#unimpressed by needing to cover up her muscles

[knightsofrayx]

Orbital Mechanics 2; Ponchos 1/3

Poncho!Lilith from @daisychainsandbowties WN Star Wars AU

[fanaroff]

Dp x DC Prompt: Space Like An Ocean

An alien had taken up residence outside of the Watchtower. Its first appearance immediately started a panic with most of the heroes that could survive in space converging on the station to see whether it was friend or foe. In the end, it did not seem either.

In fact, it seemed fine with just basking and napping wrapped around parts of the Watchtower that made up the outside. It wasn’t the size of the Watchtower, but off and on it was a very near thing.

Humanoid, yet distinctly inhuman. White whispy hair sat atop its head, pointed ears, and the only feature that could be made out of its face were two bright green glowing eyes. A color that sent Batman into a research frenzy. Its skin was void-dark. Almost looking as if a piece of space itself had separated from the cosmos and took and almost snake-like form. Or maybe an eel?

The most notable thing about the creature were its injuries. Multiple lacerations covered it, leaking a green that never touched the Watchtower and seemed to evaporate not long after leaving its body. Any silent attempts to collect it for study and to figure out what it was were met with emotionless green eyes and a bare hint of fang. They backed off quickly.

Flash liked to call it a mer-eel. “Cause it’s got an almost human torso, two arms, and the rest just kind of curls up!”

Wonder Woman was unimpressed with this. “That would suggest it is more like a naga.”

To which Green Lantern replied, “No, no, he’s right. There’s an almost white fin-like bit that goes down the tail like an eel’s does.”

Any more attempts to identify the creature led to nothing and soon the “eel” became a silent fixture of the Watchtower.

It was ages later when Zatanna entered the Watchtower to discuss a completely non-connected case when she stumbled immediately upon leaving the Zeta Tube and had to lean against a wall, breathing heavily.

“Something feels like Death.” Was all she could get out before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped to the ground. She wouldn’t wake up, dead asleep. Immediate worry all around lead to Justice League Dark being contacted in full.

Constantine with Deadman in tow were ultimately the ones to solve the mystery. It took but a moment for Deadman to be seen thanks to Constantine’s “magic” and awe was the first thing apparent on his face. Deadman didn’t even need to leave the Watchtower to know what it was.

“Oh,” he whispered like a prayer. “So that’s where he goes when he takes a break.”

Queue questioning.

“He” turned out to be Phantom, the Ghost King who had apparently decided the Watchtower was a perfect basking spot. Confusion was abound at this.

“No, see,” Deadman tried to explain. “He has two Obsessions and the Watchtower feeds into both. Heroes who protect, as he is a protector spirit himself and probably feels a kinship, and space.”

Constantine and Deadman explained as best as they could, but when the questions finally settled, the last was “Why isn’t Constantine affected like Zatanna? Why aren’t the rest of them affected like Zatanna?”

“That’s easy!” Deadman piped. “None of you are attuned to death magic! I’m a ghost, he’s my King. Zatanna is a magician with experience in most magics. And Constantine doesn’t own enough of his soul to feel the death!”

In the end, a request from Deadman was all it took for things to change. With barely a rumble, Phantom pulled himself from the Watchtower and drifted far enough away for his aura to no longer affect Zatanna. The heroes could only watch in awe as the eel-like god returned to the open ocean of space.

Addition:

There were a giant green eyes observing the conference room. Every hero inside was frozen in place, staring back at the eyes and trying their best not to move a muscle. Phantom had moved from atop the station. Phantom had acknowledged them. Phantom was staring at them from a window of the Watchtower.

No one knew why he was there. Just that suddenly he was. The bright green lighting the entire room with its shine was the only warning they got. They stared. He stared.

Slowly, he moved. A hand-shape pointed with a claw. They were confused. The hand made a pointing motion again.

The table?

Ah. Several shards of kryptonite sat on the table. The topic of the discussion as someone had somehow gotten ahold of the shards and used them against Superman. They needed to know who supplied them.

The hand pointed again.

Why did Phantom want the shards?

Apparently, it wasn’t up to them to question as the pointing hand phased into the room, palm up. Waiting. No one moved for a moment until a white narrowed slit formed in Phantom’s eyes.

Green Lantern was quick to grab the shards (Batman made a token protest, those were his damn it) and placed them in the palm. He shivered as his finger brushed the skin, ice cold washing up and down his spine.

The hand closed, retracted and approached the face. The eyes stared as a large mouth opened (fangs, sharp sharp fangs laid in green) and a tongue popped out. The shards were placed on the tongue and the mouth closed with a sharp crunch.

Phantom grinned almost smugly before he drifted away from the window and back to the top of the Watchtower.

“Did- Did Phantom just ask for a snack?”

[firelilyfox]

Taking Advantage

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: fluff / angst / hurt reader / teasing

Words: 1.3k

you came home from battle injured & Paul wants to make sure you are alright

_____________________________

„That was awesome!“ 

The Fremen men and women were cheering in agreement as your group coming back to Sietch Tabr with the sunrise early in the morning. Every step you take, sends little painful impulses through your muscles. The whole night you were fighting against a Spice harvesting ship that belonged to the Harkonnen and although you made a bunch of them pay for their brutal regiment, you came back badly bruised. But you are doing your best to hide the pain your in in front of your friends. It would be even more embarrassing to see their faces covered in pity over you, when the mood is as good as it is right now. The Fremen had another win and kicked some Harkonnen asses. That’s all that counts right now. 

„I’m a little drained. Go on and have a drink for me, while I’ll be having a good rest“, you said to your best friend Chani, who is giving you a suspicious look but then nodded. 

„You did good today, y/n. And I know for a fact, that Muad’Dib is thinking the same“, she wiggled with her eyebrows, mocking you again. Your eyes darted to the back of the tent, where Paul was sitting with Stilgar. He was already looking at you, not breaking the eye contact once yours met his. Paul was frowning a little, wich made his worried expression even more noticeable. Maybe Stilgar was telling him some bad news or something. You didn’t really care, because all you could think about was the pain that was feeling like needles beneath your skin. 

„I don’t care what he thinks. He fought well. And everything else is not important“, you murmured shrugging your hurting shoulders. Big mistake. Your almost flinched because of the pain that was send trough your body again. 

You quickly waved Chani goodbye and make your way outside the big community room, back to your private stone cabin, that was placed further away. When you finally reached it, a sigh of relief escaped your throat. Carefully you sit down on the bed out of soft fabric and you close your eyes for a second to calm your thoughts. Today was hard and nothing sounds more tempting than getting this suit off and washing the dirt off of your irritated skin. But the thought that you have to move yourself to make that happen, was like your personal nightmare. 

The sound of someone clearing his throat hollowed back from the stonewalls of your room. You quickly turn your head around to catch Paul standing in the doorframe, holding the curtain open. He looks even more worried now than back downstairs. 

„Can I come in?“, he asked. 

You let out a annoyed sigh. „Sure. What is it, Paul?“ 

He makes his way up to you, stopping not even two feet away from the bed you were still sitting on. „Are you alright?“ 

„Obviously. Today was a big win.“ 

He frowned again. „That’s not what I meant.“ 

„Then what are you talking about? Speak up.“ Your tone was annoyed, because the last thing you wanted right now was him seeing you in this pathetic state. 

„You fought like a demon out there. I have never seen someone so … so passionately killing the bad guys. But … I saw you falling down that cliff. For a second I thought you were dead“, he swallowed hard. „I saw you getting hurt. You must be in enormous pain right now.“ 

The fact that he had an eye on you while being on the battlefield, surrounded by enemies, made your chest tightened up. He was really looking out for me? 

You tried to sound unimpressed. „Well, thank you for your concern but I’m perfectly fine as you can see.“ You stood up and wanted to make him leave your room, but the sharp pain came back like a lighting bolt and you tripped over your own feet. Paul had quick reflexes and catching you before you could hit the ground. „I’m fine“, your voice cracks and burning shame blushed your cheeks. 

„No you are not fine, y/n. You need help“, Paul whispered. His arms still wrapped around your waist to hold you up. His eyes right in front of you. So blue you could probably drown in them … although there were little brown spots you never noticed before. 

You swallowed. „I don’t need …“ 

„Oh for fucks sake! Shut up and let me help you“, he demanded. You were so surprised about his little outburst, that you could only nod to give him the permission. 

Paul smiled slightly. „Good. You are so stubborn.“ 

You rolled your eyes on him, not saying anything. He was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you agreeing with him. 

With his help, you turned your back to him. He begins to get rid of the many closures of the suit and with every unbuttoning your face feels even warmer. His direct presence was making you nervous and you were not sure how you feel about that effect he has on you. 

„You need to relax. Otherwise I could hurt you even more“, his voice was low and for a second you thought you heard a light crack in it. Is it possible that you have the same effect on him? 

„It is kinda hard to relax in this … situation“, the words slipped out before you could think about the meaning of them. You bite your tongue as he chuckled softly. 

„And why is that?“, you could feel his warm breath on your neck. It sends goosebumps over your drained body. Before you could give him a sassy answer, his fingertips touched the bare skin on your shoulders, gently pulling down the suit. You could feel his hands on your back while Paul was making sure that you didn’t need to move a muscle to get rid of the Fremen desert suit. Underneath you are wearing an thin layer of fabric, cut in the form of a dress that barely covers your butt. 

„Are you taking advantage of an helpless and wounded woman, Paul Atreides?“, you say with a strangled voice. Still facing the wall. But Paul was so close, that you could feel his chest touching your back. 

Paul gently strokes your hair over one shoulder. His lips almost touching your ear, while he speaks with a breathy voice. „I would never take advantage of you. I know for a fact, that you could kick my ass and slit my throat in no time, even wounded and blinded. But you haven’t done such thing.“ 

He places a soft kiss on the sensitive skin right beneath your ear and your breathing stops. Your whole body reacting to him like a firework. Just because of a litte stupid kiss. What is happening? 

„Did I hurt you?“, he asked as he noticed your reaction. „If you want me to stop, you just have to say one word and I’m …“ 

„You didn’t hurt me“, you interrupted. 

Paul chuckles softly. And you almost hoped, that he would keep on doing where he stopped, but instead you feel how his warm body disappeared from your back. As you peak over your shoulder, he looks at you with deep satisfaction. 

„I’ll see if I can get you something to eat and drink. And then I will send you a healer to make sure you’ll get better in no time.“ 

Your mouth snapped open in disbelief. This jerk just teased you like a champion and now he was looking at you like a little boy, who is more than proud to make fun of you. 

„You’re an asshole, Paul Atreides“, you said smiling. 

He raises his hands defensively. „I’m just making sure not to take advantage of you.“ 

[sentientcave]

Fuck-ass Mohawk

Contains: Alcohol, smoking (cigarettes and cannabis), Soap being Soap, Ghost being Ghost, uninvited touching, tall fem reader

Short little thing about Johnny liking it a bit when you're a bitch to him (And Ghost likes it too)

868 Words ~ MDNI

You’d rather stay home and play board games, but Laurie had convinced everyone that it was a good night for clubbing. You hated clubs— The noise, the crowds, the smell of sweat and alcohol and hormones— and spent the better part of club nights standing outside chain-smoking, or crammed into a dirty bathroom stall holding back a friend’s hair as she threw up blue curacao because she didn’t listen to you when you told her to eat dinner before going out. Tonight didn’t look like it was going to end up with anyone puking their guts up, at least. Laurie’s flirting with a gorgeous hunk with a devastating smile, and Alex and Hannah are dancing, so you go out the side door into the alley for some fresh air. Or air, anyway, since the alley’s where folks go to smoke. You light a joint, because at least that will dull the effect that the sound is having on your head. It’s getting close to midnight, which at least means the night is almost over, so long as someone doesn’t drag you along to some weirdo’s house. “Hey, wha’s a bonnie thing like ye doin’ out here all alone?” A voice purrs in your ear. You jump, surprised that he could get so close with out you noticing him, especially once you turn and really look at him. He’s huge, not that tall, probably your height when you’re not wearing boots (You have about an inch and a half on him in your shit-kickers), but broad and way more muscled than anyone has any reason to be, wrapped in a too-tight shirt, and smiling at you, bright blue eyes fixed on yours with unnerving intensity. He pats your shoulder. “Didnae mean to scare ye, lass, just wanted to say hello.” You take a big step to the side, establishing a new bubble of personal space without him in it. “Well, hello,” you say dismissively. “Goodbye.” There’s a snort from a few meters away, a big fellow with a kn95 mask dangling on one ear, his hand up in front of his face, a cigarette clamped between his fingers. “Och, dinnae be like tha’, hen.” “Don’t like it?” you ask, glaring at him. “Go away. Plenty of girls in there’ll go for whatever all this is.” A sweeping, unimpressed glance from his boots and ripped jeans up to his stupid mohawk would usually do the trick, but it only made this fellow smile wider. “No’ enough fer ya? I can sweeten tha deal some. The big fella doesnae mind sharin’ a sweet lass with me noo and again. There’s plenty of ye ta go around.” “Johnny,” the big fellow in question says sternly. His mask is back in place, covering the lower half of his face. “Dun’t look like she’s interested.”

“Tha’s where you’re wrong, LT. She just doesna want to admit it. Hen’s got pride. Wants to make me work for it, right lass?” He winks at you. “No. Don’t like your fuck-ass mohawk.” You puff on your joint, keeping your face still while he splutters, indignant. “Fuck-ass mohawk?” he asks. “What do ye mean by tha’?” “I mean it looks like you have a contentious relationship with your father,” you say. Maybe you’re being a bit mean, but it’s always fun to take a cocky fucker down a peg or two. “I don’t fuck with men with daddy issues. Most of ‘em are cops or military lads.” The big guy— LT?— laughs aloud at that while Johnny’s still looking at you with his mouth hanging open. The side door opens, and your friends pile out, Laurie arm in arm with her hunk, and Hannah and Alex clinging to handsome fellows of their own. “There you are,” Laurie says. “We’re going back to Hannah’s. Are you coming?” “Uh. I guess.” Laurie beams at you, and looks up at her hunk. “Kyle, do you need to find your friends?” “Nah. These lads right here.” He gestures at Johnny and LT. with a grin. “Knew Ghost would be out here, and Soap’s always followin’ him around like the big puppy he is.” “Ah’m no’!” You fall into step at the rear of the group. You’ll probably head home rather than join them, but Hannah’s flat is on the way to your own. Johnny and his handler flank you, matching your stride when you slow down or speed up. Annoying. “So what, is the big guy your replacement daddy?” you ask. “Wha— No!” Johnny says hotly. “He’s just my lieutenant.” “Could be your daddy, if you like,” Ghost says, putting a heavy hand on the back of your neck. “Got a thing for caustic little cunts.” “Oh fuck off,” you say, trying to shove his hand off. His grip squeezes a little tighter, and you try to ignore the way that core clenches around nothing. You channel the heat into anger, and dig your nails into his wrist hard. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He grunts, but doesn’t seem all that affected by your claws. “Look at you, ‘issin’ and spittin’ like a puffed up alley cat. S’cute. But save it for later, eh? Don’t want you to tire yourself out too early.”

[seraphimaa]

Doll for a day - Part 2

Soft(ish)!Raphael x fem!Tav x Haarlep

Raphael sets out the terms for his forgiveness. After all, it’s not nice to feel left out.

Or

Raphael makes her fuck his incubus in front of him and then tests her dedication.

Warnings: selfish idiots with feelings

PART 1

She can’t stop her face from cringing. It’s all the confirmation he needs and he falls into silence, processing. He is furious, yes, but he can’t help the faint relief that is flooding him. The board is still in play. Her mouth forms the shapes of letters but nothing seems to come out. She takes a breath, utters only the word, “leaving”, like he’s supposed to find reassurance in it, and turns to flop onto her stomach, beginning to drag herself by her arms towards the edge of the bed.

“No.” She feels his thighs clench to hold her own, the thick ropes of muscle halting her movement. Her face hits the silk and she lets herself simply collapse in defeat under the master of the house. “What the hells is wrong with you? You come into my house, look at my things, touch my things, fuck my things.” He’s spitting with rage the more he rambles and with every word she pushes her head further and further into the covers, half in an attempt to smother herself.

“Then you think you can just what? Scamper off? Tell me, Tav, is your sheer aptitude for being this insufferable nature, or nurture? Did somebody drop you on your head as an infant, or were you simply born this way?”

“Born...” Her words are barely comprehendible through the bedding. He grunts in acknowledgement and takes a break from frowning at the detailing in the wallpaper to look down at the fleshy heap. She looks pathetic and entirely resigned.

“And what, on all of the planes, were you ever hoping to achieve, pray tell?” Her shoulders shrug limply. “Hm.” He hums, unimpressed, and lets her stew in the silence until he hears her again, clearly desperate to move things along .

“No reason.”

“Oh thank goodness,” her ears perk at the happy tone, “I find so much comfort in knowing you would cause all of this chaos for no reason at all.” Never mind.

“And what did you plunder and soil?” He sniffs indignantly, “other than my sheets and incubus.”

He expects another short, mumbled response but instead he feels her begin to shake under him rhythmically. For a brief moment, he thinks she’s laughing like a maniac but then he hears her sobs.

Her head lifts just enough for her cries to ring clearly. “I’m sorry! Okay? I payed that lady to open the portal. I don’t know what I was thinking. I promise. I wasn’t going to touch anything, just look. Then I ended up here and you were here too and you were so nice but it wasn’t you but he looked so good and he felt so good and I didn’t want to stop, I couldn’t, I don’t know what I was thinking-I wasn’t thinking!” It all comes out in a jumble and her head flops down again as she shudders in another wave of sobs. Haarlep’s tail can be heard wagging against the sheets absently, only paying attention the indirect praise aimed his way.

For what feels like the hundredth time in one day, he heaves a massive sigh. It feels like an eternity that the scene drags on. Raphael ponders whether this is all a cruel, fated karma playing out. He considers what sins it were that landed him in the constant circus show that he appeared to ringlead daily. He looks at the three of them, on the bed, and thinks that they would fit perfectly on renaissance style painting. Haarlep is crouched with knees to the side, looking every part the demonic gargoyle of a creature that Raphael considers him to be, tail wagging in the air and looking very pleased with himself. His mouse is splayed dramatically on the bed like a tortured damsel, wailing and he is slumped in his own pose of enduring anguish. He considers giving her a further tongue wagging but she appears to be torturing herself just fine for now. Hells, you’d think she was the victim here.

Her sobs hiccup as she feels Raphael twist and rise from the bed. She cranes, terrified to see what kind of torture he is about to impose on her but her puffy, wet face is met with the curve of his bare spine and hips as he strides to the desk against right wall. She definitely doesn’t look at the jiggle of fat on his ass as he stomps over and throws himself back into the chair. She definitely doesn’t look anywhere in particular as he reclines back, neck craned at a sharp angle over the back of the oak. His eyes snap to hers, and he crosses his legs with a frown, and she averts her gaze to the wall beside his head for no related reason. He tears open a drawer and brings out a dusty bottle of vintage. He busies himself with uncorking the bottle, and pulls out a glass. He fills it without any grace, almost overflowing the rim then knocks it back, taking his time before he swallows it down. She’s tempted to ask him what comes next but the withering look he shoots her way as she intakes air to begin makes the words die on her tongue. She swallows with an awkward nod and settles her face back into the covers. She is good at ruminating and wallowing. This is fine. Even the incubus seems to pick up on the sudden lack of energy in the room and he flops back wriggling around, fluttering his wings and swishing his tail, as he gets into a comfortable position. His leg thumps her own and he whines until she shuffles over, half hanging over the edge. He mimics the brooding duo and lets out a sigh, his own airy and perfectly content.

Raphael is surprisingly the first to break the peace.

“Why did you sleep with it?”

There’s hesitation in his tone, almost like he couldn’t decide if he truly wants the answer. She is completely caught off guard and lifts her head after some thought, enough to respond but not enough to have to face him as as she does.

“It was just a really bad mistake.”

Haarlep seems to take offence to this, his tail whipping her leg as it beats back and fourth in protest but he stays silent, intent on listening to this play out.

“No,” his tone is wary but he speaks like this is something important to him, “you knew the risk. As much as you would like to galavant through life like a court jester, you are smart. What was it exactly that made you decide to take that miscalculated risk?”

“I don’t know! I was, I was just…” She seems to sway between deflection and truth but eventually finds her answer.

“I was just desperate.” He cocks an eyebrow as if deciding on how to perceive her words but when her face emerges pink and swollen from the sheets, intense and ugly, altogether striking, he sees the burning honestly. “Really desperate.”

“Excuse me!” Haarlep cranes to look at her, wings flaring, entirely offended. He is not reading the silent layers of communication happening amongst the rude guests of in his little sanctuary. “And just what, exactly, are you trying to imply? Don’t act like I didn’t have you mewling happy as a kitten, eyes crossed in bliss as you bounced yourself around dumb and drunk on my cock. Don’t act like you didn’t throw yourself at the chance to come undone under me, specifically. You said that you needed him, me, raw and undiluted. No rude lies on my bed, please.” It is the first time, in the short span they’d shared together, that she’d seen the fiend seem truly displeased. They both pointedly ignore his bruised ego and the implications of his words.

“And what was it, exactly, you were so desperate for?” She gives a small shake of her head in protest of what he is trying to drag out of here.

“I just wanted to be touched.”

“Then you would have gone to the brothel. Try again.”

“I wanted to be touched by someone who I knew.”

“Then you would have crawled your way into the tent of one of your willing companions long ago, I’m sure. I’m tired, little mouse.” She builds her courage enough to glance at him through damp lashes and he really is slumped in utter defeat. He’s nursing a new glass, and his face has never looked so tired. It feels violating to witness him like this, even more so than seeing him naked ever had. he takes in her face, full of fear and pain. She looks like saying it might break her, like it’s the last thing she wants to do. She looks at him like he is cruel, and she is begging him to spare her. His face hardens and he drains the last in his glass, not hesitating to empty the bottle in its place.

“I..” he trails off, before shaking his head and standing up, throwing his hand out dismissively.

“Forget I said anything. Go. Get dressed. I’ll organise a portal out.” She openly balks at him. “But what about-“ he doesn’t wait for her to finish.

“Please. You’ve done enough. Spare both our dignities any further blows for one day and just go.” He falls back into his chair, tapping his finger on the desk impatiently, staring into the liquid crimson in his hand. She swings herself up, sitting with her back to him and she is glad for the fact because once again, to her frustration, her eyes blur with tears. She feels like everything is crashing down upon her and the reality of the day is setting in, finally. This is unfixable. She’d taken a running jump over every boundary they constructed and respected until now. It was like a game. The flirting, the teasing, the goading. It was relentless, but they both played by the same unspoken rules. They were both smarter than to fall for the words the other spun. It had felt, in a way, safe. But she isn’t smart. Somewhere along the way she’d come to anticipate their next encounter. She felt a flutter in her stomach when he smiled down at her, so dashing and smug. She played their conversations over and over again when alone, trying to spy a crack in his performance, a subtle sign that he harboured his own strange fondness for her. She’d replaced the face of the imaginary companion with his when he brought herself to completion late at night. If she leaves now, there’s no going back. She decides to speak before she can change her mind. If she walks away then he’d take this as her final answer. It would mean whatever they had would be over.

“No.” She stands from the bed. She ignores the withering look she shoots her and strides around the bed. “I’m not going. You can’t make me.” He is close to reminding her that this is very much not the case but she keeps coming closer, stopping when her legs bump his knees and suddenly her hand is around the glass, brushing his, as she pulls it from his grip and tips it back. The liquid seeps around the seam and drizzles down her chin, falling and painting her nude frame. She finishes it with a gasp and sets it back into the desk, he holds his breath as she leans over him but she keeps her gaze detached from his. She plonks herself onto the bed, facing him.

“I was desperate for you. I just wanted you. I couldn’t have it so I took what I could. Im a greedy, selfish, depraved asshole and I know I really messed everything up but you can’t just send me away. You have to forgive me. I’m not leaving here until you forgive me. I’ll stay right here, as long as it takes, but you have to tell me what it is that I need to do. Please, Raphael, how do I fix it?”

She begins so doubt herself the longer he remains catatonic and brooding but at last he humours her.

“You’ve found a way to rewind time, my sweet little fool?” She shakes her head but isn’t willing to give up now that she had his attention.

“Without hindsight I’d have done it again, to be honest. Something else. Realistic, maybe.” She’s slowly gaining back that deplorable attitude and confidence.

“Watch your mouth, mouse. Remember exactly what has landed you here. If you want my forgiveness then I should know exactly what I am forgiving.” She quirks a brow at this, feeling an uneasy flutter at the way his face morphs to a determined smile, as if setting a challenge he expects her to fail.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well,” he crosses one leg over the other and his posture is creeping back into its usual confidence, “how could I ever forgive you when you went behind my back and now, when asked to simply take responsibility and admit to everything, you wail like a bairn. One would be led to believe that it was your form that had been violated so rudely from across the planes from all this hysteria. It’s madness.” They glare at each other as he lays his condition before her.

“I need to even the playing field, Tav. Any embarrassment you have caused me will be returned tenfold. You see, I’m starting to feel rather left out. Like the only one not in on your little joke. You will show me as everything that happened after you entered this room. Your recreation must be convincing enough to make me believe the words you say and you will show me every detail of how it happened.”

He watches as she rises at once with a yelp.

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?”

“Haarlep does love to put on a show. Quite the performer. All you need to do is read the lines as they were written. You should be familiar with them as you did write them yourself, did you not?” Haarlep lets out a happy sound behind her. She falls to her knees, reaching for his legs.

“Please. Eternal torture, death, anything but this.”

His foot kicks to smack her beggar hands away.

“Oh feeling embarrassed? Humiliated? Violated? My, my, mouse, quite a turn of a tables, is it not?”

She glares up and tries to feign dignity as she clambers back onto her feet.

“And if I do it then everything will go back to normal? Forgiven and forgotten.” He considers her phrasing.

“Forgiven? Why of course. I am a man of my word after all.” She puffs herself up and turns, making her way to behind the pool partition. She emerges from the far side, walking in an unintentionally exaggerated manner, every single movement screaming discomfort. She gasps loudly in surprise at the incubus on the bed, lounging back in character.

“Gracious, Raphael, your buxom bosom is exposed to the elements.” She raises her hand to her forehead, feigning as if to faint at the sight. It draws a giggle from Haarlep and a groan from Raphael. Can’t please everyone, she supposes.

“That’s strike one. On the third I’ll drop you into the middle of the sea with a snap of my fingers. I swear it.” She gawks at him as he sneers at her, entirely unimpressed. He was definitely not in the mood.

At his instruction, she begins the scene agin, from the top. This time she echos her words, verbatim.

“Ah, Raphael! Why…are you dressed like that?” She was not born for the stage, but it will do. Haarlep is bristling with excitement as he begins his part of the act. Ah, Roleplay! How exciting!

“My, my. Is that a little mouse skittering through my house?” His grin is as devilish as she remembers it. “How very naughty. Come to serve yourself to the cat? What a surprising course of events indeed.” She studies him as she recites his greeting to her just as he had.

“You’re not Raphael. You look different. Younger. Who are you really?” Haarlep smirks.

“I’m impressed. Very perceptive of you, indeed.” He raises onto his knees, legs spread and muscles rippling as he balances his weight. His abdomen is adorned with keratin ridges leading and pointing down to-no. She wasn’t looking there. She had, but she will safeguard the shreds remaining of her dignity where she can. He doesn’t have to know that.

“My name is Haarlep. You’d do well to remember it for you may just find me drawing it from your lips, like prayer. Very soon.” His hands are spread wide, inviting her to bask in his form. He look like he’s carved from scarlet marble. Like an angel. She instantly remembers exactly how she’d fallen to ruin to quickly. He’s so convincing that she almost forgets that she hasn’t really been taken back to that moment. She does not have to fake the way she freezes under charm of the incubus.

“The master must attend to business. I’m afraid he’s currently buried so deep into his work. You should know that he likes to finish very quickly.”

Raphael grunts, storing this for when he next wanted to berate the demon spawn. Haarlep breaks character to throw a glare over his shoulder.

“What? You said to recreate it exactly.”

“Shut up, Harlot.” He sighs, waving his hand. “Continue.”

The incubus’s gaze is instantly locked back onto hers as he resumes his act and again, he drinks her in. it’s like everything else in the room disappears.

“How lucky you are little mouse. He should not be back for quite some time. You’re all alone with me.” She holds her ground, as dangerous as he looks when he falls onto his hands and begins to prowl towards her. “I propose a little game. One I simply insist you must play before you go. If you don’t, well then I’d just have to assume we’re not friends. If were not friends then you’d be intruding and I would simply have to tell.” Haarlep, and reaches to grab her hands, giving them a light squeeze. She’d looked so scared the first time.

“Come on. I promise it’s not a mean game. I won’t make you do anything bad. I promise. Trust me. Play with me.” His smile is so sweet and gentle that she melts all over again.

“O-ok.”

“Oh goodie! Here are the rules. I ask you one question. Just one! You must tell me the truth. I will know if you lie to me. That’s all.” She frowns, not believing that it could be so easy.

“Oh come now. I won’t tell a soul. Nobody will ever know. It’ll be our little secret. I promise.” She nods and the breath leaves her as the incubus surges towards her. She doesn’t flinch this time, as his face brushes hers. Instead of going for the kiss he teases near her open mouth, he presses his lips to her ear, hissing his question.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

As she had before, she turns, locking eyes with the sultry, demonic slits. Their faces touch from proximity. True to her actions, instead of answering aloud, she closes the distance. She’d been so lost in the spell he must have cast on her when they’d met. There was no other explanation for why she’d been so overcome. But then, why was she feeling it all over again?

The incubus sighs against her mouth as their tongues dance and she’s pulled on top of him. He had undressed her as she lapped the venom straight from his mouth but they are both already naked this time. She grinds and squirms on top of him as the venom begins to seep straight to her head and loins. A heat spreads through her abdomen, hot as coals, and she can feel the trial she’s drooling onto his hard abdomen as she grinds against the rough, leathery skin. The room spins and that drunk feeling washes over her all over again.

She almost forgets that they are not alone, so focussed on the forked tip of his tongue playing with hers and the friction his scaled body is offering. He flips them around and it makes her stomach clench as he pins her below himself. She pants as he pulls away from her, desperately trying to catch her breath and ground herself in reality. Her eyes open and her stomach flops again when she sees Raphael, watching her intently, upside down. Their eyes lock and his lips part slightly as he looks down at her. wild and flushed, completely under the effects of the tainted saliva.

Haarlep fills her view again, coming back down to capture her lips. His hands brush her, his fingers curling though her hair as his thumbs dance over her cheeks. He cradles her face, joining them once more. His hands trail down, one travelling her collar bone and down her arm. It captures her hand in his. The other trails from her collar bone, fingers teasing against the fat of her breast as it tickles down and comes to caress the hardened bud. She whines into the kiss as the smouldering heat flickers to burning and another wave of slick dools from her. His fingers pinch and flick as she grinds and thrusts up at him, desperate for more. She needs to be closer. She needs him inside. He growls a laugh as his hips slam back on top of hers, pinning her to the mattress. Gods, now she understands how they ruined the sheets.

“What an enthusiastic answer, little mouse. Have you been waiting for this? To feel me on top of you?” The first time he’d asked she’d been completely taken by the fantasy that he really was Raphael but now, she was absently aware of his presence elsewhere. His hand tails down the curve of her stomach, toying at the mound of her push, not quite close enough to where she needed it. Now he was truly Haarlep in her eyes and she burned for him all the same.

“Say it. Say that you’re desperate for me. Admit now that I was the only one that you wanted when you came here, that you wouldn’t have done this for any other. I won’t touch you again until you take back your cruel words from before.” She lets out a yelp, squirming with fury and glaring daggers into his beautiful face.

“You didn’t say that!” The incubus giggles and raises his eyebrows, waiting.

“Strike two. Last warning.”

“WHAT? That was him!”

“At least he stayed in character.”

The incubus is all shades of smug, tail wagging.

“Ugh. Fine.” A finger dipping just a breath from her clit drags her back into under his spell and he hums in anticipation.

“Yes,” she chokes, “I only wanted you. I only needed you. I just want you to want me too.” The words pull a hiss from the cambion who can’t deny himself the sincerity, for once, he hears in her voice and knows that her words are for no other than himself. Haarlep hums again, pleased. His finger rewards her, brushing over her clit and her hips jump as she gasps. He giggles again, and squeezes down on her hand. His finger circles around before dipping between the soaked, swollen lips. She quakes and sings out so sweetly as the incubus works to undo her. Raphael’s hand wanders like an independent entity over his clenched thigh, until it finally comes to rest on his groin, fingers ghosting at the base of his hardening length. He watches the flashes of her pleasure revealed to him through the flapping cocoon of wings curled over her. His hand, not by his own volition wraps around himself and he hisses again. His mind is plagued by the memory of how tight and wetly she’d wrapped around him and his hand feels like a pitiful substitute. Nevertheless, he finds his it working slowly, squeezing up and down his weeping cock. His sighs are lost in the chorus of the two menaces on his bed, singing so beautifully.

“My, my. Don’t you two play nicely together. I can see that any worries I may have had that this was a one sided encounter were truly misguided. It seems you both posses no higher rational thinking than the drive of your genitals. I can see why you two get along so well now. It makes perfect sense.” He’s talking more to himself than anyone else but his cock throbs at the whimper it pulls from her anyway. She comes back to her senses enough to realise that she has not yet given Haarlep any attention, too completely lost in the endless throes of pleasure he was wracking upon her. Her hand comes down and wraps around his length, pumping it with desperation, eager to make him feel nearly as good as he did her. The incubus keens and grins into the crook of her neck. He feels the spark of ecstasy from his master as his hips jerk from the seat at the ghost of her touch. His master is already worn out tonight. His hand comes to wrap around hers, halting its motion.

“Ah, ah, mouse. I think we might need to improvise. Wouldn’t want the show to finish before scheduled.” She tries to understand the implications of his words as he flips her over, pulling her ass high into the air. Her eyes are closed as she feels the fiend position behind her and she waves her rump through the air, drunkly whining at the lack of attention. Her eyes shoot open, mouth falling slack as for the third time that night, the shape of Raphael’s cock slides without warning inside of her. Her vision is filled with the man in question, teeth clenched as he takes the sight of them in, cock in trembling hand.

The incubus rocks his hips without urgency. She moans, long and low, with every drag his cock as it carves and stretches her walls around it. One hand is driving into her spine, bending her up and onto him while the other wraps around her hair, pulling her head up and exposing her fully to his master. she’s pulled up and back. He bounces her, leaning back to let her land onto his upturned hips with a wet smacks. She squeals his name, shrill and pitchy.

“Fu-fuck! Haarlep!” He groans in satisfaction, wings fluttering at the sound of his name on the lips of another. For all that he screams inside to just ruin her and drive her into the mattress like last time, he’s not prepared to meet Raphael’s fury if he embarrasses him now. He keeps the pace lazy and controlled, watching the other fiend intensely and reading his pleasure for the signs that he was getting too close. It is like wrestling a feral cat, trying to hold her still and stop her from throwing herself back onto his length without abandon.

Raphael seems to recognise his nearing end as he lets go of himself entirely, gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles pale.

His voice is strained and gritty as he needles her one last time.

“You know I’m entirely unimpressed. You were so adamant that you wanted me but but it seems you’re able and willing to do little more than bounce on my incubus. It looks like maybe are just desperate, after all. Perhaps I was wrong, you will just throw yourself on any willing cock that asks nicely. how disappointing.”

She hates his stupid, condescending sneer and all at once, she has kicked and fought her way free of the now whining and complaining incubus and is clambering toward the edge. She throws herself from the bed, landing on the floor and crawls like a possessed person to his feet. Her face has an intensity to it that makes even him pause as she bares her teeth and howls in rage.

“Fuck you!”

She’s on top of him now, her hands in his hair, and his scalp burns as she yanks his head backwards.

“I wanted you! You never gave me anything!”

She spears him into her, feeling him shudder.

“You’re all I ever wanted! You’re the only person who makes me cum. You’re the only person I trust. I hate you.”

She’s riding him hard, throwing her weight into every thrust that brings her cunt to press on his pelvis.

“I fucked your incubus. You fucked me. Now I’m fucking you. Everyone can just get fucked!” He would usually be disgusted in her uncivilised language but holy shit, he’s never been so turned on. She is terrifying, and hysterical, and she looks like a queen as she rides.

“You’ve tried to humiliate me but guess what? It didn’t work. It didn’t work because I know you feel the same, don’t you? Am I the one that makes you cum too? You’re just as pathetic as me.“ He’s choking on a moan as she bring her face over his, staring down his eyes and breath venting across his neck.

“I did your fucking deal. You forgive me now. You ever want to get fucked like this, until you can’t feel your own cock, again? Then you cum for me right now and prove right now that you’re no better than me.” He wants to be angry, and hateful. To shove her off and smite her into the depths of hell but instead he flops backwards, body quaking and shuddering as he releases inside of her, her own orgasm milking his seed from him as she screams and collapses onto him.

They stare at each other, panting and trying to find their breath. She leans closer and for a terrifying second, he thinks she is going to kiss him. She doesn’t. She pushes herself up and brings herself to stand on shaking legs. The room is silent as she redresses. When she is done, she turns to look at Raphael expectantly. With a snap of his fingers a swirling portal forms before her. She pauses before disappearing through. She looks to the incubus, reclined back on the bed and gives him a small awkward wave.

“It was nice to meet you?” It’s asked like a question. He nods enthusiastically and waves back with a smile.

“Do come back! It’s been so long since I’ve had a friend! Ta ta now, little mouse.”

She looks to the cambion still flopped in the chair. He is back to his absent brooding. She opens her mouth to say goodbye, maybe apologise, maybe ask what the hells all of that means, but a pointed look tells her that she has done enough and now it is time to go. Happy to avoid the confrontation that awaits them at some point on the inevitable future, she simply gives him a nod and disappears from his home. Peace, at last.

“Well,” the incubus rises with a stretch and makes his way to the heated water of the pool, “wasn’t that just a delight. Do you think she’ll come back at some point? I really could use a play mate, you know.” Raphael again, ignores the ramblings of the lesser fiend and rises to leave. He needs his own bath and the sweet embrace of sleep. He most definitely did not have the energy to deal with the little demon right now. Before leaving the boundary of the room, he half turns to address the incubus.

“I was wondering, did you happen to-“

“Yep. I obviously wasn’t going to let her go without a little payment.” The voice of his little mouse echos from the steaming water with a laugh, like chiming bells.

“Good. Good job, Haarlep.”

He hears an excited intake of air at his praise and takes his leave.

“Get Korrilla to deal with the sheets before tomorrow. I don’t wish to be disturbed again tonight.”

He has forgiven his little mouse, as promised. That did not mean he was near ready to forget. There was no way she would keep herself from him now. Not when he was so eager to explore his new toy in the days to come.

Hello! I hope you liked it! It’s the longest thing I’ve posted and I’m terrified that it was a let down after the first part. Please lmk what you think, I welcome discussion and feedback. This was meant to be a softer, lighter take on Raphael, haarlep, and their mouse but I hope I still somewhat made them likeable and recognisable.

Also, poor Korrilla.

[piratefishmama]

Finders Givers | Part 2

“STEVEN MARION HARRINGTON.”

“Not my middle name.” Although Robin had made several valiant attempts in guessing it every time she needed to burst into his office all guns blazing. Which was unfortunately… often. She still hadn’t managed to crack it.

He didn’t actually have a middle name. He wasn’t going to tell her that though, this was funnier.

She slapped a sheaf of papers down onto his desk, a brief flick of the first page told him they were call logs and transcripts “What did you DO?! Claudia’s been getting calls all morning asking about renovations?”

“Okay, so, in my defence. It was Nancy’s idea.” That was his whole defence. It was Nancy’s idea. His idea had been worse.

“Explain.”

“You know, most people in my position don’t have to explain themselves to people who work for them, their people just respect them, and do as they say without argument.” He mused, mostly to himself, but he could see the woman’s eye twitch in annoyance and so he sighed in defeat, it’d only wind up with him having those papers whapped around his head. “Remember the wallet I found?”

“The one that was bumming you out?”

“Yeah! Well, when I went out for a walk, I found the guys work address and—”

“You know we have guys who do that sort of shit for us, right? You can’t be stalking people, Dingus, what the fuck?” That sheaf of papers was dangerously close to hitting him. She’d picked them back up an everything.

“Just listen! He was at work, I didn’t talk to him or anything I’m not stupid, but... his manager made this girl cry so he just decked him, laid him out, one punch an he was down, then he just quit his job, right there, shit was spectacular.” Steve could appreciate a good bit of muscle, could appreciate a scrapper. Plus the guy was hot so, that helped. “Doesn’t look like his photo either, he’s got so much hair, Robs, it’s... wow, he’s just—”

“Ew, I don’t wanna hear about your crush on some random guy, what’s this got to do with these renovations Claudia’s being spammed over?”

“Okay so, guy lost his job.”

“Quit, quit his job.”

“Defending a ladies honour, something I thought you’d appreciate.” She raised a single unimpressed brow “but, I... I was gonna just send him rent money for a few months, y’know, cover a few bills, charity!” His heart was in the right place, his head however, his head was in space.

“That’s not charity that’s stupidity, but go on.”

“That’s what Nance said! Apparently it’d be suspicious if I were to be found sending large amounts of cash in nondescript envelopes to an apartment block notorious for drug activity, so she suggested that since I’m already buying that bar nearby, it’d look less conspicuous if I just... bought the building the guy lives in and claim I was developing it, make it seem like I have an interest in building up local problem areas.” She frowned, silent in her thoughts as she processed.

“... And what about the rent forgiveness?”

“I was gonna pay for his rent, might as well just not have him pay rent, y’know? An it’s gotta be building wide or there’ll be questions, like why is he so special, it’d put him under scrutiny. So Nance suggested putting a stop on rent as we ‘renovate’ as a sort of, we’re disrupting your life so here’s a break for you kinda deal.” Honestly Nancy really was a life saver, he really ought to give her a raise, he’d have been fucked over years ago had he not pulled her into the fold.

“So that means we’re actually going to have to renovate this block then?”

“I mean—”

“Were going to have to renovate this block, Steve. We can’t just forgive the rent forever, that’s bonkers, that would raise eyebrows, and we can’t afford eyebrows being raised at us right now. So you’re going to have to have professionals go in and survey the apartments inside for renovations.” This was now an actual thing he’d have to do.

“Ah well, gives me something to occupy my time with. Also I was thinking—”

“Never a good sign”

“Shut up, I was thinking of putting Argyle in there as a plant, like... the drugs being peddled out of that block are just trash, at least we could get a solid dealer in there and get Argyle out of the Wheelers basement.” He’d only been staying there because Joyce didn’t have a basement and Jonathan didn’t have room for him.

He was Jonathan's friend, and Jonathan came with Nancy, Steve didn’t have any reason to help him out. Now he did! And that reason was getting those poor people better weed.

“Are you not worried that the existing dealers will start shit with him for moving into their turf?”

“They touch him they deal with Hargrove, he's been particularly irritable lately, anything could set him off, pretty sure he’d be jazzed to break a few legs.” Release some of that pent up rage he seemed so good at bottling up in tiny easily burstable bottles. “One visit from that nut job and they’ll settle right down.”

He didn’t like Hargrove, but he had to admit the guy was a useful enforcer. Indebted to Steve too after Jane had taken a nail imbedded baseball bat to his old employers head in a bid to help her friend Max escape the debt her stepdad had racked up with him. Billy had also been freed, being Max’s step brother, left unmoored and in danger of a jail cell.

Steve had taken them both in after getting rid of Creels corpse. It was Hopper’s idea. Billy wouldn’t have survived in jail, too many enemies in there.

“It only takes one hit to hurt Argyle beyond repair though, maybe get rid of the dealers in there already, then give Argyle one of the apartments.”

“See you’re already on board!” And there was the whack round the head with the papers, his sharp objection going ignored.

“Fine, I’m on board, but only because it’s Nancy’s idea.” She was retreating as she spoke “Yours was a trash fire, like, not just one of those little oil barrel fires I mean like a whole dumpster fire. Argyle stays out until it’s safe though, I mean it Steve, I will get Hopper involved.” She opened the door, ready to go.

“You can’t threaten me with my own Chief of Police! That’s so mean!”

“Watch me, dingus. Also you have two people downstairs from your little block purchase wanting more information, do you wanna deal with them or should I?”

“Do you think I could actually spin a good idea to explain this that won’t get immediately reworked by either you or Nance?” She paused, a thoughtful expression on her face that answered his question more than any actual answer would have. “Exactly, you deal with it, you’re better at timelines an stuff anyway.” He was more the big idea guy.

“Yeah but you’re better at people.” It was true, Steve was more the people person out of the two of them. “Fine, I’ll deal with it, and I’ll ask Nance to find some decent contractors to do the work for us. Maybe… drop into my office in like, ten minutes? Considering you let your dick lead you to places I wouldn’t even go with a gun, you should at least make an appearance for these people whose lives you’ve interrupted.”

“Ngghhh fine. Fine. I’ll be there in ten.” And she was out with a tiny salute as her goodbye.  

Part 4

[impala-dreamer]

Tell me about... Dean trying to help mend your broken heart.

Staring At The Sun

Dean x Reader

Little Angsty/Little Fluffy. Allusions to abusive past relationship. Awkward Dean.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

There was no peace; no space between the lines that made any sense. There was just pain that rippled in your chest like some violent wave that knocked against the shores of your heart, forever eroding the muscle until it was impossible to move, to breathe, to do anything but remember her face. 

The lines on the map gave her something to look at more substantial than the particles of dust floating through the air, and Y/N lay her hand on the Pacific, wishing the table would come to life and drown her in the deep ocean. 

Dean sat across the table, a beer in hand, his boot heels covering northern Europe. He narrowed his gaze on Y/N and took a drink. She was moping again and it was driving him mad. 

“Hey.” 

She didn’t hear him, so stuck in the cycle of misery that nothing much could break through. 

He tried again, this time rapping his knuckles on the glowing table. “Hey! Ground Control to Major Tom!”

Y/N startled and a sharp inhale brought her back. “Sorry. What were you saying?” 

Dean rolled his eyes slightly. “I wasn’t saying anything.” 

“Then why are you yelling at me?” Y/N slumped back in her chair, leaving the vast ocean and her dreams of oblivion behind. 

“First off- I wasn’t yelling at you, I was getting your attention.” He kicked his feet down and sat the right way, turning to face her directly. 

“OK. Why?” 

“Because I’m-” He wanted to say worried but he couldn’t make his mouth move that way. He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re-” Breaking my heart since he broke yours. “You’re bumming me out.”

She cocked a brow and glared. “Excuse me?” 

“You’ve done nothing but sulk around this place for months now and it’s kinda driving me crazy.”

A tight little ball formed in her chest. “Screw you.” 

Dean pursed his lips. Unimpressed dimples popped above his lip. “Excuse me?”

“Number one- it hasn’t been months. It’s been three weeks and five days-”

“Almost a month…”

“And fuck you very much for making me feel even worse about it.” Her voice crackled around the words and the end faded into a struggling inhale. Wetness rimmed her eyes and Dean kicked himself. 

“No. Hey, I wasn’t-” Shit. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, of course you didn’t!” Y/N clenched her teeth and shook her head at him, at her ex, at the world. “No one ever means to, do they? You don’t mean to yell at me, He didn’t mean to hurt me; Sam doesn’t mean to leave his fucking socks everywhere! No one ever means anything!” In a huff, she stood up and kicked her chair back. The wheels rolled all the way to the top of the little staircase and the Library readied for its landing. “Everyone can just run around being inconsiderate and nasty to me and- fucking-  breaking my fucking heart over and over and- No one ever means to! Why doesn’t anyone ever own up to their shit anymore!”

Fuck. No… Dean set his beer down over Belgium and pushed his seat back. “Y/N/N-”

She turned away from him, arm waving him away. “Ya know, maybe it’s my fault. I’m too damned unlovable. Too fat and ugly. Too lazy. Too… too fucking- too! Just too! No one gives a shit how they make me feel! They just go on breaking me to pieces and walking away like it doesn’t fucking matter. Like- like I don’t matter. I don’t matter. I don’t fucking matter. So he broke my heart- who fucking cares? So I’m fucking broken and dying here and- who cares? No one. And no one should!” 

Stop it. Stop it. “Stop it!” 

When Y/N turned back, jolted by his yell, Dean was there, no more than a foot away. His green eyes were filled with as much pain as she felt but she couldn’t understand why. She looked up at him, confused.

“None of that is true,” he said softly. “You’re not fat and ugly, Y/N. You’re not… unlovable. You’re…” Beautiful. Amazing. Everything I fucking need in my life. “You’re incredible.” 

She laughed in his face. Tears flowing freely, she laughed. “You’re a real asshole, Dean. That’s not funny. At all.” 

Son-of-a-bitch. 

“I’m not- I’m not trying to be funny, OK? I’m trying to be serious here.” 

His shoulders dropped; his charm and defenses fell with it. He looked away, trying to keep his cheeks dry, and licked his lips. 

Y/N watched him, slowly calming down, releasing the tight ball in her chest. “Dean-”

“It’s been killing me, Y/N/N. Watching him fuck with you the way he did… That… abusive fuck. I mean, the things he said to you, the way he treated you- it was all…”

Her tears doubled at the memory. “I know. I was an idiot.” 

Dean sucked in a quick breath and found her gaze. “No. Not an idiot. Never.” 

“I could have left long before he did.” She laughed softly, bitterly. 

“It’s not all on you.” He stepped closer. Just an inch, just enough to make her breath hitch. “I could have said something. I should have said something.” 

Her pulse quickened. She’d never seen that look in his eyes before. She’d seen pain, trauma, humor, friendship, but this was something different. Something darker, deeper. 

“What would you have said?” she asked, refusing to blink another tear free. 

Dean sank his front teeth into his bottom lip and shook his head. Say it. Just say it, you asshole. 

Y/N reached for his hand and he turned his palm up, sliding it against hers. “Dean…”

Just. Say. It. 

“You said no one cares,” he whispered, closing his fingers tight around her hand. “I do. I uh-” Come on, dammit. “I care about you. A lot. More than a lot. I uh-” Don’t make me say it, please. “Well, the thing is… I just feel like…” I’m staring at the sun when I look at you and I can’t think of anything I want more. Seeing you so broken these last few weeks has nearly killed me and I just want to be the one thing that makes you smile. “I mean, we’ve gotten close and-”

Y/N smiled. Awkward was too perfect on him. Somewhere beneath the miles of blood and murder was a core of pure innocence. She laughed. 

“Don’t- don’t laugh at me, I’m trying to say something!” 

She squeezed his hand and brought it to her lips. She let him off the hook, kissing his knuckles and looking up into his nervous green eyes. 

“Me too, Dean.” 

Thank-fucking-god. 

His cheeks burned. “Yeah?” 

She nodded. “Yeah. Obviously.” 

Don’t kiss her. Not yet. Too soon. 

“Fuck that guy, OK?” He cringed. “I mean, don’t fuck that guy. Ever again. Fuck-”

“You?” 

She grinned and his heart leapt. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said, reciprocating her kiss, “I’m ready.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70  

@lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05  

[cthulhusstepmom]

"Gid we need to talk."

Well fuck.

It's far too early for a Kremy talk.

"You already spell the door shut?"

"You know I did."

With a long-suffering grumble Gideon settles further into the chair, body sore and muscles relaxed in that perfect, intoxicating, pleasure-drenched way that inevitably chases a night of questionable decisions. The mug of strong black coffee on the table in front of him steams, almost too hot even for him.

He can feel a pair of piercing yellow eyes trailing over his neck and shoulders, can feel the quiet disapproval like a stinging rash.

"She got you good hmm?"

"If she didn't her friend certainly did." Gideon chuckles, suppresses the urge to adjust the undershirt he'd slipped on as Brittany and... Courtney? Christie? (Something with a C he's about 60% sure) Had taken their leave late last night(probably early this morning but fuck if he's gonna be worried about the time). Every rouged bite and bruise flames under the fabric in a way that feels far too much like shame.

The barely there feeling of cool fingertips on his shoulder burns like a cold brand, superseding any temporary claim laid underneath in an instant.

"Any coffee left in the pot?" It's not a question, not really; even if Gideon is loathe to move away from that grounding touch he knows this is his part in the song and dance(and dancing always had been more his thing). Falling into the practiced motion he heaves himself up onto his feet to retrieve Kremy's cup from the small cupboard in the wagon, hands whipping together (the equivalent of) an americano with a splash of cream and no sugar.

In the time it takes for the cup to come together Kremy has removed his suit jacket, folded it carefully and set it on top of the rumpled covers of Gideon's cot, before placing his hat atop it and settling into the chair facing the door. Gid gingerly sets the cup on its saucer before placing it in front of Kremy and falling back into his own chair with a grunt. The other man makes a pleased sound as he takes a sip and a pleasant flame of emotion licks at the back of Gideon's brain.

"New technique?" A pair of clever yellow eyes peer over the rim of the cup.

"Working out a few bugs."

"Mmm."

Silence falls in the cozy interior and Gideon can almost pretend those lovely aches and marks didn't come from Brianna or Carrie at all, can indulge in the effortless, lasting clarity he only finds in moments like these.

"What's that bring the total to this week?"

"What total?" Playing dumb with Kremy is playing a loser's hand and he knows it. All he gets for his trouble is the unimpressed arch of a single brow. "Well I guess it depends if you're asking about encounters or headcount." He tries with a lascivious chuckle.

"Every night this week Gid! Every single night you've been tied up with some hussy or another and every day you've been waiting to do it again! You almost set the big top on fire yesterday you were so goddamn distracted!" Heat floods the tips of his ears at the memory. "I want an explanation Gid and I want one now. What the hell is going on with you?"

Now would be the time to say it, to come clean. To just tell Kremy, his boss, his friend, about the click clacking of train wheels over tracks that haunts his brain. How sometimes he can't hear his own thoughts under the bellowing whistle of a long gone steam engine. How his skin doesn't feel like it belongs to him, his body a machine for someone else's use. How good it fucking feels to find parts of himself in the core of somebody else, working for his own pleasure and dragging them along with him right up to the brink. How those primal sounds of skin on skin solidify that he's not just another cog in an infernal machine, forever toiling until he's sucked dry and spit out. How even then it's not always enough, that it's these quiet moments, devising more and more intricate ways to get the perfect cup of coffee that he doesn't even enjoy, sitting at his little table so close their legs have to touch, riding at the head of the caravan directing the horses while Kremy ticks boxes and traces routes on maps at his side, these small quiet moments that quiet his brain more than a month of one night stands and empty touches ever could.

"You know I'm fine with your proclivities, Gods knows you've earned it." A small part of his brain purrs. "But something's obviously bothering you and that's not something I can stand." And just like that he's pierced on a golden stake, feeling those eyes slice him into delicate layers and pick through them at their own leisure.

But Kremy doesn't rush him, never has, just sits serenely and allows him to fiddle with his words, fine tuning his meaning to the best of his abilities.

Now would be the time to say it.

"Remember when you offered me my own wagon?"

A look of mild surprise crosses a reptilian face. "Vaguely."

Gideon nods, letting the word hang on the air, intermingling with the smell of over engineered coffee.

Finally:

" Would you be open to rooming together again?"

The frown that crosses Kremy's features pierces between all the whirring mechanical bits of himself and straight into the fragile meat of his beating heart.

"Well Gid it's good of you to offer but you know I don't swing that way. You're more than welcome to keep the ladies to yourself, can have my share too while you're at it."

It takes a minute to grasp what Kremy's insinuating.

"No man! Not like that, I wouldn't do that to you, not rooming together at least. I'd just invite you here..."He pauses, grasping for the right words. "When it gets quiet... when I'm alone... it can be too... loud... in my head, s' fucked up, down, and sideways..." He trails off, looking up and searching Kremy's gaze for answers, he always has the answers.

His friend nods in understanding.

"Think I can arrange that, we'll need to rearrange the furniture and we can always use another Chow wagon." he begins muttering, turning things over in his head, organizing his thoughts like a hand of cards.

"You know I'm not too picky, I can sleep on the floor."

Kremy waves a hand absent mindedly. "There's plenty of room for two in the bed-" cutting himself off with a painful choking sound, Gideon can see a thread of panic strumming through Kremy's posture. "Of course that's a hell of a presumption, huddling for warmth is a whole different thing I shouldn't have said any-"

"So long as I get a little desk space to tinker and warm breakfast I'm satisfied." Gid shrugs. He misses sharing sleeping arrangements with Kremy, the wagons were a nice upgrade, more spacious and stable than tents and bedrolls, but they also took the few times he was able to hold close the smaller form of his partner. The privilege of feeling the cold-stiffness bleed out of his limbs and turn into languid sleep. Like cuddling the cold side of a pillow all night, a pillow that will occasionally rumble like a thunderstorm and vibrate his whole chest.

"I won't have any of your Jezebels in my bed, you want to let off that steam, fine, but not in our wagon."

Our.

"Seems reasonable enough." He smirks.

"You have yourself a deal Gid."

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 9 - Surprise!

Summary: Why is there a random, grumpy teen in the house?!

Warnings: Swear words

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Wow.

This is a magical day. A once in a lifetime occurrence.

It’s 9AM and Midoriya Izuku is still asleep.

And to make it even better? He doesn’t look like he wants to wake up yet.

Midoriya Izuku will finally have a good sleep today. Oh my gosh, what a day to be alive!

“Good morning, love.” You leave a tiny kiss on the hero’s forehead and his face scrunches; he hides his face into your neck, clearly unimpressed by the sudden daylight, fussing like a child as he pulls you closer and doesn’t let you go even though you really want to wake up and make breakfast because you are starving. “You won’t let me go?” You ask him with a baby voice and Izuku only shakes his head at that, making cute, whiny voices as he snuggles into you. He’s so fucking adorable. “Don’t wanna have pancakes for breakfast then?”

You can see the moment when Izuku starts to seriously contemplate - he stops in his shenanigans and scrunches his face again, deep in thought.

“Cuddles. Pancakes.” Is all he says, half of his body resting on the top of yours at this point.

“You won’t get any of those if you kill me. Izuku, I don’t mean to fat shame you, I know it’s all muscles, but damn, you are heavy.” You giggle as you slowly crawl out from under him. Izuku clearly did not like that; his face is scrunched again and his hold tightens around you but slowly, he lets you go with a massive, dramatic sigh.

“No kiss?” He mumbles again and you can’t help but make a silly, high pitched sound at that. This should be illegal. He’s just way too cute. Goddamn, how did you get so lucky?!

Okay, he can have one kiss. One.

You leave a tiny kiss on Izuku’s lips; Izuku hums at first, still sleepy and sluggish , then suddenly, he deepens the kiss, his hands all over your body, all the sleepiness gone like it wasn’t even there in the first place. Funnily enough, the sudden surge of energy only lasts a few minutes; after a few deep kisses, Izuku flops back on the bed, eyes already half closed.

“Now you go.” He mumbles, looking like a little burrito with all the covers around him.

“Excuse me?” You giggle with an incredulous look on your face; honestly, this guys has lost his fucking mind.

“Pancakes.”

This fucking prick.

“You are such an asshole today, what the hell?” You reprimand but you can’t stop yourself from laughing; this whole shenanigan is so out of character yet somehow it fits the greenhead so much; the neediness, the willfulness, these are all parts of Izuku’s characteristics - he just decided to suppress them in order to be more tolerable because that’s what has been carved into him. Here’s the thing though; everyone is allowed to a bit selfish sometimes. It’s okay to have days when you need more love, more care, it’s okay to have some days when you need someone to take care of you. You just need to find the right person and the right time for these things. Izuku is getting so much better at showing you what he actually wants and it makes you so fucking proud it’s actually unbelievable.

“You love me.” Izuku mutters with a happy smile on his face as he leaves tiny kisses all over your shoulders with his eyes still closed.

“I do. I’ll make you the second best pancakes. I can’t do better than your mom’s, I’m sorry to be a disappointment.”

Izuku’s next answer is almost incoherent, sentences broken and muttered under his nose.

“I love your pancakes. Mum’s are the best though. And her Katsudon. Your soup? First. Curry? Kacchan’s. Steak? Eijirou’s. Medium rare. Shouto’s soba. Yeah.”

“How hungry are you, Izu-Izu?” You giggle to yourself as your fingers play with his tangled, untamed curls.

“Over 9000.” Izuku admits sheepishly then goes back to sleep like nothing had happened.

Well… the boss wants pancakes so he gets pancakes. It’s extremely hard to wake up when he’s back to being a clingy little koala, all warm and smelling like home but today, Izuku is all yours so you’ll have all the time in the world to cuddle him senseless later.

~•🥦•~

… or not.

“You are not Deku.”

There is a teenager in the living room. Who the fuck is this kid and how did he get in here? You have no idea. He kinda looks pissed. Why? You also have no idea.

Is this the right time to get that mop out? Should you chase this kid out of the apartment with it? This is a high security area though, there is no way he could’ve sneaked past that security system without a clearance. Your home alarm didn’t sound either which means the kid has a code for the door. Did Izuku talk about kids before? Not really. The only kid in Izuku’s life by your knowledge is Eri-Chan who lives with his old teacher… and that kid back from his high school days. The one who has a terrible attitude but loves Izuku so much he even asked for the same shoes Izuku wears, out of respect or fanatism, you have no idea.

… there is a red shoe in the entry room and that’s certainly not Izuku’s size.

Oh.

“I’m not. But I live here.” You answer, less freaked out about the situation now that you know who this kid is. “I’m Izuku’s roommate…?”

“You came out of Deku’s room.” The teenager makes a snarky comment and your whole face becomes a tomato. “You have a limited All Might Shirt on which is too big for you.”

This kid is a pain in the ass but he kinda reminds you of Katsuki so you can’t help but smile.

“Okay, Sherlock. I’m Izuku’s girlfriend, Y/N. And you are?”

“Kouta Izumi. Deku didn’t tell me he has a girlfriend. I’m here to play.”

Yup. That’s the kid Izuku told you about.

“Play?”

“The new PlayStation 6. Deku got a prototype, the console isn’t even out yet. He also got the new GTA 6 that will only come out next year. “

Oh, that silly game everyone is obsessed about. It’s a game about a quirkless world and gangsters and stuff. Izuku did tell you that he got some cool stuff from one of his sponsors but none of you had the time to actually try it out yet.

“Okay. Uhm… just make sure to stay quiet, he haven’t slept for a week.” You sigh, a little bit disappointed by the fact that you won’t have the whole day to yourselves but also quite excited about meeting a new person from Izuku’s life.

“Is he okay?” Kouta mumbles with a red face, clearly embarrassed by the fact that he cares.

“Yeah, he’s okay.” You smile fondly. “We went to see his mother yesterday.”

“How is she?” Kouta looks up. “He never talks about his parents because I don’t have any. They both died in a villain attack. He thinks it’s going to make me sad if he talks to me about her but I’m almost an adult now.”

Wow, he just… threw that bomb in there and now you have no idea how to react. Should you say “I’m sorry”? No, he would hate being pitied. This is tough.

“You go to UA?” You point at the little pin on the boy’s backpack sitting by his side, trying to change the topic. “I love the little candy apple keychain too.”

“Uhm… I got the keychain from… a friend.” Kouta’s whole face is as red as a tomato. You can barely conceal your smile. “And yes. Fucking Deku’s fault.”

“Why’s that?”

“I hated heroes when I was a kid.” Kouta admits. “My parents were heroes and they died for a bunch of strangers and left me alone. I loathed everyone who went to a hero school. But then Deku saved me from the same villain who killed my parents. He was only a first year student back then and he almost died for me.” Is talking about deep stuff like they are talking about the weather a hero thing? Asking for a friend here. “I’m only in the support course, though. It’s safe but really helpful to all those idiots killing themselves on the battlefield.”

“That’s… a weird way of putting it but I kinda get it.” You giggle. You like this guy. He’s funny.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still know how to kick an ass. I actually have a temporary license. I took special classes with Aizawa sensei. If they need help, I’ll help. Are you one of those idiots, too?”

“No, I’m… quirkless.” You admit. Kouta looks at you like you just grew two heads. “What?” You giggle. “You look like I just told you I’m an alien.”

“You kinda are?” Kouta smirks. “What do you do then?”

“I draw and people pay me for it.”

“Sick. You did this?” Kouta points at the half-done drawing sitting on the coffee table. It’s a drawing of pro hero Deku and young All Might fighting a villain together. It was commissioned a few days ago, but Izuku liked it so much you have to make a second one because he wants to keep the original.

“Yeah. One day, I want to do my own manga. I’ll eventually start working on it but right now, I’m just happy to help out Izuku around the house and spend all the time I can with him.” You smile to yourself. “I’ll make breakfast, Izuku’s really hungry. Feel free to play that game, tell us how it is!” You make your way towards the kitchen and for your surprise, Kouta follows you and sits down on the counter.

“What are you making?”

“Pancakes.”

Kouta helps you. Without a single word. He doesn’t really know what to do but he mixes everything together, puts plates and cutlery on the table, pours more milk into mixture when you need it, overall, he is extremely helpful. Once the flat starts to smell like pancakes a half asleep Izuku shambles into the kitchen; his chin lands on your shoulder as his hands snake around your waist, absolutely unaware of the second person in the room.

“Good morning, Sweets.” He mumbles into your skin; he leaves tiny, affectionate pecks and it takes you a few seconds to realize that you should probably say something before this escalates.

“Ewww, get a room!” Well, Kouta does it for you, then. His palms are in front of his eyes to save himself from the “terrible” sight. He’s such a kid, honestly.

Izuku jumps off you with a loud, high pitched yelp, his whole face ruddy as he stares at Kouta.

“Kouta-kun, uhm, hello?!” He mumbles first, then as his brain finally catches up with the situation, his eyes light up. “Oh my god, I haven’t seen you for so long, you grew again! You’ll be taller than me one day.”

Okay. Let’s stop here for a second.

A sleepy affectionate Izuku is already way too much for your fragile heart, but fatherly Izuku?

K.O.

Literal KNOCK OUT.

“Oh my god, stop babying me, you old man.” Kotaro grumbles but Izuku doesn’t stop; he pulls the little gremlin to his chest, suffocates him with all the love and while Kouta insist he hates every single second of it, if you look closely there is a tiny smile on his face the whole time.

“Where is your girlfriend?” Izuku teases and fuck, even that sounds like something a father would say to his teenage son.

“I already told you, she’s older than me! We barely see each other anyway! She’s in the hero course!”

“She made you handmade chocolate for Valentine’s. Heart shaped ones.”

“Out of pity! She always acts like I’m 10 years old! It’s fucking annoying! Last time I cut my finger she gave me a kiss on my forehead like I’m a kid. I really hate her sometimes.”

Okay, that’s so fucking cute.

“Is this the same girl who gave you the candy apple keychain?” You decide to join the conversation.

“You got a keychain with candy apples? You know that’s her favorite food, right? That must mean something!” Izuku adds. The poor boy is clearly about to burst from the embarrassment.

“Yeah, bro. She basically claimed you with that keychain. But if you don’t believe me, why don’t you try and ask her to kiss you on your mouth the next time you cut your finger? I’m just saying. You can just make it sound like it’s a joke in case it goes wrong.” You shrug nonchalantly.

“I would listen to her, she’s a professional meddler. I’m quite sure All Might is officially my stepfather now, thanks to Sweet Pea.”

“I think you should go for it.” You add, taking Izuku’s side.

“I think you should keep your eyes on your pancake because it’s burning.” Kouta adds with a shit eating grin; and indeed, there is smoke coming from the forgotten pan behind you.

“Oh, fuck.” You laugh as you try to salvage the poor, half burned pancake.

“You two will be the most annoying parents the world has ever seen.” Kouta rolls his eyes and you both become a stuttering mess after that.

“Wh… no! We… we’ll be really cool! Super chill!” Izuku mutters and you can’t help but laugh.

“Izu, you literally almost killed yourself just because I was sick. Kouta has a point, we’ll be super nosy and annoying. Not like… I thought about that before or anything. Definitely not.”

“W… Well… by the time we… uhm… we decide to have a kid… I’ll change. I’ll be all cool. I’ll be the best father ever!”

This is so awkward but also, so thrilling. Goddamn, even the thought of having a little kid with him makes your ovaries scream.

“Well, I won’t. A mother has all the rights to be nosy when it comes to her child.” You mutter back and the look Izuku gives you makes it really hard to concentrate on the stupid pancakes; his eyes are dazzling and so full of hope, he smiles at you like he’s a kid who just got what he wanted from Santa. You can hear tiny sniffles in the background so you look towards the boy sitting on the counter; His eyes are red but full of fondness as he stares at you two with pure wonder, a tiny smile decorating his face.

“You two remind me of my mom and dad.” He admits. “They always bickered over the silliest things and they looked at each other the same way you did. So fucking stop that and let’s eat, I’m starving.”

Izuku is about to cry so you decide to speak up before he misunderstands the whole situation and starts to blame himself for making Kouta sad.

“Who said you are getting any?” You look at him with a shit eating grin and the offended face he makes at that is downright hilarious.

“Huh?! I mixed the shit out of that batter, didn’t I?! I put plates on the table! Hell, I even touched a raw egg! I hate raw eggs!” Kouta yells but he can’t hide the grin on his face as he says all of that. “Would you let a kid starve, Y/N? That’s not nice! Deku, you heard that shit?! The audacity!” He yells, shamelessly laughing by now.

“Say another bad word and I’ll wash your mouth with soap!” You retort with fake-anger.

“I’ll lick every fork then! Hah! Top that, old hag!”

“Now that’s just evil.” Izuku looks between you two, completely flustered.

“Yeah, he kinda won this round. He can have one pancake.”

“ONE?!”

Izuku only sighs dramatically at that.

“Maybe I’m okay to not have kids for a few more years.”

“Oi! I’m a fucking delight!”

“This is it. I’m getting the soap.” You make your way towards the bathroom while Izuku moves the big stack of pancakes to the table with his eyes completely dead.

“NOOOOOOOO!” Kouta yells and starts running towards Izuku who almost stumbles thanks to him. “Save me, Deku! Your woman is vile!”

“Sweets, stop bullying my boy!” Izuku snorts, finally a bit more alive. “Also, if I can’t eat in the next five minutes I swear to god I’ll die so can we eat now? Please?”

“Anything for you, my darling.” You leave a tiny kiss on Izuku’s forehead, while you wink at the teen. He only rolls his eyes at that.

“Hey, I think you missed.” Izuku points at his pouty lips.

“Oh, silly me.” You leave a tiny kiss on his lips and make your way back to the kitchen to get some condiments, trying your best to hide the shit eating grin as you see Kouta getting flustered as hell.

“I know what you are doing and I don���t like it!” Kouta mumbles as he puts a bunch of pancakes in his plate.

Okay, maybe Kouta is right and you’ll be the most annoying parents the world have ever seen but hell if you are not excited for it.

Not like that’s something you two want in the near future… uhm. Yeah. Definitely not.

End of the chapter. Uhm. Go away.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato Ramble:

- I know, me and my weird ass ships, I am right?! 😂

- So in this story, Izuku is around 25-26 so it’s like… 9-10 years after the attack on Kouta so he’s around 15-16. Eri is 1-2 years older, I made that one year here for convenience. If Kouta listened to Y/N, I’ll leave that to your imagination except if you guys want an extra with them in the future. 😂 I do wanna make a KiriBaku extra first though because I’m quite sure you guys want to know what the heck is going on in that household.

- I don’t know what else to add I’m dead tired. I hope you liked this chapter though, I wrote it in one sitting lol 😂 honestly, I enjoyed this chapter so much it’s ridiculous.

If you liked this chapter, please don’t forget to leave a lovely comment, like or reblog it! It means a lot! 🥦

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog

[bubuslutty]

cod word vomit

title: the bear in the witch's hut (part 2)

pairing: witch fem!reader x soft!John Price

word count: 1.6k

warnings: nsfw, blowjobs

a/n: i enjoyed writing this very much. so bon appétit 💞💕

John’s witch, so strong and so sweet. So fearless and terrifying when she smells hints of curses on his clothes and demands him to get undressed and burns his shirt with a blink, cursing out whoever dared to curse her dearest husband and soldier.

John knows about magic and spirits, but he was never one to practice, and neither did his mum or dad. But he’s no fool, even with his inexperience in whatever concerns magic, he knows his wife is one of a kind, she’s powerful and never fails to amaze him over and over again. She could kill him any minute and he would stare at her with hearts in his eyes, at least in that subject, he’s the biggest fools of all.

When John is on leave, he has more reasons to be excited about visiting home, not only he can see his mum and dad before he died, but also his lovely wife. They always greet him with warm food, a hot bath waiting for him and his room cleaned up.

They always greet him by the entrance of the farm, and his wife can never stop herself from running up to him and jumping in his strong arms, hugging him tight and thanking everything for keeping him alive and well. And then he would hug his parents, kiss them on the head and try to keep their fussing at bay.

Do they feed you well? Are you hurt? What’s that bruise on your arm? How’s Kyle? And Simon? Is he alright? Tell him he can come here anytime he wants-

When he finally gets away from his parents bombarding him with questions and things to tell his men, he’s in a huge tub filled with hot water, untangling the tension sewed deep in his muscles and bones, while his favourite girl in the whole wide world is there by his side, on a stool, running her hand through his hair and speaking to him in a hushed voice.

Really, there’s no need to whisper, but John appreciates it anyway, makes him feel at ease, and feels good, being in their own little intimate bubble, without anyone bothering them, even if it is for a short while.

She starts telling him how much she misses him, keeps the subject of the conversation easy and light on the heart, and John is endlessly grateful for her thoughtfulness. She comments on how his beard and moustache are getting bigger and bigger every time he comes home, and he laughs when she starts making a ridiculous impression of him complaining about how he’s too busy to shave. 

“Oh, look at me, I’m so scary and manly. I’m Captain Price and my beard holds the secrets of the world and if you start pissing about I'll-”

The witch squeals when he pulls her into the tub, water splashing everywhere and he has a stupid grin on his face when she ends up on his lap, clothes drenched. She stares at him, unimpressed and he starts laughing, throwing his head back and all, even snorting once. And how could she even be mad at him? She cracks a smile and starts giggling, holding herself up with her hands on his shoulders.

“John, this thing might just burst at the seams, I don’t think it’s meant for two people.” She then says, looking down at the tub with a small frown.

“Don’t worry about the tub. I won’t let you get hurt.” he lifts her head up, meeting her eyes.

“I know, John.”

And those simple words hold so much love and trust, he could suffocate and die there happy. But there are other pressing matters in his mind right now, for example how her thin dress is sticking to her skin and hiding absolutely nothing. 

She notices his eyes staring down at her chest, and she follows his gaze and her cheeks heat up, arms coming up to cover her poking nipples. “You pervert!” 

John raises one brow and tilts his head to the side, amused. Technically, if there has to be a pervert, it should be her, because she’s sitting on him while he’s completely naked and she’s still dressed.

“Me? Pervert? I’m the one who’s naked and vulnerable, love.” He places a hand on his chest, teasing her.

“You’re bathing! And you pulled me in the tub! You sure do know how to treat a lady.” She huffs, lifting her chin and looking away.

“You’re not just a lady, though, are you? You’re my lady, so don’t be shy. There’s nothing I haven’t already seen.” He smirks, all hungry and unashamed.

He leans forward, holding her wrists in his huge warm hands and pries her arms away from her chest to look at her breasts, visible under the fabric. His blue eyes darken and he groans, “Fuck, look at you.” 

His pretty woman lets him stare with her skin hot with shyness and arousal. His eyes are literally zeroed on her chest, and one of his hands goes to thumb at the skin just under one of her breasts and she gasps. And then he snaps his attention up at her face and pretty lips. He brings one of his huge palms to press at the dip of her back, pressing her body against his and kissing her.

And he’s just so hungry, so fucking starved. It’s hot, intense, messy but so good. And then his pretty girl, the apple of his eye pulls away and he follows her, their swollen lips connected with a thin string of saliva. “Stay.” She tells him with a hand on his chest, keeping him still. And stay he does.

He’s staring at her with eyes absolutely swimming with lust. And she carefully stands up in the tub, making sure to not step on his legs and takes off the wet dress, and drops it on the floor with a wet splat.

John’s heart is beating faster than 100 war horses and is absolutely throbbing and hot between his legs. And she looks so so fucking beautiful from his sitting position, he can see everything and is so glad she took off that damn dress. Fuck clothes, matter of fact, it should be against the law to hide such pretty body with offending fabric. But then a little voice at the back of his head reminds him he’s possessive and obsessive, he’ll tear anyone’s throat out with his teeth if they ever laid eyes on his woman’s honey-sweet naked skin.

And then she sits herself on his lap again and watches how his eyes are transfixed on the water droplets running down her skin. She reaches down under the water and wraps both hands around his grith and base.

And as soon as she touches him, he clenches his eyes shut and brings a fist to his mouth, trying his hardest to not moan because after all, his parents are still in the house, and he’d be absolutely mortified if they heard him.

“Fuck, fuck- Bloody- Fuuuckk-” He’s panting and rambling now, unable to open his eyes.

His hips are jerking under the water, making it ripple and spill over, and his chest is heaving up and down and there’s sweet on his forehead, his cheeks and upper chest are red and she’s so in love with him, it’s utterly stupid.

“John, open your eyes.” She whispered, a smirk on her pretty face as she slowly stroked him under the water.

“Nuh- no, no-” He shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes.

She leans closer, making her voice low and sweet, seductive and so dangerous for his sanity, “Bear, look at me.” 

And he shakily manages to open his eyes and lowers his head, looking at her. John has little shiny tears at the corner of his eyes, and that’s such a beautiful sight that the witch felt her core throb and clench around nothing. 

And then John chokes on a breath, his eyes rolling at the back of his head and hips jerking and she realises he just came. He came just by looking at her.

John starts babbling absolute nonsense then, shivering and his voice deep and gravelly. He’s going on about how sorry he is for cumming so fast and how he’s going to fuck her to make it up for her.

Just like I said, absolute nonsense.

His witch smiles and then kisses him, “You’re so perfect, my bear. I love you so much, honey.” 

“I’m sorr-”

“I don’t want to hear it. I loved it. You made me so happy, John, do you know that? Hm? You just showed me you still love me and have been desperate for my touch while you were away? Is that right, hun?” 

“Y-yeah, yeah- missed you so much, you can’t even imagine.” He rasps, speaking against her lips, and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her against him, chest to chest, half-hard cock between them.

“Missed you too, love. I missed your voice, your smile, your laugh, your hands, your mouth, your eyes, how your cock splits me open and molds my insides to your shape, missed feeling you in my throat, missed having your spend leak out and stain the sheets-” She speaks against his mouth, breaths her words in his throat, makes him feel delirious with arousal as if he’s breathing it right in.

He starts squeezing her flesh harder and rocks his hips against her and she bites her lower lip, stopping herself from moaning out loud.

“John- John, you’re not fucking me here.” 

“John, please-”

“Fuuck, John, I’m so sorry, darling, you can’t fuck me here. Tonight, I promise.”

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @silviafantin15 @reveluving  

[alexanderlightweight]

(I just tried to send a prompt but I don't think it went through so if you just saw this prompt please ignore, sorry 🙏)

This is something that I've been thinking about for a few days so I thought I'd send it in as a prompt.

Izzy was/is interested in magnus and is perhaps angry/bitter/confused on why magnus chose alec (over her, in her opinion)

I think izzy early canon has an almost childlike idea of what relationships are? So I think the fact that she's pretty, likes clubbing, isn't anti-downworld, and is interested in sex (and/or other superficial things) would make her think that she and magnus are romantically compatible

If this isn't your vibe that's no big deal but I thought I'd share in case it sparked an idea

i didn't go the bitter route (nothing wrong with it, it just didn't fit with my thoughts) and i agree with her childlike/naive idea of relationships and using sex for information. so i hope you enjoy this.

-

“And how exactly do you plan on getting Magnus Bane’s attention?” Alec asks, eyebrow raised as he tries to figure out what exactly Izzy thinks she’s doing. “He already declined your meeting and turned down the payment of the necklace for memories. What else do you think will work when that didn’t?”

“Alec, don’t be so dour. No one can resist me, not like this.” Izzy gestures to herself with a smirk, her white leather outfit showing off her muscles and runes and Alec frowns, an unfortunate amount of skin for something that is technically a mission. He really hopes she has enough ointment if they end up encountering ichor.

Izzy winks behind Alec at Jace and Fray and her hand comes up, playing with a very large necklace that Alec only vaguely recognizes. It clicks with a sigh, and he stares at her, before holding his hand out, unimpressed.

“Izzy, he turned it down. It goes back into the vault archives.”

“But it might be used to get a meeting. If I’m the one wearing it.” Izzy laughs and covers the red stone with her hand, “it’ll be fine hermano. Lighten up.”

Alec hears Jace scoff and mutter, “come on Iz. Alec doesn’t lighten up.”

It’s infuriating but Alec just grits his teeth. It’d be one thing to respond, but he doesn’t need to deal with another argument in full view of his shadowhunters. There’s been enough insubordination and Izzy and Jace will only get worse until he figures out how to deal with it.

—

Magnus has his attention on one person and one person only and he knows exactly how to play this.

“And who might such a lovely lady’s companions be?” Magnus asks, acting charmed as he kisses the air above Isabelle’s hand. She blushes, eyes wide and she’s already drunk on the thrill of thinking someone as powerful and aloof as Magnus is under her thrall. It’s a pity she’s so naïve

, but Magnus has heard about her among the downworld. A beautiful, talented lover, a vicious fighter and a naive, attempted informant who could be trusted to share more than was shared. She’s absolutely perfect for what Magnus has decided he wants.

“Clary Fairchild.” Isabelle says with a dramatic flourish, “who is in need of her memories. Our finest shadowhunter,” she winks at the blonde who looks proudly at Clarissa and then Isabelle motions to Magnus’ choice. “And my brother, Alec.”

“Short for Alexander?” Magnus asks, because he can’t help it.

“Yes?” Isabelle asks, puzzled, but she’s distracted when Magnus summons a drink to everyone’s hands with a snap of magic.

“I only thought that with such a lovely name is yours, it would be a pity to not have the same consideration.” Magnus flatters and she flutters her lashes before sending a smirk to Alexander. Alexander is barely paying attention, a frustrated look on his face as he studies his drink and takes a hesitant sip. His face twitches in a grimace of distaste and Magnus changes it with a thought, even as he idly pays attention to Isabelle.

“We brought this, to negotiate with you for Clarissa Fairchild’s memories.” Isabelle touches the jewel hanging around her neck with a sharp little smirk.

“It’s unfortunate, but I really don’t have a need for the necklace.” Magnus says, tone dripping with sincerity, “however I wouldn’t mind making another kind of deal. Especially not with someone of your rather predtiegous bloodline.”

Magnus gives her a lingering once over, to make his insinuation clear and Isabelle giggles and curls her hair with her fingers, looking up at him.

“I’m happy to come to an understanding with you.” Isabelle murmurs and she steps closer, “an entanglement for the memories, perhaps?”

Magnus smirks, because this is exactly what he wants.

“The easiest way to get Miss Fairchild’s memories back is in a sex-ritual. It will also be the safest way, as otherwise her memory integration could be painful.” Magnus shrugs, because it doesn’t really matter to him. “I’m sure the clave will give one of their little soldiers a week or two off, for the chance of finding their precious cup.”

“Izzy, are you serious?” Clarissa asks, suddenly looking concerned but Isabelle laughs, in fact she looks delighted by the idea.

“Oh Clary, this is part of the fun. Business and pleasure go hand and hand.” Isabelle tosses her hair with a playful nudge to Clarissa whispers quietly. “This is going perfectly.”

“It is indeed.” Magnus says, letting magic twist his voice into words of an oath matching her own. Louder, without the cover of magic, Magnus asks, “then, do we have an oath of accord? Bound by the blood of your house?”

“We do.” Isabelle says and she cuts her own lip with her teeth and speaks her agreement with blood on her tongue before she swallows it, keeping it safely within her own body. However, it’s not safe enough and Magnus smiles, smug and delighted.

“Then I’ll see you all in a few weeks.” Magnus tells them and he uses the prisms of time to step across the room and he wraps his arm around Alexander’s waist. “It’s a pleasure doing business with the house of Lightwood, Isabelle. I’ll have your house’s heir back when I bring the memories. Perhaps, we can negotiate for further services at that time.”

Magnus portals Alexander and himself away, through the space of time deposits them both in Edom and he keeps his hand on the small of Alexander’s back as he surveys the dark red of Edom. The place Magnus is set to rule while his father battles with Azazel in the hopes to take his power for his own.

Magnus spent the first three weeks redecorating and he lets Alexander sprawl across the umber and black marble and looks down at him with a pleased smile.

“Welcome to my palace, Alexander. You’ll be protected within the walls of my abode, including the gardens and balconies.” Magnus leans down and pets his fingers over Alexander’s mouth. “However, I suggest you not try to leave my wards, sweetheart. They very air in Edom will shred your lungs and the demons will rampage at the scent of your blood. I can only keep you as safe as you let me.”

Alexander stares up at him and Magnus wonders what he tastes like. If he still tastes like the gin drink he so clearly disliked, or if he tried the second one Magnus made for him and he tastes like strawberries now.

[unholybabes]

ghoulettes in.. the sims 4...

baby's first long post!! woah! got a little inspired and decided to make the ghoulettes (mist, sunshine, cirrus, cumulus, aurora) in the sims 4!! reminder that these are just my hcs, and also inaccurate to all of my thoughts because ts4 is limited. :(

cool pictures and blurbs under the cut!

1 . mist!!

everyone's favorite water ghoul gal! in my silly hc world she's very serious-looking, with tight, stern features that hide the most sincere and genuine personality. they have a bit of a rbf, but she's so honestly real that it makes the other ghouls' stomach hurt/pos. they're pretty short, but make up for it with the sheer height and weight of her horns. you really can't see it because it's a head shot, but she's covered in scales, along with the gills on her ribs, obviously. they also has nictitating membranes, like an amphibian! she also has webbed hands and feet, and an extra row of backwards facing teeth. just a sharp gal who wants to spend their time solving logic puzzles and sitting in wet grass.

2 . sunshine!!

i need to kiss her oh my GOD. third tallest of the group and makes sure everyone in the group knows it. i hc her as having very soft, rounded-out features, round eyes, big irises, etc, that contrast heavily with her build. she has what the internet would call a soft sleeper build. i.e, having an insane amount of muscle under those soft features. she has a tummy and lovehandles, and she could probably take most of the bigger ghouls 1.v.1 and come out on top. i think her hair would fluctuate between deep pinky-orange and blonde, always super warm colors. she practically radiates heat. like, she's a living furnace. also covered in faint scars, mostly on her torso and back! pit life wasn't kind to her, and she came out of it, somehow, an incredibly sweet ghoulette.

3 . cirrus

okay i'll be totally honest, this is my absolute favorite design. cirrus embodies stern discipline and still manages to be the goofiest nerd out there. i almost, ALMOST gave her a pair of bayonetta glasses. almost. she's the tallest of the bunch, with this straight posture, regal horns, proud and strong features, she fucking exudes this otherworldly confidence. but she's just. she's cirrus! she's the musical theater nerd who spends her free time trying to teach dew how to play magic: the gathering and failing. she's a drama queen. she has carefree girls-only sleepovers with aurora and cumulus every saturday night. if someone were to crack a stupid pun in her direction, she would level them with an unimpressed, downright terrifying look before bursting into tittering cackles and shaking the nearest person's shoulder. she's just cirrus!!!!

4 . cumulus

oh cumulus the woman you are. she's just an absolute gem. almost everything about her is cool-toned, which funnily enough, couldn't match up with her personality if she tried. if cirrus is the level-headed nerd of the group, then cumulus is the impulsive pseudo bodyguard. she's incredibly passionate about every little thing, and has severe trouble ignoring her impulses. she was one of the last ghoulettes' to give into a more human way of living after being summoned, and even then, she still tends to prefer a feral way of life. she's snarky and quick-witted, willing to drop everything if the smallest thing catches her attention, following it and leaving nothing but the smell of ozone in her wake. her teeth almost seem sharper when she grins juuust right. cirrus might sometimes jokingly call her 'the meanest air ghoul she knows' and, yk what? she might be onto something!!

5 . aurora

oh. oh baby. oh aurora. god i love her. shortest of the group, i really only have one descriptor for her; little fuckin' spitfire. she came out of the pit swinging, all gnashing teeth and swiping claws, and people thought huh??? this little pink thing?? aurora is the most physically aggressive of the ghouls she's come to call her pack, but not in a mean way. she's tactile, always hanging off of someone's arm or bumping her horns against theirs, twining her tufted tail around someone else's until they flush. and in the same breath, tackling them. biting and shaking her head not unlike a dog with a bone, all in the name of good fun. she's viscerally protective. aurora struggles to show affection through words, and more often than not turns to physical touch. i just love the idea of the slight-statured, pink-skinned and pretty ghoulette not knowing how to kiss and instead just punching people don't perceive me too hard.

[blackjackkent]

All right. Time to go kill Ketheric Thorm.

Narrator: No longer a background murmur, the presence in your mind builds to a roar.

"We've found it," whispers the guardian in Rakha's mind. "The Absolute is behind this door."

Rakha can barely hear her. The voice of the Absolute has been rumbling ever louder in her head as they have descended through the illithid colony, and now it is so loud it almost blocks out everything else.

The tadpole writhes and squirms eagerly in her temple, harmonizing with that overwhelming voice. And in dissonant counterpoint, the beast urge in the back of her mind growls - with equal eagerness but more malice, wanting to push forward, find Thorm, find the brain, find all of it and rip and tear and destroy. Beneath all of it is the new knowledge of some forgotten betrayal here, the knife in her back that destroyed her and broke her mind - the need for answers and the fear of what they might be when found.

Rakha's head aches with these opposing forces, so badly that it feels like her skull might split apart.

Enter.

She lays a hand against the undulating flesh of the final door and feels it give way for her.

-----

Another fleshy corridor. More ooze sticking to the soles of her boots.

This one, though, opens to an enormous cavern beyond, glowing with the sickly green light of the brining pool that covers the ground. A raised, ringed platform stands at the center, on which three figures are gathered and speaking in sharp voices. Another figure kneels with his head bowed nearby, unmoving.

"You said it was under control." The figure at the center is the first voice Rakha catches. A human with a shaggy mop of dark hair, an elaborate, long black coat, and golden bracers that stretch down over the knuckles of both hands.

"It isn't you I answer to, Gortash." That voice Rakha already knows. Ketheric. The General has healed some of the wounds she and her companions gave him, but not all - he looks battered and worn, veins standing out sharply in the lines of his face.

The human - Gortash - laughs mockingly. "Oh, the *General* voice," he sneers. "Is this where we salute?"

"Salute, yes--" the third figure speaks up. "With cleavers through his blood-starved flesh. how it crawls with failure like flies on lick-wet carrion..."

Rakha goes still and her eyes go wide. That voice... she knows that voice. She doesn't know why.

The woman is of no race Rakha can identify. Her skin is a pale, sickly grey, and even at this distance Rakha can see that it is moving, with constantly shifting patterns like ink on the surface of water. The armor she wears has the sheen of fresh meat rather than metal. Her eyes are blank white orbs and her smile is wide with madness.

"You forget yourself, Orin," Ketheric snarls at her. "I have played my part.

Gortash rolls his eyes, unimpressed. "You've built an army for our masters, true enough. But what of the Astral Prism? A rogue True Soul, flaunting it under your nose all this time. And you ran from her!"

"Sure that they would follow and deliver it into my hands here," Ketheric snaps. "If you would cease these distractions--"

"The distractions have been *yours*, Ketheric!" exclaims Gortash with a dismissive shake of his head. His lip curls. "Perhaps we should never have dug your daughter up..."

Ketheric boils forward like lightning, one gauntleted fist lifting, ready to smash into Gortash's face-- and just as quick, the strange woman in red is moving to meet him, a long curved dagger settling with its point at his throat.

Gortash smiles, having not moved a muscle. "So you haven't lost your edge... but you're still not as sharp as Orin is, I wager..." He laughs - a high, cold sound. "The slayer against the undying one. That would be fun to see."

"His cryptbreath sings to my sinews..." the woman purrs, that mad smile splitting her face like a blade wound. "Again. Again. Againagainagain--" She draws back, drops the knife to her side. "But he must lead the murdermarch to Baldur's Grave..."

Rakha struggles to breathe. The pain in her head has been redoubling on itself, so intense that she can barely see. She desperately needs to think, to parse this situation as she always does, see the facts of it, determine how to strike, what to do--

But every syllable of that woman's voice makes her head throb like that jagged knife has been sunk into it.

"Orin and I can wait for you no longer," Gortash says curtly. "The plan proceeds. We're going to the city, and we expect you to follow - army and the weapon in tow."

Without waiting for a response, he turns away and walks to the far end of the platform, looking out at the roiling water of the brining pool. He raises one fist, and the gemstone lodged in one of his bracers glows with a sudden violet light.

"The edict of Bane!" he bellows.

"The lash of Bhaal!" cries Orin, lifting her dagger; the gem set into it glows as well, blood-red.

Again Rakha's head spasms with pain. Deep in the water, something begins to move, the rolling movement turning to a boil. And through the slits of her eyes squeezed almost shut, Rakha can see the lines of magical energy snaking through the Weave, down into the green liquid, calling something... up...

The thing bursts from the water on the heels of the thought. An enormous ridged pink mass crowned in a ring of spiked metal embedded into its very flesh. Tentacles like those Rakha saw in the walls thrash around it, sending splashes of water across the platform. It writhes and strains against the tendrils of magic coming from Gortash and Orin; whatever they are doing, it is dragging this thing along the path of their choosing by force.

For a moment, Ketheric watches as they struggle with it. Then he steps between them and spreads his arms as a last burst of light - this time pale pink - erupts from the gem embedded in his armor.

"The testament of Myrkul!" he shouts.

A third tendril of magic surges through the Weave and sinks into the enormous creature's flesh, binding it like rope. It goes still and calm, hanging quiescent just above the surface of the water.

"An elder brain..." says the guardian in Rakha's head. Her presence, normally a balm against Rakha's internal turmoil, does nothing to ease the pain throbbing in her temples. "One of the cruelest and most powerful creatures in existence, enslaved by mere mortals..."

"There we are," Gortash says, sounding satisfied. "It wouldn't do to fight in front of our guest." He turns and takes a few quick steps across the platform, back towards the last figure kneeling there. "Behold, Duke Ravengard - the Absolute!"

Rakha's blood runs cold as a realization punctures through the haze of pain. The kneeling man is Ravengard. Wyll's father.

"Helm preserve us..." the Duke rasps, almost too low to hear.

Orin crouches at his side, grabbing him by the shoulders, holding him still. "You wag your wordflap in vain, Ulderling," she croons. "Once the worm holds the whip, your shredded flesh will serve us."

"Shit - no! Father!" Wyll hisses at Rakha's side... but it's too late. They watch, horrified, as the worm slides down one of the brain's tentacles and into Ravengard's eye. His scream pierces the air around the platform.

Wyll's anguish joins the other terrible wrenching pains in Rakha's head.

"Now," Gortash says briskly to Ketheric as Ravengard slumps forward. "It's really time we were going. We will empty this place and begin the march. You may catch up with the army once you've retrieved the weapon."

He moves next to Orin, standing behind Ravengard's trembling form. "And Ketheric," he adds, with a note of something like playfulness in his voice. "Do try not to sulk. You're supposed to be the fearsome general, come to conquer the city." His lips curl in a wide, self-satisfied smirk. "And I am the hero who will save it."

They vanish - Gortash, Orin, Ravengard, and the brain itself - in the burst of black smoke that Rakha has seen before. Illithid teleportation. Ketheric remains on the platform, his head bowed and his expression grim.

Rakha lets out a soft, involuntary whimper of relief. The brain is gone, and the presence of the Absolute weakens with the sudden distance. But instead of its pulsing roar in her head, she can feel its words resonating down with greater clarity, somewhere far above them where the cult's army waits.

"IT IS TIME, FAITHFUL ONES. MARCH ON BALDUR'S GATE. WE GO TO PREPARE THE WAY."

[wisteria-prompts]

Hi! It says your requests are open. May I request giyuu x fem reader comfort? Specifically comfort for body hair. I’m afab but I have more body hair than a lot of men I know and it makes me feel really disgusting and un-feminine. Could you write something where he comforts her about it because she’s afraid he’ll think she’s nasty and won’t be intimate with her?

feel free to ignore if you aren’t comfortable with it

thank you have a good day<3

Sorry that this is a little short, I didn't feel like this kind of prompt would fit into a longer drabble than this. Hopefully the bonus HC's make up for it.

-----

Giyuu Tomioka x Fem!Reader W/ Body Hair

“I’m covered in body hair.” You say one day, entirely out of the blue, as you stare at yourself in the mirror. 

“What?” You hear Giyuu quietly question from his place across the room from you, rummaging through the closet as he looks for a fresh uniform to wear. You look behind you in the mirror at him, your self-conscious gaze unable to bear looking at yourself anymore.

“Y’know. It’s like, a lot more than other girls...” You say, stuttering a little as you wait for his reaction. You can only see him turn to you, uniform folded in his hands with his usual countenance in place. You fear you haven’t explained this enough for him. 

“...And?”

You stare at him as if he grew three heads, finally facing him without the mirror.

“And, it’s hideous! I mean, aren’t you at least a little disgusted by it?” You scrunch up your nose as you bring up your arm, which exemplifies the body hair you find yourself at constant odds with. Giyuu just looks at it with the world’s most unimpressed stare, not a single muscle moving on his face. He looks back up at your own visage, closing the distance between you with confident strides.

“No.” He says simply, taking your arm and pressing a chaste kiss to it. He doesn’t seem bothered by the thick hairs touching his lips at all, and it confuses you as much as it does give you butterflies in your stomach.

“There is no part of you that I find myself disgusted by. It’s simply impossible.” And he says it with such resolution that it makes your heart ache. Your brows furrow, trying to fight back sudden tears that prick at your eyes. You’d been holding in these insecurities for so long, and to have them just batted away like that by the love of your life is…Well, it’s cathartic in a way.

“...You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, right?” You hesitantly question, looking at him for any indication that he’s lying. Even though you know he wouldn’t. 

“Of course not.” Giyuu says, and suddenly he’s closer than you remember him being. His lips are right next to your ear, breath warm, and his hair tickles your skin where it drapes over it. “Would you like me to show you just how attractive you are, hair and all?” 

The way his voice dips has your knees feeling like jelly, and you can’t nod fast enough.

-----

He truly does not mind any amount of body hair on his partner, it's just not something he cares about or puts stock into. It's entirely up to his partner's preference what they do with their hair, or lackthereof.

He does, however, find himself noticing said details about you in general. It's probably something he noticed long before you became insecure about it in regards to him- But again, it doesn't matter to him. It's just something that's there.

He personally doesn't have much body hair on himself, but would never place that expectation onto you. He truly thinks you're perfect just as you are, and is willing to go to any lengths to prove that to you.

Will kiss the parts you're most insecure about, in an attempt to soothe those anxieties and fears.

If it's truly something that bothers you though, he will help you shave anywhere you need help with. He ends up integrating it into his "Y/N Care Package" that he ends up forming shortly after you two turn intimate, where his aftercare turns up a notch and becomes like a second body worship session.

If you don't want to shave, that's perfectly fine with him too. He supports your decisions 100%!

[wonderlandleighleigh]

More original Ada/Bram stuff.

It’s too late for visitors, but there’s a knock on the door anyways, and while Bram usually likes visitors, he was very close to undressing his girlfriend for sexy purposes, and he’s being interrupted and that’s annoying.

But he puts on a good face. Whoever is on the other side of the door has no idea what’s up, and it could be important.

He keeps a grin in place when it turns out it’s not, because the man on the other side of the door is most definitely Ada’s ex-boyfriend.

Eli had been smiling charmingly, but upon seeing Bram, it falls, and Bram can’t help but feel a little smug about that. 

He’s not in the mood to be nice about this, and decides it’s time to milk this moment for all its worth. He’s shirtless and stretches his arms up, showing off his scarred, muscled torso. “Oh, hey, Eli. What brings you to the neighborhood?” 

For his part, Eli looks completely unimpressed by this display of classically attractive masculinity. “I uh…I was hoping to talk to Ada.” 

“Oh. Well, Ada’s a little busy,” Bram tells him simply. “You know, she does so much for her family with all the research and support and stuff. It’s late and it’s been a long day.” 

“You know, Bram, maybe it’s not your decision if Ada talks to me or not,” Eli says, narrowing his eyes. “You should let her make her own decisions.” 

“Hey, handsome, who’s at the door?” Ada asks before peeking over his shoulder on her tiptoes. 

Bram shifts so she can slip in next to him, her arm arm his waist. 

Ada freezes, tugging down the shirt she’s wearing (Bram’s), to cover what little she’s wearing on the bottom (a green pair of boyshorts), a mildly panicked look falling over her features. “Eli. You’re here. And it’s so late.” 

Eli stares at her for a long, quiet moment, obviously trying to decide his next move. 

Bram, for his part, stays quiet, taking the hand that’s around his waist and threading his fingers with hers. Ada’s history with her ex is complicated, and painful, and Bram’s heard it, not just from Ada, but from both of Ada’s cousins and her sister, who all absolutely despise this man.

Eli takes a deep breath, gazing at her as she shifts back behind Bram just a little. “I uh…I was hoping we could talk. About us.” 

Bram stays quiet as he feels Ada tense up next to him.

“There isn’t an us, Eli, there hasn’t been an us for a long time,” she reminds her ex, before looking up at Bram and squeezing his hand. “I can handle this.” 

Bram nods, kissing her temple before shifting back. “Call me if you need me.” 

“She won’t,” Eli responds. 

Bram considers that for a moment before nodding again. “You’re right. She won’t.” He grins a little at Ada before sauntering away. He knows Ada is watching him walk away, which is a very nice feeling, all things considered.

And he tries not to eavesdrop as he putters around the kitchen, starting up the coffeemaker, but Ada isn’t being particularly quiet, which Bram knows means she doesn’t care if he hears their conversation. 

“-Doesn’t even know how to do magic,” Eli snaps angrily. “He’s just a thug!” 

Ada just sounds tired. “Eli, I’m not going to have this conversation with you. You were bored of being in a relationship, and you left. Now, suddenly, after two years, you’re here asking to get back together? That is completely nonsensical.” 

“Not if we belong together,” Eli pleads. “That’s what I’ve learned over the last couple of years. There isn’t anyone else for me. And whatever you have with that guy? It doesn’t hold a candle to us.” 

Bram thinks about that. He’s heard quite a few stories about their relationship; that when Ada was with Eli, she was relegated to research, and that Eli was sensitive about the idea of her actually casting magic, feeling that that was his domain, and not something he could stomach sharing. She was much sterner. Much quieter. 

Bram can’t imagine making Ada feel so small. She’s so cool, and smart, and she has such a big heart. She’s so good at juggling so many things and taking care of her younger sister and cousins, and she takes on so much responsibility, and she’s just-

“You’re going to have to accept that I’m not in love with you,” Ada snaps. “You wanted to break up, so we broke up. We broke up! You broke up with me, and it is so fucking selfish of you to come here like this, in the middle of the night, when you know I’m with someone else.” 

“You don’t think you’re being a little ridiculous?” Eli asks, and it makes Bram’s blood pressure rise. It’s the sentence Eli always used to use when Ada had a good point he wasn’t fond of. Bram has heard Ada’s sister angrily complain about that many times.

“You’re the ridiculous one,” Ada snaps, and Bram hears the door swing shut with a hard slam and a powerful gust of otherworldly wind that blows his hair back and ruffles the fur of the cat that’s perched on top of the refrigerator. 

He glances up and gives a concerned look to the orange tabby. “Well, Hank. Seems like your mom’s a little peeved, maybe…” 

Hank, for his part, flips down on his back with his paws in the air, gazing upside down at Bram, giving a soft, reassuring meow. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Bram grins as he pours a cup of coffee and holds it out as Ada storms into the kitchen, looking truly peeved, bringing a last gust of wind with her, which not only lets her expel some of her anger, but cools the coffee down to a drinkable temperature.

“Can you believe that guy?” Ada vents. “If there were an award for how insulting someone could be without even trying, he would absolutely win.” 

Bram stays quiet, letting her unload her frustration. 

“I’m standing there in nothing but this shirt, my hair is a mess-” she emphasizes that by tugging at her messy, dark locks. “Clearly, we were in the middle of something, and he’s standing there trying to convince me to dump you and come back to him, when he treated me like shit for our entire relationship! But apparently we belong together. We only belong together because somewhere along the way, he realized he doesn’t have anyone to walk all over anymore!” 

She takes a deep breath, still staring at Bram, before turning and realizing Hank is still in his upside down position, gazing at her and purring. 

Ada laughs tiredly, her shoulders slumping, the wind fully dying down now. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect him to come back around like this. It’s so easy for him to get under my skin.” 

“He hurt you a lot,” Bram reminds her. “There’s probably some unresolved whatever about that going on in your brain. Exes are hard.” 

She narrows her eyes just a little at him as she sips her coffee. “How bad have your previous breakups been?” 

Bram huffs out a breath and looks up at the ceiling. “Well…Irina died, that was rough.Tiffany still texts sometimes and asks me out for coffee, but I keep telling her I’m busy. And…oh, yeah.  Eleanor hates me. I think the last time we saw each other she tried to kill me.” 

Ada blinks owlishly at that. “Like…literally? Legitimately dead?” 

Bram shrugs. “She’s got a woman warrior heritage. Or- she thinks she does. I think she may have picked it up from the internet, because every other woman I’ve met with the whole warrior woman thing just doesn’t bother with men in general. But apparently I wronged her by not wanting to father her children like - right away, and then sacrifice myself as her noble seed bearer. I tried to explain that that’s not how Judaism generally works and that our cultures just didn’t really match up. She didn’t want to hear it.” 

She stares for a long moment. “Maybe Eli isn’t so bad.” 

“Oh, no, Eli sucks,” he assures. “It’s just a different kind of sucks.”  

Ada laughs softly and shakes her head. “Thank you for the coffee.” She reaches up and scratches underneath Hank’s neck gently. “I’m sorry I was so upset.” 

“You’re allowed,” Bram reminds her. 

“I know,” she says softly, setting her cup down and gazing up at him. “I’m also sorry he interrupted us,” she tells him, stepping closer and sliding her hands up to wrap around his neck. “Because things seemed to be going in a very positive direction.” 

“Yeah,” Bram agrees. “But if the mood is dead, then-” 

He doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought, before he’s being tugged down for a slow, tender kiss. 

Hank rolls back onto his feet and hops down from the fridge, trotting away to leave them to it.

[theenemyod]

Part two of a previous post might write part 3 later enjoy some devoured Alex angst bs

Monsters don't bleed. That's what he'd told himself more times than he could count. Staring into the bathroom mirror at the reflection of the silver mask attached to his face that he can no longer take off, the identity he never wanted but spent his entire life trying to replicate.

His face wasn't his own anymore. None of his features were. His face, his hair, his body, nothing was his own.

'Eyes are the window to the soul' Joseph had told him once. That was how he was so sure Call had Constantine's soul. The exact same eyes. So what did it mean that Alex's previously bright blue eyes had turned a solid black with dotted stars. They never looked like that before. He missed it. He'd never paid attention to his eyes before but now he did.

He wished he could see his own face. Even with the eye bags and hollow cheeks and pale skin, he'd rather have the reminders of his pain than this mask.

He took off his jacket. He remembered it used to be grey but for whatever reason had gone black in his time in the void. Alex didn't understand that. He didn't understand what the void does to colour, it'd lightened his hair to nearly white then darkened his clothes to black or nearly there. It turned his skin pure white and eyes pure black. It made no sense.

He can't see his skin though. Even without his jacket clothing covered every bit of him, the shirt with the neck reaching to his chin and sleeves reaching to his wrists, black leather gloves he'd chosen to protect his skin from the Alkahest, black jeans and boots. And the stupid mask that covered every part of his face except the eyes.

The reflection in the mirror didn't look like him. He wasn't even ever supposed to be a chaos mage. He stole the magic. If he didn't he'd still be human, instead of this creature. He wasn't human anymore.

Monsters don't bleed. He rolled up his sleeve. He hated seeing his arms now. His skin isn't supposed to be this colour, almost glowing white. It doesn't look solid enough either. And not enough shadow. His scars and cuts are gone too. Reminders that he was human, that he wasn't completely a monster. Gone now. The clean skin was driving him crazy. No more proof of anything.

He walked out of the room and pulled the sleeve back over his arm. He didn't want to see his reflection anymore. Only for a few more days. He'll only be in this dumb apartment for a week before his tower is finished – two days left now – and then he can rule and be the best and he won't think about what he used to be or how he's changed or anything like that. He'll have far better things to think about.

Eventually he walked into the kitchen without really thinking. He took a few seconds to figure out what he was doing here, then his eyes landed on the sharp knife he'd left on the counter last time he cooked. He didn't need to eat anymore, but he would still cook for Eliza to help her (and because she still seemed unimpressed with him, he still wanted his stepmother's approval). Master Joseph taught him how to.

Without fully thinking he picked it up. It was still dirty, like everything else he hadn't bothered to wash yet. Alex quickly rinsed it in the sink, trying to figure out what he wanted to do.

"Just one more time." He whispered.

Monsters don't bleed.

He walked back into the bathroom, trying to ignore the mask he could see in the mirror, and pulled up his sleeve. One more time. Just to confirm. He couldn't be a monster.

The cut was quick. He didn't want to cause himself pain this time. Just a test. A single slash across his wrist.

It opened easily, going quite deep. No blood. He couldn't see any veins or muscle or fat or anything that should be on the inside of his body. Just plain white, like he'd cut into a clay person and not a human.

Monsters don't bleed.

Does that mean he's a monster now?

He wanted to cry but tears would never come. He's learned that this body can't cry. So he just pulled the sleeve back over his arm and left the room. He wanted to sleep despite not needing that either.

Monsters don't bleed.

That meant Alex was a monster now, right?