvillette revealed a side of himself you had never seen before—a serene, passionate love that only his daughter could inspire.

Fatherhood, unsurprisingly, suited him perfectly.

In those early days, he rarely left Éveline’s side, instinctively anticipating her every need. Whether it was his centuries of caring for the Melusines or simply his natural instincts as a father, Neuvillette’s devotion was unwavering, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Éveline inherited much of your physical appearance but unmistakably carried Neuvillette’s draconic traits, including his calm yet commanding personality.

Unsurprisingly, Neuvillette was fiercely protective of your daughter, allowing only a select few to meet her during her first months. His philosophy was simple: love meant protecting, and he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her.

One secret you cherished—shared only through photos and private moments—was Neuvillette’s tendency to transform into his draconic form during his rare nights off. The sight of his massive dragon figure curled protectively around tiny Éveline as she slept was enough to melt your heart. Though she was growing older, these tender moments continued, with Neuvillette showing no signs of wanting to let go of such precious rituals.

Neuvillette’s love for his daughter was evident in his every action. Though a man of few words, his affection was shown through countless gestures, whether it was a comforting hug, a gentle pat on the head, or quiet moments spent together. Under his guidance, Éveline grew up in an environment filled with warmth, where affection was as natural as breathing.

Even with the immense responsibilities of his role as Fontaine’s Chief Justice, Neuvillette made sure to be present for every milestone in Éveline’s life. Patiently and lovingly, he guided her, teaching her to become a person of integrity, fairness, and a noble heart. Through it all, his devotion as a father shone brighter than any duty or title—a testament to the boundless love he held for his family.

.

.

a/n: i intended to rewrite kazuha's part, delete his solo post and add it here but it'd be very troublesome because some people has read already. even though i wished to let it all together i'll let it like the way it is already. furthermore, i don't know if it's gonna turn into a series since my will to write disappears as fast as it appears. but if so, i'll only write for these four men.

please let me know if there are any mistakes ;)

edited: nov/2024

[cringe--is--dead]

Can I request headcanon of Jason Todd/Red Hood (Under the Red Hood movie) being with fem s/o who can magically heal just about anything no matter how severe the wounds are and how deadly the diseases, but she can't heal herself; she is serene, gentle and soft spoken please?

I think Jason Todd deserves the world, so yes, I shall! Thank you for the request!

You Playing Doctor Now? Jason Todd x Meta!Reader

The door slamming open and shut had become a sound you were used to. Months ago it would have startled you, made you jump nearly out of your skin, especially given the area you found yourself living in. Now, however, the sound was almost comforting to you.

The slam of the door meant your boyfriend was home, alive, but from the sluggish sound of his footsteps, not uninjured. You paused what you were doing, carefully chopping vegetables for the stew you had been planning on making.

You set the knife down, washing your hands rather quickly, before making your way into the living room. Sure enough, Jason was sat on the couch, having taken his helmet off himself, sweaty and breathing heavily, his eyes shut.

His hair was nearly plastered to his forehead, and he didn't open his eyes to your entrance, despite hearing your footsteps grow closer. You took stock of his appearance, cuts and fresh bruises lined his cheeks, and you were sure there were other injuries beneath his armor if the thin trail of blood from your doorway was any indicator.

"You should see the other guy," Was the first sentence he offered you, lips curled in an attempt of a smirk, but his labored breathing made it appear more of a grimace.

"I'd rather not waste my time looking at dead bodies," Despite your worry, you joked back, voice soft as you knelt down in front of him.

He cracked open his eyes, sighing as he took in your sight. Your eyebrows were furrowed with worry, eyes raking over his appearance, no doubt calculating just how injured he was. He shifted, leaning towards you, prying a glove off before caressing your cheek, thumb softly brushing the cheek bone.

"I'm fine."

You rolled your eyes, rather used to hearing that line fall from his lips, "You and I both know that's a lie," You stood up, hands on your hips, "Take the armor off."

He raised an eyebrow, trying to deflect your concern, "Take me to dinner first."

You barely rose to the bait, "Dinner will be ready sooner if you let me treat your injuries without a fight."

The two of you stared at each other for a silent moment, before he relented. He had never thought he'd meet someone whose stubbornness outweighed his, and he never would have thought that someone as sweet as you could be harder-headed than him.

"Alright, alright," He hated that he was struggling to remove his own armor, muscles sore and screaming at him.

You shook your head as he dropped his clothes onto the ground, stepping forward, tender hands pressing gently to his skin. You started on his face first, palms cupping his jaw, and he relaxed into your hold, the warmth of your hands fighting the nippy cold from outside that still lingered in his bones.

You made a soft tsk, and he felt the odd sensation of the cuts on his cheek closing themselves up, not having to open his eyes to know that your gaze was unwavering, eyes glowing inhumanly, the color a brighter hue of the normal ones he fell in love with.

"The scars will fade quickly," You murmured, voice low as you moved your hands from his face, gently pressing against his shoulders, biceps, forearms, taking assessment of the damage.

He opened his eyes to watch you, a smile forming on his face as you continued muttering to yourself, cursing him for trying to hide his injuries, easily reversing the damage that had occurred to him hours before.

"Jason Todd," You scolded, pressing your hands against his ribs, eyes narrowing into a glare, "You were going to hide broken ribs from me?"

He chuckled sheepishly, "I've handled worse."

"Doesn't mean you have to now," He felt energy buzz under his skin, sucking in a quick breath as he felt his ribs fuse back together, "I'll do whatever I can to make sure of that."

He knew that, he knows that. But more often than not he feels as if he's taking advantage of you, of your abilities. He didn't know if your powers made you selfless, or if your selflessness manifested your powers. But he does know that you would run yourself ragged if it meant you could help every injured or ill-ridden person you came across.

He didn't want to admit it to anyone, let alone the rest of the stupid bird family of his, but he did go out of his way now to avoid massive injuries. If he came back with just a few scratches or bruises, he could talk you out of healing him, telling you paper cuts hurt worse than the injuries he had now.

He had less luck when he came home with cracked bones or bullet holes. He knew, and you knew, he would heal faster than normal thanks to the Lazarus Pit, but your powers worked almost instantly. You'd rather heal him immediately, rather than let him set for a few hours, body healing itself.

In a matter of five minutes, all his injuries were gone, leaving nothing but dried blood and faint scaring in their places. You sat back on your heels, eyes their normal shade, smiling up at him.

"There you are," You stood, leaning to place a soft, quick kiss to his lips, pulling back to run a hand through his hair, "Good as new."

"You enjoy playin' doctor, huh?"

The blush on your cheeks had him grinning like mad, and you rolled your eyes to avoid eye contact. He caught your hand in his, resting your knuckles against his lips, "Thanks doll."

You went to move, more than likely heading back to finish tonight's meal, but a flash of white caught his eye, and he grabbed your hand, turning it palm up. You stood, eyebrow raised in confusion as he ran his fingers across your skin gently, feeling the rough bandage across your palm.

"What happened?"

Your lips formed a quick 'o', grinning almost sheepishly, "I nicked myself cutting the carrots a bit earlier," You let him fiddle with your hand, your fingers for a moment longer, shrugging, "It's fine, I dressed it."

"I wish you could heal yourself."

He had found himself saying that so many times, wishing you could use your abilities selfishly. You healed him, no questions asked. You used to babysit some of the kids in the area, kissing away scraps and bruises under the guise that kisses healed everything when they looked at you in wonder. You held injured birds, cats, and dogs in the alleyways, taking care of their illnesses brought by hunger, correcting broken wings and crooked paws like it was as simple as breathing.

But whenever you were injured, struck down by a fever, found yourself in a situation where you needed help, you were helpless to do anything for yourself.

Your powers, Jason thought, were a blessing and a curse.

You shrugged, "Even if I could, wasting my abilities on a little cut? I'm fine."

His gaze met yours, and you understood the look he was giving you. You were repeating his own sentiments to him now, but you stood by it. Even if you could heal yourself, there were others who needed your energy and powers more than you did. Why would you have been born with this power if not to help others?

That's the notion you were raised on, and while Jason wanted you to put yourself first, protect yourself over strangers in the streets, he also knew that mindset was why the two of you met.

No one else would have rushed to the side of a downed Red Hood in the streets, covered in a mixture of his blood and the blood of those he killed. Everyone else would have run off or ignored him, but you rushed to his side, not asking questions, not trying to remove his hood or armor, hands placed where ever you could put them, and before he knew it, the dizziness brought on by blood loss was gone.

The rest was history.

He stood up, "Let me redress it at least," He squeezed your hand gently, "A lifetime of healing and you don't even know how to properly apply a band-aid."

You pouted but laughed along as he dragged you behind him to the bathroom, the first aid kit he forced you to buy still laying out on the counter.

You chattered away, talking about how your day had been, the kittens you saw coming back from the store earlier, how you got rid of their flea-ridden infections, and how you went back a few hours later and set up a box with some blankets in it for them. You mentioned keeping an eye on them, and bringing them home if no one claimed them in the next few days. He listened intently, cleaning the cut and dabbing some neosporin on it, wishing he could do more for your injuries, regardless of how small there were.

He'd do whatever he was able to though, wrapping any cuts you got, icing any bruises that appeared, he'd carry you everywhere if you required him to. He'd do that for as long as you'd let him.

Sorry, I had no idea how to end it. I hope you liked it!

[valsverse]

hi valerie!

i have a suggestion for a leo x reader. we all know he would give beautiful little gifts, so how do you think he would react when receiving them? like something artistic and carefully handmade. idk just thought it might me cute lmao

thank you 🩶

𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ KNICKNACKS | leo valdez x gn!reader hc's [wc: 586]

leo would be so ecstatic omg

he'd handle the small trinket you made for him with so much care and delicacy, you'd think it was made out of glass. and once he was finished admiring your creation, (though, that would take a while.) he'd immediately blurt out a high-pitched "for me??"

he just struggles to comprehend why someone as talented as you would use your creative abilities for him? he's so used to being overlooked that even the thought of being the recipient of your artistry is almost unfathomable. :(

leo would turn your creations over and over in his hands, silently memorizing every detail, as if he's afraid that your work might vanish if he takes his eyes off of it.

and his reaction?? always stays the same?? no matter how long its been?? you'd present your work to him and he'd be so theatrically shocked. like full on gasping and lowkey fighting for his life as if he hadn't expected the gift at all, even though you'd been showering him with your creations for the past month.

but once he gets past that point?? he becomes almost obnoxious about it. 💀 he'd sit in the dining pavilion so proudly, your little knickknack perched right next to him with the full intent of somebody asking him about it JUST so that he could ramble about you.

literally ONE person would bring it up, just to make small conversation, and he'd be like, "oh, THIS?? it was made by MY partner, for ME, by the way. but no big deal, y'know."

waited his entire life for that moment fr.

i completely mean it when i say leo would sweep ALL the belongings from his shelf to showcase even ONE item you made for him in all its glory. front and center. his siblings are so confused.

but if you start regularly gifting him things and blessing him with your artistry on a daily basis? he'll dedicate an entire shelf to your creations. and it's so funny because the rest of his area is so cluttered and disorganized, with random unfinished projects laying around without a second thought, bed not even made, but the shelf above his bunk?? the one with all your creations sitting on it?? it's so neat?? organized and color coded and everything?? it almost looks out of place.

even when you're away on quests, he still admires the creations you've left behind, tenderly cradling them in his hands and running his fingers over every curve and edge, as though you were still with him in the moment. :((

after some time, the gifting thing would turn into running joke between you two. a game of one-upmanship where every gift had to be better than the last. like if you made him a small sculpture out of clay, he would show up at your cabin the next day with a BOUNTY full of creations he made himself, along with a bouquet of flowers that he borrowed with no intention of giving back (stole) from the demeter kids to top it all off. <3

you'd make him one thing and he makes you ten more, he's so whipped.

leo would cherish your gifts so much, like he's almost scared of ruining them. especially if your gift is something that is SUPPOSED to be worn, like a ring of some sort. he'd proudly wear it around camp, obviously, but he'd check on it every few minutes to make sure it hadn't magically vanished from his finger. or worse, broke.

of course, leo knows he could fix it if it became damaged, but it wouldn't be the same. it wouldn't have your charm and artistry, your unique touch that made it so special.

all in all, leo is so enamored with your creativity, but judging by his actions, you probably already knew that.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

This is a lovely commission from a moon of mine. They wish to be anonymous, but I do have a brief description of the headcanons. I would like their reactions to finding out their s/o is self-harming, how they would try to help them day to day, and what new coping strategies they would suggest/get them to try. I'd like this with Lucifer, Alastor, and Vox. Romantic Lucifer, Alastor & Vox caring for Reader

TW: SELF-HARM MENTIONED, COPING SKILLS (These may not work for everyone), ANGST/FLUFF

Lucifer:

When Lucifer found you that day, he was devastated. You were so frail and small in his arms, and it hurt his soul.

He cleaned you up carefully and bandaged all your wounds. Holding you close to his chest, telling you how much you mean to him.

It was common knowledge to everyone how much he cared for you and how he compared you to the angels in heaven themselves.

He didn't leave your side for weeks, helping you through every emotion and thought that crossed your mind.

He was honestly a little overbearing, making you feel worse that he was dedicating his whole life to you.

When you brought this up with him, he calmed down on the clinginess but still routinely checked up on you.

He enlisted Charlie and Vaggie, two of the people he trusted most in the world next to you, to find better ways to help you avoid reverting to harm.

He took the learned material seriously and began helping you set up healthy routines again slowly.

He helped you with big tasks that felt way too much at the time while still giving you the independence you needed.

He made sure you two went on 'hot girl walks' once a day to help you get more vitamin D.

He conjured a whole gym area for you in the hotel after learning the endorphins in exercise would help.

If you ever had a dark day or a bad event, he would re-cling himself to you.

Even if you protested, he was right there, ready to go and assist you.

He told you daily how much he loved and cared for you and helped remind you how needed you are in this realm.

Alastor:

Alastor rarely felt broken in his human or demon life. Not often did anything shake him to his core.

The day he found you, though, near death and fading, he was a broken man indeed.

You were not allowed to leave his arms no matter how hard Charlie or other inhabitants asked him to let you be looked at by another.

He had years of wound care experience, so he took to cleaning and tending to you.

Was it mentioned that he was in complete demon form the whole time? Well, he was, and he was so angry at the world but so gentle with you.

He wasn't as clingy as Lucifer; instead, he was a silent observer, only coming when asked.

He refused to let you out of his sight, though, making sure that if you weren't physically with him, his shadow was nearby.

He basically destroyed your room by looking for anymore harmful objects. He made up for it, though, by getting you brand-new everything.

"A brand new you is refreshing, my love letting go of the bad.'

He helped you dye and cut your hair when you decided to go with the whole new me look.

He took your eating habits to heart and ensured you had three meals a day, all prepared by him.

Good nutrients would significantly improve your mental health and give you more energy and stamina.

Every morning, when he woke by your side, he would remind you, "You are never fully dressed without a smile, my love."

Vox:

Vox is a big baby on almost anything, especially when things don't go his way or play out how he expects them to.

He never expected to be serious and somber about anything detrimental until he found you that day.

He was terrified of losing you, and his immediate reaction was to hold you close and get you to a hospital.

Man has every tech device in Pentagram City, but he knew what you needed was far beyond his scammy gizmos and gadgets.

Once in the hospital, he was pacing the room, wearing a grove into the floor.

Once you were cleared and ready to go home, he asked you simple fundamental questions, ranging from a simple "why" to a more in-depth "How can I help you?"

He knew that when you answered in shrugs and 'I don't know,' he would have to do the grunt work to help his love.

He talked to doctor after doctor and scoured the web to find all the best remedies to help you.

He took up yoga with you, and right after yoga ended, he would sit with you in a warm bath and talk about what you thought.

When you fully started opening up to him about the dark thoughts clouding your brain, he was already prepared to help.

He helped you cleanse your social media and even recommended good, worthy shows to distract you from your thoughts.

Vox loved you more than life itself and couldn't imagine a world without you in it.

He made sure every day you knew that you would look in the mirror at him lovingly holding you and remind yourself of that, too.

[mountainsandmayhem]

congrats on 500!! 💗

ILYSM!! could you write this drabble we were talking about😈 a lazy Sunday morning riding Joel..he says something like “use your daddy” and/or “that’s my girl.” thank you daddy 🤭😂

Sunday With Your Dad’s Best Friend

18+

DBF!Joel x Fem!Reader

AN: thank you baby for this great request. I hope this lives up to your expectations 🩵. Did I proof read this? No, of course I didn’t. ✌🏻 YOLO.

CW: I don’t want to give away too much, but wrap it up (be better than these two) use of nicknames and based on the ask one of those nicknames is daddy.

Joel freakin Miller. Your dad’s best friend and your secret hook up for the past few months. Sunday mornings with Joel might be your favourite. Your parents think you’re at work, but instead, you park your car in his garage and spend the day flirting, cuddling and fucking.

It’s a beautifully warm summer morning, Joel is sitting on a pool lounge chair in his backyard, long legs stretched out, one ankle crossed over the other. He’s in mid thigh length neon green shorts that accentuate his tan, and no shirt. Sun kissing his chest, and it feels weird to be jealous of UV rays that get to touch him in places that are only for you.

He glances up over his book to watch you swimming laps in his pool. The water glistens off your bare back and ass, legs fluttering gracefully beneath the water. As you reach the end furthest away from him you dive under, spinning your body and pushing off the wall to swim back towards him. As you come up to the surface you spin onto your back, cherry pink nipples skimming the surface as you backstroke through the water. He’s never been more thankful for all the tall trees and bushes he planted to make his backyard completely secluded from his neighbours.

Joel puts his book and reading glasses down as your naked body ascends the steps of the pool in front of him. He crosses his toned arms and tilts his head to the side, eyes watching the water droplets run down your body, pooling in the curvy areas he loves so much.

“Gonna get a sunburn if you aren’t careful, baby girl,” he says, concern and arousal fighting each other in his voice.

You blink at him, gathering your hair to the side and squeezing out the water. “Yes, daddy.” You tease, water splashing against the hot paving stone of the pool deck.

He shakes his head and smirks, a dimple forming on his cheek, highlighted by the sun glinting off his greying facial hair. “Careful with that nickname, darlin’.”

Baby girl and darlin’ in a matter of minutes has you itching to get your hands on him. “You just called me two nicknames back to back. That’s cheating.”

“Cheatin’, hey? How so?” His voice has dropped an octave, and that’s almost worse than a nickname.

You wander over to the table beside him where your towel sits. You reach out for your towel as you say, “Makes me want you.”

Joel grabs your wrist, his large, strong hand easily circling the tapered part of your arm. “That right? Someone feelin’ needy,” he pauses before adding, “Sweetheart.”

A little whimper escapes your throat as his coffee and brown sugar-speckled eyes wash over you.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, pulling gently to stand beside him. Your eyes flick down to the tent forming under his swim trunks.

“Can I…” you start, voice shaky and shy.

“Don’t be shy, baby girl. I’m yours, remember?” You nod as he continues, “And you’re mine. So anything you want. Anything.”

You shut your eyes and take a slow breath, perky breasts rising and falling close to Joel’s face as his thumb caresses the smooth inside of your wrist as a form of silent encouragement. “I wanna ride you.”

You open your eyes to see Joel smiling proudly at you. “Good girl,” he hums, releasing your wrist and slipping his swim trunks off. His cock is hard as nails from just the sight of you, he leans back in his lounger - not quite sitting at a full 90 degrees.

“Come on, baby. Straddle me,” his hands come to your hips as you stretch one leg over him and then down onto his lap. His thick shaft rests between your bodies, your pussy sliding along him as you sit. Your clit twitches with every vein and ridge.

Your hand's card through his hair as his hands move to the globes of your ass, encouraging you to grind along him. You lower your face to him, kissing him slowly as you buck your hips back and forth. You swallow the deep moan that passes his lips, slanting your head and licking along his bottom lip.

He kneads the curves of your ass, “more,” you whimper.

He lifts you slightly, then brings one hand to his cock, pumping it a few times before teasing your clit when the head, pre cum leaks from the slit and he spreads along your already soaked and silky cunt.

“Shit, darlin’, so wet already,” he whispers, sliding the head to tease at your tight entrance.

This is your favourite part, the painful little stretch when he first pushes himself in. He always gives you time to adjust before fucking you, today is no different as he pushes your hips down to swallow all of him. You cry out as you settle onto him and his lips crash into yours to stifle you. “Sshhh, the neighbours could be out,” he mumbles into your lips, chest heaving as he adjusts to your tightness choking him.

“Sorry, just feels so good,” you moan quietly.

“I know, baby girl. I know.” His strong hands massage at the creases of your hips. “This what you needed? Me buried deep inside that beautiful little pussy?”

You feel the walls of your pussy flutter around him. Joel is good with his hands and tongue and has the perfect sized cock for you, but it’s his filthy mouth that usually starts that familiar ache to build at the base of your spine.

“Yes,” you huff, slowly grinding into him.

“I can tell. So tight for me. Can feel you fluttering around me already.” Your hands move from his hair to his broad shoulders, using them to leverage yourself so you can get better momentum to slide back and forth.

“Oh god, Joel,” you coo. The ache turns into bubbling lava.

“Kiss me,” he says, strong arms winding around you and pulling you into his chest. You kiss him deeply, tongues lazily flicking against each others as you glide your hips back and forth against him. At this new angle, the soft part of his lower body hits your clit, the slight curve in his cock hitting that spongy part that makes you weak and boneless.

All of the movements from you and Joel are slow and soft, almost lazy. Neither in a rush to orgasm or to get to the next part of your day. This is all that matters right now.

Joel breaks the kiss, hand sliding up your back to the nape of your neck, gently encouraging you to turn your face so he can kiss along your jawline toward that soft part below your ear. “That’s my girl,” he says quietly, just for you to hear. “Use your daddy to cum.”

Your body jerks faster, the bubbling lava close to the eruption point. He lets you move at your own pace, flicking your hips once, twice, and three more times before you feel it. “Good girl, let go,” his teeth graze your earlobe as you fall apart.

You bury your face in his neck. Whispering his name, body going slack. He takes over, hands gripping your lips tightly and moving them in the same pattern you were.

“Oh fuck….yes, daddy. Please,” you’re a whispering, mumbling mess as the pleasure waves through you. The sensitive hard bud at the top of your cunt twitching and pulsing with each graze of his belly. “Don’t stop, Joel. Please - please don’t stop.”

“I know, sweetheart. I got you,” he doesn’t speed up, doesn’t slow down; he does exactly as you ask. “That’s my good girl. So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

“Fill me. Fill me, please.” You whine, kissing the crook of his neck.

“Fuck. Shit, baby girl.” He says, head falling back to the lounger. You pull back to watch him. Eyes clenched tight and mouth slightly agape. Small beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Look at me,” you whisper, slowly retaking control of your body, swivelling your hips into him. His soft brown eyes peel open, dancing around your face. “Please, Joel.”

“Call me daddy,” he moans, his dick getting harder as you ride him.

“Please, daddy. I’ve been such a good girl. Fill me.” You say sweetly, just the way he likes it, before sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

Joel’s breath hitches as his hips stutter, hands clamping down on your hips to still you. “Shit, yes. Yes. Oh fuck, you’re so good for daddy.” His cock jumps and twitches inside you as ropes of cum coat you, marking you and claiming you as his.

As he comes down he pulls you onto his chest, lips kissing lightly along the hairline of your forehead. “God damn, little one. I love when you talk dirty to me like that.”

You nuzzle deeper into his warm chest. “Noted…daddy.”

A deep growl fills his chest. “I’m still inside you, careful with that nickname.”

“I’m having Deja Vu,” you joke.

“As soon as I get control of my legs, I’m takin’ you inside and lickin’ that little pussy clean in the shower,” Joel says matter of factly.

You giggle, “Anything you say, daddy.”

[nekrosmos]

Tell me your silliest takes on Nikolai and Price? <3 Or any headcanons you have of either of them, really.

Silly NikPrice, I can do :3c

I think Nik is a hugger even in his sleep and sometimes Price wakes up in the middle of the night because he has to piss and can't escape those massive bear arms (and Nik would try to pull him closer even as he's sleeping) and it's a silent battle that ensues, often ending in Price giving up.

When Price is being particularly grumpy or strict for some reason, Gaz likes to act mysterious and say "I know a way to calm him down" to Soap and Ghost. He never lies, however, as all it takes is for him to send a text to Nik, and for Nik to send a picture of himself in various states of undress to Price. The face John makes when he glances at his phone, only for his ears to turn all red as he fumbles an excuse that he has to go check something in his office, is something the 141 never gets tired of.

Most of the time, Nik makes the big gestures. That man is a romantic and now that he finally has John, he's gonna make him feel like he's the most beautiful man in the world. However, sometimes Price surprises him too. The smile on Nikolai's face when John gets him with something he didn't expect is worth everything to John. The love making that follows is out of this world, too.

Nik loooooooves to find ways to sneakily touch Price when he really shouldn't be doing that. Maybe they're sitting around a table negotiating important intel with shady people from Nik's side when Price suddenly feels Nik's boots against his crotch and sees him smirks at him from across the table. Asshole. Or maybe the two are undercover in a van, eying an area at night for someone they need to crab, Price's eyes glued to his binoculars when Nik's hand suddenly sneaks past his belt and boxers and starts teasing him. Even worse, the person they were waiting to retrieve finally shows up and Price has to grab a guy while almost fully hard and unsatisfied. Thanks, Nik.

Sometimes they like to slow dance together. Just the two of them, in Price's house or his quarters, whatever. They put some quiet music and just start doing it naturally. It's gentle, it's quiet, it's just them and they can finally have a moment to breath and enjoy each other's embrace. John never feels more at peace than when in Nik's arms, and Nik is happy to oblige, big hands stroking through Price's hair and staring into his blue eyes. Sometimes one of them ends up saying a very, very bad joke, and they start laughing, almost uncontrollably, more out of exhaustion than anything, and they end up falling on a nearby couch or bed and they laugh and laugh together like nothing else in this world matters but them.

Nik watching Price struggle to order food in Russian while they're in a russian speaking country. He could help him, but it's just so damn adorable to watch him fumble through his words and see John's panicked glance turn back to him when he failed to order coffee for the third time in a row. John's revenge is to speak in slang he damn well knows Nik won't understand for the rest of the day.

Every time John is cold in bed, snuggling close to Nik, it reminds him of that time when they were way, way younger and got sent off somewhere in Eastern Europe in the middle of winter, and the two had to bunker down in a shitty hotel, in a shitty bedroom that (gasp) had only one shitty bed and whose heater was broken. It had been a little bit awkward at the time, and Nik had offered to sleep on the floor, which John had refused, offering it in return, only for Nik to also shut him down. Eventually, the two had climbed into bed, backs turned to one another, until John began to shiver uncontrollably, the thin blanket not helping with the freezing temperatures. Quietly, Nik had turned around and gently wrapped his arms around John. None of them said anything, no words were exchanged, and Price quickly stopped shivering. There were no mention of this happening the day after, or the day after, not until years later when the two began their relationship and Nik admitted it had been extremely difficult to stop himself from kissing the back of Price's neck that night, or let his hands wander. Price admitted the same, and the two had laughed it off. There had been plenty of opportunities to do just that since then.

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 13: A Geeky Bulk

Anonymous asked:

I am a chubby and hairy American Guy who is a little on the geeky side of life. I love Jamar Pusch's pecs and how he can make them bounce. Could you merge us please?

For the uninitiated, for those going the natural route of being big & cut at the same time comes in two cycles; the bulk and the cut.

The bulk is when the user focuses on gaining mass, and that means an big calorie intake. That means covering that coveted slab of visible muscles; the abs. But while they join the population of bears, the muscles, when paired with exercise, encourages muscle growth with the building blocks just sitting there.

The cut? Think of it as revealing the results. You go in the opposite direction on calorie & fatty intake and bask in the results. Continuous use of this basic method is how the skinny kid becomes the long lost cousin of Captain America.

Here is one dude who does this:

Jamar Pusch.

Worked his butt off to get that look. You would swear that he was sculpted rather than built up.

Unbeknownst to himself, he is the target of that infamous group we call the prowlers. In this case, a father who wants to give was Jamar has to his wimpy son. You would think that with all the money in the world that he could just pay for the best trainers & dieticians, but many wealthy people can be illogical & demanding.

He procured a bottle of red liquid. All he has to do is pour on the target, and have the one who attends to assimilate touch them.

Jamar is finishing a typical photo-shoot, the best result will go on his Instagram, the rest to whoever he dms. The man is looking for love like the rest us.

His shoot has been infiltrated, a couple of payments here & there under the table, and the father and son arrive to the location using the new info. There are other people there admiring the modern day Adonis. The duo poses as fans. The event concludes, and Jamar goes to a trailer he rented for use for a nearby music cultural event, and the duo follows him.

There is a knock on the door. He opens and sees the father & son standing there gleaming. The son has a nervous energy about him, but Jamar pushes this away as a nervous fan. He beckons them into his trailer for a private supervised one on one meet & greet, and they obliged him.

The father was more excited than the son. Maybe the son was just getting introduced to this world to inspire him to workout? How fatherly.

Unknown to all three of them, a third fan was just out of earshot in the area. He saw this as an opportunity, goes to the trailer as well. The door is unlocked. He goes in, but what he sees angers & shocks him.

Jamar sits the pair down and offers them drinks.

They accept.

The father sees this as his chance.

He uncorks the bottle and splashes the contents on Jamar. He turns around to protest, but soon he freezes up like a statue. The only thing he could do is plead & scream in protest.

"I must thank you Mr. Pusch, I appreciate what you are about to do for my son. He is about to go to college, and I find he will have a better time if he can "hang" with the physically gifted type. Tell me, what sports are you into," he asked in a jubilant manner that turned stern.

His son looked nervous. The father glanced over with a frown at his son.

"Hopefully you will give him your confidence too, I tried so hard to instill courage into him, but his mother may have babied him a bit too much. No matter, let's get this over with," he said.

"Charlie, go shake Mr. Pusch's hand," he said.

The young man walked over silently. Jamar tried his best to move but couldn't. He then saw something. Hope.

The silent fan who came over saw all of this in the trailer. His mouth was agape. Was Jamar about to get kidnapped or worse killed? His anger took over. He dropped his phone that he was going to use to get pictures, and ran over to the father.

The shock of an intruder made the father's heart stop and blood freeze. Was he caught by security? The person coming over was a large man after all. By the time he registered to do something else and than wish for laser beam eyes, he was knocked over.

The son too was shocked at this. He moved his hand away from Jamar, and turned to his father.

Truth be told, he didn't want to change like this. He didn't want to steal someone else's body to appease his father or anyone else for that matter. If he was going to change, it was going to be on his terms. What Charlie wanted to do right now was save his father.

He found his courage.

He ran over, and with an adrenaline boost peeled the large man off his father and shoved him away. But he pushed him in the direction of Jamar.

He crashed into Jamar, and it began.

Surprisingly, Jamar didn't fall over or collapse. He just sort of absorbed the impact. For the large fan, it was like jumping into a combination of marshmallow & quicksand. His body sinked further into Jamar until all there was left was just Jamar.

Jamar cocked his head back & began to shift.

Mentally, Jamar was in this fan's head space. He was getting assimilated by him. Jamar & this fan talked it out. Explaining things from their perspective and then uniting under one cause of escaping from these crazy people. Jamar also convinced him to let him drive the wheel. He sensed that whatever was happening was a done deal, and he would be better steered to handle whatever they are about to become. The mind space inverted. They were in Jamar's mind. The fan broke down into confetti and merged into Jamar. It was time to kick some ass.

In flipping the mind merge, Jamar was able to reverse the physical merge process. The fan would upgrade him.

He let out a soft moan. His body began to quiver & shudder.

His skin grew softer as layers of fat grew all over.

"Hmm."

A warmth washed over stomach, each wave an inch of fat covering his abs.

There was rustling in his pants. His rod grew longer and strained against the tight pants. He grunted and then chuckled.

His neck bulged out & his head lengthened.

His facial features shifted, bigger eyes, smaller lips. A slightly more upturned nose. He kept his ears. His hair shortened.

He took on a darker skin tone as well, but soon after hair began to grow throughout his body.

He opened his eyes. The father & son were shocked by what they saw.

The father snapped out and commanded Charlie to touch the fused Jamar, but nothing happened. One pair per dose, and the father used all of it in one go.

He gave the father a beating. He had to change himself and consume someone else because some jack rabbit of a father wanted a shortcut. Security came in after seeing the trailer move a bit, and apprehended the pair.

The father was charged with attempted kidnapping later on.

The son wasn't a total wash and Jamar would mentor the young man.

As for Jamar, his life trajectory changed. The fan that saved him, was a part of him now, imparted some interesting interests. With the connections he built up, Jamar went into acting; doing mo-cap & voice acting for video games, one of which involved a galaxy far far away. He is having a blast too:

In time Jamar would deal with layers on his stomach. He has been here before many times. He just fast tracked a bulk cycle. Time for the cut.

Wait, did that water bottle move by itself?

[mothfables]

The Chain Sleeping Headcanons

i figured why the hell not haha

Time -this man snores like a goddamned horse -often the last to sleep, makes sure everyone else is doing alright first -would be the first to rise if not for Wild getting up to make breakfast -takes watch often. he’s been chewed out by Wars + the others for not waking whoever’s next many times -very rarely sleeps in

Legend -refuses to sleep on his back unless he absolutely has to (i.e. severely ill or injured) -prefers to sleep on his side, usually curled up, but will lie on his stomach if he feels safe enough -sleeps better with at least one other person with him, but is bad at asking for it -if he’s with Ravio there’s a chance he may sleep on his back, as he knows he’s safe with him -will drop off in a few minutes if his hair is played with -sleeps best curled against someone’s chest with his face tucked in their neck. it helps him feel safe

Twilight -either sleeps sprawled flat on his back or curled up like a wolf. no inbetween -has a habit of getting up and patrolling the camp/immediate area at random points during the night. does not matter if he’s in wolf or hylian form -also snores. usually in the ear of whoever’s closest to him

Sky -he’s never had the best relationship with sleep. this has been something he’s dealt with his entire life -it was bad enough as a kid but it’s only gotten worse the older he gets -some of it is prophetic dreams or other hero shit, the rest is good old sleep disorder -naps when he can get them -chronic sleep cuddler. once he has someone in his grasp he is not letting go. no one is sure if he’s even aware he does this. good for getting Legend to sleep

Warriors -can sleep anywhere, anytime, in any position thanks to his time in the army -quick to sleep, quick to rise -usually sleeps flat on his back or curled around the nearest small body (or Time) -always has a weapon nearby

Wind -this kid alternates between alarmingly accurate starfish + octopus imitations -forming a habit of snoring. the prime suspect is Twilight -keeps a knife under his pillow

Hyrule -he sleeps best hidden away, like in a tree or cave -always has his sword nearby -he’s slowly learning to sleep with others nearby/trust others with keeping him safe as he sleeps

Wild -can go without sleep for days. this does not mean it’s healthy -if he goes long enough without sleep he crashes hard as soon as it’s safe to do so -rests best at a campfire or wherever there’s a bed. this doesn’t mean he can’t or won’t pass out anywhere -ready to get up and go whenever -tends to get up early to make breakfast

Four -either sleeps completely silently or says the weirdest shit. often sounds like fractured conversations between multiple people -similar to Wind in that he’ll wrap himself around the nearest person or contort himself into the weirdest positions. his blankets are never where they started in the morning -has occasionally been found on the opposite side of camp from where he went to sleep

[gatitties]

The truth

—Yandere!Bonten x motherly!reader (platonic)

—Summary: an accident makes you more aware of reality even though you already knew it, but what can someone like you do?

—Warnings: blood, kidnapping, obsession, toxic behaviors, harassment

I never thought this would go so far as to have five parts but... here we are! 🫣 (maybe this part is a bit long, srry)

@boycigs there you go!! 🫶🏻

Part one / Part two / Part three / Part four

You fumbled with the wall for the light switch, your tired eyes playing with you and making you almost trip over a blanket that had been thrown on the floor.

You yawned stretching your back, you had been working on some files that Kokonoi asked you to correct, you fell asleep without dinner and your stomach decided to wake you up at this time of night.

Luckily you had some leftovers from today's lunch, everyone had come to eat despite it being your 'day off', but since they had been busy with work more than usual lately, they couldn't spend as much time with you as they would like, although that didn't stop them from hiding cameras in your apartment to check that everything was okay from time to time.

A knock at the door made you frown, remembering the first time you met Sanzu. You walked slowly, expecting to run into him, or even one of the Haitani brothers who ran brothels near the area, it wouldn't be the first time they've come home drunk after a good night.

When you opened it, confusion flooded your face, there was no one there, not a note, nothing, you thought that maybe you were still too sleepy and you had hallucinated, or maybe it was some late-night teenager making a joke. You shrugged shutting to go back to your dinner, but before you knew it or could make a move something hit you in the back of the neck, knocking you unconscious, the last thing you saw was a few blurry faces, but none you knew in the slightest.

Panic, panic was the first thing Mochizuki experienced when he saw the recordings from the cameras installed in your house. He had to do a checkup the next morning and just seeing how careless they had been to let that trash kidnap you made his thoughts turn to disgust and guilt.

Not even five minutes after seeing that, all the executives were gathered in their meeting room, no matter where they were, they all got there instantly upon answering Mochi's call.

"And if I pause right here..." Mochi stopped the video just as two men lifted your unconscious body "this guy here, on his neck, his tattoo is from another band."

"Those bastards have been giving us so much trouble lately, I'm looking forward to seeing blood drain from their brains."

Sanzu slammed both hands on the table, completely irritated and concerned for your well-being, he was controlling his urge to go looking for you only because Mikey had remained silent with a blank stare throughout the entire meeting.

The Haitani brothers were already warming up to fight, Takeomi was mobilizing some men to search your apartment for clues while Koko and Kakucho were trying to find where your chip signal was. Yes, although unknown to you, they decided to insert a tracking chip into you a while ago just to know where you were when they couldn't be around.

The signal was bad, either because you were too far away from their location or because you were somewhere underground, which didn't help much. They were all probably on the verge of hysteria, the search wasn't going fast enough as they'd like and it only made their mood worse.

It took at least five days for them to come up with any solid leads to your whereabouts, the worst five days of their existence, the poor people or employees who will come across any of them probably aren't alive anymore. Mikey locked himself in and refused to come out unless they heard from you, he barely ate and his sleep schedule got even worse.

"Are you sure it's there?"

"Yes, several of our men have seen these guys with the same tattoo come and go, it doesn't appear to be their central base but it's hidden enough to carry out kidnappings."

Takeomi pointed to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, everyone mobilized to go there immediately, even Mikey and Kokonoi, who didn't usually get their hands dirty with this kind of work, decided to go.

As for you... it was confusing the first day you woke up, the feeling of a gun pointed at your head became familiar as did the ropes on your wrists and ankles. Your reaction upon seeing the criminals was to release an inaudible sigh, without fear or surprise, your state was neutral.

You knew it, you knew that sooner or later this was going to happen, as much as your guys will try to hide you from problems with other mafias, there are always some leaks, and playing with loved ones from enemy gangs is the easiest card to play to threaten. Although in this case they didn't even have time to issue a threat to Bonten when they had already been threatened by your kidnapping.

The following days were threats to your people to try to get information that could put Bonten in trouble, as well as planning to move to another of their hideouts, however you were unaware of most of the things that Bonten did, although you were their secretary, you were only in charge of planning schedules and correcting some superficial reports from Kokonoi, you were not much help to these scoundrels.

"Damn! I don't understand how they could have protected you so much if you're just a useless old woman, you're useless! Why the hell do those guys hold you in such high esteem...?"

In the outburst of anger as he took it out on you, the sound of his hand slamming into your cheek sounded as the door above fell off its hinges.

"Boss, we have a prob-!"

The eye of the man who was coming down the stairs was blown out thanks to a bullet, landing right between your feet, you closed your eyes and, no matter if you don't believe in any god or anything, you prayed, not for you, but for what all these people did not suffer such a painful death.

You knew what Bonten men were capable of, at first you thought you were exaggerating, but that was the truth and at times, it terrified you. You were terrified to think of all the lives that left this world just because of you, your boys were more than gangsters, more than just criminals, they were monsters looking for any excuse to kill, and you were that excuse.

You knew that there was nothing in this world that would make you reverse time to the point of not having helped that drunk guy at the door of your house, you knew that nothing would make all those men leave your side because of showing your kindness, you knew that no kind of therapy could help such rotten minds at this point, so you could only swallow, as scared as you were, as much as your legs trembled, you had chosen this path yourself and you had to accept it.

"Mom..."

Your breath quickened slightly as you felt Sanzu's cold hand resting on your cheek, you slowly opened your eyes to see pure relief reflected in his, ignoring the bloodstains on his clothes and face, and even ignoring the blood he was leaving on your face, you smiled at him.

"I'm fine guys, I'm… fine."

You had to swallow and avoid getting dizzy from the smell of oxide in the place, your memories are blurry when you try to remember when you left there, you remember seeing many practically mutilated bodies, a river of blood and many arms holding your body as if you were going to disintegrate at that precise moment.

After you were rescued, you spent at least two days in a hospital at Kokonoi's request to see that you didn't have any injuries, everyone turned to you with questions about how you were doing, especially mentally.

It became suffocating, the amount of attention you received after that event, made you understand that, from now on, you could not have a single moment for yourself, no matter the job, the time or the place, you will always have one of them on top of you to keep an eye on you.

It doesn't matter if you complain, the truth, which you had to accept once again, is that nothing but death could separate you from these men, because they were not willing to let you go, ever. But the worst of all is that you accepted it, you accepted your fate, a fate that was sealed a long time ago, you accepted that you lived with monsters, that you helped and treated horrible people like completely sane people, but, an ordinary person like you, no could change anything.

"How long until the cake is ready?"

"Don't be impatient Rin, it's only been in the oven for five minutes."

"That's already a long time..."

"Shut up, you're always so impatient!"

"Are you looking for a fight!?"

"Kakucho, could you...?"

A nod from him made you sigh in relief, breaking up the Haitani brothers' fight as you sat at the table with the others who were talking about random topics. You stared into your teacup, your blank stare imagining imaginary scenes of another lifestyle in the steaming liquid.

"Are you ok? You seem distracted."

You looked at Kokonoi, keeping your gaze off without focusing on his face, you nodded with a slight smile when you saw that everyone had shut up to look at you.

"Yeah, I just didn't sleep well today."

"We'll buy a new bed then."

"I did not mean that..."

And like many things in your current life, your opinion was thrown away just to bring you more 'comfort'. You had no power and that was the absolute truth, nothing could change at this point.

[vampiricgf]

KNUCKLE VELVET - LEON KENNEDY

SYNOPSIS... ❛ trapped in a rotting cathedral with a man more beast than human, with all the decayed promises of long ago. there's one rule of the world you're still certain of: pain will always be met with equal reward ❜

WARNINGS... blood, blood consumption, vampires, violence/bodily pain, choking, puncture wounds, kinda dubcon, mutual toxicity (they have a fucked up relationship), creampie, no prep, sacrilegious themes/loss of religion (I know damn well his ass is a lapsed catholic)

WORD COUNT... 2.5k+

˗ˏˋ kinktober masterlist ˎˊ˗

The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than god. - St. Teresa of Ávila

~

The human spirit possesses a remarkable ability to adapt. 

You stopped marking the passage of time long ago, it only served to drive you deeper into despair and slowly it became clear the only choice left was to make the best of being trapped inside the rotting cathedral that has become your “home”. 

So be it.

Things became less horrid between you two once that shift occurred, he was kinder, for one thing. Less bouts of intense fits of rage, although the ones that did occur were not remedied by your obedience which led you to believe it was less about you and more so to do with his continued frustration that there was no cure for what he was. During his melancholy episodes he allowed you more free reign, although only within this decrepit place. 

You suppose it would make sense that he would choose this place as a prison for you both. What you couldn’t understand, however, was his continued devotion to a deity that did not create him nor hold any love for him. 

“Leave,” he greeted you, slate colored eyes never even shifting to acknowledge your presence as your footfalls carried you into the altar area. It made you feel miffed that he couldn’t even properly rebuke your presence. 

“I didn’t know you were here,” you lie. He’s always here. Always in the shadow of this tabernacle when he’s not slipping into your makeshift bedroom, attempting to find a much different form of salvation. 

This place had clearly been quite resplendent once, but years of abandonment and neglect have reduced it largely to rubble. This main area of the cathedral was nothing more than a half cracked maw, sucking in the freezing night air through jagged stone teeth. 

“I can’t sleep.” You murmur, half confessional half excuse. 

You both know it’s another lie, his acknowledgement of your words coming as a bland, dismissive hmph. It was strange, to hate and revile a man so much yet also ache for him in the same breath, especially when he would move with all that silent, predatory grace into your room for the night. After what truly felt like years of isolation, you depended on him as your sole point of contact. No matter how unpleasant it was. 

When those eyes finally train on you, full of venom, it makes you briefly reconsider the act of seeking him out. Coming to him like this may have been a mistake, if you don’t tread carefully-

“You’re just as disgusting as you say I am.” He sneers from a broken, dust layered pew and you gape in response, shame flaring hot as a heated knife slid into your gut. “How many times have you called me a monster? Yet here you are, waltzing around looking for the monster to fuck you.” 

You were caught out, most likely by the superior sense of smell, much to your horror at the realization. But is it even really your fault, when he’s made you this way? He is all you have anymore. It’s blurry, even just trying to retrace the threads from the beginning to now, it feels like all you’ve ever known is these decaying stone walls and the equally decayed man in front of you. 

“That’s not what I want from you-”

“Then leave.” It's worse that there is no snarl in his voice, no passion in the command, he can’t even throw you another glare. You suddenly wish you had the nerve to hit him. He knows perfectly well that you can’t leave, you’ll never be able to leave. 

Your own lips curl up into a sneer, settling on something more effective then just raising a hand to him. “You’re nothing but a pathetic creature, not even a fucking monster. Just a dead man kneeling for a god that can’t hear you.” 

You don’t stop, not even as he rises to stand, every miniscule movement radiating aggression and anger. You don’t stop because it feels good, to hurt him even a fraction of the way he’s hurt you all this time, and the ugliness of it twines together with your arousal, twin snakes squirming in your belly. 

“You’re beyond pathetic, it’s why you do this, isn’t it? Keeping people in cages just to have even one person acknowledge you because you know god never will-”

The words die in your throat, replaced by a garbled sound of surprise as you're pushed back against a half rotted support beam, the hand at your throat feeling more like an iron band being tightened. The position itself was oddly intimate, that didn’t escape you as you caught the familiar smell of him, the absence of body heat and that shameful arousal spiked at the way his fangs became visible from how harsh his breathing was. He even kept the habit of manual breathing, despite not needing to. 

“Like you’re not the dog barking for attention.”

The stone floor suddenly at your back was roughly fractured in sharp contours, horribly uncomfortable but it didn’t matter to you. That needy, greedy part of you he’d nurtured all this time was too busy preening, even as you blinked tears out of your eyes from the breathtaking sensation of being laid out flat. You always forgot about his strength when so much time passed, but any display of violence from him whether great or small was thrilling to you in a peculiar, vile way. So was the pain. 

But despite the haze of lust, a noxious cloud swirling over your brain, a part of you was uncomfortably aware of your surroundings. Namely, what they meant. The look on his face was beyond dark, no longer blase in the face of your deliberate attempt to rile him up, his flaxen hair was haloed by the cracks of moonlight beaming from the crumbling ceiling. For a millisecond you swore he looked like the stained glass depictions of angels. 

“Not here.” You eek out between heaving breaths.

“What? Are you scared god will strike you down for it?” His voice dropped to a half whisper, dripping with mockery. 

You swallow thickly, noting how his eyes tracked the movement and the way his pupils had dilated so much only the thinnest ring of jewel blue was remotely visible. But there was no taking it back, you’d deliberately poked the proverbial bear and there's no way to ask for it’s claws to be retracted. 

In the tense quiet he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, the act so gentle, nearly loving, it almost worked to make you forget that you were nothing but a glorified meal and a thing to fuck. The faint stench of old blood curled in your nostrils brings you back into reality, knowing what it meant. 

His faux repentance was brought on by yet another killing. The same as it always is. 

It breaks your heart because it wasn’t always this way. In the beginning there was no death nor blood or violence, only an incredibly exciting affair with a strangely secretive yet tactile man that easily worked his way into your life, your heart. You hadn’t known then that this was what he really was. That this was what he was really promising you. 

That blood crusted hand glided down the column of your throat, making you flinch. You could tell by the hardening of his eyes that it was the wrong involuntary action to have, but there was nothing you could do. That same hand dipped below the neckline of your shirt to trace the curve of your breast before stilling just above your heart, wildly pounding like a bird frantically flapping its wings in a cage. 

“You’re always so scared.” His words almost sounded regretful. “You know I don’t mean it, right?”

“I don’t.” You hate the way it comes out, all whimpered, but it is the truth. For all his occasional sweetness, his nicety, it always wound back around to pain. A pain you got used to, tolerated, even sought out like you did tonight, but you could never be secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t or didn’t mean to harm you. 

He laughed then, a mad sound that ricocheted off the frigid, indifferent stone and made you flinch yet again. 

“You’re just as fucked up as I am, do you know that? Waltzing in, acting on your own desires then pretending you’re not. Pretending you don’t like this,” His words were coming out more rapidly, half crazed. “I could tear you to pieces, leave nothing but some parts, and there's nothing you could do about it.”

It was sick, how delighted he looked as you shrank back against the floor, but despite your own terror and disgust your defiant streak reared its head once more. 

“You won’t.” But you hardly sounded sure.

“Do you want to find out?”

You clenched your jaw, so tightly you could hear the internal sound of your teeth groaning from the pressure. It did very little to stop your trembling.

Too busy focused on trying to control your own body you failed to realize he was rearing back, icy hands moving up and down the contours of your body, subtly lifting the thin fabric of your shirt and pulling up the skirt you wore. A twisted, ugly delight washed over you, infinitely worse than the chill that bit at you from the night air, that your scathing back and forth had given you just what you wanted. 

Frantically you raised your hips, chasing after his hands, yelping as he yanked you down, scraping your back against the stone and lifting your legs up, resting them up on his shoulders as he fumbled with the waist of his own pants. Terror and excitement kept you cemented in place, eyes wide as you saw how erect he was in his own hands, thick and flushed tip beading precum that you felt smearing over your skin as he rubbed the head of his cock against you. You felt the sting, distantly, as you bit your lip in anticipation of fresh pain. 

As he roughly guided himself inside of you, the push much less than gentle, it caused you to struggle a bit, body not yet catching up to your brain and the tangles of pain, fear, arousal, and desire became too twisted to properly make out. You couldn’t help but cry out at the unprepared stretching, the way the girth of him forced your body to accommodate, but the way he fully slots inside calms you slightly, like some sort of soothing object. The familiar weight of him, sitting heavy against your slick walls, made your muscles finally relax, going a bit more limp beneath him as he leaned forward and pushed your knees to your chest. 

His movements started slow, once again the faintest whisper of gentleness leaking through, and you could hear his breaths getting ragged as your cunt immediately clamped down around him. When his movements picked up more vigor the back of your head scraped painfully against the stone, making you yelp as cool tears pooled in the shell of your ears after marking their trail down your cheeks. You hadn’t even been aware you were crying.

It hurt the same way it always did, bringing a pounding pain that flowed throughout your entire body, like your skin was stretched taut over a drum someone was beating relentlessly. It was raw, disgusting, being fucked against the floor like an animal as he bit and sucked at the tender flesh of your throat and chest, decorating you in a necklace of purple and red. A mockery of intimacy, but all the same it sustained you. Feeling his balls rest against your ass with each deep thrust, gasping his name in broken syllables, feeling his fingers slip down to dance over your throbbing clit: it was all a guarantee of survival. 

As you shift to lace your arms around his neck an aggressive sound rips its way past his lips, his pace becoming nonsensical and telling you he was rapidly coming close. All the discomfort made you arch your back, trying to escape the ground while at the same time providing him a deeper reach that brought you a burst of ecstasy, so strong you felt momentarily blind. That familiar jumble of pain and love muddled your mind as your helpless body clung to him, jostled like a ragdoll with every movement.

All this pain would be rewarded, there was solace in that.

With no space between you the scent of old iron returned, pairing with the smell of your own acrid sweat and his strands of golden hair tickling your cheek as he bit the side of your neck with intent this time. 

The wail that rang out against the vacant cathedral was more like a long, echoing scream of indiscernible origin as it bounced back at you, reverberated a thousand times over. It was an animalistic response to the searing, mind numbing pain of the small pinpricks that widened into gaping wounds as he forced his teeth through your flesh. Sobs leave you in spurts as you feel his teeth detach and his mouth latch onto the wound, prodding the sore edges with his tongue to encourage a greater flow of lifeblood. Your nails clawed at his back but to no avail, his pace never broke completely, your struggling only made his fingers circle your clit with even more determination as your cunt spasmed around him. 

It was strangely beautiful, feeling yourself coming completely undone and slipping away as your eyes rolled back, your lids fluttering in a way that only gave you choppy, discombobulated flashes of the world around you. The brief glimpses of the star dusted sky through the shattered ceiling were a comfort. The pain ebbed into the background, as if it had simply always existed and maybe it had. Faintly you could feel the wet, sticky warmth of your own blood sluicing down your neck, he’s always been a sloppy eater. 

It makes you crack a smile, delirious. Fucked out, bloody, grinning up at the sky as the beast devours you, doesn’t stop pumping inside you for even a moment, doesn’t stop groaning against your skin. A barbaric grotesquerie beneath the unsympathetic eye of the moon.

Though there is a kind of happiness in knowing the dance played out the same way it always does. That tomorrow you’ll wake up feeling sore, so sick to your stomach you’ll probably vomit, but alive. 

With that thought your muscles relax fully, feeling a different sort of warmth flooding your abdomen as his hips still, although still grinding against you like he just can’t stop himself from trying to fuck more of it inside you. 

Something shifts, but you’re no longer aware enough to catch it. 

To him, it’s always been a background thought that perhaps the suffering of an eternally damned existence may be less unbearable if you were also eternally present for it. Your body aches, your nervous system all wrung out and strung up, as he keeps drinking past his fill and past the point of no return.

You’ll wake much, much later than you anticipated and as not much more than a lesser fledgling beast but it does thrill him to think of your anguish, your biblical anger once you regain a sense of self and realize what’s become of you. 

What he’s done to you. 

But you have to understand the gift he’s giving you and you will, eventually.

All pain will be rewarded, in the end. Especially if it comes from a place of love.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Trial

I am back! With another drabble :D @spotaus are you ready friend :3

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

As always. No beta. We die in drabble land with these!

*------------------------------------*

Dust holds unto Nightmare as Error and Dream discuss how to easiest get to the realm of the gods. Something about needing a large enough portal but worrying about the traces that will leave.

Dust isn’t paying it much attention. Why would he when he is holding his baby?

Dust nuzzles Nightmare as Nightmare hums happily to lean into his hold. Very comfortable.

Cross hums “I am honestly shocked Ink didn’t have anything to say about the whole… us holding him and stuff. Normally people who we tell get hung up on that.”

Killer snorts “I don’t think we matter that much to him.” he nods to Ink and Dust follows his sights. Blue and Ink are talking and Ink seems to just be staring at Blue. Now that he thinks about it Ink hadn’t seemed willing to look away from Blue at all and- oh.

Dust tilts his skull “Since when does Ink have a crush on Blue?” he couldn’t remember ever noticing this behaviour in battle “Wait since when can Ink develop feelings without a soul.” Did he gain a soul somehow?

Horror shrugs “Not our problem.”

Killer nods “True! Just means he is willing to help because Blue wants it. Which works for us.”

Nightmare hums as he watches “Good for Blue. He has been interested in Ink for a long time now.”

Dust blinks and looks at Nightmare “You are six. How the hell do you know that for sure?”

Nightmare looks up and tilts his adorable little skull “I used to be an empath? Blue is not subtle with his feelings that he feels. Honestly how dream missed it for so long is what really confuses me.”

Dust hums as he watches the interaction. Yeah now he thinks about it it does make sense with how they acted before.

Cross pulls a face “Damn… Blue needs better taste in man.”

Killer laughs “For real.”

Dust shrugs “He is probably moronsexual.” Which just causes killer to laugh even more and lean against him.

Horror nods and speaks deadpan “A terrible loss. As no one can pick who they find attractive.” Killer gasps between his laughing as Dust just lets the other lean on him.

Nightmare leans a bit closer and pats Killer’s shoulder.

Killer keeps snickering but nuzzles Nightmare “I am okay… I am okay.” more chuckles sneak out.

At least they gods finally decide how they would get to the right realm.

One teleport later and they are in the realm of the gods.

And Dust must admit. It is fucking unreal to see the people you killed in another life as gods. Some very weird DeJa’Vu right there.

Those gods are staring at him. Mostly at Nightmare.

Dust pulls him closer and nuzzles the skull. Let them stare. He will fight all of them before ever letting Nightmare go.

Cross is shadowing him very closely and Killer walks by his side. Both pretty much having the ‘go not even fucking try’ vibe going on around them.

Dream keeps looking anxiously over his shoulder to check on Nightmare too. Blue pulls him along by his arm as Ink remains right by Blue’s side as well. Reaper is leading them through the area towards a large castle.

Dust frowns “What is it with gods and castles?”

Killer snorts “Think he is compensation for something?”

Dust snorts as Cross shoots Killer a glare “Not in front of Nightmare Kill!”

Horror chuckles “He has heard worse when he was an adult.”

Cross sputters “Doesn’t mean we have to continue making comments like it with him near!” he huffs.

Killer laughs.

Dust smiles along with their joking but can’t help but stay focussed on the looks thrown their way. Specifically at Nightmare. Dust rubs Nightmare’s back and spine and Nightmare just leans into his hold. Trusting him with everything that makes Nightmare him.

And Dust will not let anyone harm him ever again.

The rest of the walk is mostly silent but they get to this giant golden hall.

Reaper does most of the talking and Dust isn’t paying nearly enough attention. No the thing he pays attention to is his Nightmare holds unto him tighter. How Nightmare’s soul beat tries to speed up but Dust manages to coax it back to calming down again.

Dust pays attention again as the god version of Asgore speaks “I see.” he leans back “Very small domains compared to what you both did before. Strange choice.”

Dream looks mostly relaxed as he answers “Well it was a lot of pressure! We both want to take it easy and relax for a while. A long while.” And he smiles.

Asgore nods as he taps his chin. Dust can’t help but note he has the same tells as the Asgore he knew. The same behaviour and way of speech. Dust can tell Asgore is thinking about something else than what they are talking about. Asgore is looking thoughtful as he shoots Nightmare looks.

Dust remembers the story of the children and holds Nightmare closer.

Asgore smiles “Interesting that you made four acolytes! Quite the accomplishment.”

Nightmare shoots him a glance before pushing closer to Dust. Dust makes sure his arms are tightly locked around him. His body feels ready. His magic is ready. Dust isn’t even sure for what but Cross explained long ago that their powers work with their instincts.

If his instincts are telling him to be ready he will be ready.

Asgore nods “It can be rather disbalancing.” He looks proud of his word play “To suddenly find yourself weaker and without powers. Making acolytes as a good way to make defences but there are better options.” He smiles and waves a hand out “Your fellow gods!”

Killer snorts and crosses his arms “Nah. Dream already offered this idea but we got this.”

Dust just keeps watching Asgore.

Asgore frowns “You think you four mortals can raise a god? You are mistaken. The best for him would be to reunite with his fellow gods and remain here. Where others cannot easily reach.”

Killer growls but Dream is faster “No! He is happy and safe where he is! He doesn’t need protection from this realm.” He smiles nervously “this is just to make sure everyone knows his new role and position on it.” he smiles brightly. “With that done. It is best we leave again I think. We don’t want to overstay.”

Asgore frowns “It wasn’t arequest or question. He will remain here to relearn his powers the safe way. The way it is intended.”

Reaper frowns “asgore. He isn’t from this realm. You don’t get to decide this over him. This is beyond this universe-”

Asgore glares “I have decided.”

Dust glares and speaks calmly “If you try to steal him from me. I will kill you.”

Silence.

Every god in this hall is quiet.

Asgore laughs loudly “Oh such hubris. You give a mortal just a small powerboost and he thinks he can fight gods.”

Ink and Dream give each other nervous looks. They should know after all. That Dust was able to fight them long before he got this powerboost.

Dust just keeps staring at Asgore “I will kill you.” He turns to Cross “Cross?”

Cross knows and is by his side right away and he carefully hands Nightmare over to Cross. Nightmare takes  atight hold on Cross but looks nervously back to Dust.

Dust looks at Cross “No one can get him.”

Cross grins and disappears from view.

Dust watches closely as Asgore sits up fully and looks around shocked. As Dust had thought. Cross’s invisibility isn’t as much just invisible but becoming fully unnoticeable from an outside force. Even the gods can’t locate him easily.

Asgore waves out a hand “find hi-”

Dust doesn’t wait and summons a blaster. Aimed at the king of gods.

Once again silence in the hall.

Dust glares “Don’t. Finish. That. Sentence.” He cracks his neck “You want him? either of them?” any of his family? “You will have to go through me first.”

Asgore just looks at the blaster curiously. Still looking bored before focussing on Dust himself. He smirks “Oh I see. You are his first picked acolyte. No wonder you feel as if you stand a chance. You amuse me mortal. Stand down and maybe you will still be allowed to visit your god.”

Dust makes the blaster load magic “Goodbye.” And he shoots.

Asgore sighs and dodges, clearly more out of amusement than actual worry. And the blast misses. That is okay. Dust hadn’t wanted to hit him right away, this is a warning shot.

The blast obliterates the crown and wall behind him. It keeps going and Dust can now see the sky through the other end of the tunnel of destroyed walls.

Asgore looks back before staring at Dust “You should not have been able to destroy that.”

Dust hums and readies another attack.

Something attacks him from the side but Horror is faster and blocks it with his axe before forcing the other god away with a quick move of his arm.

Horror huffs unimpressed as he is clearly ready.

Killer grins widely as he pulls out his knife “You are aware that we were the ones assisting Nightmare way back right? With almost daily fights against Dream, Blue and Ink? You know. Two being gods themselves? Back before we got our powers?” Killer grins widely and leans on Dust’s shoulders. “You really want to challenge our claim over our babybones?”

Asgore readies a bolt of lightning but an arrow hits his hand. Asgore glares over and Dream has another arrow aimed. Dream glares and doesn’t bother to say a word.

Asgore stops and sighs as he rubs his face “This is idiotic. Do you really want a multiple god fight?”

Dust huffs “Then we don’t do that. You vs me.” The implication of the end of the fight is implied. Not that Dust ever plans on honouring it. He fully trusts that if he is about to lose Killer will use his silver tongue to help cheat Dust to victory and Cross and Nightmare will escape with Error’s help.

Dust just needs to distract him.

Asgore frowns “And if you lose?”

Dust shrugs “You prove you would be better at protecting him.” Not that it would matter much.

Asgore laughs and looks amused “and if you win?”

Dust raises a brow “I prove that you are weaker and we are perfectly able to protect Nightmare.”

Not that the end conclusion will be different. The only honourable one amongst them is Cross and Cross is ready to cheat to protect those he cares about.

Asgore laughs and gets ready “Very well. Everyone. Step back.”

Dream shoots him a nervous look “Dust.”

Dust looks at Dream and winks with the eye not in view of Asgore. He glances at Error and dream seems to figure out the actual plan. He still looks unsure but nods and steps back “show him what for.”

Ink grins and cheers “Kick ass! I would be pissed if you can defeat me but not that guy!” he leans towards Blue “Hey Blue? Who was the big goat again and why is he important.”

Blue snorts and laughs as the other gods look insulted.

Dust grins. They should take Ink to places more often, the guy is a riot to have around. Dust walks forwards as the others back up to the side of the hall. Asgore looks smug as he readies his weapon.

Dust takes a deep breathe and lets it out. The electricity in his body and along his mana lines. It is still a lot but it will feel amazing to actually go all out in battle instead of the careful discharges he has done until now.

Asgore attacks with his trident and a bolt of lightning shoots out at him. Dust holds up a hand and lets the lightning strike him headon.

A moment passes. Then the charge turns from the bright cyan to a purple of his own magic as Dust takes the electricity offered to him and makes it his own.

Asgore looks shocked as Dust lets the tiny sparks of lightning go between his phalanges. Dust looks up and hums “spicy.” Then he puts his hand on his blaster. The blaster crackles with magic and electricity as Dust grins “My turn.”

The blaster shoots out the blast, now containing some of Asgore’s own magic and powers.

Asgore dodges again but the damage is much worse than his first blast did. Dust doesn’t bother to turn as he just turns his neck and skull to keep staring at Asgore “You were saying about us being too weak to take on gods?” his blaster loads another attack “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your bullshit.”

Asgore glares but seems to take him more seriously. Good. Dust hates it when others underestimate him.

Asgore throws more lightning and Dust just catches a few more bolts before taking the energy from those. Asgore frowns as he readies his own trident and blocks the blast send his way, even with blocking it still takes a chunk of his HP right out.

Asgore rushes him and Dust starts dodging the attacks. His body moves as he charges electricity to make sure to zap Asgore.

Dust smirks “Fascinating. Isn’t it? Aren’t you supposed to be like. The god of the sky or something? Shouldn’t you be able to handle electricity? Or.” He grabs his shoulders and channels the lightning right into Asgore. Electrocuting him “Or doesn’t lightning fall in your domain after all? just the sky that holds it? aren’t you mad about it? that a lowly mortal can so easily defeat you?” he makes sure to purr his sentence out. Rub extra salt into the wound.

He lets go of the giant and steps back to watch Asgore fall to his knees before him. His HP dangerously low. Dust readies a blaster and aims it at the so called king of gods “Done already?”

Asgore pants and glares at him but mumbles “fine… you win.”

Dust grins more “They can’t hear you…”

Asgore glares more but speaks louder with anger in his voice “Fine. You win. We. We won’t step in.”

Dust watches him before grinning “Much better.” he dispels his blaster and turns away. He hadn’t even needed to summon more than one blaster. Honestly why they called this guy the king of gods is beyond him. Nightmare could have defeated him back when he was still goop.

He joins his mates sides and Killer shoots him a look as he leans close “You look so hot when you fight. I barely could stop myself from throwing myself before you.” he has a grin on his face.

Dust raises a brow “Maybe at home.” For now he looks around and Cross appears. Cross has his own slight blush on his face as he hands Nightmare back before invading Dust’s personal space with a happy hum. Cross nuzzles Dust’s skull and neck with a happy hum.

He whispers “Killer is right… you are so hot when putting people in their place.”

Dust is starting to see a very fun evening ahead of him. A glance at Horror confirms he is three for three and Dust is even more impatient to get home.

Nightmare just looks at him with a grin “Knew you would defeat him easily.”

Error and Reaper talk a bit with Asgore and Dust can see Blue lean closer to Dream in shock “That is acolyte power?”

Dream shrugs “Apparently? I never met an acolyte before. I don’t know their rules.”

Ink meanwhile has wandered over to the destroyed walls as he picks up pieces to look at them. He grins back at Dream and Blue and rushes over before blabbering about how he could use this material and texture for stuff and if he can take it along. Blue shrugs while Dream laughs and tells him to ask the other gods. Ink cheerfully skips over to another god, who backs up from the skeleton, and asks them about the properties and if he can take a piece.

Huh.

Seems like Dust made quite the name for them. Especially with the only other skeletons they know to be gods of dead.

Dust probably made skeletons seem like terrifying creatures at this point. Which honestly? Probably for the best.

They end up leaving soon after. They are offered a meal but they politely decline. Mostly because they promised Life that they would join her for dinner after this trip.

They are walking back towards the spot to make the first one of a series of teleports as Dust hums “that could have gone better.”

Killer laughs “What? Could have finished it in one move or something?”

Dust nudges him “Not that. This was supposed to be a visit to get good standing with them and reintroduce Nightmare. I don’t think that all went well.” He just… the idea of these stupid gods who never helped Nightmare and never supported him taking him away from them? Dust got pissed.

Reaper shrugs “euh. It is fine. You proved that you won’t get scared away by anything and that you got the power to back you up.”

Dream looks worried “It is really fine? They won’t be a problem with Fate or Balance?”

Reaper nods “I am very sure it is safe. They will all prefer to seem like they supported you from the start over admitting you defeated them.”

Error nods “Those gods are obsessed with seeming perfect. They will just say how they were worried you would not be able to handle it and that they tested you. That they went easy to get an idea for your power. That you proved yourself worthy to defend Nightmare.”

Killer frowns “And Fate and Balance will be chill with it?”

Ink shrugs “Not exactly? But they will act that they are and not interfere… They like to appear put together and seem like they know everything. If they admit they didn’t see this coming they will have to admit they are not all knowing and they don’t like that.”

Reaper points at Ink “What he said. They know they won’t be able to just force Nightmare to change domains now without making a mess of a lot of things. And with you guys being more powerful than they probably expected they will be more nervous about stepping in. Even getting hurt or any of you getting one good hit will be a bad look on either of them because they are supposed to be untouchable.” Reaper grins “And you four already proved you aren’t afraid to go on the attack and you won’t be intimidated.”

Cross looks nervous “They already know?”

Dream shakes his skull “Not yet. But this information will spread. And eventually reach them. By then everyone will know about Nightmare’s new role and about what happened. They will be too late to force a change.”

Killer grins “So we are good right? it is over? We will be left alone now?” he looks hopeful.

Reaper shrugs “probably? We can only wait and see.”

Dream nods “I think it is looking good so far! They let me alone as soon as it became obvious everyone knew. I am very hopeful for this.”

Dust hopes it really is that easy.

They get to Life’s domain and are welcomed to the table which is covered with all kinds of delicious food. Dust relaxes in the safe area and helps Nightmare select some things to eat.

The meeting with reasonable well. Now there is just one meeting left to do and get over with. At least that should not get as aggressive. The council is never known to throw punches before talking after all.

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