#multiple ficlets

[slashersdaddy]

Hey! I hope You are doing Well! Can I Request a Fluff? Slasher x S/O Calling Them "Sweetface" (I was watching the seed of Chucky the other day and it got me wondering). Can i have Jason, Michael, Thomas Hewitt and Brahms? Gender is up to you!

(Sorry if my Writing is a bit Messy, English is not my First Language)

Have A Great Day! :D

Slashers respond to S/O calling them sweetface!

Fluff!

Jason Voorhees

When you first called him sweetface, it was in his cabin, while you both were resting by the fire, he had been sharpening his machete, and froze up.

His shoulders tightened and he looked down at you, tensed like a snake ready to strike.

Though he would never do such a thing.

Finally after a long silence which stretched out around you both, the only noise your soft breathing and the crackling of the fire, he tilted his head.

It was as just about clear a response as you could get out of the mute killer, 'What?'

So when you giggled and spoke again "I said, come here sweetface!" He slowly scooted closer, before quick as can be, he scooped you up into his arms, pulling you into his lap, and burying his face in your shoulder.

He didn't understand why his heart raced so much, or really why you would call a monster like him such a loving nickname, but he couldn't say he minded. The feeling of warmth blooming in his long dead chest made every moment worth it.

Micheal Myers

You had been sitting with Micheal in the living room of the old Myers house, watching some shitty horror film on the old TV set when you glanced up at him, a smile forming on your face before you leaned on him

"I love you, Sweetface"

Were the words that escaped your lips, a soft smile playing on your face as you gazed up at him. You had been with Micheal for a couple of years now, and every moment felt like a dream to you.

Micheal froze, tensing slightly as he gazed down at you through the mask he always wore, his ice blue eyes peircing into your own eyes.

But slowly, almost hesitantly, he relaxed, draping an arm around you, his fingers massaging your scalp in a shockingly gentle manner for one known for his brutality.

You should call him sweetface more often

Thomas Hewitt

You had been sitting with Thomas in the barn, one hot Texas summers day. Thomas was working nearby, focused on the work that needed finished before sundown. When you broke his focus, just a simple phrase

"Tommy, Sweetface, why don't you take a break? You've been working all day!"

He paused his movements, slowly turning and striding over to where he towered over you, looking down at you, head slightly cocked to the side as he waited for you to repeat yourself.

So you did, smiling up at him and repreating the wordsthat had shaken him out of his work filled stupor

"tommy Sweetface, you should take a break, you've been working since sun up"

You said, gently, for fear of his reaction.

But much to your surprise, he simply nodded, reaching one arm out and wrapping it around your waist, tossing you over his shoulder and making his way to the porch.

That's where he sat, settling you onto his leg while his hands began to slowly rub your back, seemingly an apology for having you out in the hot sun all day.

You could get used to this

Brahms Heelshire

You had just finished preparing dinner and setting the table, noticing the distinct lack of Brahms, who usually had already come down drawn by the scent of food you called up

"Sweetface! Dinners ready!"

Then came the familiar sounds of Brahms making his way downstairs, albeit faster than usual.

But instead of sitting at the table he walked up to you, his hands finding your cheeks and lifting your face to look at him, head tilted to the side as he speaks, low and measured

"what?"

It's clear what he is asking about, you had called him sweetface, so with a smile you reach up, ruffling his hair

"I said, Sweetface, dinners ready"

He paused, either shocked by you repeating it, or by the confirmation that you did infact call him sweetface before he leaned down, wrapping you in a tight hug, burying his face in your neck and muttering

"good"

[tachvintlogic]

Humans are Weird: Offloading tasks to Bacteria

Alien A: So your waste has bacteria in it.

Human: Yes.

Alien A: Inherently.

Human: Yes.

Alien A: Why?

Human: Because I have bacteria in my gut.

Alien A: And you're not sick?

Human: No, they're supposed to be there. They help digest tough materials we can't break down ourselves.

Alien A: You don't just do that yourself?

Human: No, we just let them do it for us. Most vertebrates on Earth have them, or at least I don't know if any don't. They already know how to digest that stuff, so why not let them help out?

Alien A: But what if they make you sick?

Human: It's fine as long as they're not somewhere they're not supposed to be. Do you not have helpful organisms living in you?

Alien A: No! That's weird.

Alien B: What's weird?

Alien A: Offloading digestion to bacteria.

Human: No it's not. They're perfectly suited for it.

Alien B: And for getting rid of bad bacteria.

Human: You have them too?

Alien B: Yeah, but not for digestion. To guard against parasites. They're the parasites of parasites.

Human: They kinda help with invaders in the gut, but that's mostly the immune system's job. Do you have an immune system? Besides the bacteria.

Alien B: No, not really.

Alien A: What!?

Human: Really? So if you don't have anything to reign them in?

Alien B: They govern themselves. It works alright.

Human: But if they stop doing their job right, you're fucked.

Alien B: And if your immune system stops doing its job, you're fucked.

Human: Touché.

Alien C: ...I'm confused.

Alien B: By what?

Alien C: These bacteria. You're talking about them like they're separate from you.

Human: Well, yeah they are separate from me.

Alien C: But they're living things that live in your body.

Alien B: I don't get what's confusing.

Alien A: Because they're parasites you haven't realized are parasites.

Alien C: No. It's... how are you distinguishing between yourself and these bacteria? How do you define yourself in a way that excludes them?

Human: They come from outside?

Alien B: Wait, you're not born with yours?

Human: No, we just kind of pick them up as we go along.

Alien B: Oh, my species doesn't do that. That would be far too risky.

Human: Yeah, you'd probably need a lot more control over what your bacteria ecosystem looks like.

Alien C: But how are they separate from you you?

Human: Well, all the cells that make up me all originate from a single stem cell with the instructions to make me—you guys use DNA right?

Alien B: We use nucleotides but different ones.

Alien A: My translator is telling me that you code your instructions in a way that is exclusive to certain single-celled organisms on my planet.

Alien C: I use DNA.

Humans: Okay, good. So my cells have my DNA and the bacteria ecosystem is all different species of bacteria with their own DNA and lineages that aren't affiliated with my origin cell, so they're separate from me.

Alien B: Yeah, that's basically how it is.

Alien C: So, you don't start as a collection of cells, all with their own DNA and DNA lineages that specialize into different systems with different jobs?

Human: Wait, so you're a colony of a bunch of organisms that become your organ systems?

Alien C: By your definition of "organism," yes.

Alien A: Okay, but can we all agree that the fact human waste needs to be sterilized is weird?

Human: No.

Alien B: Yes.

Alien C: Actually... My equivalent to a stomach reproduces on its own in addition to reproducing with the rest of me, so you will need to sterilize the spores in my poop.

Human: Woah, that's so cool!

Alien A: I'm just going to sterilize everyone's waste just in case.

[lsunstreakerl]

aaaaand the 550 word follow up of Gianpiero's first nest.

Max has his back against the wall, watching as Gianpiero pulls another blanket out of the box. The delivery had surprised him- he wasn't sure what Gianpiero possibly could have ordered to need such a huge container, but apparently it's some kind of... nesting kit.

He's not entirely sure.

Gianpiero stares at the assorted soft things on the ground and the couch, hands on his hips.

"I don't suppose you have any idea how we're supposed to do this?"

Max does not. He's a little confused on why Gianpiero is nesting- he may have dropped out of school, but it's somewhat common knowledge that alphas can't build a nest.

Maybe Gianpiero has a condition or something. A medical need to nest.

Gianpiero blows out all his air, rolling his sleeves up.

"Alright then. It can't be that hard."

------

Max quietly pulls up another article forum about 'building a nest as an alpha'. He's been opening them in new tabs for Gianpiero, because it had taken all of twenty minutes for him to realize it is hard.

Gianpiero squints at the screen.

"What does that mean, 'additional ambience'? How am I supposed to do that?"

Max shrugs- it's not like he knows. He's never made a nest before, and even though he's always heard about how it's 'instinct', it's an instinct he doesn't seem to have.

Even looking at the living room, all he can think is that it's a bit of a travesty- there's no urge to fix it.

Gianpiero turns back to the living room.

"Okay, get it together GP. You've got walls, and the fluffy floor, and it 'looks round'- whatever that means."

He throws his hands up.

"But it doesn't look like a nest."

Max slides out of his chair, quietly padding over to Gianpiero's side. Not too close- but close enough to look at it from the same angle Gianpiero is looking from.

He hasn't seen a whole lot of nests, but it looks nest-adjacent. It's maybe missing a pillow here and there, if Max had to guess.

Gianpiero looks from Max to the nest, dejected.

"I think this might be the best I can do. I'm sorry, Max."

Gianpiero doesn't need to be sorry- that's stupid. Max doesn't need a nest at all, but if Gianpiero needs one...

He carefully grabs one of the pillows from the box, gingerly settling it in one of the sadder looking corners.

He steps back next to Gianpiero, who's looking softy at him, scent smoothing into something warm and proud.

"I think you fixed it, honestly. It looks much better now."

Max raises an eyebrow.

Gianpiero winces.

"Okay- it looks more like a nest than whatever I was doing."

All Max did was add a pillow.

They're both lingering at the edge of it, but Max pauses, confused. It's...

Culturally, he's pretty sure an alpha is supposed to ask an omega if they can come into the nest.

But this is technically Gianpiero's nest. As in, he built it. So does Max need to wait for Gianpiero to tell him it's okay?

He blinks at Gianpiero.

Gianpiero blinks at him.

"How about we both just use it, and we'll keep the etiquette breach between us?"

Max can get behind that plan.

[gothamite-rambler]

Goals for the month

Tim and Damian walked through the park chatting when Damian turned to his brother.

Damian: What are your goals for the month, Drake?

Tim (nonchalantly): Train for a marathon at the end of the month. Yours?

Damian (eager): To pet all the dogs in Gotham!

Tim: Um... I thought you meant more fitness based goals.

Damian: Ah, yes correction. I will train so I'm able to run fast enough to pet all the dogs in Gotham.

Just after saying that, a husky trotted past the two Robins, catching Damian's attention.

Damian (pointing at the dog): There’s one! DOGGY, STOP! I NEED TO PET YOU!

Damian took off after the husky, drawing startled glances from people in the park. Tim quickly followed, exasperation evident on his face.

Tim: Damian, I told you to stop doing this in the park!

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Ring my bell, part 4

Part 3

steddie, omegaverse, flagging/signaling culture, mdni 🔞

Steve and Eddie spend the late fall and early winter meeting up as often as they can to fool around. Eddie’s got his club and his band and his dealing at high school parties, while Steve has his job and Robin and the special weekly Scoops Troop hang. They still find plenty of time for each other, Eddie sneaking into Steve’s bedroom on nights when the elder Harringtons are in town, Steve arriving at Forest Hills minutes after Wayne leaves for the late shift.

Most days Eddie is too impatient to wait for Steve to wash off his blockers, so he usually greets Steve with a kiss, then drops to his knees so he can scent him properly. Which quickly becomes him peeling Steve out of his jeans and putting his tongue to good use. He’s so pussy-drunk by the time he’s made Steve come that it only takes a few strokes to have him shooting off in Steve’s hand.

After, Steve will shower, toss Eddie a washcloth for his own mess, and they’ll spend whatever time they have left cuddled up close, talking about anything and everything.

Steve tells Eddie about the weird things customers say and the games he and Robin make up to pass the time. How much his dad keeps pushing for him to apply for a mailroom job at his firm, and how he would literally rather eat glass.

Eddie will talk through the puzzles and traps he has planned for the upcoming Hellfire session, trying them out on Steve to check the difficulty—Steve even helps him build a puzzle around basketball, telling him, “Lucas will get it, don’t worry about them getting stuck.” He’ll do his reading for English aloud so it sticks better in his head, Steve curled up against his chest, struggling to stay awake. Or, on nights he’s feeling particularly brave, Eddie will pull out his songwriting notebook, and show Steve the song he’s working on about him.

They’re spending New Year’s Eve alone at Steve’s house—his parents are in Paris for the holidays—all of their friends thankfully busy so they don’t need an excuse to blow them off.

“Wayne working tonight?” Steve asks as he opens the door on Eddie’s smiling face, his cheeks pink from the cold.

“Nah, he’s out drinking with his buddies. Told me not to wait up. Told him I was spending the evening elsewhere, and with how much of your scent is in my room… He’s figured out I’m seeing someone…” Eddie looks at him with worry in his big, dark eyes. “Is that okay?”

They had both decided to be quiet about all of it: the whole scentmates-hanging out-fooling around-thing until Eddie’s done with school. But Wayne is important to Eddie. The warmth in Steve’s chest is back at the thought of someone else knowing, at it being someone who cares about his alpha. Having someone who will support them without making it a big deal.

Steve doesn’t say all that, just murmurs, “Yeah, you can tell Wayne as much as you want.”

“Thanks, Puppy.” Eddie practically tackles him in a hug, purring as he realizes Steve is already blocker-free for the night, and tucks in tight to his neck. “You should stop wearing them,” he mumbles, not even kissing his neck, but licking it, tongue stroking his mating gland over and over.

“How about you let me close the door so we don’t heat the whole neighborhood.”

Eddie giggles, but complies, allowing Steve to close the door and lead him to the living room where Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve is already playing on the tv, volume turned down low. “I wanna be able to scent you all the time,” Eddie pleads, tossing his leather jacket on a chair and plopping onto the couch.

“Then everyone else could, too. Pretty hard to keep things low-key if everyone can tell I’m the source of all the new scents on you.” And it’s not like Steve is the one pushing for their quiet arrangement; Eddie wants it too.

“Just want people to know you’re taken,” Eddie says softly, whining as Steve straddles his lap and pulls him into a kiss. “Don’t have to know you’re mine yet, just… Taken.”

Steve remembers then, the alpha who had seen his necklace at work a few weeks back and asked him on a date. Eddie had been back in the Horror section, and he’d heard it all. He made Steve come on his tongue three times that night, and Steve had honestly forgotten all about it.

“I could say the same thing,” Steve says, just as soft. He takes Eddie’s left hand in his, taps over his rings, and comes up short. The pig head ring is gone. Eddie doesn’t have any more sniffing to do. In its place is a bird with a forked tail, wings and tail wrapped around Eddie’s middle finger. “Eddie?”

Eddie looks down, smiles to himself when he sees Steve has noticed the new ring. “It’s a swallow. They mate for life, and they migrate really far, but they always come home. I don’t plan on going far, but I promise I’ll always come home to you, Stevie.”

Lifting Eddie’s hand, Steve places a reverent kiss to his knuckles, then he pins him back against the couch and melds their mouths together in a greedy kiss.

It’s easy to stay there, making out, grinding down against Eddie’s rapidly hardening cock, so Steve does, lets his body do his talking for the moment. His scent blossoms and mixes with Eddie’s, making the living room smell like a proper den, and he wishes with all his heart that they could simply have this all the time.

But when Eddie leaves in the morning, Steve will have to spray air freshener to cover over their mixed scents. His parents can’t come home to the house smelling like an alpha they don’t know, and he isn’t ready to have anyone—even Robin—commenting on his scent at work.

Steve pulls back with tears in his eyes, ready to whisper apologies in Eddie’s ear, but his alpha is smiling up at him. “It’s okay, Puppy. I understand, I promise I do!” Awkwardly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box. “I thought this might help.”

Eddie opens the box and reveals a tiny key charm, claw clasp at the top so Steve can easily clip it on or take it off his necklace. So his parents won’t ask questions. But he can have it any other time. Robin will give him shit about it, but maybe he’s ready for Robin to give him shit about it.

“I love you,” Steve blurts, snapping the jewelry box closed so his gift doesn’t get lost, and taking Eddie by the sides of his face. “I love you.”

Eddie grins, and guides Steve’s face down to his, foreheads touching as they breathe one another in. “Love you, too.”

part 5

[youchangedmedestiel]

Dean is sitting next to Cas on the dinner bench they picked up to eat after wrapping up their case with Sam.

He doesn't know what is happening to him tonight, but it's like his body wants to melt with Cas's. He wants to lean against him, he wants to touch him. He also wants Cas to touch him, and melt under that soft and comforting touch.

It's like every cell of his body is calling for Cas's. And when their elbows touch because Cas leans his back against the bench backrest and Dean shifts a little, Dean feels the serotonine spreading in his whole body.

That brush is barely perceptible, though Dean thinks Cas is sending him some signs to cuddle up against him. And Dean wants it. Oh yes, he wants it so bad that he needs it. He'd like to take Cas's hand in his. He'd like to cup his jaw and kiss him softly. He'd like Cas to hold him tight. He'd like to pet Cas's hair or have Cas pet his. Cas could be so submissive under Dean's stroke. Or Cas could be so dominant that Dean would do whatever he wants, he could even sink down on his knees under the table and take him in his mouth while Cas's firm hand would grab his hair.

Dean would moan at that and Cas would come in his mouth, groaning and holding him tighter.

Dean needs this so bad, but instead a brush of his arm against Cas's will have to be enough.

[findmeinthepitt]

had this thought right before i slept last night so now that i’m awake. let’s get into it. what if frank, tired of whatever is going on between him and robby ever since he came back to work, writes him a letter in an attempt at honest communication. in-person conversation is certainly not the way to go because it almost always ends with either or both men snapping at each other. sometimes it even starts that way. but he has to talk to robby, needs him back on his side, needs to know that whatever damage he’s done isn’t permanent, that they can work on it and he can re-earn robby’s trust. because without that, well. he may as well not work in the ED for all it’s worth. so. the letter. he has no idea what to write or how to start, but then he thinks of robby, thinks of what he would say to families of patients who are struggling to find closure, to talk to a person who isn’t all there anymore, and he knows. he writes

please forgive me. for not coming to you when i was struggling with my pain, for stealing from the hospital under your watch, that in doing so i endangered and disrespected everything you worked so hard to build for me. for the ambulance bay. for hitting you where i knew it would hurt, on a day that i knew was one of the worst days of the year for you.

i forgive you. because i think you need to hear it.

thank you. for letting me come back. for fighting for me in admin meetings and against HR and legal teams and our lovely gloria, as belligerently as you must have done even though you never told me. for keeping a check on the gossip on the floor when i came back, for doing your best to keep most of the sordid details private. for still believing that i’m competent enough, responsible enough, to be on the floor, despite. for teaching me so well, all these years.

i love you.

[chronicowboy]

Eddie has known exactly what he was going to come home to ever since Buck texted him to say he was going out for some afternoon drinks with Hen—Karen visiting her parents with the kids for the weekend, Eddie covering a shift for Julie, and Chris being spoiled rotten by his visiting tias—but it still warms his heart when he finds Buck dozing on the couch, all curled up like a house cat in a perfect ray of sun.

See, Buck's a big guy and he's still young, so he can handle his alcohol. But day drinking makes Buck adorably sleepy. Golden retriever Buck transforms into a clinging, cuddly koala bear—minus the Chlamydia because that's something Eddie knows now, thanks Buck. And Eddie loves every version of Buck equally, but this might be one of his favourites.

Eddie drops his duffel at the door, toeing off his shoes before crossing to the couch. He perches on the arm of the chair and runs a hand through Buck's curls, product displaced by his impromptu nap. Buck blinks awake slowly and curls up tighter, pushing his face deeper into the couch cushion before his body relaxes. His eyes find Eddie in seconds, and Eddie lets the joy rush through him like his very own intoxicant.

"Hey, baby," Buck murmurs thickly, dragging the 'y' out for long enough that Eddie can't bite back his chuckle. "Good shift?"

"Good shift," Eddie replies with a smile. "Good day with Hen?"

"Good day with Hen," Buck parrots, nodding against the couch before a yawn cracks his jaw. "Missed you."

A surprisingly strong arm reaches up to wrap around his waist, and Buck pulls him down onto the couch in a move so agile Eddie can't help wondering if he and Hen were on virgin piña coladas. He huffs a small noise of shock as Buck rearranges himself to fit against Eddie's side, nuzzling his face into the crook of Eddie's neck.

"I missed you too, baby," Eddie laughs, reburying his hand in Buck's hair when he's settled. "You hungry?"

"Mm." Buck drops a handful of lazy kisses to his shoulder, tightening his hold on Eddie. "Lenny's burgers and a movie?"

"Buck." Eddie presses his chuckle to Buck's temple. "You wouldn't stay awake through an episode of The Good Place."

"'s not really about the movie though," Buck argues, endearingly petulant as his brow furrows in discontent. Eddie cranes his neck to press a kiss to the wrinkle of his skin, satisfied when it disappears under his lips. "It's about you."

"Me?" It's Eddie's turn to frown then, barely able to follow Buck's mind on the best of days, unable to follow drunk Buck's erratic train of thought through all of its many, many stops.

"Like movie night." Buck yawns again, pressung it into Eddie's skin. "Was never about the movie. Was always about you and Chris."

"Oh." Eddie blinks, eyes stinging suddenly.

When Buck had shown up on his doorstep three nights after he and Marisol fizzled out to tell him that he'd broken up with Natalia, Eddie never thought Buck would be able to shock him more than that. Then Buck had told him he was in love, in love with Eddie of all people, and Eddie knew nothing would ever blindside him quite so brilliantly as that. But this is Evan Buckley. Evan Buckley who can say something so simple, yet so mindbogglingly romantic and loving even drunk and half-asleep. Eddie should know better by now.

"I love you," Eddie whispers. His only answer is a soft, snuffling snore. "Alright, cowboy." He laughs, scratching at Buck's scalp to hear his purring snore. "Guess I'm ordering our food then."

And Eddie can't wait to spend the rest of his life watching movies, even if Buck sleeps through them all.

[motelsnleatherseats]

Dean hardly had a moment to reflect on what he did with his brother, because as soon as he had caved to Sam's advances, the kid was practically permanently attached at the hip. If he had been bad before, he was now a certified stage 5 clinger. What used to be two occupied beds was now just one, and Sam had all but forgotten what furniture was because Dean's lap was just that much more inviting.

The hardest part about it was keeping his little brother at arm's length when they were out in public. Sam didn't seem to care, but Dean was all too aware of the raised eyebrows it garnered them when Sam would get handsy. Dean would shoot him warning looks and have to firmly grip his wrist to stop his eager hands, but Sam appeared to take it as a challenge.

Dean climbed into the Impala and closed the door with a sigh, and not but two seconds later felt his little brother's hand on his thigh.

"Sammy," Dean spoke, once again putting a stop by finding the younger's wrist, gripping it lightly. "Look, I know you're.. eager and excited about what we're doing now, but you really gotta tone it down when we're out and about."

Sam's expression soured briefly, something between petulant and pouty.

"Why? No one knows we're brothers," he replied, and Dean exhaled something akin to frustration.

"I know, but I think it's pretty obvious. That's not even what I'm really worried about, you have to remember that you're only 15. It's gonna make me look like some kind of pervert freak into young boys." Plus he didn't want anyone thinking he was gay, not that there was anything wrong with being gay, he just wasn't. Was he? No, he didn't like men, never even thought of checking them out. Sam was the only exception. "Just.. cool it a little, yeah? For me?"

"Okay.."

Sam's reluctant agreeance had Dean feeling a pang of guilt, never truly finding it right to deny his brother anything, but if they wanted this to continue, they'd have to play it safe.

The drive back to the motel was quiet, and Sam had even put some distance between them, crowded closer to the passenger door with his gaze out the window like he was giving Dean the cold shoulder. Dean couldn't bring himself to say anything else, but worry was starting to build. He'd glance over at him in silent pleas to not be mad at him, each lingering moment inciting further culpability.

When they parked, Sam was the first to get out and head into the room, uncharacteristically leaving Dean to follow instead of waiting for him at the door. He was upset, that much was obvious, and the elder now had to wrack his brain to remedy this. This was all his fault, he should have known that crossing that line would only bring trouble. Sam would inevitably end up hurt by his words or actions, because why wouldn't he? Dean allowed him to believe that what they were doing was okay, and he knew deep down that it wasn't. It was illegal. It was immoral. It was selfish.

"Sammy," Dean spoke, his voice already apologetic as he closed the door behind him. Sam had placed himself on the bed he had abandoned in favor of sleeping with Dean, his back to him as he faced the wall. "C'mon, man. I was just saying we need to be careful, that's all." Nothing. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, debating on leaving it alone or trying to get something out of Sam. A notion of understanding, a validation that his concern was heard. But Sam was stubborn and Dean swore he made a valid point, so he heaved a defeated sigh and shouldered off his jacket, setting it over the back of a chair at the table in the kitchenette before he plopped himself on the couch and put on the television for something else to focus on.

A couple of hours must have passed before Sam had finally moved from his spot on the bed, standing now at the edge of the couch, still quiet. Dean glanced up when he caught him in his peripherals, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Still mad at me?" he asked, voice soft as his thighs fell apart some, a hand patting his lap in invitation. Sam accepted, moving to settle himself against his big brother, both legs draped over one side before Dean had cradled him like he was comforting a child.

"It just hurt my feelings," Sam admitted and Dean gave a nod of understanding. He could see why it might feel like some type of rejection, and that was the last thing he wanted Sam to feel.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean replied, leaning in to press a kiss to the other's forehead, one hand moving to caress along his side in a soothing manner, settling at his hip. "Can I make it up to you?" He offered, his gaze soft, searching over his little brother's fair features.

"How?" Sam took advantage of his brother's tenderness, arming himself with one of his patented puppy-dog looks, lips in the most tempting of pouts.

Dean lifted his hand up, smoothing his thumb over his cheek bone before his fingers had carded through his hair, cupping the side of his head to draw him in so their lips could meet for a kiss. Sam's hand came up to find respite on the side of Dean's neck, his eyes fluttering shut as they indulged in the warmth and sweetness of each other's mouths. It was hard for Dean to consider any of this as wrong when it felt this good to give Sammy something that no one else could. No one else understood just how delicate his little brother, how much care he truly needed to keep him from ripping apart at the seams.

Dean blindly reached for the television remote and managed to change the channel before finding the power button and turning it off, leaving the only sound in the room the wet sounds of their kiss as they deepened it, Sammy's sweet mewls being muffled against his lips. He angled them so he could lie Sam down against the couch and press his weight into him, his brother's arms coming up and around his neck while his own moved down his slender form, gliding up and under his shirt to follow the bumps of ribs, fingertips pressing possessively into the skin. Sam moaned and Dean drank it down like a sweet nectar, pulling back from the kiss with a low hum of appreciation before he relocated his mouth to younger's throat.

"Dean," Sam sighed, his kiss-swollen lips parted to let out heavier breaths and needy sounds, one hand in Dean's hair at the nape of his neck while the other pulled at the material of the back of his shirt.

"Wanna make you feel good, Sammy," Dean rumbled against his brother's neck, open-mouthed and heated kisses being laid with gentle scrapes of teeth. His hands pushed his shirt up enough to expose the flesh of his abdomen and chest before they found their way to Sam's pants, undoing the button and loosening the material so it could easily slip down his hips. He lifted his head, emerald gaze meeting this brother's darkened one before he guided the hem of his shirt to his lips, Sam's teeth catching it to hold it in place before Dean's lips had descended on him again.

He trailed a warm and wet path down his chest and stomach before he nipped at his hip bone while he worked his little brother's pants down and off.

"You too," Sam murmured as he released his hold on his shirt, wanting equal access to Dean's form.

"I will, baby, don't worry. Gotta take care of you first," Dean promised, positioning himself lower and between his thighs after guiding them apart. Sam's breath hitched as Dean's mouth graced the inside of his thigh, kissing the warm, sensitive flesh as he inched closer to his baby brother's hole. He had eaten pussy plenty of times before, this couldn't be much different, and he was eager to see just want kind of noises he could draw out of the younger.

His hands splayed against his thighs, pushing them open and back some for better access before he gazed at his pretty little hairless pucker, already clenched in anticipation. The first caress was given, and much to Dean's delight, Sam's whole body reacted with a shudder and a whine that made his own cock throb. He laid his tongue flat over the pink flesh, coating it in saliva with slow and languid motions, getting him good and wet before applying previously learned techniques. He circled the tight ring of muscles, slurping tenderly and enclosing his lips around the flesh, feeling Sam's thighs tremble as he continued his efforts, those hushed and needy sounds like music to his ears.

"De-dean.. oh fuck, please.." Sam pleaded, for what exactly, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he couldn't get enough of the wet sensation between his thighs, making his insides squirm with lust. His cock laid hard against his abdomen and he moved one hand down to stroke himself, the head already stick with pre-cum as Dean continued to eat him out. The wet sounds grew louder as the saliva built up, and Dean was quick to gather and swallow before he pushed his slick muscle into the boy's hole, earning himself a long-drawn out whine as Sam pushed his hips into the sensation.

Dean found Sam's unique taste to be pleasant, and the clenching around his tongue only made him wonder exactly what it would feel like to be buried in his little brother's tight heat, but that would have to be something he only fantasized about for the time being. Though they had crossed that physical and intimate boundary with abandon, doing the actual deed felt too heavy for him, at least for now. There was something too permanent about that action, something too precious to take from Sam just yet if he ever decided to change his mind.

As he tongue fucked his hole, Dean moved one of his hands down to undo his own pants, freeing his cock from the tight confines, throbbing now as he palmed himself while getting Sammy off. It didn't take much longer before Sam was a writhing, moaning mess under Dean's ministrations, hardly needing to touch himself to achieve orgasm, the slick muscle licking him open getting him there quicker than expected. He came with a cry of his brother's name, his own seed painting his abdomen, even shooting up his chest and the bunched up shirt at his collar bones.

Dean slowly removed his tongue from Sam's quivering hole, watching it clench around nothing, slick with saliva. He admired his handy work before he slid his hands along the backs of his thighs again.

"You're so pretty when you cum, Sammy," Dean praised, voice low and lusty as he looked at the blissed out mess his little brother was, panting and trembling. He straightened himself up to his knees, pulling his shirt off and shove his pants down his thighs to be exposed enough for his next move. He gathered Sam's thighs and brought his legs up his chest, pressing them together before he rutted his cock against the smooth skin.

"Dean, please," another soft begging. "Fuck me? I need you so bad," Sam whined, thinking the position he was being put in was so Dean could finally claim him from the inside.

"Not yet, baby, we'll get there," he replied, easing his hips back before he pushed forward, letting his hot and heavy arousal push between Sammy's thighs. Sam gave another whine, though this one was due to frustration, hoping Dean would just cave. But as he watched, he could see the head of his brother's cock thrusting between tightly pressed skin, the sight making his skin flush with heat. It was so erotic, so dirty in the best way.

Dean fucked Sam's thighs, grunts and groans falling from his lips as he kept his gaze locked on his brother's features, watching them as his form bounced a little from the force he was using to get himself off with Sam's body. He could imagine that they were fucking, the way he was laid out for him like that, his features screwed up in lustful pleasure, his tummy and chest painted with cum, the sound of skin smacking against skin pairing deliciously with their moans... it was almost like the real thing.

"Fuck, Dean.. wish you were in me.. don't you want to breed your little brother?" Sam pushed, hoping any of Dean's resolve would eventually fade and he'd give in like he wanted him to. It worked against him though, because Dean's cock gave a painful throb at his choice of words. How did Sammy know exactly what to say to drive him wild? What 15 year old talks about breeding or uses little brother as dirty talk?

"Sammy, god," he groaned, and a few more thrust of hips had him giving a choked sound before he came hard, making a hot, sticky mess between his thighs, his seed painting over his stomach as well. He gave a few follow up thrusts, making sure his balls were thoroughly emptied before he felt himself soften some, slipping free of the hold of Sam's thighs with a quiet hiss. He let Sam's legs fall back, his own form leaning down and over his little brother, taking a moment to catch his breath before he cupped his face again, drawing his thumb over his bottom lip that was gifted with a kiss afterward.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" Dean asked, genuinely curious, but also always surprised by Sam's antics. The once bookish, almost shy teen he knew suddenly a master of seduction. Sam's cheeks warmed, his gaze averting for a moment.

"Porn," Sam admitted, a coy smile on his lips as he met Dean's gaze again, and Dean gave an incredulous chuckle, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I've never once seen you even look at a skin mag, what kind of porn are you watching?" Sam groaned in an embarrassed fashion, pushing playfully at Dean's shoulder before he decided against that action, instead gripping him there and tugging him down so he could feel the weight against him.

"I stumbled across the whole fake step-sibling thing.. couldn't stop thinking of you," he replied, his eyes looking expectantly at Dean, wondering if he'd be judged for it. But Dean only looked at him in amazement, a wry smile on his lips.

"You little pervert," he teased and Sam groaned again.

"Says you, who just ate me out and fucked my thighs."

"Touché."

Dean leaned more of his weight against Sammy, leaning in to kiss his lips, glad that after their little tiff earlier that day that he had earned Sam's good graces once more.

"Dean," Sam murmured against his lips, arms curling around his neck. "Thank you."

↳ part 1

[seijorhi]

Hi! if tumblr does shut down, will you be posting fics somewhere else?

tumblr is not shutting down, every god damn year there's some mass panic because this or that happened and ofc that means the site's gonna go under. and yet here we are, still blogging. until there's some official announcement i do not see the point in stressing about it but that's just me

ao3

[abby118]

[destinationtoast]

Snogging Rebecca was like making out with a grandfather clock: intimidatingly large and elegant, with more hidden complexity than you might first imagine.

- Keeley, in a fic I dreamt I was writing last night

[starshideurfics]

Captive, Captivating, part three

Part Two

into the steddie-verse, omegaverse, dubcon, breeding, we’re all in the same imperial rome/war prize gutter together, mdni 🔞

Geta watches as his betrothed is ushered away to prepare for their wedding, calming his need to growl with the fact that Stepan is wearing his clothes. That he is marked as belonging to Rome.

Belonging to Geta.

“Your grace?” Junius says from his side. “Are you certain of this mating? The emperor will not be pleased.”

“The only thing I could do to please Caracalla is drop dead.”

“Geta…”

“Better to be mated to an omega with no ties to Rome—with no ties to my brother—before he can force one upon me. This way I’m not married to one of his spies.” He’s not a fool. He has good reasons for making his offer.

But that is not his focus now.

Now he must prepare for his wedding.

At least Junius knows well enough to accept that answer without any further pushing. He simply purses his lips and follows Geta when he goes to finalize the official treaty with King Rikhardt.

Geta spends the early afternoon drinking with his betrothed’s father. Then he is brought to the temple, surrounded by statues of gods that are not his gods, but perhaps another version of them.

Stepan waits at the altar for him, still wearing the blue tunica, but his hair has been braided back, with tiny, white flowers woven into a crown that sits over his veil. His lips are dark, like he’s been biting them—the very picture of a nervous, virginal bride.

The priest joins their hands, binds them together with a strip of soft, woolen cloth, and pronounces them wed. Geta presses a suitably chaste kiss to Stepan’s lips, his omega frozen at his touch, but he relaxes when Geta interlaces their fingers to hold his hand. They are expected to keep their hands bound throughout the wedding feast, until they retire for the night. At least his sweet wife will become more acclimated to his touch.

King Rikhardt is clearly the type to look for opportunities to celebrate, to enjoy good food and drink, to have music and dancing, to have his queen in his lap and whisper in her ear to make her laugh. Geta appreciates the revelry, but his attention is pulled by his tablemates. Stepan is pressed tightly against his side, their hands joined and resting in his lap, but a young alpha woman and a boy who looks just past his first rut have claimed Stepan’s other side.

It’s easy enough to tell they are his siblings, the three of them whispering in their own language as they eat, and Geta wishes he could understand them. Then Stepan squeezes his hand, pulling his gaze directly to his warm eyes. “Husband, meet my sister and brother, Ravna and Torsten.”

Before he can say a word, Ravna asks, “Do you go on campaigns often?”

The implicit question is obvious: Will you ever bring my brother back home?

“No, not often,” Geta answers truthfully. He does not know when he will have a safe opportunity to leave Rome again once he returns.

“Oh…” She tugs her younger brother close, ruffles his curls as he stares at Geta with deep blue eyes.

“Stepan says you are leaving tomorrow,” Torsten says, both a question and a challenge.

“Yes, with our terms in place here it is time to move on. We shall be moving further east.”

“So, you will come back here on your way to Rome.”

Geta considers saying they will turn to the southwest at the end of the campaign, but it was clever to ask at all and he smiles. “We will come back this way when the campaign ends.” The boy grins back, and Geta whispers at Stepan’s ear, “I’m sure your father will appreciate throwing us another feast then.”

“As long as it is not too late in the year,” Stepan agrees, more worried about wasting resources than upsetting his father.

The promise and the whispers destroy the last bit of nerve the boy has, and Torsten asks question after question of Geta: about Rome, the places he’s traveled in the empire, his horse, and if he’s ever seen a lion up close. He’s happy to indulge the boy’s curiosity, but then there’s a great pounding, as all in attendance at the feast slap the tables and stomp their feet on the floor.

“It is time!” Rikhardt calls across the great hall. “For my eldest to go to his mating bed!” He raises his mead in a toast. “May their mating be a fruitful one!”

A cheer goes up throughout the room, and Geta laughs as he and his bride are forced to their feet and hoisted into the air. The small contingent—seemingly made up of members of the king’s council and guard—carry the couple off to a private room and deposit them in a nest of blankets and pillows, leaving as quickly as they’d come.

Geta almost asks if this is Stepan’s nest, but he quickly realizes the smell is wrong. These blankets lack his scent, and even as a prince, he likely slept in a shared room.

“We may as well get it over with,” Stepan murmurs, reaching for the hem of his tunica with his free hand.

“Get it over with?” Geta growls, leaning in close to scent at his neck. “There is no ‘over’ now, mellitus. You are mine. Your pleasure and pain are mine. Your neck and your cunt are mine. And I told you: I care for what is mine.”

He licks a slow stripe from Stepan’s mating gland up to his ear, nipping at the lobe. His omega shivers.

He’s meticulous as he removes the handfasting knot from their joined hands, is just as precise as he strips the tunica from him and pushes Stepan to lie back.

Kneeling, Geta forces his legs apart, revealing his red cunt and soft little cock. He rubs his hands over Stepan’s hairy thighs, and inhales deeply, desperate for his sweetness.

“You’ll be weeping with pleasure before I even get my teeth in your neck, do you understand?”

Stepan nods, jaw held tight.

“Good. And this is only the beginning.”

🌙🏛️🌿

Stepan is frozen, the pretty flower crown his mother made for him crushed beneath his head, veil trapped under his shoulders, as his husband bends down and takes his prick into his mouth.

A gasp punches from him at the sensation when Geta sucks, tongue cradling his small member, but his hips buck when a finger slips inside to push up against a spot that makes him see stars behind his eyelids. Not that he moves at all, Geta’s strong arm holding him in place.

His legs shake and he lets out a weak moan, fingers clutching at the blankets at his sides. Geta presses a second finger inside him, the pressure incessant until he goes taut as a bowstring, warm slick flowing from his cunt. But Geta does not stop, stroking and sucking while Stepan cries out.

His hands find their way into Geta’s hair, weakly pushing him away, the alpha chuckling as he does. “Too much?” he asks, dark eyes sparkling in the low light, daring him to speak, fingers still inside his cunt. He presses a slick-wet kiss to his inner thigh. “It’s important for you to peak, mellitus. To open your womb so my seed can take root.” Another kiss low on his belly and he pulls his fingers from Stepan. “Do you feel open now? Empty?”

He nods, tears in his eyes, hoping this will be enough. “Yes, Dominus,” Stepan whispers. “Please…”

“So good, my clever little omega.” He trails wet fingers along the crease of Stepan’s thigh, swirls the mess through the short curls around his sex. Nips at the soft skin at the bend in his knee. Swats lightly at his hip. “Up. On your hands and knees.”

Turning onto his side is hard enough, limbs weak, and Geta lifts him around the middle. He tries not to go limp as he is manhandled into position, ass high, legs spread. Teeth bite into the meat of his buttocks and a strong hand squeezes his hip. “Such a lovely cunt.” A kiss over the bite. “So loose now, but I’ll still fill you to the brim.”

The blunt head of his cock notches at Stepan’s entrance, Geta gripping him at the waist as he pushes all the way inside. Somehow, he feels even bigger this time, reaching places so deep Stepan can’t get a full breath. All he can do is pant shallowly as Geta begins to move, picking up speed as he chases his pleasure, skin slapping against skin.

At least it doesn’t last long, Geta grunting as his knot swells and locks him in place, his hot spend filling every available crevice in Stepan’s very full cunt. They’ll be stuck here awhile, maybe even long enough to fall asleep, Stepan thinks. Hopes. Then they can hurry through trading bites in the morning…

“Mmm, perfect,” Geta hums, “Take me so well.” His hand slides down to rub his belly. “Gonna keep you nice and full tonight, omega. Have you peak on my knot.” That hand moves down to hold his soft prick, thumbing at the head, his other hand still gripping his hip and holding him in place.

It’s too much. Geta using his mouth on him was too much in the first place, and now he is too full and completely empty all at once, his body clenching down on the cock inside him, pulsing around the knot at his entrance. Each time the pressure sends a jolt of pleasure-pain through him, made more intense by the attention to his prick.

Stepan peaks again, a weak dribble of slick coming from his prick, his cunt locking hard around Geta’s knot, pushing the alpha over the edge with him and forcing him to spill more hot seed. “Please,” Stepan whimpers, “Dominus, I’m so-”

“Full?” Geta interrupts. “No, mellitus, you are nowhere near full enough.” He pets Stepan’s flank, leans down to kiss along his spine. “You’ll take at least two more knots tonight.” Geta spreads his hand wide over Stepan’s navel. “You’ll be full enough when you look like you’re carrying my pup.”

The very thought his husband can spill enough seed inside him to distend his belly is laughable, but it also heats Stepan’s cheeks. He may have given up much of what he wants for the good of his people and his pack, but he still desires motherhood. He wants the pups Geta keeps promising.

He also wants to lie down. His arms shake under him, and he sniffles as Geta holds him up. “I am tired, Dominus. Please.”

“Yes, of course. You need to keep up your strength,” Geta soothes as he guides them down onto their sides. He holds Stepan close, their bodies pressed together. He brings one hand up to cup a breast, but he does not tease or fondle, simply holds him and rubs a tiny circle with his thumb.

Soon enough, his knot shrinks, and Geta shifts his hips, his soft cock slipping free. “With how sweet you smell it shouldn’t take long for me to be ready again.” Geta kisses along Stepan’s shoulder, buries his nose against his neck. He squeezes the breast in his hand, presses his palm to the hard nipple, and Stepan sighs.

“I think there’s a better way to spend our time waiting.” Geta pushes himself up to sitting, smiling down at Stepan, his eyes so soft. “Get on your back, my sweet.”

Stepan rolls onto his back, stares up with unshed tears clinging to his lashes. Geta slots against his side, head resting on his chest. Then he turns just enough to take a nipple into his mouth, suckling gently, tongue flicking occasionally over the hard bud.

It feels good, so much less intense than attention to his prick, but it still makes his cunt clench. He feels bold. Wants to encourage this gentler pleasure from his alpha. Slowly, Stepan reaches for Geta’s hand where it rests on his waist, and brings it up to cover his other breast. Geta massages the soft flesh, moans around the tit in his mouth, his own arousal growing where he’s pressed to Stepan’s hip.

But he keeps suckling until each one of Stepan’s breaths ends with a hitch or gasp. Then he lifts himself off and settles between his legs. His thrusts start slow, hips rolling smoothly as his knot fills, leaving him rocking in place, body tensing as he spills and spills and spills.

Geta collapses on top of Stepan and mouths lazily at his neck. “You have to peak when I bite you,” he mumbles. “Our bond must be strong.”

Stepan does not know what to say. Geta sounds so desperate. So vulnerable. He simply strokes up and down his back, fingers trailing over his shoulders. Presses a single kiss to his forehead.

They lie together, subdued, as they wait for Geta’s knot to go down. All the teasing and bombast has cooled along with the sweat on their bodies.

Geta slips free of him again, but keeps their bodies close, tangling their legs together as he tugs Stepan to his chest. He nuzzles against his cheek, and Stepan isn’t sure whose tears he feels on his skin.

“Dominus?” he murmurs, “Are-”

Needy lips cut him off with a sharp kiss.

🌙🏛️🌿

Stepan does not know how to kiss, his mouth still as Geta holds him in place, sucks on his full lower lip. He tastes so sweet, every part of him, and Geta wants more.

Needs more.

He rolls on top, pins him down, eyes shut tight as he licks into Stepan’s mouth, his cheeks cradled in his hands. His omega is so warm. So sweet. But his attempts at kissing back are feeble, and Geta just wants to *feel* him.

Geta bites too hard at his lip, makes Stepan whimper, tries to soothe it with his tongue, and finally kisses his way down to his ear. Gentle hands hold his head in place, a pointed toe drags up his calf, and soft lips ghost against his forehead. He whines at the sweetness of it, aches with need for him.

He has never wanted so badly to worship a previous sexual partner; Geta has always been content to be fawned over, enjoyed an omega moaning or crying at being stretched on his knot.

With Stepan, he prefers his little gasps of surprise, the way his legs shake, his sighs of pleasure when Geta plays with his pretty tits. Which has him thinking of a babe suckling at one of those perfect tits instead, and a purr rumbles through him—at the thought of his pup in his mate’s arms.

But they are not mated yet.

He must bite first, have Stepan bite him. They both must peak, could peak together. A pair of bites to bind them to one another, taking the tie of a knotting and making it eternal. A fastening of not just their hands, but their souls.

Geta scrambles to get up, needs a moment to breathe. To sit alone.

“Dominus?” Stepan asks, cautiously sitting up across from him. His voice is so soft, with a rough edge, like his throat is dry.

Swallowing, Geta notices his own thirst, and glances around the room for something to slake it. He sees nothing, but knows his guards wait outside the door, and pushes himself up onto shaking legs of his own. Two quick words are all it takes for Geta to close the door again with a wineskin in hand.

He pulls the stopper, takes a sip, and hands it to Stepan as he sits beside him once more. His omega drinks, throat bobbing as he swallows, and he smiles as he hands it back to Geta. “Thank you, Dominus.”

“You shall never hunger or thirst as long as I draw breath. I told you-”

Stepan reaches out, grabs his wrist. “I know.” He raises onto his knees, shuffles forward to close the space between them, and straddles Geta’s lap. “Care for me now, Dominus,” he whispers, leaning their foreheads together, and guiding Geta’s fingers to his open cunt.

Slowly, he rubs at his sweet inner spot, gets him wet, and uses that wetness to stroke his prick. Stepan sighs, cunt fluttering around a single finger. “Please,” he begs, “Give me your bite, Dominus. Give me a pup.”

“Yes,” he moans. “Going to give you so many pups. Have you fat with twins before the year is out.” Geta reaches for his half-hard cock, fumbles to stroke himself without disturbing Stepan’s place on his lap.

Stepan nods. “Twins with your dark eyes.” He looks down between them, his hand covers Geta’s, adds more pressure, and when a pearly drop of pre-spend beads at the head, he swipes it up with his thumb and raises it to his lips.

Geta can’t help himself after that, crashing their mouths together as he gets his hands under Stepan’s thighs, raising his hips, and guiding him over his cock. Hands gripping his shoulders, Stepan builds a slow rhythm, raising and dropping as he clenches, panting open-mouthed as Geta sucks and nips at his lip.

They’re both too sensitive after all that has come before, and soon Stepan’s legs are shaking. He drops hard, grinds down as Geta’s knot begins to swell. They rock together, orgasms building, and Geta pinches a hard nipple. Stepan cries out as he cunt spasms, and Geta sets his teeth to his neck.

He bites fast, blood and sweet lymph on his tongue, and releases just as quickly. He hurries to get Stepan’s mouth in place as he cock jerks and spills.

Stepan takes longer to let go, moaning as he completes the bond, his tongue laving over his bite as he shudders through an extended aftershock, his peak cresting to match Geta’s. The bond settles as he pulls back just enough to press their temples together, breathing each other’s air.

“Let me see, mellitus,” Geta murmurs once he’s caught his breath again. “Need to make sure it is not too deep.” He thinks he did it right, that his bite on his mate’s neck should heal well once it is covered with the sacred herbs, but he needs to see for himself.

Stepan follows the order easily, tilting his head to show off the bite: a neat set of punctures in two curved lines. No torn and ragged flaps of skin, the bleeding already slowed to a sluggish pace. He drops a gentle kiss over it, then kisses up Stepan’s neck, and nuzzles at his cheek.

“We should try to rest, my sweet. I fear if we wait for my knot to release, we will not sleep tonight.”

Part 4

[st0p-sign]

tiny PSA for trolls fanfic writers who are making (or have made) the move from wattpad to AO3

referring to your fics as "books" is a dead giveaway that you came from wattpad

[daughterofhecata]

not to be self-indulgent, aber als prompt fiele mir spontan eine szene ein, in der goodween von skinny einen knutschfleck verpasst bekommt, der den kollegen auffällt 🤔 finde das ship immer noch sehr spannend!

Was lange währt oder so.. Der Gedanke hat mich tatsächlich auch nicht wieder losgelassen und uh. möglicherweise kommt auch definitiv noch mehr zu den beiden.

corpus delicti [hier auf ao3]

Eilig betrat Goodween das Präsidium. Er war spät dran, musste sich beeilen, wenn er sich rechtzeitig zu Dienstbeginn umgezogen haben wollte.

Doch er kam gar nicht bis in die Umkleide, denn kurz vor der Treppe hielt ihn Morales auf. Beäugte im weißen Neonlicht seinen Hals und erkundigte sich: „Sag mal, Goodween, hast du da nen Knutschfleck?!“

Fuck.

Unwillkürlich fuhr seine Hand zu der fraglichen Stelle und in derselben Sekunde wusste er, dass er sich mit der Geste verraten hatte.

„Dieses Aas!“, entfuhr es ihm, ehe er es herunterschlucken konnte.

Zugegebenermaßen, er mochte es, wenn Skinnys Mund über seinen Hals wanderte, die dünnen Lippen und die geschickte Zunge nach empfindlichen Stellen suchten, die ihn erschaudern ließen. Aber eigentlich war er der Ansicht gewesen, die hätten eine Abmachung – keine Spuren zu hinterlassen.

Ihre Kommunikation war durchaus ausbaufähig, das wusste er selbst, bestand meistens hauptsächlich aus Sätzen wie Komm, ich will deinen Arsch, Norris oder Ich hätte nichts gegen nen Blowjob, Officer, doch eins hatten sie beide klargestellt. Das nicht herauskommen sollte, dass sie etwas miteinander hatten.

Denn dann könnten sie beide einpacken – Goodween möglicherweise seiner Sexualität wegen und definitiv, weil er sich auf den stadtbekannten Kleinkriminellen eingelassen hatte, und Skinny, weil ihm sowohl seine Kumpels als auch Goodweens Kollegen ihm einen Strick draus drehen würden, dass er für einen Cop die Beine breit gemacht hatte. Allein dadurch, miteinander im Bett gelandet zu sein, hatten sie sich gegenseitig in der Hand.

Doch offenbar hatte Skinny beschlossen, ihn in Verlegenheit bringen zu wollen. Warum auch immer, wer wusste schon, was im Kopf von Skinner Norris vor sich ging.

Morales sah ihn immer noch überrascht an, vielleicht sogar noch ein wenig mehr als zuvor. Mit der Reaktion hatte er wohl nicht gerechnet.

„Das ist aber keine nette Art-“, setzte er an, wurde jedoch im nächsten Augenblick unterbrochen.

„Gibt es einen bestimmten Grund, warum ihr mitten in der Tür steht?“, erkundigte sich eine Stimme hinter Goodween.

Der nächste Fluch lag ihm auf der Zunge. Er wollte nicht, dass sein Geheimnis irgendeinem Kollegen gegenüber aufflog. Aber es gab genau einen Kollegen, bei dem er unter wirklich allen Umständen vermeiden wollte, das ausgerechnet er davon Wind bekam.

Ein Grinsen ließ sich auf Morales’ Gesicht nieder, das ihn das Schlimmste ahnen ließ.

„Goodween wollte mir gerade erzählen, welchem – und ich zitiere – Aas er seinen Knutschfleck verdankt“, berichtete er viel zu fröhlich.

Schicksalsergeben wandte Goodween sich halb um, begegnete widerwillig Cottas Blick. Sah der Inspektor missbilligend aus oder bildete er sich das ein? War es nur Cottas übliche phasenweise schlechte Laune, die für die gerunzelte Stirn verantwortlich war?

„Eigentlich“, korrigierte Goodween mit leichtem Vorwurf, „wollte ich mich umziehen gehen, damit ich rechtzeitig zu Schichtbeginn einsatzbereit bin.“

Außerdem würde der verdammte Knutschfleck unter dem Kragen seines Uniformhemds verschwinden, wenn er endlich dazu kam, es tatsächlich anzuziehen. Wenn er nach dem Duschen in den Spiegel geschaut hätte, hätte er ein Poloshirt anziehen und damit den peinlichen Fragen direkt vorbeugen können, aber er hatte ja nicht mit so etwas gerechnet.

Cotta sah ihn immer noch mit diesem nachdenklichen Blick an unter dem Goodween sich winden wollte. Nur mühsam konnte er sich daran hindern, an seinem Ausschnitt herum zu zupfen.

„Dann solltest du wohl wirklich runter gehen“, stimmte Cotta schließlich zu, nach einer Pause, die Goodween unendlich lang vorkam, aber vermutlich nur eine Sekunde dauerte. „Außerdem wäre es schön, wenn ihr mich dann mal durch lassen würdet.“

Dankbar für die Vorlage flüchtete Goodween in die Umkleide. Wenn er Glück hatte, hatte Morales das Interesse verloren, bis ihr Dienst begann.

[localgirlbecomesobsessed]

Meet the OCS

(I changed cathrines house)

I suck at drawing so hopefully these descriptions will be okay :( i didn’t really proof read as I’m writing this on four hours sleep 😭but the brain rot is real.

Xena- permanent •_• face, is actually very emotional inside just struggles with showing it, once she’s more comfortable with the people she’s around she’s becomes more expressive much to her detriment as it becomes harder to hide how she feels. Loves sweet things, romance stories(she’s a manhwa girlie), rock music, coffee,flowers, horror films . She’s quiet and has a soothing raspy voice. Shes too chilled out for someone in her situation or is she just ignoring her terrible circumstances.

Short black hair, piercings-helix;lobes;daith, she desperately wants a tongue piercing but is too scared. She has brown eyes and a small scar on her right cheek and a huge scar on her thigh(goes from the knee to midway)-she dresses quite punk and has permanent eyebags. She does have an arm sleeve of sunflowers/sun themed on her left arm that covers other scarring(she was in a horrific accident)she always keeps it covered with clothing tho due to judgement.

She got sorted into vagastrom and hates being an inspector as she has to keep herself from acting out.

Hobbies: judo, reading, going to concerts;gardening;propagating succulents

Her parents and her got in a horrific car accident when she was 10, she was the only one to survive, she was taken in by her cousin who was only 24 and trying her best at the time. Xena acted out quite badly after the trauma so she was put into judo to help get her aggression and energy release, it helped dramatically that she’s continued doing it even at 21.

She’s won some contests but hates competitions as they seem like too much effort.

Cathrine- stressed out to the max get this girl a chamomile tea or a Xanax. She tries too hard and is a total people pleaser, sucks at dealing with authority as she can never say no. She likes spicy food, science, vintage jewellery-she’s highly interested in mythology but keeps this a secret.(due to parents and siblings)

She’s quite talkative if she has to be but if the situation allows her too she lets herself be quiet, she has a sing song voice and used to have a stutter that comes back if she’s too anxious or tired.

Long pink hair, piercings;lobes and upper lobe, red eyes, she has insanely short nails from biting them down too much; she dresses quite preppy but prefers to dress more casual but likes to maintain her image so doesn’t. She keeps herself in quite pristine condition, always doing a five step facial routine, makeup always on point. She just very much always looks put together. She does have a huge social media presence but she isn’t really a full influencer (not like Leo)

She got sorted into mortkranken, which wasn’t a surprise to her- due to her role of inspector she’s one mental breakdown away of trying to find a way to fasten the curse so the stress is over with but she’s doing a good job at maintaining an image of mental stability (for now) tho I’d probably say it’s definitely cracking especially after the events in the most recent episode (7)

Hobbies:studying;shopping;researching myths

She grew up as the youngest of three, her parents had high expectations and they were all set to a high standard, being the youngest she was forever compared to the eldest two especially when she’s failed to succeed in something as well as they did. Her parents were quite volatile to eachother and to the siblings and would forever turn each one against the other. She was the first to leave-at 18 under the excuse of needing to stay nearer to the university-she was studying economics/business administration something she had no interest in but was an insistence of her parents and a condition for leaving. She worked part time to raise a secret fund in order for her to properly be able to leave after she gets her degree. Her relationship with her siblings is strained but got so much better after she left the house, to the point they gave her a ticket to her favourite bands last concert for her birthday.

After the concert the events of the game take place and she’s cursed, she’s been in contact with her siblings who are extremely jealous she’s at Darkwick and she is currently debating cutting off contact with her parents but fears losing her siblings, she does only have one year left after all.

Olivia-the sweetest lady to ever exist, she’s a hard worker who can’t hide her feelings. Absolutely adores animals and is a sucker for anything cute, she used to be quite the rebel but had to quickly grow up after her parents died(not that she wasn’t already quite mentally matured#traumatised) and she had to become her brothers guardian. She has quite a soft sweet voice and loves to chat but only if she’s completely comfortable with the person, otherwise she’s quite blunt. She’ll eat anything but her favourite snack is anything strawberry flavoured. She’s extremely caring and hates to see people overwork themselves despite overworking herself on the daily.

She has bleached white hair and light brown roots growing through, amber eyes and a mole underneath her left eye; she has a lobe piercing and a left helix; she dresses eclectically, sometimes she’s casual sporty, sometimes she’s a party girl, gothy literally depends on her mood and sometimes her brother will dress her up-she is literally Adam Sandler one day and Jessie rabbit the next. She likes brightly coloured makeup and clothes.

She got sorted into jabberwock, when she got to finally look around the nature reserve she cursed the chancellor for making her an inspector when she could’ve been working in the reserve. She doesn’t mind being an inspector and just goes with the flow as long as she’s getting paid and has her brother she’s fine but is trying to help out as much as she can at jabber.

Hobbies:feeding stray cats; sketching;baking;working (she works too much it has to be a hobby)

Olivia was a bit of a rebel, joining a small time gang with other girls when she was 14, her parents didn’t particularly care about her whereabouts as long as she took care of her younger brother Karma, which she tried her best too. They were alcoholics who didn’t care for their children and when Olivia reached 18 they died in a ‘freak accident’, leaving her and her 17 year old brother to fend for themselves. They had nothing, no money or family to look after them, so Olivia took on as many jobs as she could to help provide Karma with all the good things in life, she quit her gang and tried to move on although she would sometimes get dragged into fixing a problem for them. She didn’t go to uni and instead has been paying for karma to go to art school instead (he got a scholarship that pays half and they have to pay the other half)

Now, karma joint Darkwick a week after the events after Haku hears Olivia’s complete breakdown at not having her brother or being able to contact him as they’re both the only thing they’ve got to rely on. she didn’t have the breakdown on Haku but on the chancellor he was waiting to speak to the chancellor about a recent mission the general students went on and accidentally overheard~he waited for her to leave and then refused to leave until he got the chancellor to st least consider the idea.

Haku managed to convince them afterwards that her brother could be targeted by a similar anomaly/ it might help in figuring out a cure if they had someone with the same dna

-the chancellor also did it for her ‘mental health’ and assured Karma they’d provide whatever he needed for his studies, they’ve also promised Olivia they’ll pay whatever is needed for karmas education and life if she dies/ a hasty promise after Haku managed to convince him.

Olivia doesn’t know Haku helped her yet and probably won’t know until the chancellor tells her.

The chancellor most likely brought him in more for the assistance in finding a cure/testing to see if anomalies are more attracted to their blood as well as other experiments.

She was much happier snd brighter after he was brought in and Karma was happy to be with his sister and be in THE Darkwick university.

Karma-outspoken and blunt, despite appearing brazen he has a gentle disposition and is very chill as long as you don’t cross him or anyone else he cares for. He’s overprotective of Olivia and tries to get her to take a break as much as he can. He oil paints and enjoys water colours as a treat, he enjoys having a muse to help him paint and is a bit of a player. He worries Olivia cause he seems to jump from person to person and has been since their parents died. He enjoys sweet food and like Olivia will devour anything strawberry flavoured. He wants to be strong like Olivia and tries to copy how she fights.

Olivia is 23 and karma is 21/22.

He enjoys social media but doesn’t like having a presence on there, he does post pictures of his art on there although some are blurry.

He has bleached hair just like Olivia and black roots that come through, he has a mole just underneath his mouth on the right, amber eyes; he has all lobe piercings;helix;conch; Raith; nose piercing and is debating an eyebrow piercing; he is a pretty boi~ tallish and wears loose clothing that always has some sort of paint splatter on them. He doesn’t care about what he wears cause he knows he looks good although he enjoys picking out outfits for other people-mostly Olivia as he is quite the secret loser with not so many friends although he says it’s cause he focuses too much on his painting. Has a plan to get completely covered in tattoos but is awaiting to hit it big as a painter before he does.

He got sorted into vagastrom and had no clue what was going on, only that they okayed him to spray paint the rooms and do car decals so he’s happy enough. He doesn’t care if someone’s a ghoul and will call out someone on their shit if it’s deserved. No one believes him when he says Olivia can fight, but the pictures and vids he has prove otherwise~Leo is interested in the different sides and likes using his paintings for his TikTok’s and using him as a fake boyfriend along with Sho. He did try to stay with Olivia in the cathedral but in case something happens (like turning into an anomaly) then it’s safer for him to stay there. He doesn’t trust Haku and is trying to now stop both haru and Olivia from overworking themselves.

Hobbie:painting;partying; napping and boxing.