#what am i meant to do hide in the bath???

[milf-harrington]

wanting to brain myself vs. knowing im being dumb

[incorrectbatfam]

Most outrageous pet that Damian could hide in the manor with no one knowing plus reactions when the fam finds out pretty please

Dick: *opens a cereal box and a hamster pops out*

Dick: *sighs*

Dick: Damian, it's 7 AM.

———————

Cass: *finishes brushing her teeth*

Cass: *feeds the bathtub fish on the way out*

———————

Tim: Damian, your porcupine shed inside my underwear drawer!

Damian: What do you want me to do about it?

———————

Steph: I'm so hungry I could eat a horse.

Horse: *whinnies*

Damian: Shh, she didn't mean it.

———————

Alfred: Master Damian, there appears to be a water buffalo in the barn.

Damian: She's Bat-Cow's new roommate.

———————

Harper: Damian, your parrot keeps copying me!

Damian, mocking: "Damian, your parrot keeps copying me!"

———————

Jason: WHY is there a dolphin in the pool?!?

Damian: Because he kept bothering the bathtub fish.

———————

Damian: This is my new jaguar.

Selina: Kitty?

Damian: Well, he's actually fully grown—

Selina: Kitty!

———————

Barbara: We need to talk about the elephant in the room.

Damian, bathing an elephant: All good things, I assume.

———————

Duke: She said yes to the dance!

Duke: *high fives the wolf*

———————

Kate: Am I the only one seeing the bear?

Bruce: I'm not sure I'd call myself that, I'm more of a—

Kate: I meant the polar bear.

[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

[willowser]

HMMMMMM interesting to think about arranged marriage with prince shouto...............

i think he wouldn't know. what to expect with you. i think he'd have an idea, as in, what his father, the king, has taught him; the duties of a wife, where your importance ranks in relation to his duties. what he's not meant to discuss with you, like politics and matters at court and foreign relations. how you will speak to him. what to buy in the event that you become...unhappy. a nuisance.

("and she will," enji had muttered, briefly glancing up from the parchment on his desk to fix shouto with a look he didn't understand. "they always do.")

you don't meet until the royal wedding, when you're coming down the long aisle of the grand cathedral, dressed up in a swathe of silk and lace. a thin, gossamer veil hides you from him, but he can feel the ardor in your eyes, the intensity burning through the material. it doesn't seem real until your bare face is only a breath from his own, until he has to see the earnestness in your stare, too.

your kiss is simple and chaste, nothing spectacular, something that leaves his mind as soon as it's over. ever a todoroki, a hundred other things enter his mind, all regarding his now iron-laid obligations: it's vital he meet with advisor keigo to reiterate the plan to establish his authority among the council; general aizawa is in attendance to the wedding, and shouto has not yet received word on his opinion of the new king's ideas to modernize their armed forces; midoriya is somewhere, no doubt wanting to go over state affairs again.

truthfully, shouto doesn't spend long "celebrating". there's already too much that's required of him, hardly enough time to even scarf down a few bites of the banquet laid out before he's being chartered off into discussions on foreign relations and infrastructure development. maybe once or twice does he look back to check on you, chatting pleasantly with his mother and sister at the front of the great hall, and that's satisfying enough.

it's not until much later that he sees you again; freshly bathed and wearing something sheer and long and white, atop his bed.

or his marriage bed, he must remind himself.

enji didn't spend long going over consummation, with him or either of his brothers—natsuo, red-faced and annoyed at the very subject, always storming off, and touya had seemed well-aware of the process, at the time (back before he'd been ex-communicated). it had sounded simple: strip off your dress, get his cock out and into you, and only retreat once he was sure his seed had been spilled.

—so he's not exactly sure what to do or think or how to feel, when you're laid bare and reaching up to hold his face.

it's so startling that he sits back on his knees, to frown where he's looming over you.

you stare at him quietly, like you're expecting him to say something, and he only has a moment to wonder if this is you becoming an unhappy nuisance—what had been the answer, to solve this, anyway?—before you let out a soft laugh.

"c'mere," you tell him, sitting up, too, when he keeps his distance. "i want you to kiss me."

"i already have."

"yes," you laugh again, amusement glowing in your eyes, like the warmth off the fireplace, as you reach for the ties on his trousers. "but you're meant to do it again."

and up until then, he'd felt confident in his achievements, his executions; he'd managed a lot today, in one evening, and he had a lifetime to manage more. it was a good a start as any, he'd thought, but now—

shouto almost can't get the words out when he feels your hands ghosting up the inside of his shirt, nails tickling over his ribs. "a-am i?"

you wrap your arms around his waist in what could be a hug, scooting forward to look up at him with your chin against his chest. "yes," you smile and—it's familiar in a way, how touya would whenever he was teasing. "you're my husband, you're meant to kiss me whenever i want."

that—was not something his father had ever said, he was sure, and it was a too-rare exchange between his own parents. now that he thinks about it—and he does, then, because he's faced with the reality that he doesn't know as much as he should—he's not sure the former king and queen even sleep in the same room, much less the same bed.

much less hug and touch and even smile, the way you do now.

there's no argument he can make against it, aside from finding keigo to find his father to verify the truth to such a statement, and he's only meant to retreat from this bed on one condition.

and if this is what it takes to meet that—then shouto supposes he'll have to do it, for now. he's a brand new king, after all, and it would seem he still has much to learn.

[j-k-writes]

The Bronze Targaryen - 2

Summary - After his mother's death in 115 AC Y/N Targaryen is summoned by his father Daemon to King's Landing in the hopes of forming a betrothal between the new heir to Runstone and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Warnings - description (?) of skinning a deer, general HOTD warnings

I am not trying to make Daemon a bad guy, in fact (Y/N) is a bit of an unreliable narrator so take a lot of his bias against Daemon and others with a grain of salt.

(Y/N) watched with a small smile as Phantom ate the chunks of red meat the young lord tossed his way. (Y/N) set his knife aside the dead deer, and he whistled for the hawk to come to him. Ever loyal, the bird obeyed, perching comfortably on (Y/N)’s shoulder. He raised his hand to Phantom, guiding him to his perch and stroking the soft feathers before returning back to his deer. 

(Y/N) skinned his deer in peace, Osric Stone the only one interrupting the young lord with his coming and goings. 

“Your grandsire worries for you.” Osric popped a grape from (Y/N)’s plate into his mouth. 

(Y/N) laughed, pulling the top half of the skin over the deer before starting back in with his knife. “And how would you know? I don’t recall my grandsire taking counsel in the stable.” 

Osric shrugged, “A baseborn son goes unnoticed by you lords, I hear lots of things I’m not meant to.”  

(Y/N) shot Osric an honest smile, pausing his movements to turn to look at the dark-haired teen. Osric returned his smile, stepping close to (Y/N). “And what exactly do you hear Osric?” 

Osric leaned in, stopping close enough for the young heir to feel his breath against his skin, “I hear that your grandsire is worried about you, as am I.” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, pulling back which caused Osric to straighten stepping back into his place. “I am fine, Osric, I feel better than I have since my mother-” He paused, clearing his throat. “You needn't worry.” 

“You isolate yourself (Y/N),” Osric insisted, “You spend your time sparing and hunting, you do not see to Runestone-” 

“I am not Lord of Runestone.” 

“But you will be.” Osric stepped close again, placing his hand on (Y/N)'s bicep causing the heir to once again stop his movements, “And it’s your duty as heir to learn these things. You can not just forgo your duties because you’re angry.” 

“I told you what he did.” (Y/N) placed his knife down, mourning his moment of peace. “What he plotted with Daemon to do.” 

“He did not plot with Daemon-” 

“What would you call it?” (Y/N) shook his head, biting out a disbelieving laugh. 

“I would call it your grandsire being Lord of Runestone while your father is a prince of the realm.” Osric said, “I do not need to explain to you, My Prince, what power titles can grant you do I?” 

“Don’t call me that.” (Y/N) froze, “I am not a prince, I am to be Lord of Runestone.” 

“And yet you remain a prince. Denying it will not make it any less true.” Osric laughed at him, shaking his head. He gathered his things from where they were placed. “I will take my leave, M’lord.” 

Osric left him alone with his dead deer, his hawk, and his thoughts. Sighing (Y/N) set, once again, upon his task. He spent the rest of the afternoon in silence only interrupted by the soft screechs of Phantom begging for more scraps. 

He let the winds wash over him as he worked, cool air calming his mind. He let the worries of his grandsire and Osric flee his mind as he mindlessly pulled skin from meat and joints. He placed his father and his true title at the back of his mind, letting his knife seamlessly sever the tail bone and the hide fell away completely. He would not let a title spoken by a friend ruin his day, and he would not let Daemon Targaryen anger him further. The prince had no right to (Y/N)’ emotions. 

(Y/N) bathed his hands in the water basin, watching the water turn crimson around his skin. Phantom screeched behind him, startling (Y/N). He turned to look at the hawk, only to startle further as a louder screech echoed through the air. He looked up at the sound, movements halting at the sight of The Blood Wyrm flying overhead. 

Prince Daemon had come to collect his son.

“A raven would not have sufficed?” (Y/N) smiled down at the parchment in his hands. 

‘Prince (Y/N) Targaryen, heir to Runestone, is formally summoned to Kingslanding by King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the Realm.’ 

“You can ignore a raven.” 

“Does it not embarrass you?” (Y/N) placed the parchment on the table, meeting his father’s pointed gaze, “To have to come to collect me like I am a common criminal? Tell me, father, what did you tell my uncle to get him to write this?” 

He saw his grandsire wince behind him, “(Y/N) please.” 

Daemon Targaryen was an intimidating man. His campaign in the step stones had done nothing to soften his features, his violet eyes were sharp and cutting as they bore into (Y/N)’s matching pair. Although his hair was significantly shorter than the last time the two had come face to face Daemon’s white hair still stood strikingly against his dark wardrobe, and the shorter haircut only intensified his sharp features. 

Yorbert was right to fear him, (Y/N) mused. But (Y/N) was his son, and a man grown, Daemon did not scare him anymore. 

“You are to come with me back to Kingslanding.” Daemon’s lip curled as he spoke, giving away his frustration. “By order of The King.” 

“I do believe the exact words were ‘formal summon’ not order.” 

Yorbert glared at his grandson, “(Y/N)-” 

“Lord Yorbert, please leave us.” 

(Y/N) watched as his grandsire obediently left the room, he could feel his father’s gaze linger on him and he met his eyes when the door softly clicked shut. His father walked toward the seat across from him, placing his palms on its back. (Y/N) watched as his father took a deep breath before facing his son once again. 

“What are your intentions, (Y/N)?” 

(Y/N) laughed, unable to help himself. “My intentions?” 

“Yes, (Y/N) your intentions. You are a prince of the realm, and yet when I summon you to do your duties you respond like an insolent child!” 

(Y/N) scoffed, standing up and running his hands through his hair, “‘My duties’? My duties are here on Runestone father, they are not to be a political bargaining tool for you and the lords of my uncles’ court!” 

Daemon’s face contorted in anger at his sons mention of Runestone, volume raising, “You are a Targaryen prince-” 

“I am the future Lord Royce of Runestone!” (Y/N) yelled back. 

His father’s knuckles were white with strain as his grip on the back of the chair tightened. He laughed in disbelief at (Y/N). “I have let these lords fill your mind with poison for too long. You will come to Kingslanding, and you will start to act like the dragon you are.” 

“You’re the one who left father, do not blame those who raised your son when you would not.” 

“Is that what that bronze bitch-” 

“Do not call her that!” (Y/N) seethed, knocking the pitcher off the table in his rage sending wine spilled over the tile floor, “She was everything I had while you were off fucking your whores and fighting your wars! You do not get to show up after years of absence and demand my obedience and respect!” 

“I am your sire, I deserve your respect.” 

“You have not earned it.” 

Daemon laughed, causing (Y/N) to anger further, “Kostā deny ziry tresy, yn iksā hae olvie iā zaldrīzes hae aōha ancestors.” 

(Y/N)’s jaw tightened at the ancient language, refusing to give his father the satisfaction of understanding his words. “I wish you a safe flight back to Kingslanding father, for you will be alone.” 

(Y/N) made for the door to the room, hand pausing on the door knob at his father’s next words. 

“I will be flying back tomorrow (Y/N), but not alone.” 

(Y/N) scoffed, turning around to retort the statement but the smug smile on his father’s face made any witty statement die on his tongue, “What.” 

“Your grandsire has already given me leave to return with you to Kingslanding.” Daemon said, folding his hands behind his back, “Now go pack your things, we leave on the morrow.”

“He hoped I would obey!” Thunk. 

“He said he ‘hoped I would obey’ and yet he gave Daemon leave to take me anyways!” Thunk. 

“Should you not be packing cousin?” Ser Gerold watched as his young cousin loosed arrow after arrow into the already abused target. 

“He let me stand there and argue knowing my words were void and my wants were worthless.” Thunk. 

“You should be saying your goodbyes (Y/N) ,” Gerold sighed, “I know you consider the stable boy your friend, and no matter your qualms with Lord Yerbort-” 

(Y/N) whipped around, seething, “Did you not hear me? He has betrayed me, he is handing his only heir to the rats of Kingslanding.” 

“He did not betray you, cousin.” 

(Y/N) had immediately gone to find his grandsire after leaving his father. Begging him to claim his father’s words as false, only for his grandsire to sigh and speak (Y/N)’s worst fear. 

“He is telling true my boy.” 

(Y/N) paled, “But- no. No, you said it was my choice.”

His grandsire sighed, refusing to meet his heir’s eyes, “This is a royal summons from The King, (Y/N). I cannot brush off your uncle as I can your father. I did hope you would obey and it would not come to my command but you are more Daemon than you know (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) had left him after that, ignoring his pleas for him to stay as he slammed the door. Gerold had found him in the yard an hour later, the sun had started to drift past the tree line, leaving the yard shadowed as (Y/N) stewed. 

“I have no love for your father, but Lord Yorbert is right. Your grandsire is Lord of Runestone, your uncle is King, he cannot just disobey his summons, and neither can you try as you might.” 

“This is my father’s scheme, and his alone.” (Y/N) scoffed, returning to his target, and notching another arrow. 

“Well I’m sure you will uncover it soon enough, but you will do so in Kingslanding.” Ser Gerold gave him an apologetic smile, “I will be sad to see you go cousin.” 

(Y/N) gave him a soft smile back, “Maybe if I do not pack I can delay.” 

His cousin laughed, “Your father will be taking you to Kingslanding on the morrow (Y/N). He will drag you to Kingslanding himself and call for your things later if he must.” 

“You are more Daemon than you know (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) paused, calling out to Ser Gerold, “Do you think I am like my father, cousin?” 

Ser Gerold paused, eyes widening at the question. He steeled himself, fixing his expression before giving (Y/N) a smile that did not reach his eyes. “I will send some maids to help pack your things, you should rest, (Y/N). You have a long journey ahead of you.” 

And with that Ser Gerold left the young heir in the yard. 

The sun had fully set when (Y/N) finally returned to the keep. They had already packed most of his things by the time he’d entered his chambers. The room was sad to look at, a lifetime of memories and collected contents packed away into tiny chests in mere hours. He sighed to himself and stripped from his outer clothes, folding them and placing them on a chair as he began packing the things the maids hadn’t touched. When he was satisfied with his work he called for a servant, asking for a plate of food and wine to be brought to him. 

“Oh, and if it’s not too much trouble can you please summon Osric Stone to my chambers.” 

Thirty minutes later there was a knock at his chamber doors. 

“Come in.” 

“I hear you’re leaving on the morrow.” 

(Y/N) turned, locking eyes with the stable boy who had a plate of food and wine in his hands. Osric places them down on the table, giving (Y/N) a sad look. 

(Y/N) nodded, “My grandfather has given Daemon his permission.” 

“So this is goodbye?” 

(Y/N) stood, walking toward his closest friend. He shook his head, taking Osric’s hand in his, “I will return, whatever noble lady I am to marry will be the Lady of Runestone, she should live here with me.” 

“You do not yet know who you’re to be betrothed to?” Osric raised an eyebrow. 

“No,” (Y/N) mused, taking Osric’s face in hand, “I did not ask, it does not matter. I will do my duty as husband and that is it.” 

Osric let out a bitter laugh, stepping back from (Y/N), “You will do your duty? You will not try to love her?” 

“It doesn’t matter-” 

“You will spend your life with this girl, (Y/N). You should try to find happiness in the marriage.” 

“I find my happiness with you, that is enough.” 

Osric laughed, shaking his head at the boy. “I am not coming with you (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) took a step toward the stable boy, once again taking his hands in his, “You could, say the word and I will take you with me.” 

“My place is here, (Y/N).” 

“And so is mine.” 

Osric smiled softly, “Yes, but your place is the future Lord of Runestone, mine is as a stable hand.” 

(Y/N) opened his mouth to retort but Osric continued on, “You knew this (Y/N), you have always known this. As you have always known you would have to marry some lady from a noble family and have children of your own to be future vale lords. 

“I do care for you (Y/N).” Osric placed his hand on the boy's cheek, “But our paths in life will never cross.” 

He placed a chaste kiss on (Y/N)’s cheek, “I wish you luck on your journey M’lord.” 

For the second time that night (Y/N) was left standing alone. 

The size of the host his grandsire had prepared was pitiful. There were maybe five of the household guards, the rest of the host made up of maids and serving boys. There was one carriage, if it could be called that, awaiting him in the yard. The rest of the transport consisted of wagons carrying chests and the guards' horses. 

“If my grandsire is insistent on sending me away, the least he could do is provide sufficient transport.” (Y/N) sneered, placing the last of his things into a wagon, and turning to Ser Gerold. 

Before his cousin could reply his father and grandsire entered the yard. Ser Gerold straightened, posture stiffening at the sight of The Rogue Prince. His father looked amused at the sight of his son by the wagons. 

‘He would take pleasure in this farce’, (Y/N) thought. 

“What are you doing?” His father smiled at him. 

“Packing my things.” (Y/N) replied, “I will need clothes in Kingslanding will I not?” 

His father laughed, a genuine laugh that made (Y/N) uneasy, “Funny. No, I mean why are you packing it into that?” 

“Where else would I put it?” (Y/N) furrowed his brow, he could not decipher the tone of his father’s words, but he did not appreciate being made a fool of. 

“With your horse.” Daemon replied, pointing his head in the direction of the stables where sure enough horses and a smaller wagon were being prepped, “You will be returning to Kingslanding with me.” 

‘With him?’ (Y/N) thought, looking to his grandsire for an explanation, ‘He cannot mean-’ 

“On dragon-back?” (Y/N) paled, “I cannot- but-” 

(Y/N) looked to his grandsire, seeing no surprise in his expression. Why would there be? The pitiful host was not to escort his heir but to escort the lesser of his belongings, he was getting a proper escort- a Targaryen dragon. 

“Unpack the most important things,” His father instructed, “The rest will reach Kingslanding later.” 

Then his father departed for the stables himself, leaving (Y/N) with his cousin and grandsire. 

“Goodluck cousin,” His cousin wrapped him in his arms, “We will await your return eagerly.” 

He smiled at his cousin as he released him, “Thank you, Gerold.” 

Ser Gerold ruffled his hair like he did when (Y/N) was a boy, and (Y/N) swatted at his hand. His cousin left laughing, taking some of (Y/N)’s chests with him over to the stables as he walked away. (Y/N) turned to his grandsire, who smiled at him, stepping close to his heir. 

“I am sad to see you go, my boy.” 

“I do not have to leave grandsire,” (Y/N) clasped his grandsire’s hands,“I can stay here.” 

“You and I both know that is no longer an option, (Y/N).” Yorbert eyes watered, he unraveled their hands, and placed his palm to his grandson’s smooth cheek, “I am sorry my boy, truly I am, but this is how it must be.” 

(Y/N) scoffed, trying to pull away. 

“Please,” Yorbert grasped him harder, preventing the teen from stalking away. “I do not wish to part ways with you angry at me, (Y/N). I need you to understand I had no choice, I cannot deny the king. But after this business, you will return to Runestone and this will all be in the past.” 

“This business is my marriage,” (Y/N) said, “I cannot leave that in the past.” 

“No, I suppose you cannot.” Yorbert sighed, releasing the teen. 

“I am still angry,” (Y/N) said, and Yorbert nodded. 

“I-” 

“But I understand why you did it.” He was still impossibly angry at his grandsire, but he knew how long his business in Kinglanding could take, and he did not wish to part for so long on ill terms. Yorbert smiled, hugging his grandson. He placed a frail hand on the back of (Y/N)’s head, confirming to (Y/N) that he made the right choice.

“That is all I can ask for.” 

He and Daemon departed with few riders accompanying them. Daemon brought little with him to Runestone, all of his things placed in his horse’s saddlebags. He looked smug atop his horse, too smug for (Y/N)’s liking and he yearned to knock the white-haired man from his horse. All thoughts of his anger disappeared as they approached Caraxes, quickly replaced with trepidation. 

Caraxes roared, his breath blowing (Y/N)’s hair in all directions and (Y/N) halted his horse. He stared at the large red beast, eyes wide and heart pounding in his chest. The workers, as nervous as he was, transferred his things from the wagon to the dragon’s saddlebags as (Y/N) stood there motionless. 

He watched his father approach the beast, placing his hand atop his snout, his father seemed to whisper to Caraxes before motioning for (Y/N) to approach. 

“Come,” Daemon said, eyes uncharacteristically soft. 

(Y/N) dismounted, approaching The Blood Wyrm with trepidation. Caraxes shifted, eyes peering dangerously into the young prince’s eyes, causing (Y/N) to freeze in place; just a few feet away from the beast. Daemon whispered comfort to the dragon, urging his son closer. 

“Give him your hand, he won’t hurt you,” Daemon smiled. “You are a dragon lord, (Y/N). Remember that.” 

“I have never touched a dragon, father, let alone ridden one.” (Y/N) stepped closer, hand shaking as he placed it close to the red dragon's snout. Caraxes stiffened, sniffing the hand, before sighing contently and placing the tip of his nose to the boy's hand, not unlike a cat. He smiled softly to himself at the thought. 

Daemon was pleased, that much was obvious by the look on his face, “You are a dragon (Y/N), no matter what you wish to believe.” 

---

Translations:

“Kostā deny ziry tresy, yn iksā hae olvie iā zaldrīzes hae aōha ancestors.”  - "You may deny it, son, but you are as much a dragon as your ancestors."

[steddielations]

Dom Steve Fic Recs

Strange as Angels (soft dom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie hasn't been able to get himself off in months, and now he's high, sweaty, and horny, thinking about the very man sitting in his room in nothing but a wife beater and a pair of tiny athletic shorts, and he thinks he might die. Steve notices. Of course, Steve fucking notices, what, with all the squirming Eddie's doing. Steve offers to help get Eddie off. As friends do. (As long as those friends are completely in love with each other.)

Like The Hero Who Never Ran (dom awakening series) by callmejude

While Steve and Dustin are searching for survivors, they're surprised to find Eddie alive, hiding out in Rick's cabin. Steve takes up the task of caring for him while staying in his trailer.

Genius Loci (dom bottom, magic steve) by @sayesayes

It’s 1986, and Steve falls in love with a boy who is leaving. It’s 1990, and Eddie comes back home. The fic where Steve is a selectively mute, homesteading, truck-driving witch with head injuries and also somehow it's canonverse.

(Don't) cream your pants (soft dom steve awakening series) by @corrodedbisexual

“Don’t know how to cream your pants, huh?” Steve asks, unable to conceal a smirk. He hears a quiet whine as Eddie seems to try and make himself disappear inside the couch. “Want me to show you how?”

Gilded (dom steve, blindfolds, ice play) by @cheshiredogao3

Steve and Eddie are looking forward to a weekend all to themselves, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Trouble Looks Good On You (wip, spanking, kink discovery) by me indelicate

It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

You Make Me Feel Like I Am Whole Again (wip, dom top and dom bottom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie has never felt like his body belongs to him. It gets worse after he's nearly mauled to death, left with scars and healing wounds, a lopsided chest, and more trauma stacked on top of everything already wrong with him. Steve Harrington finds out Eddie's trans by accident after the bats, and Eddie finds out Steve's surprisingly okay with it. More than okay with it.

Bite Through These Wires (soft dom steve's strap game series 🤭) by @steves-strapcollection

“Wouldn’t you be Ken, though?” Steve had hoped Eddie would ask a question like that and he had to refrain from punching the air and ruining his punchline. “I come with all the coolest accessories, so clearly I’m still Barbie,” Steve retorted, his voice going just a bit deeper as he leaned closer to Eddie.

Relax (Lay it Back) (soft dom yoga instructor steve) by @wynnyfryd

Five times yoga instructor Steve teaches Eddie how to chill the fuck out, and the one time he learns his lesson.

Melt Me On Your Tongue (soft dom, bathing) by me indelicate

“This okay?” “Yeah it’s— shit, it’s more than okay, Steve.” “… you’re crying, Eds.” Eddie can’t hold back a choked off noise then, somewhere between an overwhelmed laugh and a sob. “No one’s ever done this to me before.” He doesn’t know if he means no one’s ever given him a bath, or braided his hair, or just any of the things Steve does for him, really. Eddie's never had a Steve before.

Kiss Me (Beneath the Milky Twilight) (pleasure dom steve, virgin eddie) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Eddie has never been kissed. Steve apparently would very much like to volunteer to fix this.

Getting Lost in the Dark is My Favorite Part (wip, masochist virgin eddie, kink discovery) by queerontilmorning

After his near-death experience, Eddie decides it's time to get rid of his pesky virginity and heads to a gay bar. It leads to some... realizations... for both him and Steve.

You're a Sweet Shot of Kerosene (When I Threw it Back, it Poisoned Me) (wip, mob boss steve) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Whatever fucked up shit Eddie’s father had inadvertently roped him into simply by being what he was — a shit-stain excuse for a sperm donor who preferred sticking a needle in his arm to taking care of his family — well, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about to be him that pays that price. And maybe Eddie’s delirious, because by the time it’s apparently his turn and they’re dragging him down some hallway (and yeah, it’s not like Eddie’s not trying to put up a fight, but it feels almost performative at this point considering he’s pretty much hogtied here), the only real thought he has when they deposit him on yet another cold, wet tile floor is this: Uncle Wayne is gonna be so pissed at me if I get shot in the head tonight.

closer to you (soft dom steve) by @natesfwl

“C’mon baby, where's my little rockstar?” Steve spanks him, groans when he feels Eddie tense up around him from the impact, “Perform for me.” “You let me penetrate you” Eddie stutters out the line as he lifts himself up with his knees. “There you go,” Steve whispers, watching as Eddie fights to keep his eyes locked onto Steve’s when he sinks back down. or the really self-indulgent fic of steddie fucking to the song closer by NIN.

Destroy The Silence (drummer steve) by @artaxlivs

Steve becomes the drummer for Corroded Coffin and Eddie can't handle his thirst

Trouble and Temptation (series wip, businessman dilf steve) by @heartharps

“Come on, Harrington. I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly.” When Steve looked up, he was glaring, as stern and serious as ever. “Eddie, let me remind you that as far as I'm concerned, nothing has ever happened between us other than of a professional nature.”

Sting, and Other Brainworms (series with switching) by @riality-check

“Do you need to go down, baby?” Eddie gets like this, sometimes. Stuck between overwhelmed and incredibly bored. Steve watches until he remembers that they have a way to fix this. Eddie calls it a hard reset. Steve calls it fucking him until he can’t see straight.

Edification (sadist steve) by aristal

“Alright Munson.” She bares her teeth and grins like a wolf. “Tell the class: what’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” A slow smile creeps into his features, and his dark eyes flash. “Oh, you’re asking the good questions, Wheeler.” He takes another long pull of his joint, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect. Steve doesn’t care. He wants to know the answer. He needs to know. Eventually, Eddie blows out the smoke, eyes a little hazy as he grins at the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”

In My Boxers, Half Stoned (dom bottom Steve) by eddywow

"You can," Eddie said, almost sounding like he was nodding along to his words. The image was too pure for Steve. "You could say anything you want to me and I'd- I think I'd be into it. Because I saw your pics and like, I know your face isn't in them but- but I really like them. Is it okay that I liked them?"

Insatiable (public, skirts, cages) by @cheshiredogao3

When their club ritual is rudely interrupted, Steve and Eddie make a point of proving their bond—rather publicly.

Done Deal (series with switching) by @morningberriesao3

Steve Harrington doesn't have any money with him, so he offers to pay Eddie Munson some other way.

Lovebite (sub vampire eddie) by hellcore

It shouldn’t feel so good, being tasted.

* The next few don't have the tag but in my opinion they have dom Steve vibes and I want to include them here (:

Cyclical (wip, time loop fic, rimming, switching, lots of smut with plot) by @cuips-not-cute

steve keeps finding himself back in the boathouse where everything started, wrapped up in the arms of a boy who can’t stop dying. he's desperate to rewrite the timeline, trying everything he can think of to fix it. including falling in love.

Dirty Words by @morningberriesao3

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Memorize My Number, That's Why I Got A Phone (phone sex) by queerontilmorning

while on tour with Corroded Coffin, Eddie makes an important phone call to Steve.

My Right Hand Man (spanking, kink discovery) by @entanglednow

In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

Shot Right Through (pierced eddie) by @entanglednow

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

Pleased To Meet You (demon steve) by midnightdrive

Eddie accidentally summons a demon who is bound to fulfill his every wish. He, somehow, gets more than he had bargained for.

[luvvyouforever]

matchmaker, matchmaker - azriel x reader

↳ mor drags azriel to velaris's resident matchmaker, only for him to fall for her instead of his potential suitors.

↳ no major warnings apply! just some fluff and cuteness. not grammar or spell checked. sorry hehe

↳ requests are open! check bio.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

azriel and mor sat at a cafe table in the heart of velaris, steam rising from the tea cups in front of each of them. this was not an uncommon occurence by any means and the pair frequented the many shops and restaurants throughout the town. however, this time, there was an air of tension between them which caused their waitress to carefully place their drinks away from the edges of the table.

"you're telling me you won't even consider seeing her? do you know all that she's done for velaris, az?"

"she's just high fae, mor. she's not some prophecy teller that can see mating bonds between people. i don't understand what she could even do for me."

ah, yes. the topic of conversation was azriel's love life and mor was desperately trying to convince the spymaster to see her friend, the matchmaker of velaris.

what azriel was saying was true. she did not have some special power that allowed her to see the invisible string connecting mates. she could not look into her mind and pull out the best partner for someone. she just knew how to read people and how to do it well. she was responsible for a lot of the matches in velaris, even predicting nesta and cassian long before anyone else could.

"you're lonely, azriel. i can tell! you want to dance with someone at rita's and have a date to parties just as bad as anyone else. you just won't admit it," mor declared. her voice softened and she continued, "i want what's best for you, az. we all do. will you see her for me? please? even if nothing works out."

azriel sighed and took a drink of his tea which was still too hot for his mouth. damn mor and her awareness of the people in her life. and damn him for the way he'd give in to her so easily. "fine," he mumbled. "i will try. but no promises."

that next week, azriel came back from a trip to the mortal lands and immediately, mor was at the door to his room, badgering him about the meeting she set up for later that day. she declared that he could not reschedule or miss the meeting and that he should dress in something nice.

begrudgingly, azriel took a long bath to make sure he looked and smelled fine enough to get a potentially good match from mor's friend. he chose more "normal" clothing as instructed by mor and flew down to the bright townhouse fast enough to reach the door just as his appointment was set to begin.

she surely sensed him because before he even got the chance to knock, she threw the door open and greeted him.

"azriel, right? spymaster of the high lord's court," she said sweetly. "i am quite honored to have you in my home."

azriel felt too awkward for his own good and just nodded with as polite of a smile as he could muster.

"come on! come on!" she ushered him into her home which was brightly decorated in all sorts of eclectic decor, a lot of it being hearts and other love motifs. "can i get you anything?" she asked. "water? tea? snacks? wine?"

"no...no. i'm good, thanks," he said, quieter than he meant to. his eyes raked over the matchmaker, finding her to be a lot younger and more spry than he imagined. mor spoke so highly of her that he thought she must be ancient, having made matches for velaris since the dawn of time. she was also quite beautiful and the way she spoke caused some odd feelings in azriel's chest that he didn't like. his shadows noticed his attraction to her too as they whipped around his chest before hiding behind him, sometimes whispering things in his ear.

"suit yourself," she joked. she sat down on a large armchair and gestured to the matching one in front of her. azriel obediently sat down and watched her moves. she pulled out a frilly notebook from a drawer along with a pen. "has mor told you anything about what i do?"

"not really," azriel admitted. "just praises your name and forces her friends to come to her." the matchmaker laughed and azriel felt incredibly proud of himself for making her laugh.

"well, i just want to know a couple things about you. nothing crazy. just your inner thoughts and desires. and i take that information and compare it to other people and see what comes from it! simple, easy, and usually pain free but i have a feeling you may be a little more introverted than most." azriel shrugged in response. "so, my first question is what are your must-haves in a relationship?"

azriel fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he thought about the question. nobody had ever asked him that before and he honestly hadn't even thought about it. "um...someone who's nice. understanding, i guess. i have a lot of responsibilities in my job so someone who doesn't mind that i'm gone a lot," he thought for a second more. "what do people usually say?"

the matchmaker thought for a moment. "well, i would say my must-haves are patience, kindness...someone who's fine with staying inside," she paused and smiled, "definitely has to own some kind of awesome ancient sword or blade that i can play with."

azriel clocked her statement as a joke but some part of him, deep down inside, wishes that he had truth-teller displayed on his chest for her to see. he was patient, he was a homebody, he was...relatively kind. oh god...what was he thinking?

"all jokes, of course. but really, it's just anything you want in a partner. maybe you want them to be strong and abrasive and can hold their own. it's all up to you, azriel."

she moved on to the next question, which he was very grateful for. this one, however, was harder than the last. "what are you looking for here? do you want me to hunt down your potential mate? do you want something fun and casual? committed? i can do it all."

azriel felt like she was stripping back his layers, one by painful one. all to find someone he can kiss. this was crazy! and he didn't even know her name. "i don't really know, honestly. i...i guess my mate but that seems hard considering it could be anyone. i don't really desire anything. mor just made me come here."

she leaned forward and her big eyes seemed to look into his heart. "i know that's not true, azriel. everyone wants something. you have this...look in your eye that tells me you really want this to work out, that you want to believe in this. you just have to be open with me, 'kay?"

azriel let out a breathy chuckle. "how can i open when i don't even know your name or anything else about you?"

she thought for a second before nodding in agreement. she laid the notebook down on the side table and leaned back. "fair, i guess. my name is y/n, i have lived in velaris all my life, i enjoy pastries, reading, and tea, i started matchmaking as a silly way to keep my friends and i entertained until it started working too much to be a coincidence. i spend all my time finding love for other people but haven't found the one for me. ironic, isn't it?" she smiled at azriel. "there. does that make you feel a bit better?" he nodded. "good. now, let me repeat my question."

azriel and y/n continued their conversation, knocking out the questions she had prepared with relative ease. he felt comfortable opening up to her and being honest about his desires for love. he was completely unused to expressing his feelings like that but it came to him easily in her presence. the way she easily leaned in, eyes focused and gaze unwavering...it did something to him.

eventually, though, the questions ended and azriel knew he had to leave her home. he stalled on the last question, having her reword it over and over even though all she had asked was what his habits at home were like.

"well, azriel, thank you for answering all my questions. from here, i will start comparing your answers to other people i've met with and i will reach out to you with your first match up. you'll tell me if you're interested and if you aren't, we'll move on to the next!"

azriel panicked internally at her words which clearly signaled the end of their conversation. he rose at the same time as her but subconsciously placed his body in front of hers so that she'd have to step around him to leave the room. "so, do i come see you again at all? or...or is this it?" he cursed himself for sounding so awkward.

she laughed. "you can if that is what you prefer. if you want to talk about your dates and how they went then i don't care to. did you enjoy this a little more than you anticipated?" she joked.

he nodded and scratched the back of his neck. crap...crap, crap! he had to do something, right? she was single, she said so. but is it wrong to ask the matchmaker on a date? after she poured so much work into finding him a match? he thought for a second, eyes trained on her. in his ears, his shadows whispered encouragingly. this is it...come on!

"is everything okay, azriel?" she asked innocently.

"so i know that this whole thing was to find me a match but i actually really enjoy your time and i think you're beautiful so would you want to go on a date with me instead of sending me on dates with people that i couldn't care less about?" his words came out at lightning speed and he was pleasantly surprised that she understood everything.

a blush came to her cheeks and it matched the pink and red hearts around the room. "seriously?" she asked. he shyly nodded. "i'd love to. tomorrow night? you come by?"

he breathed out a sigh of relief. "yes, tomorrow night. thank you."

the two of them made their way to the door.

"so, no matches at all? not even helga down the street in the butcher shop? she's been looking for someone for yearssss," she said in a sing-song voice.

"cauldron, no. i want you." he was shocked at the confidence that leaked through his words. she blushed again and rose on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"i'll see you tomorrow. tell mor that my services worked, if you'd be so kind." azriel flew off then with no intentions of telling mor anything that happened.

[prongspoet]

broken hearted | luke castellan.

first time writing for luke, so hope this is okay! tell me what u think in the reblogs i would love to know and get more luke asks!

summary: the curse of cabin 10 makes aphrodite!reader pretend to date her best friend so she doesn't have to cause a heartbreak to her actual crush. even though, at the end of it, she's the only one who had her heart broken. major inspo from this concept.

"You're staring." y/n' best friend, luke castellan, head counselor of the hermes cabin, pointed the fact out, side eying the girl right at his side, after looking at the boy sword training in front of them.

"he's staring back." the aphrodite girl said with a grin. the sunlight bathing her head making it comfortingly warm. luke would know, since he was the one caressing it while she laid down next to him. both of them on the grass, enjoying the late afternoon at camp. "so..."

michael dawson, ares' kid, was, in fact, staring. luke couldn't blame him, the way his best friend looked made everyone pay attention to her. she didn't even had to try. and still, the swordfighting happening in front of them made luke even more sure that mike needed a way so she could notice him. not naturally, but somehow, it worked, since the girl payed attention to him as soon as he started.

"oh well, like mother like daughter, huh. " he continued, in a mocking tone, holding his laugh, raising himself by his elbows, before taking one of his hands to the girl's arm. "your siblings wouldn't be too happy to see the goody two shoes dating an ares' kid, would they?"

"gods, don't fucking say that." she giggled, hiding her face with both of her hands. she went quiet for a second, still staring at the boy. "ares' kid or not.." y/n sighed, pouting slightly. "mike's nicer than the others, he wouldn't deserve to be a guinea pig."

"what do you mean?"

"you know what i have to do.” the girl muttered, with a soft sigh. she couldn't blame her mother, she worshipped aphrodite; her beauty, her power, her knowledge and her actions. that didn't mean that she enjoyed the judgment. the need to make someone else feel miserable just because she could. it wasn't fair. "the first love heart break thing."

"i'm glad i'm not in his shoes, that's for sure." the boy whispered, with a chuckle, still trying to be as quiet as possible. his thumb caressing her arm incessantly. it made her skin burn. in a second, y/n abruptly raised her chin, getting supported by her elbows, getting muffled groan from luke, once it hit his ribs. "what is it?"

"you could be!"

"am i your first love, daisy?" he raised one of his eyebrows, with a mischievous grin stamped on the boys face. the scar in his eye making itself more clear. "you should have told me sooner- ouch!"

"shut up, hero. listen to me!" he knew that tone. and as anyone else who had a single bit of sense, he kept quiet, wanting nothing more to hear her insane idea. "we could pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend." the smile on her delicate face kept getting bigger as she explained her brilliant - yet not completely effective - idea. "i could pretend to break your heart. no one gets hurt, i can stay with mike after is over, and my mom ends up being proud of me!"

the aphrodite girl stared at him expectedly, hoping he would buy her insane plan, hoping he could save her from doing something he never imagined her doing it. luke got quiet for a minute. his eyes were darker than usual. he couldn't stand that. y/n knew her best friend well enough to know that he meant to say something. he never truly did. "you shouldn't be looking for her approval."

"i'm not searching for approval i'm just trying to prove myself.."

"you don't have to prove your devotion to her by doing this." his tone stern, more quiet. colder. "you burn offerings for her every single day. you pray, you're always expressing how incredible she is."

"you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

and suddenly, the idea seemed more appealing than ever. she wasn't using her charmspeak on him. no, luke knew how sugary and sweet y/n's words could be when she wanted to. at that moment, his best friend was just being honest. and even though he could retribute that feeling, luke felt that he needed to do it. just for her.

"yeah," he nodded. defeated. "fine, i'll do it."

"really?" the girl hugged him tight. more excited than ever. "thank you boyfriend!"

"yeah, yeah." he grinned, letting her rest her head on his chest, carefully watching y/n closing her eyes, like nothing else would ever bother her. "just don't be too mean when you dump me."

pretending was easy.

they've always been stuck to each other. having dinner with each other. burning offerings with each other. planning capture the flag with each other. training, swimming, talking, sneaking out to parties. always with one right after the other.

it wasn't supposed to be different, they just had to make it more believable.

"we should be holding hands," y/n pointed out as the couple walked calmly to the main area, where dinner was starting. "silena asked me why we never hold hands if we're dating, so i thought we could make it more..."

"real, yeah." luke nodded, grabbing her hand right the next second she spoke. "c'mon, girlfriend, hurry up." he grinned, and she couldn't help but grin back. "i'm starving."

luke could do that. he could kiss her in front of people, and tell everyone the way they got together. he could hold hands with her, caress her back and almost have a heart attack when she kissed him behind his ear. he could live with that, yeah. it was normal. it was pretending.

until it started to change. suddenly. quickly.

he noticed her. the eyes, the shape of her face, the way her eyebrows moved when she laughed, and the look she gave him every single time she entered a room he was already in, and luke couldn't help but pay attention at her soft hair, how excited she became while looking at pretty flowers, and especially, how her fingers felt against his own scalp when they needed to do some pretending. she was an aphrodite kid after all. y/n was charming. y/n was lovely. y/n was his girlfriend, at least for a while.

and she couldn't help but notice him either. how his scar looked more bright when they. the subtle, yet attentive and gentle way he taught her how to hold a sword, how to train, how to fight. the infuriating way at how he held her chin up slightly, every single time, before sealing his lips against hers.

and for once, neither of them were pretending.

the bonfire started earlier that night, but the couple came to it late; y/n helped one of her sisters who was in a small crises, and her sweet caring boyfriend waited for her by the aphrodite cabin's door, holding her hand as soon as she got out, so they could sit together at one of the logs, full of campers, chartering, telling stories, and enjoying the peacefulness that the simple event emanate.

luke choose one of the back logs for a reason, it was darker, harder to anyone else to see them. even so, as soon as the boy started to leave little pecks at her jaw, he was able to hear some whistles and exclamations. teenagers were gonna be teenagers after all.

"alright," y/n sat upstraight, taking a deep breath before continuing. "you can't do that here."

"i'm just having fun!" the boy said with a mischievous grin. he knew way to well what he was doing. she hoped he would do it forever. the teasing, the almost getting caught made her heart sink every time. "you are my girlfriend after all."

"don't get ahead of yourself, hero." she muttered, grinning at him, before sealing lips with him again. "i still have to break your heart."

"are you sure about that?" he furrowed his eyebrows, pretending to be offended, but getting right back at his job pretty quickly. "i'll just enjoy it until the time comes then."

she laughed, taking her head back so he could have full access to her neck, delicately taking one of her hands to his scalp. and he noticed how much he loved that sound. so much in a way he wished he could bottle it up so he could taste it every time he felt miserable. that wasn't possible. but y/n promised that as long as they were together, he was allowed to make her laugh any time he wanted to, if if meant getting him happy.

that's why it hurt even more when he did what he did.

when he revealed himself to be the traitor.

"come with me."

"i'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" she cried out, feeling her heart beating faster than ever. "you're not thinking straight. you're not. you're not like this, i-" the words got caught up in her throat. y/n felt like she could pass out at any minute. "i know you luke." her voice was a mere pleading by then, hoping with all her soul he would hear. "you wouldn't do this to me."

"you mean a lot to me, daisy, but this is fucking different."

he was different, and she finally noticed. his eyes darker, his tone stern, and the way he held himself up, like he was prepared for a fight.

y/n would never fight him.

and he would never fight her, right?

and when luke turned his back against her, letting the aphrodite girl caught up with a sob, furrowing her eyebrows, feeling the tears already soaking up her eyes, y/n thought she understood.

maybe aphrodite didn't buy it. and even if she did, she knew it started out with a lie. y/n was playing house. thinking she could be smarter than her mom, she could prove it to everyone else how that curse was a lie, and that nothing would happen to the one that didn't completed it.

but it did happend.

no demigod could ever stand out a god. y/n was no exception.

and she finally understood that.

by the end of the day, y/n went back to her well known cabin, shamefully, missing her radiant aura and pretty smile, hiding a shattered heart in her pocket.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Diabolical 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, extreme profanity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Billy Butcher

Summary: your neighbours has some strange friends.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The reverberation of copper ripples through the air. You nearly slip under the water as you jolt. You grip the edges of the tub and sit up. Another crash thunders and you scowl. Your peace is shattered. 

Candles, music, a book, and a steaming bath. It's a perfect night. Or it was. 

You wait and listen. Silence. You let yourself back and reach for the novel on your bath table. Another egregious cacophony has you splashing yourself with water.   

You growl and slide the table out of the way as you stand. You grab your towel as water slakes off of you. You pay no mind to the mess that puddles below each step as the thrashing continues.  

You storm across the apartment, sliding dangerously on the hardwood, and you put your eye to the peephole. The man grins, as if he can see you and shakes the box in his hands. The metal echoes again. 

How dare he? It's almost nine in the evening! You tear open the door, your hand clasped around the knot of your towel, and you snarl. 

"Must you make so much noise?" 

He cackles at you as he hugs the box of cymbals and bells. "Eh, I'm just doin' good ole Hughie a favour. He's been talkin' 'bout getting into drumming so's I say Hughie, I know a guy. Can get you everything you need." 

"I don't...care." You bluster. "Should you even have those in a box? There are bags meant for that." 

"Who cares? You just bang on the things anyhow. Well, then," he turns to the door behind him. "Seems like my pal isn't in." He drops the box and the raucous clamour makes you groan. "I'll just leave 'em here for him. Buddy that I am." He spins back to face you. "And you can get back to listening to Bach and drinking your oolong." He makes a motion which could be tipping a cup or something more heinous. "Your majesty." 

You furrow your brow and roll your eyes. "All I asked for was a bit of decency. It wasn't any sort of insult but I see to you, any thought of being kind is offensive." 

"Talkin' to me about being decent and you're stood out here in a dish towel," he scoffs. 

"I--" you look down, remembering yourself. You move to hide behind the door. "Well, you disturbed me--" 

"You are disturbed, ain't ya, sweetheart?" 

You sneer. "Fine, whatever. I'll make sure Hugh gets his drums." 

"Hugh?" He chuckles. "You are something." 

"Good night, sir." You back up and close the door. Your certain to lock it too.  

His laughter keens through and friction brushes up the other side. "It's Butcher, not sir, love." He taps and you flinch, "have yourself a good night, won't ya? Don't think of me too much." 

You huff and have a mind to open the door again. Not, that’s only what he wants. You retreat and trod back to the bathroom. The water’s tepid and the scent of the candles grows overwhelming. You shut off the music and pull the stopper. So much for relaxing. 

The tension needles across your shoulder. You blow out the wicks and snatch your book from the table. You go to your room and flip on the bedside lamp. You put the novel on your pillow and pull on a night gown.  

You recline and crack open the book. A long honk blares from outside. That’s not unusual but what is, is the successive short toots that follow, almost in a rhythm. You try to ignore it. The honks vary, long, short, soft, loud. You realise the offender is doing a rather poor job of honking out Beethoven.  

You know exactly the culprit and you won’t let him know you’re bothered. Let him waste his own energy not yours. Besides, if he had any sort of nuance, he’d realise you don’t sit around and listen to classical. You appreciate vintage music but you’re not pretentious. You simply have your tastes. Nothing wrong with that. 

You lay back and your eyes gloss over the words without reading. You may not want to give him the satisfaction but it doesn't mean it’s not working. Several rereads of the same paragraph have you fed up. You sink down and drop the book. 

You stare at the ceiling and sigh. You can’t even put on a movie or music. You won’t be able to hear it. 

As if on cue, silence. You exhale. Thank god. 

An engine rumbles and you hear it steer down the alley outside. You hear the tires crawling just below your window. Another wall of sound rises and has you nearly jumping out of your skin. Heavy metal pumps through the wall and has you gritting your teeth. 

It’s him. That imbecile. 

[consistencynevermether]

Astarion x Rouge! Tav

A/N: I am, as the professionals would say, back on my bullshit. anyways here's another in my series of Astarion x a certain class 

part 1 (Paladin Tav version)- https://www.tumblr.com/consistencynevermether/730256251991310336/astarion-x-gn-paladin-reader-hcs-an-this-man?source=share

Bastard x bastard 

You two are absolute little SHITS together let me tell y’all that 

Your love language? CRIME. 

No but seriously imagine this- one of you had this plain steel ring, nothing special or anything just collecting dust at the bottom of your bags. Honestly, you don’t even remember which one of you it originally belonged to

When you first met, one of you had stolen the ring from the other to prove they were “superior with their hands” to the other. Eventually, it became a game between the two of you, every few days stealing this little trinket from each other. And bragging until the other stole it back. It didn’t matter whether either of you wore it on your fingers, around your necks, or even hiding it in folds of clothing. Neither could hold onto it for more than a week before the other snatched it up 

The most memorable little moment with this ring- once you had both gone on a late night walk, hand in hand. The moon's soft glow bathing you both in silver, it was like a scene out of a romance novel, especially when you leaned in to press your lips against his

And then- 

While he was distracted you slipped it off his finger and booked it. Immediately running as fast as you could, not daring to look back, laughing as you sped off with your prize

Unfortunately for you, Astarion happens to be a vampire spawn. Vampire spawn are quite physically inclined, and Astarion is pretty fit

What I’m saying is you made it a good 30 feet before getting tackled to the ground and had the ring wrestled out of your hand 

Honestly, though, you were laughing so hard you didn’t even mind losing the game, you were just happy that for a second your master plan had worked. 

Astarion complained about how his outfit got all dusty because of you, but you had heard him laughing right along with you when he had tackled you to the ground

Astarion won’t admit this, but that ring means more to him than any bejeweled precious jewelry ever could, because it connects him to you

Both of you claim to have the best set of knives and take every opportunity to show off to each other with your skills. Once you actually picked a lock with a smaller blade and you could swear it caused Astarion to be a little flustered. 

Sharing clothes? Sharing clothes. Listen, I'm just saying, will you let your vampire boyfriend burn up in the sun or will you lend him that nice new cloak you just got? Yea, that’s what I thought now it’s joint property. Dw tho it all evens out when you steal one of his nightshirts (it’s the comfiest thing ever, and not just because it always faintly smells like him) 

You guys definitely do couples' heists together. Sneaking, pickpocketing, lockpicking, running from the law, it's all in a day's work for the most shifty couple in Faerun. One of you might distract a lord while the other snuck into his vault to retrieve some valuable magical item. 

Ok but in all seriousness, y’all must be the most ethereal couple around. Imagine seeing two people glide over the rooftops of Baldur's gate, each jump almost like steps to a dance they both know by heart. Flitting around each other like ribbons in the breeze, one with soft silver hair and the other face obscured by their pitch-black cloak, hood pulled up and rippling in the night air. They dance across rooftops, swift as shadows, graceful as spirits, never touching, and yet somehow the rare onlooker knows they are meant to be a pair.

Some bard has definitely written a song about that last bullet point I promise you. 

You two probably had a million cons just waiting to be used. I imagine during your time together trying to get rid of the tadpole, you would both talk late into the night, bouncing ideas off each other, throwing out ideas of different tricks you could pull on the unsuspecting. Some genuinely clever, most just absurd attempts at making the other person laugh.  

If you ever actually got the chance to you it though? Oh ho HO. let me tell you how this went down. Your party had gotten into a situation, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. But by a bout of bad luck, someone had started harassing Karlach and at the same time, Lazel had started yelling at a guard, hand on her sword, inches away from striking. The party needed some sort of distraction, and luckily you both had just the thing. 

Astarion had grabbed the nearest glass of wine and splashed it on you, then putting on his best offended face he anguished, “How could you cheat on me?!?! And with my own BROTHER!?!?” That sentence made everyone's head snap up, including the guards as you both laid the theatrics on thick. You kept this act up with Astarion for a good 10 minutes, with fake tears and dramatics from both of you. At one point on the spot, you made up that he had slept with your mother and it was revenge, and the crowd was extremely invested, people taking sides, guards trying to calm down the chaos. But hey you're fake out worked, Karlach and Lazel were able to sneak away quietly and you had both given the distraction of a lifetime. Shadowheart disapproves.

Occasionally the two of you will talk in Thieves cant to each other when you don’t want the party to overhear certain conversations. Originally you were both probably talking about important things like strategies and debating about how to go about getting rid of the tadpole. But now you kind of both just use it to piss off Lazel a little. 

Ultimately you two really understand each other on a deep level, you really are 2 people with one mind. And together there's a world of adventure out there for you both, and infinite fun magical items for you both too “acquire”.

[jolalibrary]

ix. you’re the bright and golden sun

javier peña x f!reader | chapter nine of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: angst, sadness. goodbyes. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. pls don't be mad at me ✨ wordcount: 3.2k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Compared to the official first morning the two of you shared a bed, the reason why neither of you have risen today is different—even if, on appearances, it is similar. 

Your legs are tangled with his. Your body is curled, pressed as close as it can be to his side. The two of you are awake, both silent—something Javi is aware is rare for the two of you.  

Unlike the morning when he tried to learn every inch of you, today, he’s all about savouring every other part of you instead.

The way you smile, the way your laugh blooms across your face before it meets his ears. Plus, how you feel against him—from the warmth of your skin to the steady rise of your chest.

He doesn’t rise from the sheets to even wash his face, out of fear of signalling the imminent countdown to begin. The one which has been ticking the entire time, but now clangs louder as it gets nearer to the time he needs to drop you at the airport.

Javi especially doesn't want to move while the air is tinged with sadness—all heavy, pressing down on the two of you under the sheets. His thumbs had already made quick work of some strays tears when you'd first awoken, them sliding around your smile as you battled mixed feelings.

Because he was here now, but tomorrow he wouldn't be. Your words, not his.

You had said other things, like morning baby, and several seconds later, asking if he slept okay. But, once the tears had been wiped, the two of you just lay curled together.

Now he’s just tracing his fingers up and down your soft skin, doing so in the hope he’ll be able to remember the feel of it later when he’s without you.

Words aren’t usually his problem. He’s normally able to fill heavy silences and always knows what to say. It’s the one skill he’s proud to have sharpened in Colombia—when most people had seen him as the enemy. But, he has no words for this. 

You do, though. 

“I… I don’t want to go,” you whisper. 

It wounds him, nips at his skin and plummets something to his feet. He hides it. Turning his head, pressing an intentional kiss to your forehead, lingering there, chin hovering over your head. 

Because he doesn’t want you to either, and he’s unsure if he should say that—could say that. 

Closing his eyes, he chooses not to open them. Just for a minute. Allowing himself the luxury of living in the fantasy playing on the back of his lids. The one where this is just a weekend away, that you’ll be going back with him and that your case will be packed with both his and your things. 

Instead, when he opens his eyes to reality, he just finds the room basked in muffled light. The curtains blocking out the outside world, as he wishes he could take your hands in one of his, cup your cheek and tell you to come back with him.

(Because now I've had you, how am I meant to let you go?)

Swallowing, he smooths out his feelings—disguises them behind nothingness. For your sake.

“I know,” Javi replies. Allowing a thousand other things to die on his tongue.

He knows you have things you need to return to, a job. A life you’ve crafted for yourself and the one you’ve allowed him into. How you have dreams, the same as he once had—that you have responsibilities and an apartment, all things that aren’t easy to get up and leave. 

But you’re looking at him, head-turning, tilting up, and he’s bathed in beauty, affection and sorrow, all at once. 

Briefly, Javi thinks of the women he’s met before you. The ones in Colombia who were either in the same place they were before they met him, or worse. The ones who he made promises to, but barely could keep.

Going tense, he's aware his jaw has tightened—replaying how his actions had put them in harm's way—feeling your hand slide up his chest to his chin. Finger and thumb just circling, confusing swirling in the pools of jumbled feelings.

"You okay?"

And he can't explain, can he? While he knows his selfishness won’t bring a fury of shit to your door, it won’t be kind. Being with him will add weight to your shoulders, when they are already carrying so much. Javi only wants to remove some of it, then add to it.

So he swallows his wishes, and lets the words fall to his stomach. Allows them to swirl in last night's alcohol and pizza. 

"Yeah, baby. Just gonna miss you."

You seem to swallow, eyes filling with water for the second time in the last hour. Something unlodging, churning—

“I want to seeyourranch.” 

It comes out scratchy, like your voice needs clearing as you re-look at him. Now all wide-eyed—as though surprised how you had even sounded. 

“Let me try that again,” you say, clearing your throat and offering a half-smile. “I would love to see your ranch.” 

And, fuck he wants that too. 

He sees it, imagines it. Immediately thinks of you wandering the fields as he points out the animals that cause him the most havoc. You’ll twirl in the tall grass, staring at him—looking every bit a dream come true—and then you’ll whisper to the animals, helping them further undermine him with a smirk. Javi could show you where he hung out as a kid and the places he appreciates now that he’s older, where he talks to you from and where he sat when you first texted—his usual spot for the crossword. 

There would be so much for your eyes to take in, he could drag it out for a week. Another whole week of you, of him—a small amount in the grand scheme of forever, but he’d take it. He’d take whatever he could be allowed. 

Leaning his head on yours, he blinks back the water, trying to build in his own. “You just tell me when, cariño. I’ll roll out the red carpet.” 

Sighing, full of contention, he feels your palm Slide Over his chest, fingers drawing something. “Could meet your dad.” 

“He’ll love you.” 

He watches as you lift up, smile flowering—earlier sadness sunsetting as you begin to grow. Face all illuminating, eyes twinkling like stars. 

“Yeah?” 

Nodding, he runs his fingers over your cheek, loosely holding your chin. “Pretty sure he already does.” 

“He doesn’t know me.” 

“Neither did I, and I’m pretty sure I was already head over heels for you before I got here.” 

Scrunching your nose, eyes glancing down, he feels your fingers lightly stroke his chest. “You don’t have to keep flattering me. You already got me.” 

He waits a beat. 

Lets it thicken—your statement—the confession. 

Because while he knows what was said last night, how the two of you cemented it, he’s not sure he’ll tire of hearing it. 

You want to be his, even miles away.  

Lifting your chin ever so slightly, Javi stares into your eyes and hopes that he can burn the words in as much as he does as he begins to speak them. 

“Never gonna stop telling you how great you are, cariño.” 

“One day, you might.” 

Shaking his head, he lowers his face, nose brushing yours. “Might. Probably won’t.” 

He spots it, the clouded shadow trying to stop your rays from shining—all full of question, and doubt. Caused by scars from previous lovers who didn’t know what a diamond they had. 

“How…” your eyes drop, swallowing. “How can you be so sure, Javi?” 

The answer comes to him immediately: because you’re like no one else I’ve ever met. 

A second appearing barely a second later: you’re like nothing I’ve ever come across. 

The last explodes over the two of them like fireworks: I’ve never felt how I feel for you, for anything else. 

He opts for something in the middle, lifting your eyes back to him. “Because I’ve not stopped thinking about you since that first text. And fuck, baby. Outside my ma and pops, outside of a lead or my old job, I’ve never fuckin’ had that. Not about anything, or anyone, before.” 

For the second time this trip, he’s watching you fight with your case. The seams all threatening to split and spill, your jacket removed, thrown to the side of you as you continue your wrestling.

He doesn't admit that he finds it cute that you're trying to do it alone.

Especially when he knows you've added to the suitcase's load since you've been here. The empty retail bags they were once in, shoved haphazardly in the bin as grey clouds cast shadows across the room.

Lifting your face, he spots that your forehead is peppered with beads of sweat, his arms folding, leaning against the wall—waiting to be invited to help. Again.

“Don’t even fucking say it, Peña.”

Biting back a smirk, he arches his brow. “No, he dicho nada.”

Your eyes shoot him a glare as he smirks, watching you blow out a puff of air before leaning back on your heels, defeatism sketched into your features. 

“Okay. Please help me.” 

Just like some days ago, he kicks off from the wall. Watching you move to push down as he settles on his knees to help, the zip being more forthcoming—oddly—as it slides around. It catches in part, your fingers only occasionally needing to prod things in, and soon enough, it’s shut, closed—all final. 

“There we go.” 

You smile, all infectious, corrosive in how it melts earlier sadness. “What would I do without you?” 

“Probably a lot. I mean, except zip up your case.” 

It’s instant, the way your smile shifts into a smirk. “For someone called charmer, you’ve not been as articulate the last few days.” 

“Think it’s due to the company I’m keeping.” 

Your eyes roll, teeth showing as the edges of your mouth cut into your cheeks—not a smile, nor a smirk, something else entirely. “There he is, the flirt.” 

“Only for you, baby.” 

Standing, you offer him a hand. Both knowing he doesn’t need it, very much capable himself—even if his knees groan, but he slides his palm in any way. Feeling your fingers tighten, gripping him as he stands too. 

“How are you so handsome, Javier Peña?” 

Warmth runs up his spine, liking how you’re looking at him—how you say handsome and his name all in one sentence. 

Licking your lips, you don’t let go of his hand, but you step over the suitcase. “Still can’t believe you want to give this a go.” 

Fingers find your cheek, head leaning forward, closing the gap marginally to you. Taking in the way your eyes remain fixed on him, the scent of your perfume—all of it, as he whispers:

“I’d be an idiot to let you go, baby.” 

Biting your lip, you seem to sigh. Silence thickening, his thumb slowly beginning to stroke, as you reply, “Yeah. I suppose you would.” 

“Now, who’s being a flirt?” 

Slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck, his own hands coming around your waist—letting his palms spread out across your back. It feels like home, a place he doesn’t want to ever be from. 

All of it is stamped with a smile that is more bright and golden than the sun, and fuck does he not suddenly feel like he's illuminating when he kisses it. 

Javi drowning in it, not wanting to come up for air as you pull him close. Just so he can try and keep a piece of it. Just until the next time he gets to bask in it, never mind kiss you.

You don't slide your hand from his the entire drive. Your other hand trying to find a station you approve of, nose scrunching at some of the choices you come across.

Periodically, the corner of his eyes catches how your teeth are making messy work of your bottom lip, your leg bouncing uncontrollably. He wishes, more than anything, he was good with words. 

Ones that would reassure, you remind you that it'll be okay, that he’s yours—that they won’t wait long, they’ll make it work.

Convince you that he means it—because he does.

More than he's wanted something in a long time. Even if in his chest, there’s a little flutter of doubt. Sensibility trying to ruin things, reminding him that there won’t always be hands to help the ranch at the drop of a hat—that his pop needs him. That you have work, a life in a place he doesn’t know the foggiest about. 

Instead, he banishes it. Forces it into the corner of him that welcomes intrusion, and he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss so full of longing and affection, he hopes it runs down your wrist and slams directly into your heart. 

"Departures is that way," you announce, voice soft, brittle.

His mouth presses another kiss to your palm as he signals, hating that the drive has been so short. Despising it even more that he finds a parking spot with ease—that your hand slides from his and your legs jump out of the truck before he’s said a word. 

You barely look at him, staring around the airport until you fall into a step beside him to the doors. Each one he takes, Javi hopes he’ll feel your hand in his—palm to his, fingers looping between his. 

So when you do (your grip tight, intention clear), he loops his arm around you with your hand in his—forcing you close, keeping you there. 

Each step in front of the other forces the building to loom closer, the walk short—too short—another thing added to the tally of what he hates. But he tries not to focus on it, linger, instead letting his feet come to a stop close to the doors with yours. One so you don’t have to walk far, but not enough for a larger audience. 

Giving you the handle of your case, your chest seems to lurch as it rises and falls. Your teeth return to bite down on your lip, rocking forward and back on the skin as you begin to nibble all over again—a forced smile trying to show.

But, it barely reaches your cheek. Never mind your eyes. 

His mouth opens, but you wrap your fingers around his forearm. Silencing him. A look in your eyes that could sound like a well-versed chorus of assurances, a speech of how it won't be long and revelations of how you feel, but they don't fall.

Instead, you whisper, “I know. I do.” 

He swallows, nodding as you step closer, body almost flush with his. 

“So, just kiss me—like you’re gonna see me again, yet in a way that’ll last me until I can hear your voice tomorrow.” 

There was no asking him twice. His mouth latching to yours, lips capturing unsaid words as he embraces the way your body curls into him. All comfortable and right. His palm cupping your cheek, deepening it all, stealing important air from your lungs and using it to help him breathe. 

His mind full of you. An array of memories shoots off like fireworks as you cling to him, and him to you.

And he never wants it to end. 

Even less so when you whimper against him, vibrating it down his throat to his chest, where it mushrooms and grows. Filling a space otherwise empty, but now covered in feelings you've brought out in him: warmth, affection and care.  

Then, the two of you part, mouth first—lips ghosting over the air as your eyes open with his, able to see the reflection of his growing smile in your pupils. 

“Hi..."

Grinning, he presses a kiss to your nose. "Have a safe flight, and text me—“

“I know. I know. As soon as I land,” you say as his forehead presses against yours. “Please, have a safe drive. Don’t flip off anyone just because you miss me so much.” 

Smirking, he laughs—all low and soft. “I’ll try.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

Sighing, you unweave your fingers from his neck and hair, placing a shaky one on the handle. Body pausing, waiting—and he doesn’t move, can’t. 

“I… I don’t think I can be the one to walk away.” 

Widening his eyes, his hands find his hips. “You really gonna make me turn my back to you?” 

Scrunching your nose, in that adorable way that you do, you slowly nod. 

Taking a step back, he brushes his hair from his forehead. “Fuck me. Good job I like you, cariño.” 

You smile, biting your lip again as he takes another backwards step, and another, before he slowly—full of pain and knotting in his stomach—he turns.

His footsteps heavy, wanting to turn back to you, run to you and pull you close one last time. Barely ten steps, maybe not even five. He could do it, turn, face you—

Javi doesn’t get the chance. 

You do it instead.

Slamming into his back, arms around his waist, and he’s sure he hears the faintest sob. One he sees for himself when he’s able to turn, mouth finding yours, feeling wet on your cheeks as your lips messily meet his, a thousand things being said, but none discernable as he meets you with the same intensity. 

It’s more than a see you soon. It’s a bunch of other things. A thank you, a goodbye, and… 

“Just needed one more,” you whisper, fingers brushing his side and cheek simultaneously. 

Nodding, he finds himself unable to speak. Instead, feeling you slowly let your fingers leave his cheek. 

“See you soon, baby.” 

Gulping back a lump, “Real soon. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

Your hand raises, offering a little wave as you take steps backwards, before turning. His eyes are unable to leave you, watching with despair as you walk away from him—seeing now why you felt compelled to run. 

Just watching, staring, as you grab your case—the one he just realised you abandoned—and he stuffs down the different words which had threatened to spill. 

you left your jacket hermosa 

I know baby. Means I have to see you soon to get it back, it’s my favourite. 

You’re my favourite, too. 

gonna make my head double and I won’t be able to fit in the ranch

Surprised it does already. 

fuck I miss you 

Fuck I miss you too, baby. So much. 

one day though 

One day. Until then, check my pocket.

Javi wipes his face, placing the phone on the dash as he moves your jacket from the seat next to him. The place it’s been the entire ride home, the soft scent of you blowing around the cabin—allowing him the feeble attempt at pretending you’re there. 

He feels one pocket, finding nothing. 

Moving to the next, his fingers brush paper, hearing it rustle and crinkle. He slowly pulls it out and finds it folded a thousand times over as he smirks and lies your jacket back on the seat. 

He should know—before he begins unfolding it. 

But it doesn’t dawn on him, not even as he does, until he sees it—a lump forming in his throat, a greater sadness landing on him. 

Because there in his hands is the sign you made for the airport, his name scratched out in biro on paper. 

And at the bottom, scribbled in a different pen:

His mouth opens, tongue sliding into his cheek as he struggles to swallow, and breathe, as a tear falls to his cheek. His head goes back against the headrest, mouth pinching the sides of his cheek as he closes his eyes—the other holding the paper open, thumb stroking it, your words. 

Missing you. Desperately. 

Completely. 

Realising as the heavens open, the rain hammering down against his vehicle, blurring the ranch worse than his own water-filled eyes, that he’s in love with you. 

And one day can't come soon enough.

dedicated to @guyfieriii who loves this as much as i. the title is from one of our joint songs, and while it isn't 00s, as soon as i heard it, i told her it gave me airport vibes, and this seemed the perfect one title. plus, she's my little angst queen, and if i can give her anything, i like to give her happy-sadness. rooftops and sharpies x

[aurawrawr]

Who am I to you?

Part 1

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna x afab reader x twin brother and Kingsguard Yuuji Itadori

Set in the Heian era, the twins, Ryomen and Yuuji, befriend a girl who they both fall in love with. But who will she choose when the time comes — the delinquent, tough Ryomen or the sweet, charming Yuuji?

so... anon requested a story and me being me, i replied to the request without posting the story. anyhoo, this is going to be a two-parter because the request gave me a lot to work with and i really wanted to establish the lore. part 2 would be up so so soon.

Minors, DNI. WC: 2.8k

CW: sibling rivalry, coarse language, attempted SA, violence, death, blood and wounds, public slander, public proposal, love triangle, no use of y/n

Growing up, you were the apple of their eyes. Both of theirs. You had watched them pull each other's hair, slap and punch each other, steal the other's food. You had also listened to Yuuji crying about how mean his brother was. And when you used to find Ryomen sneaking around in the kitchen, stealing Yuuji's favorite snack for his little brother, all you had to do was roll your eyes and train your ears to hear Ryo grumbling about how he was just fooling around and that he'd never do anything to hurt Yuuji on purpose.

Ryomen had made it a point to always refer to Yuuji as his little brother, even though they were born on the same day, from the same womb, killing the same mother as they each took their first breath. Ryo was only a moment early. Several years later, when he had heard from one of their maids how it was really a choice between their mother's life and that of baby Yuuji's, and it was ultimately their mother's decision to let her child live, Ryomen had made up his mind to always protect Yuuji and put him first, and in doing so, he had hoped to always be able to honor their mother's dying wish.

But putting Yuuji first meant taking a step back. Always. Even in matters of the heart. For, the twins always ended up liking the same things, even the same person.

You were the daughter of one of the handmaidens appointed for the twins' father's new wife. You had a type of clairvoyance. Even at the young age of ten, you could read other people's emotions aptly, you knew a person just from the sound of their footstep or their breathing. When you had first walked into the mansion, your tiny hand in your mother's determined grip, you were beyond confused by the duality of the twins. Yuuji wore his heart on his sleeve; you didn't need any special power to tell what was on his mind. Ryomen, on the other hand, you couldn't figure out even with your clairvoyance. And because of that, for the longest time, he became a subject of soul-crushing interest to you. Until he became the boy you feared.

Yuuji would get you flowers from his adventures, and concerns. He always came back with scratches and injuries left on his body for you to fix. He knew how to accept your care with open arms.

But, Ryomen? He had walls so high around him, it always got on your last nerve.

The Lord of the house was quick to replace the twins' mother with a woman who, in a year, had birthed a son. In a few years of time, it was clear who was going to be the successor. You still remember the look on Ryo's face when his stepmother held an elaborate ceremony and made his father declare that her son would be the next Lord. That boy grew up to be a monster, always picking on the girls and bullying the weak ones. One day, he had gone for you, blocking your path from the pond where you bathed back to the house. The more you tried to flee, the more aggressive and vile he became. Until someone, a towering figure, came up from behind him and pulled back his collar.

"Ryo!" You ran to your friend, hiding behind his muscly arm.

"Ah, brother!" The young Lord jested. "You know how it is. Women. Can't tolerate them and yet, can't go a day without them. You wouldn't stand in my way now, would you?”

"Of course not.”

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Surely, Ryomen wouldn't let a stalker lay his hands on you. But when he stepped aside, and you looked up at his emotionless face, you couldn't be so certain anymore. You trembled, not from the water still dripping from your clothes or the wind that swept your hair onto your face but from fear of the approaching figure. He wasn't as big as Ryomen but you still wouldn't stand a chance against him. The only person you could think of at the moment, who would save you, and not stand aside and watch your demise, was Yuuji. You hated Ryo, despised every speck of his existence. How could he?

You shut your eyes tight as the boy came closer and closer. When you heard a grunt, you opened them to see him flying to the ground. Ryomen had punched his face.

"What in the world?" The Lord sat up, pulling backward on his butt. "I'm going to tell Otou-san on you. You scoundrel, how dare you?”

"Let me give you more to bitch about.”

You watched as Ryo almost leaped on to the boy, pinned him down and started to punch him. The Lord kicked his legs under Ryo's weight, trying to break free, scratched his exposed arms, but nothing budged him at all.

"How dare I?" You heard your friend. "How dare you? How dare you even look at her with those filthy eyes of yours? How dare you even think of touching her?" At the end of every question came a punch that landed straight on his half-brother's jaw, splattering blood to the side.

"Ryo." You called out to him. "Ryo, let him go. Ryo, that's enough. Come on now.”

"No." Another punch. "Not until he's dead." Another punch.

You stood there, shaking, and you didn't even notice when Yuuji appeared, tried to separate his brothers, failed and went running back to bring two servants to pull Ryo back. Only when Yuuji put his arms around you did you finally slump into him, immediately falling unconscious.

When you came around, you saw your mother and Yuuji by your bedside, your mother saying prayers to the Gods and thanking her Ryoryo-chan. "Where is he?" You asked your best friend.

"Otou-san has banished him to the outhouse. You should have been there for that argument.”

"Has he eaten? Did someone clean his wounds?”

"I tried," your mother informed you. "But he wouldn't even let me look at his arm. Ask Yuyu-chan. He's taken his pipe and shut the door on the world.”

You rushed out, Yuuji closely following. When you reached the cabin, you pounded away at the door until Ryomen responded, "Leave.”

"You know I won't. Not until you let me fix your wounds.”

"Go. Away.”

"Why?”

"Because I don't want you to see me like this.”

"Like what, Ryo?”

Before he could answer, Yuuji chimed in, "open the door, Aniki. Let us in.”

"Fuck off, you two.”

"Please." You begged. "Please let me– us see you.”

You heard the latch fall and pushed inside. The air was thick with the stench of burning grass. It made your eyes water. Yuuji kept the door open for the smoke to pass. You immediately got to work. Bringing a bucket and a washrag from the bathroom, you knelt by the bed where Ryo was sitting. "Show me," You said.

"Leave me alone.”

"Who slapped you?" You noticed the red impression of fingers on his cheek. Your fingers rushed to touch it, heal it if you could.

"My father's wife.” Ryo nudged your hand away.

"You mean, your mother?”

"She's not my mother. Your mother is more of a mother to me than my father's wife will ever be.”

You sighed. "Fine. Now, give me your hand.”

"Don't be such a drag, Aniki." Yuuji sat down beside him. "Everything will be fine. And if it isn't, we three will run away together. We'll have a small house on the hills with a tea shop in the front. You and I will go work in the tea farms and she will sell tea to any traveler or tourist or anyone passing by. We'll all be fine. I promise.”

Ryo let out a small smile and patted his brother's cheek. Sighing, he placed his hand in yours, the blood on his knuckles dry and raised. "Did you really need to do this to yourself?”

"Or what? Let that son of a wench have his way with you?”

"I thought that's what you intended, the way you…”

"You maim my heart, woman. You really thought I'd let a vulture have you while I'm still alive and standing?" This was the first time he called you a woman and not a little girl. Maybe knowing another man wanted you made him see you as a woman.

"Aniki, you scared her. You know that, right? I know you were enraged but…”

"That's alright. She can stomach it.”

You looked up to meet Ryomen's gaze, intense and wanting. But wanting for what?

"She fainted, Aniki.”

"That's because she doesn't eat." Ryo smirked. "Yuuji, why don't you go and get some food for all of us?”

You held your breath as Yuuji walked out the door, the ever so compliant, sweet and understanding younger brother, and you were left alone with the tough, delinquent, taller, smirking, challenging older one. You kept cleaning Ryo's hands, your cheeks tepid and chest flushed with all the blood in your body. He grabbed your wrist in an iron grip, bringing it to his lips. He didn't kiss it, just held it there like he was craving your touch.

"I'll become so strong and powerful, bugs like him would think twice, thrice, several times before even looking at you. You'll have nothing to be scared of. Ever.”

You nodded, smiling. Ryo's gaze was so soft at that moment; it was almost a gateway to his soul. For the first time in a decade, when you touched his hand, you could almost tell what he was feeling. His guards were down; he was letting you in on all his secrets. Your fear of him from earlier had dissipated completely, replaced by a warmth you had never felt before. For anyone else. Was this love? The same love your mother had always told you about? She had said, it'd feel just right, that your palm would fit into theirs and their smell would be something you'd recognize even if you were blindfolded.

It did feel right. To know that Ryomen would protect you gave you a sense of relief. You somehow knew the warmth in your heart was reciprocated by him. And for that, you were both grateful and scared.

Your faces inched closer, your heartbeat like a war drum in your ears, but before he could bridge the gap between your trembling lips and his open, smirking mouth, screams from outside the house startled you.

"Bring out the wench," the people shouted.

"Set her on fire.”

"What a disgrace! She seduced the young Lord.”

"Such a shame!”

"No, that is not what happened." You heard your mother trying to defend you, going out of her usual vocal range of what was considered a meek woman. "No, listen, please. My daughter would never. She has grown up in front of your eyes. You know the kind of girl she is.”

You rushed to the doorway, and Ryomen followed. When the people saw you, their screams only grew louder. "Burn her," they said. "Burn her." All of them were servants and guards of the house, colleagues of your mother, people who had once told you that you were just like their own daughter. Their jostling pushed your mother to the ground and you couldn't help but descend into the mob. You heard Ryo's pleas for you to stay back but you couldn't let your mother be victim to a stampede.

The people cornered you, separated you and your mother from Ryo. He tried to push his way through but there were just so many people.

"Answer our questions, wench. Why did you try to besmirch the good young Lord's name and reputation?”

"Weren't you scared for your own good?”

"Who will marry you now that you've given your body up to the young Lord?”

"I will." The answer silenced the whole crowd. With tears in your eyes, you looked up. You knew the voice. The soft yet determined voice that rarely took no for an answer. Your best friend who you always confided in, who knew everything about you. Well, almost everything.

Yuuji came forward and took your hands in his. Several mouths gasped put loud at his gesture. You turned your gaze to where Ryo was standing and saw his face, ashen, like he just realized he'd made a grave mistake.

"I..." Yuuji clasped your hand tighter. "I wanted to talk to you about this for a long time but... I... I also wanted to wait until I had a proper job. But seeing these people vilify you like this, I thought this was the right time. I know what actually happened and that you're an honest woman. What am I saying? Even if you weren't, and if I had your consent, of course, there's nothing I'd like more than having a family with you. What... what do you think? Well you don't have to answer rightaway. Obviously, you need to talk to Okaa-san and I need to talk to Aniki. And…”

"Yuuji," You stopped him from continuing to badger. "I... I don't know what to say." What could you have said that wouldn't have hurt him, and destroyed your decade-long friendship?

You turned your head again, only to see Ryo heading back inside the shed he had been banished to. You needed to know what he was thinking. Did he really have nothing to say?

The crowd was disappearing, disappointed that their bullying had no satisfactory conclusion. You sent Yuuji and your mother back too before rushing to Ryo.

Just as you had feared, you saw him packing clothes and essentials into a bag you had once sewn together for him. "Ryo, what are you doing?" You asked but there was no answer. "Ryo? Ryo?" You followed him around as he picked up more things from around the room. "Ryo, talk to me. Please.”

"Congratulations are in order, I suppose."

"What? No! Ryo, stop." You stood in between him and the doorway. But he was too strong. He picked you up and sat you down on the bed before starting to head out. "Why are you leaving?”

"I have no place here, not now at least.”

"What–”

"Tell me, woman." He turned to you, his bag slinging from his broad shoulder. "Who am I to you?”

You scoffed. As if, that could be put into words. He was the boy who walked behind when Yuuji showed you around town, looking out for any signs of terror. He was the boy who filleted fish for you because he knew you hated chewing on bones. He was the man who almost killed the bastard that wished to consume you. He not only had your heart, you were ready to sacrifice your soul for him.

"See?" He scoffed too.

"What am I to you?" Your question paused him in his tracks. He turned and smiled. Not a smirk, a genuine smile. A melancholic smile. "If it is so easy to put into words, you do it then. What am I to you?”

"A reason.”

Ryomen was already gone before you could interrogate him further. At the time, you had no idea that'd be the last you saw of him, the real him. You sat there, for who knew how long, grieving your friendship, your love, your innocence – all gone in a single day – before Yuuji came back with a tray of food.

"Where's Aniki?" He asked, setting it down.

You composed yourself before answering, lying, "I don’t know. He was gone by the time I came back.”

"Are you–?" Yuuji crouched down in front of you, holding your hands again. There was a lot of eagerness in his grasp, a little impatience too. "Are you still tensed about what happened out there?”

You nodded, sniffling and rubbing off the tears you shed for his brother with the back of your hand.

"Don't worry. They can't hurt you. Not while I'm here. And..." He sensed your concern. "It has got nothing to do with my question, okay? Even if you say no, that's okay too. I'll still always be there for you. Always.”

"What am I to you?”

"What?”

"Yuuji, what am I to you?" You needed to know if there was a simple answer to this question.

He looked around, as if the answer was in the room. When he couldn't find it, he said, "You... You are my best friend. Is that enough?”

"Yes.”

"Great! Now, come, eat something please.”

"No, Yuuji, I meant, yes.”

His eyes grew wider, finally realizing what you meant. "Yes?”

You nodded. "Yes, I'll marry you.”

Until that moment, you weren't sure if this was such a good idea. Even when you actually uttered the word. But the beaming smile on Yuuji's face made it all worth it. All of it, even knowing that your best friend was going to marry a woman who will always love another man more.

please don't copy my work, or publish it elsewhere without my consent. all banners are from pinterest.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

A young, horny Lambert sets his sights on an older hunk of Witcher beef. CW: age gap, flirtation.

"I'm going for it."

"Lambert, don't be a fucking idiot. They'll laugh at you."

"They might, but he won't. You miss all the chances you don't take, right?"

"Your funeral."

Lambert licked his lips and smoothed his hair back as he stood. He hadn't torn his eyes away from his mark for a single second since said man had swaggered into the hall a few hours before. This was the winter he'd do it. He was a man himself now, which meant he had every chance of bagging himself the hunk of good-lookin' he'd been coveting from the moment his dick had started getting hard at night and hair had appeared on his jaw.

Eskel.

It wasn't just that Eskel had two decades on Lambert or that he was becoming a seasoned witcher. No other Witcher in the keep compared. Sure, some tried. They might step toe to toe during drills or try to outflame Eskel's igni, but they never could. The only one that outmatched Eskel was his pale shadow, Geralt. They even looked a little similar. But cream puff was a fucking bean pole of a man, and that shitty headband...

N'aw, Lambert wanted big. He wanted heat, and honey eyes, and that thatch of dark hair he'd seen on Eskel's barrelled chest in the baths, and that huge fucking d--

"You lost, Lambert?"

Lambert blinked. Gweld, the ginger prick, was frowning at him, ale tankard halfway up to his mouth. The others had paused their card game; Clovis looked drunk, Geralt was slouched back trying to see Clovis' hand and Eskel was watching Lambert speculatively.

Watching, with those honey-coloured eyes that turned Lambert inside out. The words caught in Lambert's throat; shit, fuck, why was he so fuckin' stupid the moment Eskel looked at him?

He took a breath, conscious of Clovis elbowing Gweld with a chuckle, while Geralt looked over with a smirk.

Lambert found his words. He folded his arms, thrust his chest out, widened his stance and put on his best cocky smirk. "Was just wonderin' whether Eskel wanted some better company. You losers can't handle your beer at the best of times."

They laughed. Gweld elbowed Eskel who cocked a half smile, eyes rolling not at Lambert, but his friends, proving Lambert's point. Obviously.

"Is that right?" Geralt asked, amusement turning his narrow face bright with a toothy grin. Lambert had been told that as witchers matured they honed their sense of smell, could identify a man's emotions from his body language, the flush in his skin. Lambert knew Geralt had him sussed. "And what kinda company are you offering?"

"Geralt..." Eskel growled in warning, and it went straight to Lambert's groin. Fucking hells.

"Whatever he wants. I'm a man of many talents."

More laughter--"little man has game, shit; fuck, I'm chokin, too funny"--but Lambert wasn't put off. Eskel's eyes were on him, warming him like the sun. The lines around those eyes were wrinkled with mirth, and damn if that smile wasn't snatching the breath right out of Lambert's chest.

"Does your master know you're out?" Eskel asked, placing his cards face down. He leaned back in his chair and slung his elbow onto the back of it, knee turned out while a hand tapped at his drink.

Lambert tried to keep his eyes level and resist the urge to... look. Eskel's codpiece put on an absolutely fucking heroic effort, but it could only hide so much and that was when Eskel was soft. "What he don't know can't hurt him. No business of his who else is in my bed as long as I am."

Eskel pressed his lips together to smother his smile while the others guffawed. More was said but Lambert didn't really hear; he was too focused on keeping his heart from beating out his chest and appearing suave.

Eskel hummed. "Aren't you a little young to be lookin' for that kinda fun?"

"Worried you won't be able to keep up, old man?" Lambert felt momentum. He could do snark, he could meet Eskel on this well worn ground, toe to toe, and the way Eskel's head tilted to the side and his eyebrow rose. It wasn't a no, right? He looked interested. Amused, but he didn't dismiss Lambert outright.

Gweld slapped Eskel on the shoulder with a bark. "Eskel here's got stories that'd make your balls shrivel up into yer belly, lad. I don't think he's a good choice for yer first ride, best drop your ambitions."

"Fuck off, Gweld," Eskel said, but there was no heat to his words. Just wry amusement.

Geralt snorted into his drink and Clovis made a vulgar gesture with his hand, but before Lambert could respond a familiar voice barked through the hall and sucked all the building sexual tension into a vacuum. "Lambert, get your arse to bed, you missed roll call!"

Lambert clenched his teeth, shoulders lifting towards his ears. For fuck's sake...

Three of the witchers in front of him groaned in mock empathy. "Oof, tough break, Lambino. Cock blocked by Vesemir," Gweld said, shaking his head while Geralt and Clovis snickered. "Don't worry, we've all been there. Ain't that right, Gerbear?"

Geralt guffawed in protest and smacked Gweld on the shoulder. It quickly devolved into a wrestling match on the floor, one which Gweld was definitely going to lose. Eskel watched them briefly before he looked back at Lambert. "Another time perhaps," he said, toasting Lambert with his ale. "G'wan, before he decides the target dummies are a little light on straw."

Lambert grunted, frustrated, but stalked away. He'd made inroads, and the way Eskel's eyes had shone, and that crooked grin. Eskel hadn't outright rejected him, hells, he'd--well, that smile... Eskel didn't smile at everyone like that.

Lambert laid in bed with that smile behind his eyes and a hand under the sheets, determined that it would be Eskel's instead of his own by winter's end.

[froggibus]

Your Summer Together - Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieiri

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn! reader, Suguru Geto x gn! reader, Shoko Ieiri x gn! reader

Genre: pure fluff hcs

Summary: just some hcs of what your summer would be like while dating one of the core three

CW: established relationship, s2! Shoko, Geto and Gojo, they’re still students at Jujutsu Tech in this, mentions of drinking/smoking

so I think it’s plain to see that JJK2 is rotting my brain rn. shoko’s design is absolute PEAK and I am in love w all three of them. this is meant to take place around 2006 while they’re still students at the academy, but you could probably take it either way. anyway, would love some JJK requests of these three if anyone else has brain rot 😭 also I am now completely caught up on the manga and idk what to do w my life

————

Satoru Gojo:

lots and lots of sweets 

definitely takes you to the arcade so you can watch him set the high score on games 

“babe are you watching? babe pls”

he is CLINGY too

always following you around and practically glued to your side 

whenever one is seen without the other, Geto and Shoko always ask where your “carry on” is

he is the EXPERT at sneaking around too

knows every single place you can make out during the day without getting caught 

and makes a point of using ALL of them

takes refuge in your room whenever he’s done stuff to piss someone off (usually Yaga) 

probably sleeps more in your room than he does in his own 

like to the point your bed always smells like him and there’s always candy wrappers on his nightstand 

gives you lots of random gifts too 

from pretty flowers he found to expensive jewelry and clothes 

just loves to spoil you 

takes you to almost every summer event

fireworks? he’s taking you to the best spot in the city 

expect lots of beach days too 

this man will drag you out every day and make you watch him show off in the water 

"babe babe watch this"

also ice cream dates!! 

being stuck between two flavors so Gojo gets one and you get the other and the two of you share 

really it’s just an excuse for him to have more sugar 

you will be sick to death of him by the end of the summer

Suguru Geto:

expect lots of third wheeling from Gojo

like lots

like you cannot get rid of this man no matter how hard you try 

sneaking around a lot to avoid Gojo 

lots of sleepovers in each others dorms (and hiding from Yaga)

takes you around the city and shows you all of his favorite places too 

expect lots and lots of random dates too

like going to the aquarium and then having sushi??? 

but also plans really cute activities for the two of you 

takes you to places with really good views to watch the sunset 

and plans for you to spend a night in the city just to get away 

doesn’t like the beach but will definitely go if you want to (although he spends the whole day laying in the sand unless you beg him to come in the water)

looks damn fine in a bathing suit too

movie nights w the core three!!

definitely more of a reader and will compare the book to the movie 

and you, Gojo and Shoko will be telling him to shut up

after everyone falls asleep on the couch, definitely starts being more affectionate to you 

also brunch dates!!

this man is a sucker for brunch 

tries to get one last get away with you at the end of the summer too

Shoko Ieiri:

expect lots of teasing from Gojo and Geto 

but dw because there will be absolutely NO third wheeling 

knows every place in the city she can get alcohol + smokes 

takes you to a bunch of cool lowkey places that you’ve never heard of before either 

she’s not a big fan of public events or big crowds, but you can probably convince her to go to a couple

lots of lazy mornings and afternoons together 

also gets away with way more than the other two because she’s way less annoying 

so less sneaking around too

cannot cook to save her life so more often than not you guys go out for food or order take out

staying up way too late + sleeping in together 

makes you watch all of her favorite movies and watches you the whole time to see how you react 

not nearly as horny as the other two but definitely gets some affection in too

you guys go bathing suit shopping and she insists on seeing every single one on you

gets you all flustered with her comments too

not one for the beach but Gojo probably drags everyone out at some point 

she’ll help you apply her sunscreen but will not swim unless you drag her out there 

Gojo probably throws her in at some point and she almost kills that man

she is the cocktail queen!! 

like she will make you the tastiest, coolest, prettiest cocktail you’ve ever seen in your life 

Gojo and Geto definitely treat her like their personal bartender 

also takes lot of pics of the two of you together + has them strung up above her bed 

[sanjisblackasswife]

Hello my queen!

I hope you are doing well! Since your requests are open and I need something to brighten up my day I wanted to request something for Sanji (maybe comforting us on a really bad day?) and maybe even with some NSFW?

Just got ghosted from a longtime friend and could really use my prince for emotional support.

God bless your heart and stay healthy ;3

“ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖”

ꜱᴀɴᴊɪ x ʙʟᴋ!ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Hope you feel better mama! sorry for the delay.

CW: Mostly fluff, Kissing, Bath sex(?), Fingering, Talking you through your orgasm, Tongue sucking, TWT Link mentioned

You can’t hide your feelings from Sanji.

He reads you better than he can read himself.

He seen you slumped, he even noticed how different your walk was when he sees you on the deck.

It made him feel less of your boyfriend seeing you like this. All day you kept telling him “I’m fine.” but he knew you wasn’t. It was always difficult for you to speak your feelings to him. He understood.

“Y/N!” He chirped from the kitchen door, you look up from leaning on the deck. a weak smile fell on your lips seeing your always so smiley love cook from afar.

He lightly jogs to you, giving you a warm kiss on the cheek despite his lips being cold, “Come with me, yes?”

You take his hand and you both walk to the bathroom, he glances at your sorrowed face, trying so hard to at least be deadpanned but your furrowed brows made it difficult. He sighs, hopefully tonight’s activities will help.

He had the bathroom decorated, flower petals, and the sweet smell of Sakura oils filled the room, the giant tub was beautiful as well as some candles were lit surrounding the floor.

Your eyes lit up, “Sanji!”

He smiled, rubbing the sides of your arms he takes off your jacket, “We haven’t had a bath together in a while, so���why not?”

You seen his dimples make their mark on his cheeks, so rare to see you couldn’t help but to match his smile, “Okay…thank you.”

His plan was already working on you.

He undressed you slowly, giving you small kisses and praises of your body, “You’re so perfect, sweetheart.”

His words were as sweet as the dessert he made tonight, he pushed back your hair from your shoulders, he needed a good look of your face.

“Have you been crying?” Sanji asked noticing the faint pink in your eye, you avoid his gaze. It told him enough to know.

He cups your cheeks, landing his lips on yours, he almost wanted to cry himself knowing that earlier today you were alone with your tears. He wasn’t there to comfort you.

Nothing but the soft sounds of water moving and small hums from Sanji filled the air, you exhaled, melting in his arms. His hands rubbing up and down your legs, his soft lips on your damped neck and shoulders.

“I love you, Y/n…” He speaks, eyes still on your submerged lower body, “I love you so much. I hope you know that.”

“…I been busy but I can never be too busy for you so if you ever need me—no matter what the task is I am there for you. I am and will always be here for whatever you need, want, and desire. It’s never a burden , my love. I am always happy to be of service to you. So please, don’t ever feel ashamed to come to me for whatever, Hear me?”

His words were firm, you knew he meant every word, your heart warmed at the tender kisses he punctuated his sentence with.

“I hear you.” You turn to face him and wrap your arms around his neck, “Thank you.”

“O-of course!” Sanji grew flustered, feeling your wet nipples against his chiseled chest, “I do…i will always try my hardest to make you as happy as you make me. If not more!”

“You do make me happy, Ji…thank you.”

A kiss on his cheek made his grow pink, then the corner of his lips, to then be led to a slow make out session.

Your body sat sideways on his lap, you giggle feeling his hard on he just couldn’t help to have whenever you both lay naked together, he held the side of your face, taking in control of the kiss. You loved it when he did whatever he wanted to you.

And that’s what he did; moving his hand down to tightly squeeze your breast making you moan. The jerk caused him to smile in between kisses.

He moved your chin up a little to open your mouth wider, his thumb grazing your bottom lip immediately sending the message of what he wanted.

You loll out your tongue, earning a smirk from Sanji he tilts his head to suck on it. Moaning, he presses further against you, almost bucking from below.

“‘Need you so badly..” He mumbles, his fingers lingering down to to dance over your clit. He was right he did need you, to Sanji, touching you always reminds him of how much he truly missed these moments.

The water began to splash a little over the rim of the tub seeing Sanji straighten up his back to open your legs further.

“Sanji…” You hummed at the full feeling of 2 fingers curling inside you, it was almost he was impatient with the way he began to scissor your so quickly.

He didn’t let go of your lips, he kept you on his lap damn near swallowing you whole not leaving an inch of your mouth not tasted by him while he fingered you.

“Fuck..” Sanji broke the kiss, the feel of your pussy between his fingers always left him painfully aroused, he looked down into the water to see your left thigh twitching every time his thumb rubbed circles on it. “Sit up, baby.”

“Ji..” You immediately straddle him and begin softly Kissing his neck, you felt his hands roam the fatty mounds of your bottom and give it a squeeze while he leans hi head back to give to more access.

Sanji whimpers your name, your pillow like lips felt so delicate to touch he couldn’t help himself and bucked into you. You both share a moan feeling his tip prod and poke at your slit.

“‘Need you, Ji…” You whine into his neck, feeling his hand align himself to guide you down on his shaft.

“‘M right here.” Your eyes meet with his as he leans back on the tub rim, holding your waist in place you take hold of his chest while he does all the work for you. “Just relax.”

The slow, deep snaps of his hips hitting you from blow always dragged in a bolt of pleasure, the room was echoed of both of your soft sexual noises.

Sanji moved your hips for you, he looked and admired your breast subtly bouncing off the bubbles and he leans down to suckle one, ignoring the bitter taste of soap he moans against you.

You were close, but this orgasm felt way harder than you’d be expecting. Maybe it was because you bother haven’t had sex in a while, but you felt it coming so you took hold of your boyfriend’s pretty blonde hair to grab and look up at you.

“Sanji…” You cry out his name in his own mouth, you began to breath harshly into it as well as picking up the pace.

Sanji knew you were close before you even acknowledged it. He pulled away slowly and moved his lip to your ear. He knew exactly what to do.

Especially since he knew you loved his voice.

“That’s it..keep going i’m right here” You heard the strain in his voice, breaking his small praises into moans here and there, but he couldn’t help it. He was close too

“Good girl…just like that. Oh baby keep going for me..”

Your noises got louder, at this point you were in a lotus position, face to face with his low lidded eyes and his pink cheeks you latch your mouth back onto his, every piece of sorrow and stress you held onto was flushed away as your orgasm washed over you both.

Your body was shaking trying to ride out the orgasm, with a low whiney voice sanji speaks, “Good…good girl you feel…s-so good..I love you.”

Catching your breath you smile at him, he looked so dazed, you had to hold his face up before he face planted back into your breast still holding you.

You felt him still slowly grinding, the sting overstimulation felt amazing for you both.

You kiss the top of his head, holding him as he holds you.

“Do you feel better? I hope you do…I love you, y/n” His voice muffled against you.

“I do…and I love you, more…thank you.”

[aishangotome]

Nokto Klein: Even If The World Becomes False Again...

From A Hidden Oath: King of the BEAST (2024 Election) - Collection Event

Thank you @dark-frosted-heart for providing the SE video!

—

Late at night, when even the plants and trees are asleep---

I returned to my room after finishing my official duties, and Emma, dressed in her nightgown, greeted me.

Nokto: I'm home. You could have gone to bed earlier. I told you I'd be late today, didn't I?

Emma: Welcome back. But I wanted to sleep after seeing your face.

Nokto: Just seeing me is enough? That's not enough for me, by the way.

Nokto: If I knew you were waiting up for me so diligently, I'd want to hold you.

I embraced her waist and kissed her.

My second kiss was stopped by her hand, as if to hold me back.

Emma: You just got back, didn't you?

Nokto: That's exactly why I want you, to make up for the time we were apart.

Emma: That's true, but...

She suddenly looked at me with a questioning gaze.

Emma: Nokto, are you a little tired?

Nokto: Hmm, a little.

(As expected, you notice right away.)

I was surprised to find myself answering honestly, even as I replied.

(Maybe it's because I was dealing with someone who kept lying to me tonight, but I am a little tired.)

(But if it were the old me, I would have lied to you with a smile, just like that person I was dealing with, and said "I'm fine.")

Emma: Then I'll make you some tea now. Should I add plenty of milk tonight?

Nokto: I think I'll take you up on that.

I sat down on the bed and sighed, and immediately a teacup filled with fragrant steam was offered to me.

I could feel Emma's kindness even in its warmth.

(You had it ready so you could serve it as soon as I got back, huh?)

Nokto: Thank you. Your tea seems to have a more restorative effect than any medicine.

Emma: Hehe, you're welcome.

As I drank the tea, Emma sat down next to me and rested her head on my shoulder.

Her lovely weight and warmth seemed to warm my heart and body.

(You're so endlessly kind and straightforward that my heart melts in an instant.)

(I can now honestly open up to you, and it's probably thanks to that.)

Emma: After you finish your tea, let's take a bath and go to bed early, okay?

Nokto: Don't we need to continue what we were doing earlier?

I put the empty teacup on the side table and lifted Emma onto my lap.

I teasingly traced my fingertips along her back, and her cheeks flushed as if she understood what I meant.

Emma: Well, that's because it's reading day today...

(Oh my, you're so red.)

(But you're not saying no, which means you've become quite naughty too... cute.)

A smile escaped my lips, and Emma raised her eyebrows in a playful pout.

Emma: Oh, you're teasing me, aren't you?

Nokto: Of course not. I really think we should continue what we were doing.

Nokto: I laughed because you reacted so cutely.

Nokto: You know, that feeling when you see something cute and your cheeks loosen up.

Emma: Like when I see your sleeping face?

Nokto: I can't relate to that at all.

Emma: What? But it's cute.

(I used to deceive people with fake smiles, but now I smile from the heart more often.)

(When I'm with you, I find myself smiling.)

My feelings welled up and I hugged her, and Emma looked up and narrowed her eyes happily.

Nokto: You smile so happily at just the slightest thing.

Emma: It's not "just" anything to me.

Emma: I'm so, so happy to feel your warmth, Nokto.

(Happiness, huh... I thought I didn't need it so much, but now I can't let go of this happiness.)

(Because you reached out and saved me so many times, even though you were hurt, just to make me happy.)

(And because I know that if I'm not happy, neither you nor Licht can be truly happy...)

Emma: Nokto?

Nokto: I was just savoring the happiness of being with you, too.

Unusually honest words spilled out.

(...But I'm still a little embarrassed.)

I cupped Emma's chin and kissed her to hide my embarrassment.

I stroked her hair indulgently, repeating gentle pecks on her lips.

(I love your happy, unguarded face, but it's not enough.)

I placed my hand on the back of her head, taking away her escape route, and devoured her lips, my tongue parting them.

I traced her teeth and captured her relaxed tongue, eliciting a sensual moan.

Emma: Mmm...

Nokto: Come on, melt even more with my love and show me your indecent side.

I devoured the body we had remade together in our days of lovemaking, immersed in deep happiness, and made a vow in my heart.

To protect this happiness, I wouldn't hesitate to throw myself back into a world full of falsehoods.

(No matter how false the world is, I know your pure feelings are not false,)

(And I'm sure my love for you is not false either...)

FIN