#there's probably typos and shit idk

[ladytauria]

Oh I see what we are doing now *ahem*

-Abyss left the ask box-

-Person with the most perfect Mustache you've ever seen-

*Strokes it* Trick or Treat my fine lady

*squinting* that’s a very fine mustache you have there, dear, but I SWEAR I’ve seen your face before

hmmm… well. while there are still several ideas hidden in my documents for some reason I feel compelled to give you my OTHER idea I had for my dear friend @deepwithintheabyss

jumping into this one without a lot of worldbuilding to try and curb the length dfghjk also this is a little rough/messy… i’d love to flesh it out a little more perhaps. call this a first draft version haha

It’s not until after Zatara has left that Tim gets to process how odd all of this is.

Alvin and he stand across from each other in Tim’s living room. It’s almost like looking in a mirror—both of them dressed in the same loose sweats, the same ratty Gotham Knights sweatshirt.

Alvin tilts his head. “So… are we going to fuck?”

Tim chokes. “What?” Of all the questions he could have broken the silence with—

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” Alvin’s lips twitch. “I know better.”

If Tim is always this smug-looking when he’s right about something, he can understand why Steph says he has a ‘punchable’ face. “You don’t have to be so blunt about it,” he grouses.

His objection is mostly on principle. In a world of alternate universes and time travel (proven multiple times over now, Bruce), it’s hard not to consider, to think about, what might happen if Tim was faced with another version of himself. Hell—Tim has met another him. Though, granted, that meeting didn’t go particularly well.

But. There was always the possibility of meeting another him, someone who wasn’t a fascist asshole. Someone, well—

Someone more like Alvin.

A magical doppelganger, created by an artifact related to Tim’s latest case. A perfect copy of him, down to his last memory at the time of creation. It answered a lot of questions Tim had—but more immediately… it opened up entire realms of possibilities.

Alvin steps closer, and then closer still, until they're almost touching. “Do you really want to keep arguing?” His voice is low. Husky. Tim has heard himself sound like that before, but always—always from inside his own head.

No. No he doesn’t.

But Alvin knows that already.

There is no hiding from him, Tim realizes. Alvin knows him better than anyone ever has—or ever will.

The thought is equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

Rather than answer, Tim steps even closer, crossing the distance between them. He tangles his fingers in the hairs at the back of Alvin’s neck, gripping his nape. Their mouths crash together, both of them making the same soft sound. They almost harmonize. Tim feels his belly tighten—his nipples harden, rubbing against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt. He shivers, his skin tingling.

Alvin’s hands slip under his shirt. Tim gasps. Alvin’s fingers are cool against his skin; his grip steady, firm.

The slide of their lips is slow, unhurried. It’s good. Not the best kiss Tim has ever had—their lips are chapped in just the right way to catch against each other. But… even despite that, it stokes the steady warmth growing in his belly, making him sigh against Alvin’s mouth. He gives into the urge to lick into Alvin’s mouth and Alvin lets him, slackening his mouth so Tim can lick into him and taste.

Alvin tastes like nothing at all.

It would be disappointing if it the reason why wasn’t so thrilling. Of course Alvin’s mouth doesn’t taste like anything—it’s Tim’s mouth.

His grip tightens in Alvin’s hair. Alvin moans. He sucks on Tim’s tongue, pulling an echo of the sound from his own chest. He steps forward, slotting his leg between Alvin’s. His thigh presses against his groin. He can feel the shape of Alvin’s cock, hot and half-hard, through their sweats. It makes his mouth water. He swallows—Alvin’s tongue chases his back into his mouth as his hips roll, grinding against Tim’s thigh and groaning. His nails bite into the skin of Tim’s waist, and Tim gasps.

“A-ah—” He has to break the kiss to pant.

Alvin takes the opportunity to bury his face in Tim’s neck, biting at the delicate skin there. Tim is sure that he’s leaving bruises. It’s something he loves on a good day, but the idea that the bruises would match the shape of his own mouth—

“Fuck,” he says, his twitching, cock rutting against nothing, nothing at all.

In all of his elaborate fantasies, Tim had never imagined rutting against his doppelganger like he’s still a teenager. But now that it’s happening—

Why not?

Why not get off just like this?

Like Alvin is thinking the same thing—and fuck, he probably is, because they’re the same—he slots his own leg between Tim’s. They’re tangled together, pressed so close they’re almost one person.

Alvin bites—Tim shouts, his hips stuttering forward, and moans breathlessly when this time, he meets the hard muscle of Alvin’s thigh, the friction sending a wave of feeling skittering over his nerves. He pulls at Alvin’s hair, good and hard, the way he knows makes his nipples feel tight, his scalp tingle. His other hand drops down to Alvin’s ass, gripping the swell of it, pulling him forward to rub against Tim’s thigh.

Alvin gasps, moans. He scratches at Tim’s back, his waist, and abruptly, Tim needs to be naked. He lets go of Alvin to grab the hem of his sweatshirt and pull it off, over his head. He tosses it aside carelessly. Nothing crashes, so wherever it landed is probably fine. Alvin makes a soft, eager noise, then he follows suit.

They’re identical, of course. Lean and wiry and covered with a dark dusting of hair, thickest at his belly. Scars litter their skin—some of which only they can see, too faded for anyone else to find without serious exploration. There’s a mole next to one of his nipples. Tim’s only really ever seen it in the mirror before; it’s too far down for him to pay much attention to when he’s lying in bed, touching himself.

Right now—

Right now, it’s like his vision has narrowed down to it, and he shoves—gently—at Alvin, until his knees hit the back of the couch. Alvin lets himself fall, lets Tim crash on top of him, gripping at his shoulders while Tim trails a rough, wet path from his neck to his chest. His knees hit the floor. Alvin’s legs lock around his middle, ankles crossing at his back.

He knows just how to touch himself… with his hands. With his mouth—

With his mouth it’s clumsier, messier. He doesn’t know quite how roughly he can bite, how hard he can suck. But he figures it out, letting the gasps and moans Alvin makes guide him. Alvin’s fingers find his hair. He tugs, that perfect way that Tim likes, and he moans. His hips rut forward, against the couch.

He feels dizzy with want.

It reminds him of his task, just a few moments ago. He pulls off of Alvin’s nipple and shucks his pants. The position makes it awkward, clumsy. He would feel embarrassed if he didn’t know that Alvin was just as messed up as he is.

He reaches for Alvin’s pants next. Alvin’s belly tenses, showing off the muscles in his abdomen as he lifts his hips, letting Tim slide them over the swell of his ass and then down his legs. Tim doesn’t bother with their socks, climbing back up to plaster himself against Alvin instead. They move, the two of them, until they’re horizontal; Alvin lying under him, his head propped up slightly on one of Tim’s throw pillows. The other one is kicked to the floor. He can feel Alvin’s cock against his belly, hard and hot and leaking precum.

Alvin looks up at him, his face flushed, his eyes dark, hazy. This is what Tim looks like when he’s having sex. His cock pulses. He needs— He needs to see what he looks like when he comes.

He holds his hand up to Alvin’s face. He doesn’t have to say what he wants—Alvin knows, licking over Tim’s palm, holding his gaze as he does. Tim’s mouth is dry.

As soon as his hand is wet, he shoves it between their bodies, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks. They moan in perfect unison; the exact same breathless, desperate pitch. Tim starts slow, smearing spit and precum over their cocks until the glide is slick and smooth. Then he speeds up.

If he was masturbating alone, he would alternate between slow and fast; keep himself hovering over the edge until it was almost too much to take. Then, and only then, he would let himself cum.

Later, he’d be more than happy to test both of their limits. To act out every filthy fantasy they’ve ever had, but never had anyone else to to try it with.

Right now, though—

Right now, he’s getting an outsider’s perspective of his own orgasm and he wants nothing more than to see it through. So he does, hitting that perfect speed, that perfect tightness, twisting his wrist—pulling out all of the stops until he can almost taste his peak. Alvin writhes under him. He claws at Tim’s back, leaving streaks of red over the smooth skin there. Tim will look at them later; compare the spread of his fingers to them and flush at the idea that anyone else would look at him and think he’d found some random hook-up to take home.

Only Tim would know the truth.

Well.

Tim and Alvin.

“C’mon,” he whispers. “C’mon, baby—wanna—I wanna see you cum.” He shifts slightly, bracing more of his weight on his knees. He gets his other hand involved, then; tugging and twisting at his nipples, starting with the neglected one from earlier, the one without the mole.

Alvin grips Tim’s shoulders so tightly Tim is sure he’s drawn blood, and then—

He arches, mouth opening, panting their abdomens in white. Tim barely refrains from following him over the edge—staying as present as he can as he drinks in every detail. It’s not the same as watching himself on video. Even his highest definition camera can’t capture the rush of blood under Alvin’s skin, the glisten of sweat on his skin, the way his eyes move under the lids and his lashes flutter against his cheeks.

He gentles his hand, stroking Alvin until he collapses against the couch, chest heaving as he pants. He looks up at Tim with hazy eyes—his expression lazy, fucked-out. If Tim cared to psychoanalyze himself, he’s sure he could think of several interesting notes about the way he leans down to capture Alvin’s lips in a kiss.

Tim isn’t interested in digging that deeply.

Not this time.

Alvin only lets the slow, lazy kiss continue for a few minutes before he threads a hand in Tim’s hair and tugs him off. His lips curve upward, and then his legs tangle with Tim. He’s suspended in the air for one breathless moment before his back hits the couch, knocking the remaining air out of his lungs.

“Your turn now.” Alvin’s voice curls around the words in a low, dark promise.

Tim shudders, arching into his touch.

He can probably get away with taking a few days off. If anyone asks— He can just tell them it’s for science.

[teddybeartoji]

ok ngl as much as i fucking love and adore the prince!gojo n knight!reader series i feel kind of.. not confident when i bring up it up bc my writing style has changed soooo soo much and i would actually like to go over them and fix them up a little before posting the next chapter hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[strxnged]

apparently every time i drink all i want to do is complain about being obsessive about my ex and tell a bunch of my friends that i'm drinking. anyways hi why do i do this i fundamentally hate alcohol

[iridescentoracle]

Hello! I am here to ask about your Dior headcanons re: the political cohesion of Doriath. 👀

Oh man, I didn't expect anyone to actually take me up on that!

(Okay so I got partway into writing this and then realized I should probably note up front that I tend to stick to the Silm (& LOTR/the Hobbit where applicable, but they... aren't, here) as the most authoritative version of canon, and I can get into why and where the nuances/exceptions are there (I do say tend to stick, it's not hard and fast!), but that's mostly a side note here: the point is simply that I don't really factor other drafts or the poetic Leithian into my take on Doriath, Thingol, Dior, etc, just what we're told in the actual Silm. I also read the Silm as an in-universe history text compiled by in-universe scholars, who, being people, are going to have their own biases and blind spots, even when they're doing their best to be accurate!)

So, this is a two-part thing: #1, there's the political cohesion of Doriath before & at the time of Thingol's death, which i talked about in the tags of the post that prompted this ask but is kind of necessary as context for the Dior part to make sense, and #2, there's the actual Dior headcanons. Both of these parts are very long because I've never really seen anyone else suggest any of this stuff and I want to explain where I'm coming from thoroughly enough that it actually makes sense to people who aren't me, but the TL;DRs:

TL;DR 1: I think Doriath was probably a hot mess politically after Thingol died, with tensions between various groups of Sindar and Laiquendi in the leadup to Thingol's death & Melian's departure, and more political tensions afterwards between those who wanted Beren & Lúthien to come be the new rulers, and those who thought they should stay gone, with someone still in Doriath taking over.

TL;DR 2: I think Dior became Eluchil, potentially at the request of some portion of the Iathrim, hoping to help prevent Doriath from devolving into civil war, and saw dealing with the Silmaril-Fëanorioni situation as a lower priority than stabilizing Doriath's internal political situation until it was too late.

1. The political cohesion (or rather, lack thereof) in Doriath prior to Thingol's death

So, okay, the thing about Doriath is that we don't actually have any real idea of like... how much the Iathrim liked being the Iathrim? We're never told about any intra-Iathrim conflict, but a) the Silm was probably compiled mostly by surviving Gondolindrim or their descendants, so they wouldn't know about anything liike that unless surviving Iathrim told them, and after the Second Kinslaying I don't imagine many Iathrim would've been eager to talk about how things had actually been tense/messy/etc when they could remember everything as having been perfect until it was ruined by the Fëanorionrim, and doubly so after the Third Kinslaying, so why would anything like that make it into the Silm?

and b) what we do know about Doriath is that it wasn't really Doriath as we know it until Morgoth came back to Middle-earth, and everything went to hell.

At the start of the first age, you suddenly get Doriath (the fenced land!) being the one protected area of a continent that used to be totally free and open. How many Sindar actually didn't particularly care for Thingol's style of leadership, or simply preferred to live nomadic lives, going basically wherever they pleased, until suddenly that wasn't safe anymore, and you were only guaranteed survival if you were close enough to Menegroth to be within the Girdle when it went up? ditto how many Laiquendi had no interest in swearing loyalty to Thingol right after their own king had just been killed, but again, made it to safety and stayed there over taking their chances on their own in the outside world? (None of this is meant as any insult to Thingol himself, by the way; he can have been a good king who did his best for his people and still rubbed some of his new subjects-by-necessity the wrong way, through no fault of his own or theirs.)

I think it's entirely possible that there were always potential political tensions under the surface in Doriath that just... never got written about, because they never boiled over into actual political conflict, and so it was never the sort of tension that had any bearing on the historical record.

Except then Beren & Lúthien happen to the world, and a few years later the Narn, and in the blink of an eye suddenly the only king Doriath has ever had is dead, and the only queen Doriath has ever had is gone and the Girdle with her—and more than that, the only rulers the Sindar had ever had for three thousand years before Doriath existed.

And where a few years earlier I think the Iathrim would probably have turned pretty universally to Lúthien, now she's abandoned them for her human husband—and while she's my favorite character in the entire legendarium hands-down and I don't blame her, I think that's another place there might have actually been some very mixed feelings among the Iathrim that nobody wanted to admit to later because how could anyone have been upset with Lúthien—and on top of her abandoning them for him, I think it's extremely probable most of Doriath did not actually get over their xenophobia about humans in general or Beren in specific when Thingol did (we know for sure at least some of Doriath didn't, cf. Saeros insulting Túrin's mother & sister to his face), but again, who's going to admit to having had a grudge against the holy couple of Middle-earth after the fact, you know?

Conversely, there could've been a sizeable faction of Sindar who had been totally loyal to Thingol until everything happened with Beren & Lúthien, but who found his actions towards them and/or Finrod to be where they drew the line, and while (unlike B&L themselves) that faction stayed in Doriath, there could've been a new, additional tension on that front.

Finally, for all we know there were multiple factions within the Laiquendi of Doriath, with political tensions stretching back to before their king died, rooted in who-even-knows!

2. Dior

All of that, of course, sets up a very, very messy political situation for Dior to walk into.

The Doriath stuff is arguably more speculation than actual headcanon, but here's where the unambiguous headcanons come in: I don't think "Dior Eluchil set himself to raise anew the glory of the kingdom of Doriath." Obviously that's how it got written down, but bluntly, I can't see Beren and Lúthien having a kid that stupid or, like, power-hungry and arrogant?

What I can see is a situation where the messenger that brought word of Thingol's death and Melian's departure asked Beren & Lúthien to come take over as the new king and queen, we promise we're not mad about you leaving and we won't be xenophobic to your husband anymore we swear it's fine now pretty please, Beren & Lúthien said no, and the messenger either asked Dior as a second choice, or said "okay fine none of that was actually true but Doriath is falling apart and we need a leader ASAP and there's about eight different contenders* (mostly kinsmen of Thingol or Laiquendi) being backed by various factions and it's going to devolve into civil war any minute so if you care at all—" and Dior said "would I do?"

(* Ask me about my Galadriel headcanon)

I don't think Dior necessarily wanted to be king of Doriath, and I don't think he saw the throne as his birthright or anything like that; I don't think anyone involved, from Thingol to Lúthien to Dior himself, ever considered the possibility of Thingol dying and needing an heir! I think it's possible he was asked, or at most that he offered, and either way, I think he saw becoming king as taking on a responsibility for the sake of others.

(Which, like, "well here's a potentially impossible task that I'm going to take up even though probably no one thinks I'm actually capable of it, but it's my duty to help others as best I can" sure does sound to me like an attitude one might develop when raised by Lúthien "I kicked Sauron's ass cast a sleep spell on Morgoth and persuaded the Valar to find a loophole in the fabric of reality" Tinuviel and Beren "I stayed by my father's side as an outlaw to give my mother time to lead the rest of our people away hopefully to safety knowing I would never see her or any of them again (and then spent several years being a giant thorn in Morgoth's side for good measure)" Barahirion, where "apparently my grandpa I may or may not have ever met died, guess that makes me the king of a place i may or may not have ever been" does... not.)

I also think he either took on the epithet Eluchil, or was given it by whichever factions of the Iathrim accepted him as king, when he actually became king. Obviously he's going to be referred to as Dior Eluchil even before that in retrospect because that's how he's thought of later, but that doesn't mean it was actually a name he always had, you know?

The final thing is, I think if Dior essentially walked into a political situation five seconds from devolving into civil war, it makes his inaction regarding the Silmaril prior to the Second Kinslaying make more sense: the Fëanorioni have been sitting around doing nothing about the Silmaril in Doriath / with Beren & Lúthien this whole time, the letter saying "hey that's our Silmaril give it back now" is probably just a formality, and Dior's only been ruling for a couple years, there's still plenty of people dubious about whether he should be king at all, he might well be subject to at least some of whatever xenophobia remains about humans in Doriath, and in general all the work he's done on stabilizing the kingdom will absolutely come undone again if he screws up; he's trying to keep a kingdom from falling apart, the Silmaril thing can wait.

Of course, it wasn't a formality, and it couldn't wait, but why would Dior have known that?

[mbat]

yknow what though, yall? i really wonder how things wouldve gone in the timeline if five didnt go back a few days in the first season. i hesitate to call it the best possible timeline that they showed in the whole show (because of TWO PEOPLE WHO CANT BEHAVE) but it really actually was going so well for like... everyone else

klaus was getting to see dave again, viktor found the books that harold was using, diego was taking a walk with grace and she was about to tell him something really important (do we even known what it was?)

like... would there have even been an apocalypse? possibly... but it wouldve been so different either way. i know we definitely wouldnt have ended up where it ended if it did happen. i just wonder

[guinevereslancelot]

this eye care routine is a lot

[spider-stark]

EVERYTHING

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker doesn't make any sense—and trying to understand him is getting to be exhausting.

Warnings - fem!reader, reader worked at a brothel, subtle hints at past abuse, some major dog / master symbolism idfk, mentions of blood/weapons, close proximity, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED SO IF THERE'S A TYPO IDK

Word Count - 3.8k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Touch me.” 

You’ve only just slipped inside Kaz Brekker’s room at the Slat, and you’re convinced you’ve misheard him. The door’s still cracked, after all—and the mindless clamor of those playing cards down in the foyer is loud enough to play tricks on anyone’s ears. 

You push the door shut, habit making you click the lock into place before spinning around to face him. “Pardon?” 

The lanterns burn low, dim light chasing shadows across the spacious attic. Kaz stands over by his desk, leaning his weight against the edge in lieu of his cane. He’s dragging a gloved hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” he snaps. 

Your laugh comes out breathy and awkward. “We both know I’m a shit actor, Brekker.” 

It’s why you’re never picked when the Dreg’s need a decoy—some girl to saddle up next to a sleazy merchant or another hapless mark, distracting them with batted lashes and a well-timed hand on their thigh. In Jesper’s words, you’re so socially inept that you’d probably blow the operation before it even got started.

To your dismay, Kaz doesn’t repeat himself. With his gaze carefully pinned to the tops of his black boots, he demands, “Why are you here?” 

Your brow quirks. “At the Slat?” 

“In my room.” 

The answer eludes you. Why did you come up here? It’s not like tonight was the first time Dirtyhands has ever skipped out on playing Blackjack with the rest of the group, and yet he’d caught your attention when he slipped from the foyer and went limping up the stairs. 

Then again, that’s not so surprising. Kaz always catches your eye, doesn’t he? 

In the year since you joined the Dregs, you’d earned an unfortunate nickname for yourself around the Barrel: The Bastard’s Pet. Wherever Kaz Brekker goes, you’re sure to be hot on his heels, following after him like a dog, loyal and clingy. 

You tell yourself it’s because that’s your job—to keep Kaz safe, to watch his six. But the devil’s got eyes in the back of his head, and you know Kaz Brekker doesn’t really need protection. 

So, it begs the question: Why are you here? In his room, at the Slat, as a member of the Dregs? Why does he keep you around? 

Unsure of the answer, you simply avoid giving one. 

“You should play games with them sometimes,” you tell him, giving a subtle nod over your shoulder. Their voices are muffled now, but you can still hear everyone downstairs exchanging jeers as they shuffle another round. “It makes you look like a recluse, always sneaking off to be by yourself.” 

Kaz drums one finger against the desk. It’s an erratic beat, following no set rhythm. “I am a recluse,” he grinds out. 

You almost snort. Clearly. 

It’s not like anyone joins a gang with the hopes of making friends—and none of the Dregs are dumb enough to think they’ll find a buddy in the infamous Dirtyhands, anyway. Still, you don’t think it’d kill him to try being a little more sociable. 

The others would like having him around. 

You like having him around. 

“I’ll ask one more time.” Dark eyes flick up, heavy as stones when they land on yours. Suddenly, the large attic feels awfully claustrophobic. “Why are you here?” 

A lie comes easily enough, slipping right through your teeth. 

“I got bored playing,” you tell him. “And Jesper’s cheating, anyway.” 

“They’re all cheating,” Kaz points out. 

“But Jesper’s bad at it,” you argue. Lifting a shoulder, you add, “It ruins the fun.” 

His finger falls still against the desk, ceasing its rhythmless beat. Warm light flickers all around him, dark shadows dancing over the harsh angles of his face. You watch his jaw tick, note the subtle curl of his upper lip. You’re overcome with the distinct feeling that you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. 

Probably because you are. 

You’ve seen this face before. Been the one to clean the bloody mess left behind by whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of it. Now, as the one standing in the line of fire, you feel your stomach start to twist. 

You tell yourself it’s dread. Anxiety for what’s to come. 

“From where I was standing,” Kaz grinds out, his stare unflinching, “you looked to be having plenty of…” A sharp breath, his tongue gliding over pearly teeth. “Fun.” 

There’s something hidden in the word. A meaning that goes well beyond its dictionary definition. Is it a challenge? A dare, maybe? Or—perhaps the most unlikely of the options—some sort of plea? 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, finally daring a step closer, slowly drifting from the closed door. 

Kaz shakes his head. “It means what it means.” 

As you draw closer, he moves around the desk and takes a seat. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, mindlessly rubbing a hand down toward his knee. It’s always bothering him by this point in the night. 

“Go back downstairs.” An order—not a suggestion. 

Across from him now, you place both palms on his desk. The smooth wood is cool against your skin, though the rest of you feels impossibly warm. It’s a side effect of standing too close to him, you think. The flushed cheeks and the vice around your lungs, always leaving your mind fuzzy and your pulse erratic. 

You hate him for it, sometimes. For the effect he has on you. 

“Why?”  you ask, riding out your little bold streak. “So you have a reason to gripe some more about me having fun?” 

“I’m not griping,” Kaz shoots back, very evidently griping. 

“Griping, carping, quibbling, or complaining—doesn’t matter how you word it, all of 'em fit you to a T right now, Brekker.” 

He’s not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the swirling patterns of the wood grain or the neat stack of papers or anything else that gives him an excuse to keep his head low. A month or so after you joined the Dregs, Kaz told you that you had a talent for getting under his skin. Maybe that’s why you don’t need to be able to see his face to know just how annoyed he looks. 

“Go downstairs.” 

“I will,” you vow. “After you explain what you meant.” 

Frustrated, he insists, “There’s nothing to explain.” 

“What did you say when I came in?” 

“Go downstairs.” 

You throw your hands up. “If you won’t tell me what you said, then at least explain why ‘fun’ is such a problem!” 

“Go. Down. Stairs.” 

“Make me.” 

Wood screeches, the chair flying back as he shoots to his feet. The stiffness in his leg makes the movement a little clumsy, and you don’t miss the subtlest flash of a wince before he leans against the desk. 

“Do you know why I brought you in?” 

For a moment, it’s all you can do to blink at him. Because, no—you don’t know why Kaz offered you a place with the Dregs. 

You’re not a sharpshooter like Jesper or a trained Grisha like Nina, not as smart as Wylan or as silent as Inej. You’re decent when it comes to sleight-of-hand and slightly above average with a blade, but even those skills are ones you’ve only learned since joining the gang. 

Back when you first met Kaz, you were nothing and no one. An unlucky girl roped into an indenture with Pekka Rollins, forced to work out of the Sweet Shop—the nastiest, most dangerous brothel in all of Ketterdam. 

“Because you’re secretly a big softie with a heart of gold?” You hope your sarcasm is enough to mask the twinge of shame brought on by your past. 

But Kaz is too good for that. Nothing gets past him—evident by the tiny wrinkle of concern that forms between his dark brows, instantly picking up on the faint dip in your tone. 

Fortunately for you, being observant doesn’t equate to being consoling, and so he doesn’t mention it. 

“Because you didn’t make me sick,” he answers, low and even. You’re not so sure if it’s an insult or compliment, and before you get a chance to ask, Kaz continues, “It was late. And raining. I’d just finished teaching a Razorgull lackey what happens when you breach parley. He was a real bleeder—made a mess of my suit. I ended up leaving him for Jesper to deal with. Thought I’d avoid eyes by sticking to the shadows, walking in the alleys behind the brothels.” Your eyes must be betraying you, because you almost think that’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Imagine my surprise when a runaway harlot nearly knocked a helpless cripple like me off his feet.” 

You bite your cheek, still deciding if you want to slap him for calling you a harlot or laugh in his face. In spite of his limp and cane, Kaz Brekker is far from what you’d consider helpless. 

“So, what? You had me join the Dregs because I nearly bulldozed you in an alley?” That whole night was spotty for you, the panic you’d felt having rendered your memory foggy and incomplete. 

“Inej had told me about you,” Kaz says. “That Pekka Rollins got a new girl—an escape artist, always trying her luck at running away.” 

You didn’t know that, but maybe you should have. Inej isn’t the best spider in the Barrel without reason. She knows everything—and all she knows is reported directly to Kaz. Even so, you’re not sure you’re catching his point with all this. 

As if he can see you trying to mentally connect the dots, Kaz says, “Maybe I had another purpose in walking behind those brothels. Maybe I wanted to see just how quick on her feet Pekka Rollins’ escape artist was.” His head tilts slightly. “Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone to see me when I wasn’t looking my best. Either way, I left that alley knowing you’d be a part of my crew.” 

Your memory of that night may be spotty, but the one after is still crystal clear. A Suli spider had crawled through your window at the Sweet Shop, told you that Per Haskell was willing to pay a very hefty sum to buyout your indenture if you agreed to work for the Dregs. To this day, you’re still unsure of how Kaz managed to convince him you were worth it—or why he bothered. 

“You’re not making any sense, Brekker,” you admit, rubbing at your temple. A headache burrows there, seeming to grow worse with every minute. “Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? Cause I’m… fast?” 

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. 

You’re no faster than anyone else—and you certainly hadn’t been fast enough to outrun Pekka Rollins’ goons. Everytime you made a run from the Sweet Shop, they dragged you right back, kicking and screaming the whole way. 

“No.” Kaz sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. “I wanted you-”

Kaz doesn’t finish that thought. 

A violent CRASH! steals your attention. Both of your heads snap toward the closed door, listening intently for any sign of danger.

Instead, you hear Jesper’s boisterous cackle chime. Wylan starts shouting about something indiscernible—vase, shattered, and moron among the words you catch.

A smile sneaks up on you. 

But, when you turn back to Kaz, it’s promptly wiped away. 

He looks like he’s had a lemon rind forced into his mouth, scowling at the door. “What’s going on with you and Van Eck?” 

You blink. “What?” 

“You heard me.” 

You did—but hearing him is a far stretch from understanding him, and it’s seemed like Kaz has been talking in circles since you came in. What’s Wylan have to do with any of this? 

“I don’t get what you’re asking.” 

“Stop making me repeat myself.” 

“Then stop being so confusing, Brekker!” you huff, crossing your arms. “I don’t understand-”

Kaz cuts you off with a look. Cold as death, he grinds out, “Are you fucking him?” 

Shock. Confusion. 

They course through you in equal measure, coupled with slight amusement. The latter must show on your face, because Kaz’s scowl deepens before he looks down at his desk, pretending to fiddle with something. 

“I have work to do,” he says stiffly. “Go downstairs.” 

Your feet stay firmly planted, the desk’s width all that separates the two of you. “Why would you think that?” 

Of all the assholes and degenerates in the Dregs, Wylan’s probably the closest you have to a real friend. It came with the territory—both of you having become newbies around the same time, trying to learn the ropes and fit in. 

You’re not fucking him, though. 

Kaz sinks back into his chair. His usually-squared shoulders curve slightly, as if some weight is pressing down on them. “Go downstairs.” 

“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?” you ask, almost taunting. 

“Go.” The word strains between his teeth. “Now.” 

For no good reason, you make a stand. Stare down the barrel of the gun, unafraid and unrelenting. How strange, you think. The tightness in your chest has never once been apprehension. 

It was excitement. Anticipation. 

You’ve always liked getting under his skin. Finding out what makes him tick, figuring out which words earn the sharpest glares. You want him to pull the trigger, if only because it means you have his attention—and like a dog waiting at its master’s feet, you could care less if it comes with an open hand or a closed fist. 

So long as it comes. So long as he notices you. 

“What did you say when I came in?” You uncross your arms, make yourself stand up tall. “Tell me.” 

Dark eyes shoot up. Kaz almost looks shocked, the dull echo of emotion creasing the lines of his face, parting his lips. You wait, but no sound comes out. 

Dirtyhands is used to giving orders. Not taking them. 

“You’ve heard what they say about me.” You wave a dismissive hand toward the shoddy window overlooking the Barrel. “Brekker’s Pet. Always with you, always following you around! Ask any sod in Ketterdam and they’ll say the same—the only way I’d have time to fuck someone is if you were in the room!” And even then, it wouldn’t be Wylan. 

A steel rod takes the place of Kaz’s spine, turning your words over in his head. “Fine. Maybe you haven’t,” he relents. “But you want to.” 

It’s a gamble. An unusually shitty one, at that. 

You blow out an exasperated breath. This whole thing is getting old. “Saints, Kaz. What’s your deal?” 

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again. 

“I saw you downstairs,” he says. “Touching Van Eck.” 

Your brows lift, fists clenching. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it certainly hadn’t been a bold-faced lie! 

But then you start thinking of the moments before you saw Kaz head upstairs, laughing and playing Blackjack before you folded your hand to follow after him. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the threadbare rug, wedged between Wylan and Raske, when you noticed—Shit. 

Kaz is right, and that makes you want to scream. Why is Kaz always right? 

It was after you noticed Jesper was cheating, that he’d poorly marked the deck with daub; a sticky, ash-colored substance. You’d leaned in close to point it out to Wylan—your hand against his forearm, your lips dangerously close to the Merchling’s ear. After he noticed the marks, you both exchanged quiet giggles over just how bad Jesper was at swindling. 

Still, there had been nothing sexual about it. Nothing between you and Wylan. 

But, even if there was, why would Kaz care? 

I saw you—touching Van Eck. His words race through your mind, pulsing in time with the dull ache in your temple. Touch me, touch me, touch me. 

All of a sudden, the fog begins to clear. Something in your memory clicks. 

That night behind the brothels—when you were running from the Sweet Shop, when Kaz had been drenched in the blood of some Razorgull. Barefoot and frantic, you really had almost knocked him off his feet. Gloved hands had held your arms tight, keeping you still. His hair had been messy and your mind a blur—and when you’d seen the crimson smeared across his cheek, you hadn’t thought twice before wiping it away. 

You’d done what so few have. You had touched Kaz Brekker, skin-on-skin. 

Because you didn’t make me sick. 

When you don’t speak, Kaz shifts in his chair. Straightens an already-neat stacks of papers. “You won’t try and deny it?” he asks. 

Maybe you imagine the quaver in his voice. Or maybe you don’t. 

Either way, you start around his desk. Your every step is slow—cautious. 

You stop beside him, and Kaz shifts again. You’re standing closer than you’d usually dare to get, so close that you can hear it when he swallows. 

“You should go downstairs,” he tells you, lower than before. 

Your head tilts, hair shifting over one shoulder. “Is that what you want?” 

His answer hides in silence so thick it’s a tangible presence. It curls around you, makes gooseflesh prickle along your skin. Your mouth feels dry, your stomach like it’s tied in knots. 

Suddenly, you don’t need him to repeat what he’d said. 

As always, Kaz was right—you'd heard him the first time. 

“Ask me again.” The words drip from your tongue, an order and a plea. “Ask me and I’ll do it.” 

Kaz gives you a look, one you’ve never seen before. Dark eyes rove over you, brimming with worry and stress and—and Saints, a sense of desire so strong it makes your toes curl in your boots, a feeling like lightning coursing up your spine. 

In a voice like stone on stone, raspy and urgent, Kaz breathes out, “Touch me.” 

So you do. 

You cup his face, graze your thumb over his cheekbone. Kaz stiffens, swallowing once more—but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to pull away. 

“You know, to be such a bastard,” you start, a note of teasing in your voice, “you’re awfully pretty, Brekker.” 

Heat blooms against your palm, a deep blush crawling over his pale cheeks. 

“Shut up,” Kaz grumbles. 

You grin. “Want me to go downstairs?” 

A gasp rips from your throat as a gloved hand clamps around your wrist, Kaz pulling you down toward him. Anxiety still tightens his features, but beneath it he looks all too pleased with himself when you stumble clumsily into his lap. 

For the sake of comfort, you adjust your legs—careful for his bad one—and settle your arms over his shoulders. Then, when it fully settles that you’re straddling Kaz-fucking-Brekker, it gets a lot harder to breathe. 

“Should I take that as a no?” It sounds like a pant, your lungs constricting. 

He lifts the hem of your shirt, the feel of leather cool against your skin as Kaz jabs a finger into your side. “Do I always have to repeat myself around you?” he asks. Dark eyes dip past your jaw, his tongue gliding over his lips. You don’t think he actually cares to hear your answer, which is good—because you’re pretty sure you just forgot how to speak. 

Kaz drags his finger up the curve of your waist, his touch tentative and featherlight. It feels a lot like being studied—the way his dark brows knit together, staring at you as if you’re a magic trick he’s yet to master, a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out. 

“It’s not because you’re fast,” he says, somewhat distracted. It takes a minute for you to realize that he’s referring to your earlier question—Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? 

“Good,” you manage. “Because I’m not.” 

The slightest twitch of a smile. “No.” He takes his time tracing over every divet in your ribs, slowly trailing up, up, up. “You’re not.” 

“But I didn’t make you sick.” You’re not prepared for the wave of sickness that comes with the reminder, stomach roiling. 

The Bastard’s Pet. Is that truly all you are? All you’re worth to the Dregs? Useless at saddling up next to sleazy merchants, but good enough to curl up at Kaz Brekker’s feet. 

As if he can read your mind, Kaz’s hand goes still against your side. “Wipe that sour look off your face, would you? If I only wanted you to touch me, I would’ve just come to the Sweet Shop instead of getting my ass chewed by Haskell.”

You wiggle just enough to knock one knee into his hip, glaring at him. Both of you pretend not to notice the catch in his breath—or the growing hardness straining against his trousers, pressed against your core. 

Gruff, Kaz continues, “You were in an alley and saw a man dripping with blood, and your first thought was to reach out and clean his cheek.” His head shakes, a strand of coal-black hair swaying near his temple. “It was ignorant,” he tells you. “And… decent. Innocent.” 

You almost laugh. Innocent. That’s hardly a word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially right now, your every muscle straining in an attempt to keep your hips perfectly still, hands folded at the base of his neck. 

“I didn’t know innocence like that could survive in the Barrel.” His hand starts again, tracing little shapes against your side. “Even if you never touched me again, I wasn’t gonna let Pekka Rollin’s crush someone like you between his grimy little fingers.” 

“So that’s the answer?” you ask, nibbling on your lip. “I’m in the Dregs cause I’m innocent?” What a reason to have someone join a gang. Hey, you seem pure! Wanna get corrupted? 

“You’re in the Dregs because you know how to persevere,” Kaz answers, holding your gaze. “How to get up and try again, no matter how many times you’re knocked down.” The sensation of smooth leather drifts higher. “Because you’re a survivor.” Your eyelids flutter, sucking in a breath as he palms the plump curve of your breast. “Because you’re loyal,” he starts, and it’s almost reverent the way he almost whispers, “my perfect little pet.” 

The world grinds to a halt. 

Outside of this room—this moment—nothing exists. 

Too quiet, you ask, “What do you want from me, Kaz?” 

You want him to feel in control, to be the one that decides how this is gonna go. But your self-restraint is a fraying cord, mere seconds from snapping in half. 

If it were up to you, how far would you go? How much of Kaz Brekker would you explore? As far as I could, you think, desperate. As much as he’d let me. 

That’s the trouble with dogs. They’re loyal and clingy, forgiving and insistent. They want for everything and take whatever they’re given. They’ll spend hours begging at your feet. Lick scraps from the floor until their tongues begin to bleed. 

When it comes to Kaz Brekker, you’ll take whatever he has to give. 

And you’ll never stop begging for more, more, more. 

“Everything.” His breath is warm against your lips, the leather cool on your breast. “I want everything.”

a/n - just in case anyone couldn't tell, i obviously just finished reading six of crows (yeah ik i'm very late to the party). i randomly started writing this while i was stuck in traffic and it just sort of spiraled over the past 24 hours and now here we are! this was born! idk if i'll get anymore kaz ideas, but it was fun writing something more dialogue heavy (dialogue has my heart<3)

[cxosmicxo]

valentines !!

♡ : i. midoriya, k. bakugo, s. todoroki, e. kirishima, d. kaminari, h. sero

☆ : gn!reader, slight fem!reader mention in one of denki's, established relationship, one mention of vomit, very small vocabulary omg, not edited so if you see a typo ignore it

✄ : sorry this is so late!! i hate being busy and i’ve been really busy recently💔 but there will be a new smau coming out later this week also😜😜

- in which the mha boys ask you to be their valentine !

i. midoriya

asks you like the first week of january😭

very responsible!

but hes actually so nervous to ask you even tho you guys are dating ??

almost vomits bc he’s so nervous

was gonna do it in front of your friends but he was too nervous so he did it in private

it was after school and the sun is starting to set so it’s that mix of pink and orange

he texts you telling you to meet him at the pond you guys hangout at

you’re sitting there for maybe a minute, waiting for him

and he comes up behind you with a little “boo!” bc he’s silly😝

you turn around and he’s holding flowers and there’s a little bit of snow on the petals

when he opens his mouth to talk he gets nervous and shuts up and his face is turning bright red

LMAO he turns around, takes a deep breath and turns back around with an anxious smile

“i know it’s early but… will you be my valentine?”

he shuts his eyes like he thinks you’re gonna say no loll

his heart is beating out of his chest when you don’t respond but you’re just awing at him bc he’s so cute💔💔💔

i don’t think i used awing right

he opens his eyes and he’s like “please don’t say no bc i already made a reservation”

you giggle at him and then you hug and say yes of courseeeee

and then you live happily ever after and he gives you flowers, chocolate, stuffed animal, smth you’ve been wanting for a while, and takes you out to dinner and you spend the rest of the weekend together😜

k. bakugo

wasn’t gonna ask you bc he assumed obviously you’re his valentine you’re dating🙄

until he heard your friends talking abt how their boyfriends asked

now he has to one up all of them

does it in private bc “they don’t need to be in our business” but it’s bc no one else needs to see him showing emotion besides you

actually really nervous like izuku it’s giving him a headache

begrudgingly asks his mom what to get you and how to ask you

he just shows up to your dorm and when you open the door he just barges in, shutting the door

you just stare at him confused and he huffs and rolls his eyes

“be my valentine… or whatever”

he’s basically whispering it

but if you ask him to repeat it he’ll walk away😭

you ask him where your flowers/presents are and he’s like “you gotta wait for that, greedy”

but he takes you out to dinner bc he’s had that booked since december/january but you’ll never know that🤫

he gets you flowers and candy and all that cheesy shit but he gets you smth sentimental like omg you loser😩😩😩

very sentimental and probably gave you pictures from when you first met, first started dating, and now

so cute i love him

s. todoroki

also wasn’t gonna ask you but natsuo said he HAS TO

and mina was borderline harassing him abt it lmao

honestly pretty lost and scrolls on tiktok for hourssss looking for gift ideas

he asks you around the first week of february

nothing dramatic he just asked you on a study date at your fav cafe and he brings flowers and asks you as soon as he sees you

he feels like he should be nervous but really isn’t

nonchalant dreadhead shoto

pauses before he asks bc he gets a little nervous but he knows you’ll say yes

omg if you say no as a joke he jaw drops slightly it’s so funny

but on valentine’s day he def takes you to this nice ass restaurant and you guys take cute pictures and everyone’s jealous

when you guys get back to the dorms he gives you your gift and i think he made you a boo basket bc he saw so many videos abt it

has like candy and stuff, probably a jellycat, and the essentials idk you get the point

super cuteness and you spend the rest of the night together and probably go out again the next day😜

e. kirishima

very excited he loves valentine’s day

he just loves loving you!!!

just like izuku he asks you like right after christmas

you guys probably started dating bc he asked you to be his valentine and then you lived happily ever after😝

omg yes wait

it’s the day after christmas and you guys are hanging out with your friends in the commons and he perks up randomly saying he forgot to give you a present and sprints to his dorm

most of you guys are looking at him weird but denki, mina, and sero are looking suspicious

he comes back, out of breath, and he places a medium to large sized box on the coffee table and sits back down next to you

you side eye him with suspicious and take the top off of the box

the box unfolds and there’s flowers and chocolate placed in the middle of a poster that says “all i want for christmas is you… will you be my valentine?” in what looks like mina’s handwriting😭

you gasp and pull him in a tight hug, nodding with a little “of course, you loser” and a giggle

his hands shoot up in victory yelling, “SHE SAID YES!!!” as if he just proposed to you LMAO

everyone (except bakugo bc he left when kirishima left bc he knew the present) cheered loudly and it was so silly😜

valentine’s day rolls around and you’re greeted with him holding flowers in front of your door as so as you open it

“for you m’lady, happy valentine’s day”

after school you guys go eat ofc and go to the park, acting like fools but eventually you guys go back to the dorms and he gives you your presents

he also made a boo basket and has cute sentimental stuff like a handwritten note, a photo album of you guys, and other simple basic stuff

you guys had a romcom marathon and spent the rest of the weekend together with your “extended valentine’s day”

d. kaminari

i’m torn between if he’d lwk forget and ask you the day before or if he’s had this prepared since november😭

def asks you in public and does smth extravagant

like outside your dorm with a boombox

okay so it’s february 1st and you’re finishing up getting ready for school and you’re just abt to head down to the commons

you grab your bag and you hear again by fetty wap blasting on a speaker and it’s coming closer to your room LMAO

so, confused ofc, you step out of your room and see denki holding a poster that clearly wasn’t made by him bc it’s legible, sero holding a boombox, and kirshima holding a bouquet of flowers

can you tell i think im the funniest person ever

most of your class is behind him, cheering him on bc power couple ofc

as he approaches your dorm, sero turns down the music and denki holds the poster in one hand and flowers in the other

his dramatic ass gets down on one knee

“good morning, my beautiful goddess, will-“

“did mina make that poster”

“shut up, will you make me the happiest man alive and be my valentine?”

you laugh and say yes ofc and he jumps up, drops the poster and flowers, and picks you up and spins you around while everyone cheers and takes pictures

very dramatic ofc

on valentine’s day he comes to your door in the morning and gives you flowers and chocolate that he makes you carry it around all day so these mfs know you have a valentine

after school he gives you your presents and he also does a basket thing and it’s very similar to kirishimas but def adds some pictures of himself for you to appreciate lmao

even tho he did a dramatic thing asking you out he’s pretty chill on valentine’s day and just wants you to feel your best and feel loved and appreciated

take insta pics of courseeee and everyone’s jealous and he takes your pictures and he highly trained btw

just like kirishima with the “extended valentine’s day” it’s valentine’s day until you go back to school

you’re attacked by the hip all weekend, everything is a two person job

even if you have to go to the bathroom he’ll stand by the sink

if you kick him out he’ll be curled up against the door while he waits and falls when you open the door

very cutesy very sweet makes sure he’s the best and last bf you have😜😜

h. sero

asks you in a timely manner

very responsible

could do smth extravagant and public or personal and private depending on what you want

probably makes mina ask you abt it so she can tell him

bc of that i won’t specifically describe how he asks so use your imagination to how your perfect valentines proposal would be

classic man, probably brings flowers but if you don’t like flowers or are allergic he’ll bring an alternative like stuffed/dried/lego flowers or wtv

if you want smth public and dramatic he’ll probably yell at you from down the school hallway, run up to you with a poster and loudly ask😭

if you want smth more private and personal he’ll probably ask in the same place he asked you out and have a little cute and meaningful speech

he’s pretty good with words if he wants to and makes you tear up a little bit tbh

use your imagination to fulfill the rest of your dreams <33

similar to kirishima mainly

if you prefer a fancy dinner he’ll book one but if you just wanna get food or stay in the dorms it’s wtv makes you happy bc you being happy makes him happy🤩

but on valentine’s day i’m thinking he gives you smth in the morning like a cute matching bracelet and gives you the rest of your gifts after your date

he follows you around all day and has no shame bc why wouldn’t he

like i said earlier it depends what you want like if you go to a restaurant to eat or just grab some food or stay in the dorms

but after you eat you guys watch cheesy romcoms in his dorm and he gives you your presents

also does a basket and gives you the basic things like everyone else but he does hand write a letter makes a cute thing with pictures from when you first started dating to now

he’s very sentimental tell me he’s not🙄

omg yes he gives you a collage board to hang up on your wall and it’s full of pictures of you guys and tons of memories

he does not play abt valentines LMAO

follows you around all weekend also but he does that anyways

[pinkaditty]

Victim (Perv!SlightYan!Haku Kusanagi x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

Part 1: There's a Snake under your Bed!

being held at gunpoint uhhhhmmmm sorry! haku’s my fav! bang!

a/n: so i can’t get this idea out of my head. enjoy. it's been swimming in my head for literal DAYS. please eat and enjoy this or ill cry. also blame aya she put so much perv! haku shit on my dash that i went in2 cardiac arrest and had 2 write this LMFAOOAOAO

summary: haku walks you back after hanging out at hotarubi. the rain traps you inside.

cw: perverted haku kusanagi, slight yandere/unhinged haku kusanagi (?), weird behavior, implied peeping tom, etc etc u guys know the drill. NOT PROOFREAD i just edited the typos idk if it's perfect. ill polish it later maybe.

QUICK BLURB: @kkink recently contacted me and was kind enough to let me know that we both had the same ideas for this prompt and they have written something similar. im not sure if they've posted theirs yet, but please check them out! they were super nice and were really concerned about it, so give them some love please!

BEFORE YOU READ: ok last thing: i personally hc haku 2 be a natural redhead. his hair is probably copper. why? bc his roots, even in his cat and chibi sprites, are shown to be red. i think he just chooses 2 dye his hair green, but you can't dye your lashes (safely, at least), which is why his lashes in this fic are described as copper. okok that's all.

It starts when you accidentally let it slip that Haku’s your favorite ghoul. Not that anybody—including Haku himself—didn’t really know, but hearing it from you is different altogether. 

He was walking you back to the chapel after you spent the afternoon at Hotarubi. There was no particular reason for your visit, just to see the ghouls and perhaps escape from the otherwise chaotic atmosphere of Darkwick campus. As ever, Haku, Subaru, and Zenji were welcoming, and happily accommodated you with sweets, tea, pleasant conversation, and the soft pattering of the rain filling any silence. You miss the constant rain in Hotarubi every time you leave, even if it’s raining on Darkwick campus in general. 

Haku keeps his pace a bit slower than usual so you can keep up, clearly not in any rush to drop you off. He’s humming a pleasant tune, one of the many ones you’ve heard him play on his flute before. You appreciated his leisurely attitude, smiling to yourself. Something about when he hums or plays on his flute makes you feel relaxed, even with all that’s happening on campus. You are content to let the silence continue, filled with the rumbling of the sky signaling thunder, and Haku’s pleasant humming. 

Unfortunately, either a higher power has a grudge against you or Darkwick is cursed, because in mere moments, a soft drizzle that had you and Haku speedwalking to your door turned into a surprisingly heavy downpour, right as you turn the corner to the chapel. With the two of you soaked, it hardly seemed worth it to speed walk any longer.

You exchange glances with Haku, taking in his drenched form. Your amusement must show on your face, for his eyes crinkle with mirth as well. You think for a moment his eyes linger on your chest, but maybe you're imagining it. 

Finally on the front steps of the chapel, you open your door and tumble into the much warmer, drier environment. You look back to Haku, just as he's waving farewell. 

“See you around, princess." He winks at you, smiling brightly despite the rain. "Come by again sometime.”

He's about to turn on his heel and march back to Hotarubi in the rain when you reach out and grasp his wrist. It almost slips out of your hand from how slick it is due to the rain.

"No, stay.” 

He whips his head around and glances at your firm grip on his wrist, a light blush coming to his face. As he turns his gaze back to you, he smiles wryly. “Why, need help getting undressed after all this rain?” His eyes narrow with mirth, and another emotion you can’t quite place.

A blush colors your face but you don’t respond, a bit surprised by his forwardness. Haku was always forward with you, but you can never tell if he’s being serious or not. 

Your silence must have spooked him, because he turns away, his smile fading just a little. “Kidding, I promise.” You almost wish he wasn’t. He turns back to you, smiling brightly as though the joke really hadn’t meant anything. “Really though, I should get back to Hotarubi. Subaru’s waiting on me.”

His excuses barely phase you, and they don’t help to loosen your grip, either. You tug him inside, and he reluctantly follows, albeit with some resistance. “Subaru will understand. I can’t let you catch a cold.” You release his wrist once he’s inside and quickly shut the door behind him, effectively trapping him inside. You then tug him along to your room, biting back a smile when you feel his resistance fade. 

You open the door and usher Haku inside, pressing your hands insistently on his back until he relents and slinks inside, standing awkwardly close to the door like a lost wet cat. You shut the door behind him again, walking into your room comfortably. You turn to him, only to notice his eyes scanning the room, as though committing it to memory, before his eyes halt on something just over your shoulder. You turn around questioningly, only to realize in your rush to leave for Hotarubi, you had left a small pile of clothes in front of your bed, including some embarrassingly patterned intimates. Your face colors immediately, and you rush over, nearly tripping over your feet to get to the pile. You bundle the small pile in your arms, looking towards Haku apologetically. You stammer before finding the right words, painfully aware of Haku’s amused gaze boring into you. “S-Sorry! Um, I was in a rush before I left for Hotarubi, and—”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Haku cuts you off, shaking his head. “I’m the same way. Back home, I’d leave my jackets lying around so frequently I’d trip over them pretty often.” He scratches the back of his neck, smiling shyly. 

You tilt your head at him, forgetting you’re holding a pile of panties and bras as you turn towards him. “Huh.” You take a moment to absorb this new information, smiling softly. It was funny how the heir to a rather prestigious Shinto shrine was so normal with odd habits of his own. It made your heart swell with familiarity. “What did your family think of that?" 

He shakes his head, glancing away. “My family hardly went in my room.” From the uncharacteristically stoic tone in his voice, you assumed it wasn’t a topic he wanted to talk about. You respect that, letting the slightly awkward silence settle over you two. Before long, you notice him intermittently glancing at the pile of clothes you still carried in your arms. You rush to shove them into your hamper, moving it out of sight behind a chair. It’s when he laughs that you realize you may have gone overboard.

“I hope you don’t invite just any guy over when you’ve got your clothes lying around like that.” Haku jokes, scuffing his shoes against the wooden floor. A wry smile twists his face again, and his gaze flickers from you to where you hid the hamper. “Some of them might get the wrong idea, you know.” With the way his gaze fixates on you as he says that, you are almost inclined to believe that was a warning against him specifically. You suppress a shiver and blink at him curiously instead, smiling amusedly.

“Well, I know I can trust you!” You turn away, heading towards a closet to collect some towels for the two of you. “You’re my favorite ghoul.”

You grab two white towels and shuffle back to Haku, noticing he seems rather stiff and wide-eyed. He clicks his tongue as he regains his relaxed composure, smirking at you as though he were fine moments ago. “You say that to all the ghouls I bet.” He chuckles.

“No, just you.” You’re standing rather close to Haku, using your own towel to dry off your hair. You’re uncomfortably aware of how your uniform sticks to your body. It makes you shiver, holding the towel tight against your neck. When you look up again, Haku’s gaze snaps upwards to meet yours. You were sure he’d been looking at your chest just now, but maybe you’re overthinking it. “I know I’m technically not allowed favorites,” you start, a teasing smile growing on your face, “but you’ve been so kind. How could you not be my favorite?” You smile cheerily at him before stepping back and focusing on drying your hair, relieving yourself from some of the stagnant chill of the rapidly cooling water. 

Instead of painstakingly attempting to dry your uniform blazer, you decide to try and peel it off. You’ve barely managed to shrug it off your shoulders before you turn back to Haku. He jumps slightly, his gaze flickering to your face, as though he’d been in a trance. “You should take off your wet blazer, too. You’ll still catch a cold if you keep wet clothes on.” 

You turn away and struggle with your blazer a bit more, the sleeves and back insistently stuck to your skin thanks to the rain. Haku laughs behind you, and you hear approaching footsteps. “You know princess, I am always down to help you undress.” His voice lowers in tone by a few notes. You shiver as a warm hand settles on your shoulder. Even warmer breath curls around your ear and you fight the urge to shiver again. “All you have to do is ask.” You can almost feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, but choose to ignore it, letting him take hold of one of the sleeves of your blazer.

He’s definitely only teasing you. Your face is burning from the sudden closeness, and you’re almost certain the stifled chuckle from behind is him enjoying your embarrassed, speechless state. He successfully helps you wiggle out of one arm of the blazer, and you think you feel his fingers tracing your bra straps before he helps you slide out of the other arm of your blazer. 

You turn towards him, and he hands your blazer back to you, looking smug. Something flickers in his eyes, but you can’t quite place what. He almost looks excited. “See? That wasn’t so bad.” You reluctantly hum an agreement, rolling your eyes. He could tease you all he wanted, but that didn’t mean you’d play along forever. 

Still amused, Haku turns away and begins peeling his own blazer off. For a moment, you’re stuck watching his movements, observing how his skin peeks through the drenched layers of his shirt, watching as his shoulders flexed when he tugged on his sleeves. Droplets of water still hang from his hair, gently clinging to the back of his neck. You hear him chuckle, and look up to find his gaze fixed on you over his shoulder. “It’s rude to stare, princess.” 

To prove a point, you turn away, huffing indignantly. You use your towel to attempt to dry off some more, but even with that, you still feel unusually cold. You glance longingly towards your bathroom, imagining the benefits of a hot shower. But that would probably be rude to do, especially with Haku here. You sigh and place your towel atop a chair, sitting on it so you don't get the chair wet. Haku joins you, sitting on a chair next to you. You watch as a stray droplet of water slides down the side of his face, eventually dipping down his jaw and sliding down his neck before disappearing below the collar of his uniform shirt. Idly, you wonder if the droplet joined the clinging moisture of his top, or continued rolling down his slightly exposed collarbone. 

Before you can think to check, Haku clears his throat, and you lift your gaze to meet his. “Using your hands is far more effective than using your eyes to undress me." He winks at you, his smile curling into something less teasing and more genuinely suggestive. 

You exclaim, embarrassed at having been caught staring again, and once again tripped up by his forwardness. You scramble to retort in time, folding your arms in front of your chest, not missing how Haku’s gaze drops shamelessly. “If you keep making jokes about us being undressed, I'm going to start assuming it's something you want to do." You smirk at him, your face lighting up with mirth. “There's a bit of truth in every joke, after all." You speak in a singsong voice, further teasing Haku. Of course, you didn't want the jokes to stop, but that didn't mean you couldn't tease him about any potential desires he could be unaware of.

The way Haku looks at you as you tease him sends a curious shiver down your spine. The way his tongue flicks across his lips for a moment paired with his piercing gaze reminds you of a snake. His smile is neither teasing, nor suggestive, but almost sinister in nature. “What, you want the truth of me being a pervert who wants to see you undressed?” 

Something about his tone was teasing, but there wasn't the slightest hint of a lie in what he suggested. You aren't sure what expression you're making, too focused on suppressing the nervous, wild smile that threatened to spread across your face. You open and close your mouth, trying to find a response, but any witty or even lackluster responses fail to come to you.

Haku bursts out in laughter, but something about it feels somewhat forced. “I’m kidding, I promise!" He says between remnant chuckles, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes. “Gosh, you should see your face." He leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his chin in his hands. He points at your face, smirking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn that color.”

You bury your face in your hands, not bothering to look up when Haku continues laughing. He was only teasing, you were sure of that…

You decide to simply ignore him again, shivering. You hug yourself with your arms, looking longingly towards your bathroom again. It'd have to wait. You glance towards the window, noting the rain still pattering. You shiver again without realizing, wondering if it would be too far to take your soaked shirt off and wrap your towel around yourself instead. 

“Go ahead." Haku speaks up, and when you turn towards him, he jerks his head towards your bathroom. “I don't mind." 

You shake your head, smiling politely. “No, it’s fine! It’d be rude of me to shower while a guest is over—”

Haku shrugs at your words before cutting you off. “And who is a guest to interrupt her highness’s shower?” He smiles fondly at your perplexed expression, glancing towards the window. “The rain’s letting up, anyway. I won’t be here much longer, so it doesn’t matter.” 

You try not to deflate at Haku’s mention of his eventual departure. Instead, you gaze at him warily, trying to ensure he really is okay with you disappearing for twenty minutes or so. He simply returns your gaze, blinking slowly, an easy smile on his face. 

You relent, finally turning away after feeling your skin prickle with something between excitement and hesitance. You look towards the shower again, before glancing at him once more out of the corner of your eye. He sighs and holds out his hand, his pinky outstretched. “Here, I promise I won’t do anything strange.” He smiles again, his expression seemingly open and trusting, the same Haku you first met on the train several months ago. “You can trust me. I’m your favorite, right?” His smile turns cheeky, and you try and fail to resist returning his smile. You reach out with your pinky too, circling it around his own. His skin is warm to the touch, and you notice a callous on his fingertip, probably from years of perfecting the flute. 

After holding his pinky for a moment too long, you finally pull away and lift yourself from the chair, gathering a fresh outfit before heading for the shower. You pretend not to feel Haku’s gaze following your movements. 

You give Haku a slight wave before closing the door to the bathroom, leaning your back on the door. You still felt a bit odd about all of this, but he was still your favorite ghoul. You were sure you could trust him to not pillage your dresser like you’d expect some other ghouls to do with reckless abandon. 

You pause as you start undressing, thinking to yourself for a moment. You trace the straps of your bra in the same way you were sure Haku had earlier when he helped you take off your blazer. He’s been nothing but decent, if not a little flirtatious. Sure, his actions and jokes were questionable, and both Subaru and Zenji have had to metaphorically pull on his leash every now and again, but he was still kind. Perhaps this had something to do with why he was so awkward and hesitant about being alone with you? You decide to halt your thoughts there and swallow the desire of indecency from him. You clench your jaw, feeling your body heat up as you attempt to stave off your arousal. You were definitely due for a cold shower to at least shake these thoughts off. 

You flinch at the cold temperature of the water when you finally step inside, and after feeling like you were somewhat clean of perverse desires, you turn the water back to a warmer temperature. As you bathe, grateful for the warm water at long last, you glance at the door momentarily. It’s cracked open, a golden eye framed by copper lashes gazing at you through the space. You look away, not having fully absorbed the scene. A jolt passes through you as what you just saw settles in. You suddenly startle and quickly move to cover yourself, looking back at the door, just a split second from when you’d first glanced. 

It was closed. 

You blink at the closed door, feeling your heartbeat thump insistently in your chest. You heave, your mouth hanging open in shock. You place a hand on your chest, keeping your gaze on the door. After a few minutes of silently staring at the door, you allow yourself to minutely relax, reducing the tremor in your arms to a barely noticeable tremble. You breathe deeply, each exhale coming out like a sigh of relief. You blink a few more times, as though to clear your vision, and turn back to the door. Still closed. You shake your head and return to bathing, mulling over what you had seen. There really was no other explanation besides you potentially hallucinating that, right? Right. Perhaps you hadn’t looked closely enough and had seen what you wanted to see, right? Right. Haku was pretty harmless, right? …Well, he is a ghoul. But besides that, he’s harmless. Probably. And when you think about it, you’d give the same judgement to most of the ghouls on campus, anyway. Probably harmless so long as you didn’t piss them off. You nod to yourself, shaking your head again as you turn off the water. You hadn’t seen anything, after all.

As you’re drying off, moisturizing, and getting dressed in a fresh outfit, you notice a puddle of something just inside the room, right in front of the door. It was almost invisible against the white tile, but still there nonetheless. It was a white, milky, translucent substance. You finish dressing after keeping an eye on it like the puddle would escape. You open the bathroom door as you gaze at it, walking past it. It looks like it could be some of your vanilla-scented soap, but—

“Hey,” Haku calls to you from the front of the room, adjusting his blazer. One look at the windows tells you the rain has finally let up, bits of sun shining through gaps in the clouds. You trot out of the bathroom, puddle forgotten, and approach Haku. 

You exaggerate a pout, crossing your arms. “Leaving already?”

Haku laughs, reaching out and swiping his knuckle under your chin, lifting your face. “Cheer up,” he says before pulling back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ll come visit another time.”

You huff, shooing him away with your hands. He chuckles and turns away, opening the door. “First you’re pouting, and now you’re shooing me away?” 

“Subaru’s waiting, isn’t he?” You cross your arms and lean on the doorway, watching as he makes his way to the entrance of the chapel.

Haku sucks in a breath, a grimace forming on his face. “Ah, yeah.” Haku rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “Hope I’m not in trouble…” He mumbles to himself, opening the chapel door and stepping outside. He looks back and waves, cheeky smile on his face. He’s probably thinking about how he’s your favorite ghoul. 

You wave back, and wait until the door finally closes to step back inside your own room, closing the other door behind you. Your fingers curl into your palms as you try not to excitedly run over to the side of your bed. You tamp down your excitement, walking slowly. You crouch next to the corner of your bed and try to wipe the stupid smile off of your face before peeking around the corner at the hamper full of clothes you’d stashed here earlier. The pile was noticeably lacking, even smaller than it was before. The most obvious and memorable patterns were still there, but you could tell a few of your intimates were definitely missing. You try not to let your smile grow wider, biting down harshly on your lips. 

He’d taken the bait. 

a/n: is literally vibrating with excitement IM FINISHED OH MY GODDDD THIS TOOK SO LONGGGGG EVERYONE PLEASE ENJOY!!!!!!!! god i hope this is literally PERFECT i spent 4ever making it just right so i hope it gets y'alls toes curling or whatever amen!

shamelessly, as per usual, please, i love likes, but especially comments, tagged reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work! im catering to you! please, let me know if you liked it!

ok let me. try and stop shaking IMS OS EXCITED 2 POST!!!!!!! okok im done

4got 2 add this in earlier but self-indulgent: in case ur like me and cannot stop pacing bc of perv!haku x reader, here's the songs i listened 2 while writing this:

"judas" and "monster" by lady gaga

"mind brand" by maretu

"gasoline" by halsey

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @despairingy-obsessed @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow

want 2 join the tkdb taglist? let me know!

[wonton4rang]

can you do riize bf hcs? 💗💗

hiii, ofc!!! my first riize request/ drabble/ thought, oh my :')

btw, guys, i wanted to make something clear with my riize content, for me riize is 7. i understand that some might be mad at seunghan for having a normal life and dating before he was even an idol, or smoking like he's harming your lungs or something, but i don't really mind. he worked hard to get here and even though he might have come across as someone problematic, i believe we should never mix the idol's personal life with their job (in this case, as it's not something that bad, it's not seungri y'all iykyk). they are people, you talk shit behind someone's back too and you don't get fired for it so please understand this and respect my point of view <3 if you feel uncomfortable with that, feel free to stop reading my riize content and live your life.

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Can I be your boyfriend?

pairing: riize x reader.

warnings: +18, mentions of smut.

summary: how i think riize would be as boyfriends (two povs - daily life + intimacy)

note: i had like over 3-4 weeks with this in drafts because i couldn't finish the maknae line (han, hee & ton) but here it is, hope y'all enjoy !! my first riize post <33 pd. i did NOT read this again so it might contain typos, i will try to correct it asap :')

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shotaro;

daily life: he would be a really funny and nice boyfriend to be around. being so kind and his eye smile being so dreamy that you could literally feel your knees getting weak and that fervent desire of pinching his cheeks. he would definitely selfie text you every time he can, "how you doing, baby?" *insert selca*, "did you eat something already?" *insert mirror selfie*. plus, i also think that he would be the type to like to have you on his lap. idk, it just feels right and natural to me.

intimacy: i have been seeing taro since nct and tbh the amount of sex this dude likes to have is insane. like i just see him fucking you three times a day like a fucking meal. he would be fast yet precise, nothing sloppy or out of place, he would whisper in your ear how much he likes you and would give you a reassuring smile when you were about to come that just melted your heart over and over again.

eunseok;

daily life: contrary to his usual behaviour and demeanour, i do think he would be very touchy. probably not really bubbly or acting all cutesy but he is for sure having an arm around you at all times, acting like it's the most natural and normal thing and like he isn't thinking about the way you breath under his touch with every second that goes by. he would also be the type to stare at you all lovingly when you are saying something and then nod with that "i love you so much i'm going crazy" smile on his pretty lips.

intimacy: i have two things for this one, or he is very dominant or he is a lay back type of person. let me elaborate, in both of them he is dominant but the first one is him actually taking control of your movements, physically manipulating you during sex to get you where he wants, when he wants it. on the second one, is more like he layed back and told you to ride him or something but his face has that smug look that you loved-hated because it meant that he was not touching you and you had to do all the work today. but honestly, i feel like he could also have his lovey dovey days and just make love to you!! also, the way this man loves to receive head has to be studied. it came to me in a vision and i actually can give testimony of it :p

sungchan:

daily life: do you guys know this stereotype of the typical sporty, extroverted, funny, tall, handsome and very loving and centered boyfriend? well, meet sungchan. he would video call you at any time, during his morning lecture at college, during his workout session at the gym, while he was waiting for the showers to empty on the changin room. always, everywhere. he would drop by your house almost every night to check up on you since your job and his daily schedule at college wouldn't allow you guys to meet. he would be the type to be so offended if you ever think he would cheat because he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you !!

intimacy: mr. i'll make love to you on weekdays and get freaky on the weekends fr. he would usually fuck you missionary, looking into your eyes and kissing your lips like a starved man while his dick reached so deep inside of you that your legs would shake. but when the time came, he would also get creative, bending you over the dining table and fucking you raw before pulling out and coming in your ass, ruining your pajamas but making your night the best :((

wonbin:

daily life: princess treatment type of boyfriend. but not just towards you, he is expecting the princess treatment right back. he would dress up so nicely to go and see you, expecting to find you on your best fit too! he would like to help you choose your clothes and even go shopping, getting you both matching jackets and jewelry. idk why but i also see him as the type to like to cuddle at home with you while watching a movie over going outdoors.

intimacy: he has the strength and the body the fuck you senseless but hear me out when i say this man is more of a sub that you could ever imagine. he would try to play it nice and not be so obvious about the fact that he is creaming his pants when you start to move while sitting on his lap, he would hold his soft whines in by biting his bottom lip and then lowering his head to hide the blush across his cheeks. and it doesn't take you a minute to notice and drop to your knees so you can suck him off, feeling his delicated hands tangle in your hair and press you down so he can slowly fuck your throat. just have in mind that your pussy it's next and wonbin has one of the best staminas i've seen in a dancer.

seunghan:

daily life: i personally see seunghan as an energetic person, always trying to be cheerful and thinking of a joke that matches the current vibe, or just laugh along, but i also feel like he'd be a very romantic boy. really into this gentleman persona that would have you weak on your knees and giggling all day, he would take to you to sweet dates, matching couple sweaters and bracelets, long walks at night while you just hold hands and then end up kissing in the entrance of your apartment before trying to say goodbye because he would push you inside and cuddle you all night whenever he has the chance </3

intimacy: yeah i guess we all know where i'm going with this but lord have mercy on you when he decides to show up and say it's time to get naughty. he would start with soft touches, kisses that would slowly get longer and deeper, and a long forgotten movie on your living room while he undressed you on your room. he would be rougher than sungchan but relatively slower, fucking you nice and deep rather than fast and sharp.

sohee:

daily life: pookie. the pookiest pookie of all. but heads up, he might be really cute, his smile might look so innocent that would make you second guess when you said something with a slight double sense and he just look at you like 🫣 he would try to make you food, try to help you around in the house, try to even help you with your homework but would only end up sitting by your side, caressing your frame, your arms and hair, while he made you one or two jokes and sang some lovey dovey tune to your ear.

intimacy: contrary to popular thought, i don't think he is THAT much of a sub. he mainly is, yes, but i also feel like he would be a great dom. like, picture sohee, nicely built body, sharp eyes, playful smirk, freaky hands and sweet yet masculine voice tone whispering in your ear how good your pussy tightens around of his dick, his hands holding your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair... yeah, we need more dom sohee content :')

anton:

daily life: i've always thought that he would be the messiest boyfie ever. he would try to impress you by doing or saying stuff you really didn't care about but you found it so adorable and endearing that you eventually had interest for all the stuff he showed you, because he wanted you to know you had a great and knowledgeable boyfie!! but on the other side, he would just be himself, turning into this boyfriend-best friend kinda thing that you both loved.

intimacy: idk why i feel like he would be a little shy. maybe not shy shy but like he would hesitate at first, not knowing if you'd like this or that and doing none because he didn't wanna make you uncomfortable. however, when he finally gets a hold of you??? gurllll you better be ready. i feel like he's the type to slowly fuck you so good you would end up edging most of the times because he would just be so patient, so precise and yet lacking velocity, but it was on purpose because he would bring your orgasm in a silver plate when he thrusts so fast into you you actually think the bed would crack.

[isolvlt]

Hard to get - choi subong (Thanos)

Summary: basically subong has tried everything to get your attention, and tonight he finally shows you what in store

Warnings: NSFW mdni, he calls reader a bitch, slapping, fingering, idk I read it and I don't think there's anything else :p probably some typos

Notes: I HAD TO WRITE FOR MI MANNNN 😩 I was too lazy to actually add a sex scene so :p

Thanos had his eye on Y/N since the moment the games began. She wasn’t like the others—didn’t fawn over him, didn’t laugh at his jokes, didn’t even flinch when he threw around his usual over-the-top antics. It was infuriating.

He’d tried everything. The smooth-talking, the freestyle raps, the obnoxious charm he knew worked on most girls. But Y/N? She barely spared him a glance. It made his blood boil. Thanos wasn’t used to being ignored, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

So, naturally, patience was never an option.

That night, when the lights dimmed and most of the players had slipped into uneasy sleep, he made his move. He weaved through the scattered bunks, quiet but purposeful, until he reached her bed. And then— slap. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but just enough to jolt her awake.

“The fuck?” Y/N’s voice was groggy, laced with annoyance, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

Thanos crouched beside her, a lazy smirk stretched across his face. "Finally. Thought you were gonna sleep through the whole damn thing." His voice dripped with amusement, that same arrogant lilt he always carried.

She sat up, rubbing her cheek, glaring at him. "Are you insane?"

He chuckled, tilting his head. "You tell me, baby girl. ‘Cause you got me feelin’ crazy over here."

Y/N scoffed, unimpressed, and moved to turn away, but Thanos wasn’t having it. He caught her wrist, his grip firm but not forceful, his gaze burning into hers. "Nah, don’t start actin’ brand new now. I know you see me. I know you feel me watchin’." His voice dipped lower, teasing. "You just like playin’ hard to get."

She yanked her arm away, unimpressed. "Or maybe I just don’t like you."

That made him laugh—a short, breathy sound like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, shaking his head. "Damn. That’s cold, Y/N. Real cold." His expression shifted—something darker flashing behind his eyes. He leaned in just a little closer, voice a whisper now. "But see… the thing about me? I don’t take L’s. Sooner or later, you’re gonna see things my way."

Before she could say anything, he pushed himself against her, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a claiming, a declaration of dominance—his tongue pushing past her teeth as if he owned the very air she breathed. Y/N’s eyes went wide with surprise, but she was quick to react. She planted her palms firmly on his chest and pushed, her strength fueled by the fire of indignation.

Thanos stumbled backward, his smirk slipping into a scowl. “The fuck, bitch?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes narrowing to slits in the dim light.

Y/N took the opportunity to stand, her heart racing but her voice steady. “I’m not here for your games, Choi Subong. I’m here to survive. And if that means staying as far away from you as possible, I will.” She balled her fists at her sides, her body tense and ready to fight if he took another step closer.

But Thanos wasn’t done yet. He stepped towards her again, his movements deliberately slow, his eyes never leaving hers. "You see, that's where you're wrong, sweetheart. This whole place is a game. And I'm the fucking king. And if you wanna live to see tomorrow, you're gonna start playing by my rules."

Y/N's eyes narrowed, and she took a step backward, her voice like a whip crack. "You're not the king of shit. Not here, not anywhere. You think because you're famous outside of these walls that you own me in here? That's not how this works."

"Oh but it does" Thanos retorted, his eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and lust. He took a step closer, closing the space between them until she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. "You think you're special because you don't fall for my shit? You think that makes you better than the rest?"

He reached up, grabbing her face with both hands, his thumbs tracing the line of her jaw before digging in, holding her in place. His voice dropped to a rough whisper, "You're gonna be my slut tonight, whether you like it or not."

Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, but she wasn't about to let him see the effect he had on her. She pushed against his chest, trying to keep her voice steady. "Fuck off, Thanos."

Thanos chuckled, his grip tightening. He leaned in closer, his breath warm and minty against her cheek. "Is that how you talk to the king?"

Before she could respond, he pushed her roughly onto the bed, his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress. Y/N’s eyes flashed with anger and fear, but she didn’t scream—she knew better than to draw attention in this place. Instead, she bucked her hips, trying to throw him off.

Thanos was unfazed. He straddled her, his weight pressing down, and kissed her again—a bruising, possessive kiss that left no room for doubt. And, to her own horror, she felt a spark of something inside her. It was primal, unwelcome, but undeniable. Her body was responding to his, despite her mind’s protests.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she found herself kissing him back—not because she wanted to, but because she had to. It was as if she was drowning in a sea of his making, and the only way to survive was to swim with the tide. His hands roamed her body, not with the gentle exploration of a lover, but with the ownership of a conqueror. He was everywhere—touching, claiming, as if he could somehow absorb her very essence.

Thanos could feel her resistance fading, her body succumbing to his touch. He broke the kiss with a smug smile, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. "See, baby? You're not so tough after all." He whispered against her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N glared up at him, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and arousal she despised herself for feeling. "Get off," she hissed, trying to sound as defiant as she felt. But the words came out choked, betraying the desire pooling between her legs.

Thanos chuckled, his grip on her wrists tightening. "I don't think so," he murmured, leaning down to nip at her earlobe. His teeth scraped lightly against the skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through her that she couldn't suppress.

Y/N’s body was a traitor, arching into his touch despite her mind’s protests. She felt a sneer form on her lips, hating herself for the betrayal, but it only seemed to spur him on. Thanos’ hand slid down her body, pausing at the waistband of her panties. His thumb brushed over her clit through the fabric, and she couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her.

With a triumphant smirk, he yanked the fabric aside, his fingers delving into her slick folds. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from moaning. He was so fucking good at this, it was infuriating. Her body responded to him as if it had been programmed to, and she hated that she couldn’t control it.

Thanos’ mouth traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He knew exactly how to touch her to make her squirm—how to manipulate her body into doing what he wanted. His teeth grazed the soft skin above her collarbone, and she couldn’t help but whimper. It was as if he was tearing away every last thread of dignity she had left.

But as he worked his way down, something changed. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, and she saw a flicker of something in his gaze—something that wasn’t quite the cold, detached hunger she’d expected. It was almost like...desperation. Like he needed this as much as he needed his next breath. And that was when she realized she had power here—not over the games, not over the guards, but over him.

Thanos whispered against her skin, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "You're so fucking wet, baby," his fingers moving faster, pressing deeper. And she was. Wetter than she’d ever been. It was infuriating and exhilarating all at once. She hated how much she liked it, how much she craved it, even as she hated him for making her feel this way.

His touch grew more urgent, his thumb circling her clit with a precision that left her breathless. Y/N’s body responded of its own accord, her hips bucking up to meet his hand. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, trying to keep the sounds of pleasure from escaping. But it was no use. Her body was his to command, and she couldn’t stop the low moan that slipped out.

Thanos’ eyes darkened at the sound, his own breath coming in harsh pants. He leaned in closer, whispering in her ear, “You like it when I talk dirty, don’t you?” His words were a hot brand against her skin, setting her alight.

Y/N’s teeth dug into her bottom lip, her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t believe the effect he had on her—how his crude, hateful whispers could turn her body to liquid fire. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. She turned her head away, trying to ignore the way his breath tickled her neck, the way his thumb was now rubbing furiously against her clit.

Thanos took her silence as a challenge. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice a dark whisper that sent shivers down her spine. When she didn't comply, he grabbed her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. His eyes were like black holes, sucking her in, consuming her. "Look at me when I make you come."

Her eyes snapped to his, a silent rebellion. But she couldn't deny the effect he had on her. His fingers danced over her clit, the pressure increasing with every passing second. She felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, the wind howling around her, ready to push her over at any moment. And she hated it—hated that he had this power over her.

But just as she felt the first tremors of an orgasm, he pulled his hand away, leaving her gasping. "Why so mean to me, baby?" He taunted with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You're the one beggin' for it, but I think maybe I'll save it for later."

Y/N's eyes shot open, anger and embarrassment warring within her. "You sadistic fuck," she spat out, trying to shove him away. But he was too strong, too heavy.

Thanos' chuckle rumbled in his chest, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of power. He leaned in, his nose brushing against hers. "Oh, you're gonna be so much fun," he murmured, his voice low and dark. He kissed her again, this time with a smirk, as if to say 'see how easy it is for me to make you want this?'

[just-some-random-blogger]

Maniac

Ex!Aemond Targaryen x Reader + Rebound!Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Not everyone can take the pressure of being involved with a Targaryen. Beyond the heat the media give the powerful family, there was the heat of those in power within the house that stood between everything. This is what lead to Aemond letting you go and Daemon swiping you up.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: modern au, fem!reader, mention/depiction of sex, old money!targaryren, smoking, drinking, eternally smug!daemon, eternally annoyed!aemond, typos, etc.

A/N: this is a poll decided pairing (: . idk i thought of this plot while vibing to maniac by conan gray Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @lxdyred

"Hey puppy," I coo as I jog up to the door and cup Aemond's face. I pepper him with kisses before wrapping my arms around him, "how was work?" He looks at me, grabs my wrists, pulls my arms away, and speaks my name. I raise a brow, "Aemond?" "I'm breaking up with you."

The bass in the venue thumps in my ribcage. I hop around with the sea of people to the beat of some obscure EDM song. I throw my head back and cheer. I sway my hips after downing the contents of my cup.

I nearly gag as I burp. I wipe my lips as I still for a moment to get my bearings.

Fuck. If he knew, Aemond would be so-

I growl when I catch myself in the middle of that thought. I mess my already messed hair up and crush my plastic cup.

No, no. Fuck Aemond.

I shirk when the bodies around me begin to get too close for comfort. Time to get out of here.

I weave through the crowd, glad the sequins of my fitted red dress wasn't getting snagged into anyone's clothing. As I squeeze through a group of girls, I catch a face from the corner of my eye. His burning blonde hair looked pink under the lights; still, he was unmistakable, and it seemed so was I, judging by how he raises his glass to me after we lock eyes.

I look away. How dare he act so familiar?

I turn back to him. He beckons me over with a head tilt.

I scoff. Fuck you. How dare you tell me what to do after all the shit you put me though?

I take a split second to debate whether or not I want to deal with him tonight. It's probably going to be horrible if I do, and yet, my feet are taking me straight into the eye of the storm.

That was, until the bouncer in the VIP section blocks me.

I look up at him and blink, "hi."

"No sneaking in, love," he mutters.

"Let her through, Sandor," a voice calls, making the said man look over his shoulder and turn back to me. He steps away and unhinges the stanchion, motioning with his head.

I walk through, smile, and nod, "thank you, Sandor."

Sandor ignores me and goes back to his post.

"Hello, baby girl," the blonde says from the bar he's leaned on.

I sit down on the stool next to him and grimace, "hello, bastard."

He shifts on his elbow, "I'll have you know Rhaenyra's children have been legitimized following her marriage to Strong."

I pretend to hum in intrigue as I place my crushed cup next to his martini glass.

"But of course, you wouldn't know that because you were too sick to attend the wedding," he tilts his head, "or so Aemond says."

I shrug, "Aemond and I broke up."

"A mutual break up?" he quirks his brows, "I doubt that. What'd he do?"

I narrow my eyes at him, "what do you mean?"

"Oh come on," he waves a hand, "you wouldn't let me touch that kid with a 6 foot pole. What? Did he fuck your sister? Think it was you?"

I cringe, "that's something more on brand for you, Daemon."

"I'll have you know, I have perfect eyesight," he takes his glass, "my nephew however..."

I glare at him.

Daemon sniggers before he sips his drink, "see. Even now you're on his side."

I lick my lips in annoyance, "I'm not on his side."

"Worry not, darling," he turns and motions to the bartender, "the wraith is awfully attached to you." The bartender walks over. "You'll at least see him grovel and beg for you-- a cosmo," he turns to me, "right?"

I clench my jaw then shrug.

Daemon turns back to the bartender and nods. The bartender mutters 'you got it' before walking off.

"He broke up with me."

Daemon takes his glass but sets it down before he even takes a sip.

I look at him and feel irritation rise up my throat. I cough it out with a- "is that really so hard to imagine?"

He tilts his head, "I'm confused. You want me to think this makes sense?"

"I want you to remember how you laughed when Aemond's dad called me a bootlicking bimbo-"

Daemon chortles immediately.

"- and how you always remarked on the dresses I wore whenever I was around. Aemond's grandpa ended up giving me shit for it!"

"Woah," Daemon wheezes, "okay. Otto is a true cunt, to you especially, but can you blame me? You truly are distracting in those dresses, darling." He motions to my body.

I jump off my seat and shove his shoulder, "fuck you, Daemon. He called me a harlot when he thought I wasn't looking."

The next second, I'm walking away fuming, but the sniggering moron stands and grabs my arm, "look. It's funny because it's stupid."

I whip my head back and yank my arm away, "fuck you!"

"Why are you so bothered by what Viserys and that old fuck think anyway?" he gives a lopsided smile that didn't reach his eyes, "it's not-"

"Why would I care about what my boyfriend's father and grandfather think of me?!"

"Ex," Daemon shakes his head and rolls his eyes, "and you and I both know it's not true."

"It's true to them," I point to nowhere as I feel my eyes water at the memory.

"It's really not," he mutters, digging his hand in the inner pocket of his coat, " 's just some shit they said cos they're pissed."

I turn away from him and tilt my head back, fanning my face as I refused to shed a tear, especially in front of him.

Daemon watches and places a cigarette between his lips, "I know big brother didn't like the fact he couldn't find a reason to hate you."

I clench my jaw as I glare at Daemon.

He pulls out a lighter and opens it. The stick in the corner of his mouth wiggles as he speaks, "he had plans to match Aemond with a Baratheon girl."

A line forms between my brows.

He lights his stick and takes a deep swig of nicotine. Smoke comes out of his nose and mouth, making my face contort further. Daemon then swipes his thumb on the crinkle on my forehead, "trust me, Baratheons are boorish."

I feel my lips quiver.

Aemond told me not to worry about her.

I feel like my insides were being ripped out.

Don't you do it. Don't you dare fucking cry over-

"Baby girl-"

"Don't you fucking call me that, asshole," I hiss as saltwater begins to pour from my eyes.

Daemon feels immensely uncomfortable, "want a puff?"

I begin to feel my eyes burn because of my makeup.

I have to get out of here.

He sighs and rubs the tears off my skin before turning to the bar where the Cosmo was just placed. "If you're gonna cry over Targaryen," he mutters as he pulls out his wallet and settles his bill. He turns back to me, handing me he drink.

I do not get it from him and he sighs again as he places it down. I cringe at the smell of his smoke. He continues, "wouldn't it be better if it was because of my dick?"

My face contorts.

He draws in another deep breath and pulls the stick out of his mouth using two fingers.

"Fuck you, Daemon," I growl before turning away.

"My place then?" he follows after.

Daemon follows me outside.

I am booking a ride home on my phone

"Oh, don't be boring," he snatches the object and places it over his head.

"Daemon!"

"Don't worry," he looks up and cancels my order, "I already called one."

"Give it back!"

"Oh, come on, you want to wallow in your self-pity or have it fucked out of you?" he offers, "besides, the car will be here in five."

My eye twitches, "how is that even possible?!"

"Shortcuts, babes," he mutters as he bites his cigarette and adjusts it in his lips. He tilts his head, "you make a shortcut for a ride, put it on your homescreen, give it a push-- gods, maybe you are a bimbo."

I grunt and snatch his cigarette and put it out on his chest. He yelps and pulls back as it surely burned through his shirt.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I fake-pout, "I thought you were done with that."

Daemon glares at me as he brushes his shirt off, "oh, you want to mark me, do you, little girl?"

"I don't want-" the words retreat into my mouth when he marches over and I find myself pushed against the streetlight. His arms are on my sides, hands gripping the pole behind me.

"Don't want what?" Daemon leans in, close enough that I can smell the cigarette smoke and the cologne on him. It was an overpowering smell.

I feel my body warm as he laughs at my silence.

"You know, I always knew you'd burn Aemond's fingers. I just didn't know he'd pussy out and let go if you got too hot."

Daemon looks past me and leans back, taking my hand as a car pulls up, "I happen to bask in dragon fire."

"How original."

I let him drag me back to his place. I let him get under my skin, into me. The night was filled with spiteful remarks, mocking laughs, and rough kisses, but it was also surprisingly filled with whispered praises, reassuring touches, and unbroken promises of pleasure.

It was no competition though, and in the first place, I should not have been comparing one or the other. It was an unfortunate reflex as of late. And it was easy for my mind to think him when his uncle's hair fell on his face almost the same way his did.

Gods they even said the same shit, it was fucking with my head.

I ended up saying Aemond instead of Daemon at one point, and spent what felt like hours being punished for the mistake.

It was clear, twice that after it was rectified by Daemon, he wasn't Aemond. He was nothing like him. Daemon was a good fuck but we didn't do it in his bedroom. He didn't want to hold me after, nor did he make an effort to clean me (or himself) up. He called me good girl but didn't say I love you, for obvious reasons. He made my flesh sting but made no efforts to soothe. And when he marked my skin and called me his, I didn't feel like I belonged, I felt like I was owned.

He did leave me tired in his guestroom before getting up to sleep in his own bed. But I was not tired enough to resist the itch of getting on the internet the moment I woke up. I felt like I was on autopilot as my fingers moved.

I had to hold back a sound when I saw Floris Baratheon's post of her in the Targaryen estate's garden. I shudder at the caption. Luncheon date my ass.

Oh gods.

I could feel tears building up as I opened a browser and looked up Targaryen and Baratheon.

Relationship?

My heart was pounding. I sit up and push the sheets off me while I scroll through article after article.

"Oh, good," the door creaks, "you're up. Are you the one that's allergic to nuts or was that someone else entirely?"

I look up at Daemon as he peeks through the door of his guest room. His hair is damp, signifying a fresh shower. He walks in when I full on break into a sob. He curses then blurts, "does something hurt? Do you need something?"

"Aemond is with Floris?"

He stops in his tracks, "what?"

I drop my phone and retreat under the covers, "he told me he never even spoke to her, and now they're together?"

Daemon purses his lips then sucks in a breath, propping his hands right above the band of his red boxers, "right," he rubs his bare belly, "you want breakfast or not? Should I use almond milk? It's the only thing I got."

"FUCK YOU!" I growl and chuck a pillow at him.

The pillow misses Daemon by a mile and he stares at it as it flies off to the side. He turns back to me then wipes his nose, "fine. I'm putting the almond milk," he walks off, raising a finger, "also, I have work in an hour. If you stay, know your dress is on the couch. My cleaning lady might do something with it though."

Daemon's bare feet tingle against the cold tiles of the penthouse. He sniffles and turns on the fireplace with a remote before heading back to the kitchen.

One of the few things he could actually cook was oatmeal, and he was pretty good at it, if he did say so himself.

He furrows his brows when he hears the telltale button sounds of the front door. He turns to the digital clock on the wall and wonders if the cleaning lady was coming in early today.

Daemon is pulling out some fruit from the fridge when he hears a rather unwelcomed voice call out to him, "good morning, Uncle." Or should he say welcomed?

He looks at the him, unable to hold back his smirk, and sets down the things on the counter, "fancy a bowl of oats, Aemond?"

"Father instructed me to get the Harrenhal files from you."

Daemon chews on a raspberry as he mixes the pot of oats, "that's the longest no I've ever heard."

Aemond watches Daemon grab two bowls. He shakes his head, "I've already eaten."

" 'S not for you, darlin'," he retorts as he turns the stove off and pour the content.

In that moment, Aemond looks around and spots a glimmering dress on the couch. He involuntarily thinks it looks familiar but thinks little of it as he turns back to Daemon, "I didn't realize you had company."

Daemon snorts, "she's a feisty one. You'd know about that, right?"

Aemond does not react as his uncle grins.

He points to his chest, "burnt me with my own cigarette," he smirks, but it doesn't last. "Also, tell your old man if he asks the cleaning lady for my passcode again, I'm breaking his teeth."

"I'm just here for the Harrenhal files."

Daemon eyes Aemond before pouring the food into the bowl, "why? I'm coming to the meeting with it in an hour."

The latter tilts his head, "father mentioned you got into an argument and thought you might not show."

"So," the former puts the pot down with much more force than necessary, "he had his son break into my house?"

"I was going to wake you if you were asleep."

"And if I wasn't here?" Daemon leans on the counter.

Aemond shrugs, "I'd look for it myself."

Daemon is about to burst into a fit of High Valyrian curses up until his name is called out. Him and Aemond turn to the side.

"I showered in your bathroom and now I'm stealing your shit!" I call out as I rub my hair with a towel I found in his guestroom.

I look at my puffy eyes and purple neck marks in the mirror in his bedroom and hear Daemon call out, "what shit?!"

I go through his closet and grab a the first shirt I spot, "your watch!"

I vaguely hear him chuckle, "I don't have watches in my bedroom-

"Pity," I mutter under my breath.

"- but feel free to get whatever clothing you want!"

A generous statement, Aemond thinks. He used to watch his uncle bring back different women all the time when he still lived at the estate with them. He never once was like this though. He watches Daemon as he chuckles. He finds it immensely bizarre that his uncle seems so giddy. He's beckoned by him again, "sure you don't want a bowl, wraith?"

Aemond grumbles at the nickname, he always hated it, and merely clenches his jaw.

He shrugs, "suit yourself."

"Will you give me the files or not, Daemon?"

Daemon looks at him before grabbing two spoons from the drawer, "fine. Want them so bad? I'll give them to you."

"Thank you," he mutters in relief.

"Why don't you take a seat, scarecrow," Daemon adds, "you're going to spook the girl."

Aemond rolls his eyes as he moves over to the living space. He sits on the one sofa chair and eyes the red dress across him for a moment. He then looks out the window before pulling out his phone.

Daemon watches his nephew walk off. He holds back a laugh as he turns back to the oatmeal. He practically combusts with excitement when he hears shuffling from the left.

He looks up at me as I walk over to him.

"Morning, baby girl," Daemon coos and crosses his arms, "my stolen shirt suits you."

Aemond clears his throat involuntarily upon hearing this. He couldn't have whispered? He fishes for his earpods in his pocket and curses himself for not bringing it.

My eyes take in how Daemon's chest bulged. He takes in my puffy eyes as I retort, "want it back? You look cold."

Aemond finds himself eyeing the dress again after hearing that. Why does her voice sound like that?

Daemon lips quirk. He grabs the shirt I was wearing and pulls me toward him. I collide with his chest and his hand slips under the fabric, "naughty girl. You'd offer such a thing when you're not even wearing underwear?"

This is definitely not something Aemond signed up for.

I raise a brow at Daemon, "when did you become such a prude?"

He chuckles and places a hand on my shoulder. His thumb rubs the marks he left on my neck, "you want me to fuck you the counter?"

Right. Aemond stands from the couch and turns to Daemon, "just tell me where the file is and I'll get it myself."

I jolt and grab at Daemon upon hearing that.

Daemon breaks into a laugh.

I whisper-yell, "there's someone here?!"

Daemon pushes my hair back as he hears the sound of footsteps approaching. He looks over his shoulder, "actually, now that I think about it, I think the Harrenhal files are in the file cabinet in my office."

Aemond's fury blazes then dissipates in an instant. He is frozen in his spot when he locks eyes with me.

My body has a rather instant reaction to him. My mouth watered as though I was about to vomit. My hold on Daemon is released.

Aemond's mind was racing as he eyes my appearance. His throat constricts, eye almost flinching as he notices my pert nipples and the dark hues across my neck.

Daemon is the only one not petrified. He rubs my side before pulling away to get his bowl of oats. He eats a spoonful before muttering to Aemond, "it's in the bottom drawer, methinks."

Aemond completely ignores this, eyes fixed on me, "what the fuck are you doing here?"

Daemon raises a brow, "don't think that's any of your business."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I rebut.

Aemond scoffs, "what am I doing in my uncle's home?"

I scoff too, "it's not like you two were ever close, Aemond."

Daemon looks between us as he eats, "this is really good."

"So what?!" Aemond barks, "you're fucking him to get back at me?! A rather pitiful play on revenge, don't you think?"

The ferocity of his tone stabs through my chest. He was never one to raise his voice, and hearing his voice was already painful as it is. I am glad I have the wits to snark back, "why would I need to get back at you? You've been nothing to me for the past two months. I'm doing this because I want to."

Daemon licks his lips as he unabashedly chuckles.

Aemond clenches his fists.

I begin to heave heavily.

The longest of moments pass.

Daemon catches the way I begin to falter. He pushes the other bowl of oatmeal towards me, "eat before it gets cold."

I turn to Daemon after grabbing the bowl. I immediately stuff my mouth. I meant to give a really exaggerated reaction, but I find myself momentarily distracted by how genuinely good the oatmeal tasted. I mumble, "... this is really good."

Daemon smiles, "it is, isn't it?"

I tense when Aemond calls out my name.

Daemon's smile disappears as he turns to his nephew.

"Let's talk about it outside," Aemond mutters.

Daemon scoffs, "if she wanted to talk to you outside, she'd have said so by now, don't you think?"

"This has nothing to do with you, Daemon," Aemond rebuts.

I flinch when Daemon drops his bowl carelessly on the counter and straightens up, "this has everything to do with me. She went home with me; she's in my house, wearing my shirt, being demanded things by my stupid nephew, who, by the way, is now leaving."

"She's my ex-girlfriend," Aemond's neck strains. He steps forward.

"Yes, she was your girlfriend and now she wants nothing to do with you-- get out!"

The decay of Daemon's loud voice merely intensifies the tension in the room. I cannot express the relief I felt at the sound of withdrawing footsteps. I let out a sigh when I hear the door bang shut and bury my face in my hands.

Daemon shifts in his place and looks down at me, "pretty satisfying, no?"

"WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU TELL ME AEMOND WAS HERE?!" I explode and attack him with punches.

[kadwrites]

different yet the same | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; nothing stays the same, but how can you explain that to the people you love?

warnings ; arranged marriage!trope, soft!tommy, reader has a voice kink? idk, typos probably, reader likes starting shit, REALLY slow burn.

a/n ; let me know what you think<3, also keep in mind that my first language is not english <3

-

you felt like you were overheating, his hand was barely even touching your lower back but you could definitely feel it. he led you back to the office, to grab his coat , where he finally stepped away from you.

"ya didn't 'ave to do that" you needed to cut the tension

"do what?" he was putting on his coat

"fire 'er."

he stopped in his place , looking back at you with a raised brow "you'd rather i keep 'er ?"

you really wouldn't "i mean...." you trail off, trying to find the right words

he steps closer, until he's right before you. a little too close maybe "what do ya mean?" his voice is soft and deep.

it really didn't help you , that his voice had that much of an affect on you. "would ya've fired 'er if she spoke this way to anyone else ?"

"like who?"

"i don't know, anyone else." you repeat your words

"but she didn't say that to anyone else" his gaze was so intense, it felt like you couldn't take your own eyes off his "she said it to you"

he then took a step past you before you spoke again "did ya do it because she offended me or was it because it might've hurt your reputation?"

he stops again and sighs when he closes his eyes , he turns "why are ya fightin' me on this?"

"i'm not!" you chuckle "i'm just wonderin'..."

"well stop wonderin' , we got shit to do. let's go" he motions with his hand and heads for the door, you huff and follow him.

but your questions don't stop there. once you're in the car , you're back at it and with more resilience.

"why 'aven't i met your family yet?" you're in the passenger seat, your arms crossed as he drives

"jesus fucking christ" he mumbles, a cigarette hanging from his mouth "what's gotten into ya today , eh?" he glances at you

"what? i'm just trying to make conversation" you try to sound as innocent as you can.

"ya've met polly, 'ave't ya?" he takes a drag of his cigarette, smoke blowing in the air "there ya go, she's family."

"polly doesn't count , i knew 'er as a child. before i knew ya."

"she's my aunt , how does she not count?" his brows furrow and he laughs

"ya've brothers, and a sister, and sisters in law." you're not giving up, "ya've met my family already , why don't ya want me to meet yours?"

"i barely did" he looks at you , then back at the road "they don't exactly like my company now , do they?"

"they're shy!"

he looks at you with a half smile, as if asking you if you're serious "really?"

"come on tommy, i'm serious. how am i going to marry into a family that i don't know?"

"you're not marrying my family are ya? you're marrying me"

"tommy" you click your tongue

"why do ya want to meet them so badly?"

"i just..... i've always wanted to be close to my husband's family when i'd get married."

he sighs , looking back at the road "it'll take time for them to warm up to ya and they're hardly as polite as your lovely family is" he mumbles with a sarcastic tone

"probably" you nod "but i do want to meet them"

"fine, don't say i 'aven't warned ya." he sighs again, "i'll see what i can do"

"mum says that thomas shelby proposed to ya" sarah and amy are in your room, they're celest's daughters.

"mhm" you're still in bed and they're beside you. your sister's children are rascals, just like their mom they, don't knock when they come in, they lay in your bed with you and wake you up whenever they're bored. you're eyes are still closed when you mumble, not that it would stop them from pestering you. you try to hang on to any crumb of sleep you can get.

"can we see the ring?" amy asks , you can hear the smile in her voice.

you raise your hand, wiggling your ring finger. at her.

you tried to keep this whole thing from them, to not let them know what really happened. they're smarter than you think though. after all , sarah is already 14 and amy is 13. they already have an idea, they just never wanted to bring it up.

"oh my god..." amy's voice is filled with excitement and a little bit of disbelief "is this a real diamond?"

"of course it fucking is." you grumble. you turn, so you're laying on your side but facing them now

"are ya happy?" sarah pulls the covers, getting under them next to you

"why wouldn't i be ?" you chuckle sleepily "i'm gonna be fucking rich" you wiggle your brows

they both chuckle with you, but they are still looking at you with a type of look, and you know what it meant.

"mum says that his house is far , that we wouldn't see ya as often." amy mumbles

"your mum is dramatic. of course ya will." you reassured them, but the thing is you didn't even know how life would be after your wedding. "ya're not getting rid of me that easy."

"are ya nervous?"

"a little bit yeah" you shrugs "but it's normal, your mum was nervous too ya know? she'd cry every time she saw me." you say with a snort "and look at 'er, she still comes over every other day."

"but that's different isn't it?" amy dares to ask

"what is different?" you ask softly

"everything is going to be different" she mutters and you can feel your heart crack at that "this wedding is different, you're marrying ... 'im, and moving away, and it'll be different." her voice cracks, and she looks away

"nothing is going to be different amy..." you get up, and scoot next to them "but even if things change i'll still be me, ya'll still 'ave me"

sarah leans her head on your shoulder "i'll miss ya"

you look at her then at amy, "aww , hey now" you hug her, laughing as you kiss her head "i'm not going anywhere," you speak into her hair

-

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[fuckingstrange]

Wrecked

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WARNINGS: PWP/Porn without plot, straight into the smut, rough sex, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, overstimulation (r receiving), this is incredibly gay, anal sex, also hand job?, Idk how to fucking tag shit right I'm so sorry, Pet names (Baby, Good boy) used to reader bc no y/n will ever grace my page, dirty talk?, A dash of aftercare, SMUT!!!, no beta we make typos like grandpa using speech to text

WORDS: 725?+

PAIRING: Aaron Hotchner x m!reader

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A/n: Omg two fics in like one week??? Or two days?? I feel like I've returned to my Christmas Ficlist days...

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The electricity that runs through your body feels like less than death but more than life, each slam of Hotch’s hips against you stinging like a swat with a spoon, but feeling amazing when he hammers into that sweet spot. He's been going at it for nearly two hours, dragging as many orgasms out of you as he can.

Crying and trembling, voice hoarse as you unleash moan after moan, cry after cry, he still doesn't stop. Pumping your cock with his free hand, covered in the loads of cum from your three previous orgasms, you swear your heart could stop at any moment.

The pounding in your chest is as rough as the pounding against your ass, his own groans echoing in your ear as he mumbles sweet nothings, pure praises for lasting so long.

“Doing so- so fucking good, Lookin’ so pretty like this. All- All wrecked, so loud for me.” Hotch’s voice barely breaks through over the ringing in your ears.

He leans up, having originally been caging over you with his head dipped towards your shoulder, grabbing onto one of your legs with his free hand to push it out further, making him reach even deeper. Managing to move even faster, even quicker and even rougher, he slams into you like this is the last time he's gonna ever get the pleasure of fucking you.

Your moans have fallen into short gasps, low pants being exhaled beside a whine warning him of your next impending orgasm. A shaky hand lifts to grab at his upper arm, blunt nails digging in to leave crescent moon shapes within the skin as his thick cock stabs at your prostate even quicker than before, his hips having found the perfect angle to hit it each time.

“Aaron, Aar-’n,” You practically chant as he continues to build you towards another release. Your trembling gasps don't deter him, the sound of you calling out for him instead just encouraging him to move faster.

Hotch has to refrain from biting down on his lower lip, having already made it bleed before when he tried holding off his first orgasm. Bringing himself to a second, and you to a forth, he puts all his effort into helping you get through it.

“Right here, I'm right here, baby.” He huffs out, head lolling back as he lets out a few moans of his own. “Come on, You've got this. One last time for me, just one more.”

Becoming boneless beneath him, your hand falls from his arm to drop on the bed beside you, taking all he has to offer at this point. Your eyes flutter open to look up at him, vision blurred but not enough that you can't see just how gorgeous he looks above you. It's enough to make your breath catch as your cock pulses, spitting out what left you have to offer as you choke out a cry.

Hotch gives a last few thrusts before he's coming, pressing as deep in you that he can reach. His body shudders as his hand on your cock falters, feeling it twitch and pulse in his hand as cum covers his fingers and drips onto your stomach.

Falling forward to hover over you again, the hand on your hip slides up to rub your side, careful to avoid spreading the semen around on your stomach. He takes a good few minutes to regain his composure before kissing your cheek, asking “Do you want me to get a bath going? Or just wipe you off?”

You'd probably be able to offer more than just a weakly whispered “Rag,” as an answer if you weren't so spent, eyes already trying to fall shut from how exhausted you are after being pushed to the limit.

Hotch doesn't pull away until he can feel you soften in his hand, reaching down to help pull himself out while kissing over each shut eyelid. He slips out of the bed, quickly heading to the bathroom to grab a rag out from the sink’s cabinet and wet it with warm water before returning.

Sitting down beside you he reaches over to wipe the cum off your softened cock and stomach, watching you relax further into the bed from the warm cloth. By the time he's finished wiping you up, he can already hear you snoring.

[falafels]

Partaking in WIP Wednesday!!

I don’t actually know what that means but anyway here are all of my aftg fic ideas that I either have in progress (material document) or in the incubation stage (intangible string of concepts that sometimes flashbang me in the mind while i’m out)

-Seeing Double: Nicky POV with some snippets or stories from when he became the twins’ guardian. this one i have actually posted a chapter of over on ao3 and chapter 2 still in progress but aaron threatens to kill himself to a customer on his first day ever having a job and andrew punches a hole in a load bearing wall so he can use it as a climbing foothold to reach the rum and chocolate nicky keeps on top of the cupboard

-Leave tonight or live and die this way: Mary Hatford story!! so named for tracy chapman fast car because i love tracy chapman fast car. follows mary from about 6 months after she and nathan got married, lore on inner circle, lola malcolm bashing, nathan wesninski playing jump rope with the line between diva and deranged (hints of Lestat if im being quite honest), mary believing herself to be the sole brain cell possessor while in fact having 30% custody of it at best, and french bashing.

-kevin post psu fic where he moves to boston for his pro team and doesn’t know anyone, gets hammered at the first bar he finds and it turns out to be a college bar near harvard and there’s a trivia night going on. even face down on the bar kevin still grumbles corrections and someone there is highly amused by this so insists he join their team. and they like him so he’s invited to their library study session that week too. and kevin likes them so he goes along to it and realises they’re all harvard nerds and don’t have a clue who he is. and he makes actual friends based on something other than exy, but they all think he’s also a student and he doesn’t correct them. eventually they’re at a bar for a trivia night kevin couldn’t make and see a tv on and an interview of some sports thing and one of them squints and is like holdup. is that KEVIN?? scared of mice, sends emails to authors about typos in their books, probably needs glasses, drinks milk by itself KEVIN? anyway yeah don’t know what to call that one or do with it but i will get to it

-another kevin post psu idea, this time by a few years. again it’s just me inventing friends for kevin. so this one is he gets traded across pro teams (as happens) and it wasn’t that he particularly likes where he was before or who he was with, but he knew the city and he knew the deal, even if his teammates didn’t really like him. anyway, he gets traded across the country and swapped with another player, maybe a USC graduate or at least someone who would have fit in there. and that person reaches out to him to see how he’s settling in or adjusting or any of that, which is very nice but kevin would usually give the fine thanks 👍 or ignore, but he’s drunk and alone enough that he responds and calls them back. and they end up on the phone for hours. that seems to be the last of it and kevin is like ok one (1) person knows i am Cringe and i Feel but we’ll never speak again it’s fine it’s fine until the person checks in again the next week and kevin finds that it’s actually quite nice to have someone know you a little bit and genuinely care how you are, and they talk more about the transfer and kevin tries to impart wisdom about the city he was in (bookstores here and here, gyms here and here but don’t go to that one it’s shit, they sell good smoothies on fifth but don’t walk back down west ave. or you end up in a sea of high schoolers ditching and they are so so mean). and maybe eventually there’s some kind of pro exy event they’re both at and they get to hang out? epilogue where they’re traded to the same team? idk this is again just indulgent that i want kevin to have a friend

-Renee fic! untitled but it’ll probably be an ethel cain lyric when i find one suitable. one of the people incarcerated following the trial against the gang she grew up in is released on parole, disappears, and suddenly three little girls turn up dead. and she knows it’s him, of course it is, but nobody seems to be doing anything. and he’ll be working his way over to her, she’s part of the reason he went to prison, but he’ll kill a path there. so renee sets aside her crucifix necklace and decides to kill him first. god’s sword arm? or a matter of hunting? she doesn’t like to think of it as either, but she leaves palmetto with her knives and a look on her face nobody but andrew has seen before, calmly assures them she’ll be back in a few weeks at most, and dives headfirst. it’s like one of those moments where you hit the water so hard you think you’ll never breathe again, and it slows down a bit, and something changes. after grappling with the ‘healed way to kill someone’, renee gives herself more and more permissions to shift back into natalie shields behaviours, but catches herself before she catches the guy. she recognises that she’s doing that formulaically, but that ultimately what she’s trying to achieve here doesn’t actually conflict with any one of her values, and when she kills him it’s with a bible in her rucksack and a sparkly purple cat charm on her keys. idk a lot of the specifics of that might change but i chew on renee a lot and i think we all should.

-aforementioned jerejean au where jean is a firefighter and jeremy is at the seminary training to be a priest. not quite fleabag shit because i could never do that to jean, but very unlikely and somehow working. jeremy im giving you religious problems because i think they would suit you. jean im giving you being hot and sweaty and saving people because im a pervert. also something i like there about first responder/last responder. and how that’s kind of what each of them need? jeremy is the final breath and the calm reassurance, but there’s something in him that wants to run and scream and yell and have the stakes be as high as they can, be able to do something with an instant material result. jean is always under the most pressure he possibly can be, trying to keep everyone alive, and sometimes secretly wants a moment of quiet that he doesn’t think he deserves and would feel horribly guilty if he got. anyway jean being vaguely amused by closet adrenaline junkie trainee priest and jeremy fascinated by the tall french firefighter who refuses to forgive himself for being alive.

and i think that’s all of them for now!! my notes app is just this with various scenes and lines that i want to put in each one but would need to write 6 chapters to get to. bummer ANYWAY if you made it this far i am sorry and ily and i hope u have a great day <3

[breadandblankets]

how i hc duke's relationships with the other (main) bats

bruce: mentor/friend/weird HS teacher u bond with kinda thing, i think bruce on his end still feels simmering guilt for not being there for duke when he needed him, duke feel simmering resentment towards bruce for being another adult that left him, this will boil over at some point but then they'll get over it, they will never be that dumb nuclear found family thing, i think doug and elaine would like bruce tho so maybe one of those friend of the family situations where u call someone ur not related to aunt/uncle

cass: very very good friends, would probably consider her a sister from another mister if u will, i would hesitate to call her a best friend *gestures at all of war* but i think she's up there, i really love the headcanon that there is some tension on duke's end because cass has the ability to be more efficient but she actively chooses not to, i think for a long time duke is going to be holding some unhealthy and unrealistic standards both for himself and also people around him, like everything else this causes tension then erupts before it gets resolved, cass i think would know about said tension the whole time but have no idea how to bring up the issue or how to even think about resolving it so it drags on

dick: i think duke holds a grudge for the robin war thing, and i think he fucking should iykyk, (the way he just leaves duke on a roof??? with cops????, i was shouting at my fucking comic) idk i think dick would probably make light of it for a while but duke would be real fucking clear that he remembers and won't be forgiving and forgetting any time soon, i think they're acquaintances at best but realistically, coworkers

damian: like cass Extremely good friends, found family if you will, honestly i think they got a lot of their interpersonal issues out of the way before duke becomes signal, so really its a matter of time before they actually become friends and not just acquaintances, they're old man young to me, i think they do old man things like feed birds in the park and play Go together, i think damian is probably one of the only people duke doesn't hold to his standards, he thinks damian deserves to be a kid, making damian be a kid is probably some of the only time that duke is forced to relax by proxy, therefore duke and damian's friendship is strongly encouraged by bruce who is out of his depth for what to do with both of them and throwing them at each other seems to be working (👍 parenting)

tim: i honestly don't think they know each other well, like i think they may have talked once??? so i don't have shit to base their relationship off, generally i think they're amicable if distant, like a coworker you say hi to at the coffee machine

babs: i Need them to interact, honestly it would be really funny if duke meets babs for the first time as oracle and he's just like??? you're my favorite librarian? and babs is like !! we missed you when you stopped volunteering!!! and duke has to be like yeah that was the joker, i think they would have a good relationship, they don't work together all that much cause oracle doesn't run duke's ops and duke isn't usually on the night shift but they know they can call each other in if they need. one of duke's few trusted AdultsTM

jason: i think rocky at the start, duke would definitely have some Memories of the red hood, that would probably be a hill to overcome, but i generally think that jason will eventually move into a more positive position in the city even with the shadows of all that stuff following him ofc. they are absolute Assholes to each other in a way that is clearly affection, jason will let duke get away with anything up to and including murder, duke will never let jason get away with anything, its like a typo in the group chat

steph: re same as tim, and babs practically nothing to base the relationship on BUT i think they would get on like a house on fire, like cass: sister from another mister energy, steph is giving duke the "you just found out ur dad is a supervillain" support he needs, they are the only bats successfully going to college they probably go to events on campus together, idk they have so much potential as the forgotten robins and all that, i think they should bully bruce together that would be so fun.