#[sips tea] PERHAPS

[isthisjackie]

I cannot stress this enough— if you feel like you have no control over your life or feel overwhelmed, make yourself a lil complicated beverage

[icewindandboringhorror]

[mono-chrono]

some bobby hair concepts, thanks to @ackalice​ mentioning ponytail undercut

they really need it to keep their hair manageable lol

their hair gets that puffy after rain and mist too :)

[kavehater]

sighhh what a time to be alive pedophiles and pedo supporters getting exposed and mercilessly dragged

[yueebby]

happy wife, happy life  — gojo satoru

synopsis. not fawning over his wife may prove to be harder than gojo thought.

contents. fluff, gojo is so whipped for his wife and everyone is tired (whats new), ooc gojo?

notes. this was pure self indulgence. i wanted to slander and coddle gojo all at once and this was it teehee :3

the first thing you hear when you stand up to leave the staff meeting is a wolf whistle.

“looking good,” satoru looks you up and down. you roll your eyes playfully, your husband’s behavior is not foreign to you. he taps your upper thigh, dangerously close to your butt as you take your leave. however, the others in the room don't take kindly to the action.

“highly inappropriate behavior gojo,” utahime mutters under her breath from across the table. beside her, nanami is giving your husband a hard stare. 

satoru pays no mind to them though, smiling up at you as you walk out of the room. you shake your head when he continuously blows a series of kisses. he ignores your rejection, opting to mouth crude comments instead.

the moment the door shuts, the strongest sorcerer immediately deflates, disinterested in whatever matters the rest had to discuss about. 

“i don’t know how she puts up with you,” utahime takes a long sip out of her cup of tea. beside her, shoko snorts.

“probably for his body.” shoko is not unfamiliar with satoru’s antics, having witnessed it since his rowdy school days. she applauds him for coming far with you, but it was still fun to tease him.

gojo crosses his arms, emitting a disgruntled sound. “and my golden personality?”

nanami sighs, “ieiri’s conclusion is most likely right.”

the limitless user wiggles his finger playfully. “nanamin, how scandalous of you to fantasize about my body! i’m a married man y’know~” 

nanami looks like he has eaten something sour. unlike you, nanami’s attitude towards gojo has not softened as the years passed.

“i’m surprised she’s still with you.” utahime snickers. “she’s a sensible woman and you’re–” 

satoru frowns at her statement.  he’d never thought about how you felt about his behavior. perhaps that was his fatal flaw. gojo satoru had a nasty streak of negligence. and the last time he failed to notice someone dear to him —   

“well i’m glad she ended up choosing me, yeah?” his frown is quickly covered up by the wide smirk on his face. he leans back on his chair that’s starting to feel less comfortable by the second. the chair creaks under the weight of his body. honestly, how old are these old wooden things? “as much as i’d like to keep chatting about my lovely wife, i’d like to get this meeting over with so i can see her again.”

the rest of the meeting ensues as usual.

“sensei has been weird… right?” itadori offers his hand after knocking megumi down during a sparring match. the black haired boy grunts as he is pulled up.

“if by weird, you mean normal.” megumi glances back at you and gojo who are watching intently at the first and second years practicing close combat on the training field. it was a bit peculiar to see satoru not throw himself all over you. gojo without pda is like a jigsaw puzzle missing its most essential piece, leaving the overall picture incomplete and lacking the electrifying energy that defines his existence. 

“i feel like i should be happy, but it’s unsettling to see him not initiating some misconduct. do you think they’re fighting?” nobara is panting on the grassy floor. she raises her hand in surrender when maki leaps in to take her head off with a spear.

maki retracts her blade, turning back to observe you and gojo, “nah, gojo would fold at her command.” 

“salmon.”

from across the training field, you turn to your husband nervously, “why are they staring at us?”

satoru hums, his blindfolded gaze focuses on the field in front of you, “hm, maybe they’re admiring their very beautiful [name] sensei.” the blindfolded man pauses. compliments should still be okay– right? satoru can’t imagine a life without lavishing you with love, yet he will content himself with gently sprinkling you with affection. 

you smack his shoulder playfully. to your surprise, your husband doesn’t reciprocate with some form of physical affection. you tilt your head, perplexed. 

quickly dismissing it, you yell at your students to continue their training.

you don’t notice the way satoru clenches his fists, keeping his eyes trained anywhere but you.

the next time satoru is tempted by your presence is when he comes back home after a mission. it was a walk in the park, but the heavy stack of paperwork that followed it had depleted his energy. all he wanted was to snuggle in bed with his wife, selfishly keeping you all to himself.

and you’re not making it easier to resist with the way you warmly greet him with a smile in nothing but a small cotton tee and those tiny pajama shorts. eyes up, eyes up, eyes up, satoru mentally chants.

he thinks he might actually die.

“toru!” you abandon the book you had been reading to pay your husband taxes (kisses that satoru demands he must have). “you’re home awfully late.”

“mission… paperwork,” his clipped response is mumbled as he hurries past you and to your shared bathroom, avoiding your touch. satoru silently prays to the heavens that you don’t notice his suspicious efforts as he makes his way to take a much needed ice cold shower.

you stand in your spot in confusion, letting your husband go. slowly, you start to connect the pieces of satoru’s strange behavior from his refusal to touch you to his sudden responsible disposition. gojo satoru never does paperwork– not unless you bribe him with a dozen kisses. speaking of kisses, you don’t even remember the last time he had demanded one. something was definitely wrong. 

without missing a beat, you quickly follow your lover’s trail into the bathroom.

to your delight, your husband had failed to lock the door. in the hush of your silence, you can hear the subtle rustle of satoru's garments.

his sky blue eyes go wide when he sees you walk through the door.

“toru… is there something wrong?” your voice is careful. 

the white haired man in front of you nervously laughs as he covers his bare chest, “geez, ask me out to dinner first.” 

“gojo satoru.”

your husband winces at his full name being used, but he puts on another mask. a faux smile plays on his lips as he shrugs. “i don’t know what you mean, gojo.” 

your heart drops at his insistence to shut you out, but you stand your ground. with sheer determination, you walk up to your husband, closing the gap between the two of you. you cup his cheek with a hand while you start to lean closer, your lips nearly brushing.

satoru shuts his eyes, inhaling a deep breath to regain composure. he even sucks in his lips, making him look utterly ridiculous. despite the dangerous allure of your proximity, he resolves to stand firm.

"you won’t even kiss me anymore! satoru, this is absurd. what's happening?" you distance yourself, seeking answers.

despite his towering stature, a snort escapes you as satoru resembles a mere child when mumbling something under his breath.

"come on, use your big boy words."

"i don't want to drive you away," he avoids making eye contact now that his blindfold is off. "i know i can be a bit overwhelming at times."

upon hearing his excuse, you snort loudly, “seriously?”

“seriously.”

“i can’t believe i married such an idiot.” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck.

satoru pouts, “you’re breaking my heart wifey.”

your lips softly kiss the corner of his mouth. like it was muscle memory, satoru’s lips chase yours even after you pull away. you smile.

“for such a genius, you really are stupid ‘toru.” you flick his forehead. he whines and you know it didn’t hurt, yet you entertain him by leaning up to kiss his injury. “believe it or not, i married you for reasons beyond your pretty face and body.”

“you think i’m pretty?” his eyes shine bright as they lovingly gaze into yours. you take one hand to cup his cheek. he nuzzles his face into it.

“of course you’d say that.” you laugh softly. “but honestly, i’m offended that you thought i would ever be annoyed by your affections. might i remind you that we have been madly in love since our youth? i found myself captivated by your ability to love effortlessly, and the way you hopelessly pined for me for years? i knew i was a goner. that… and your bank accoun–”

satoru kisses you with an intensity that leaves you feeling blissfully lightheaded. lost in the haze of the moment, he showers the rest of your face with tender, wet kisses, and you stand there, surrendering to the sweet assault.

upon withdrawing, satoru wears a broad grin. "i was an idiot today, wasn't i?" you nod, breathless. "how about i make it up to you tonight?" he proposes, drawing you close. you are all too familiar with that feral grin adorning his face.

[luveline]

YES to luna lovegood/dreamy!reader!!!!!!!!! Can we possibly get one with Spencer? <3

“It’s not as bad as you think.” 

Hotch appreciates the softness of your voice, as someone who also speaks in a very measured tone, but the sound of it has his brow furrowing. You’re a brilliant analyst, and a worse distraction whenever you’re in the main office. 

“It sounds terrible?” 

Hotch peers through the window to get a good look at the scene. You’re sitting in Spencer’s desk chair with your hands stretched out in front of you. Your outfit is very pink, considering the occasion, but it’s a non-abrasive light pink that flatters your skin. You have a clip in your hair, a small silver star with pink jewels embedded along the lines. 

Emily sips at a cup of coffee, leaning against the desk, her face to the side. Hotch can see her perturbed smile. 

“It’s fine! I’ve just been sleeping on the sofa.” 

“Well. That’s a call to pest control.” 

Spencer returns to his desk with a frown and two mugs. “Pest control?” he asks, the mug he places in front of you steaming. 

“There’s a raccoon living in her bedroom.” 

Spencer burns himself on his coffee, swearing as he puts it down hurriedly beside yours. “There’s a what?” Spencer asks. 

“He’s friendly. He came in through my vent.” 

“So friendly he’s stolen your bedroom?” 

You lean back in Spencer’s chair like it’s a La-Z-Boy, blowing at the hot surface of your drink with a similar lazy smile. “Imagine being that little and having such a big bed? When you usually sleep in the garbage?” You give a breathy laugh. “He must be having the time of his life.” 

“How are you getting ready in the mornings?” Spencer asks worriedly. 

“We’re cohabiting.” 

Spencer licks his lips. He likes you, and you seem aware of that fact, and that’s nerve-wracking for everyone involved. 

“Um, maybe we can make him a house? Like, outside? Raccoons are far happier in their natural habitat, and they’re also, you know, highly diseased and contagious compared to humans. I really don’t think you should let him inside.” 

“Spencer,” you say, giving him a dozy grin, “I didn’t let him in. He knows how to get in all by himself.” 

“I’ll call a repairman, too,” Emily says with a groan. 

She walks away, probably to find JJ and get her in on the repairs. Spencer looks at you for a long time, just drinking your tea, and Hotch mentally goads him into making a semblance of a move. Even if it’s just to fix your drooping hair clip. 

“You’re looking at me strangely again,” you say. 

Winces all around. “Am I?” Spencer asks. 

“Yes. Is this about Thursday?” 

“No.” Spencer swallows. “Yes. You didn’t answer my texts, after. I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“What I’m thinking?” 

“Yeah. I thought about it a lot, so maybe you did too. Or maybe you didn’t, and it didn’t mean anything.” 

“Of course it meant something, Spencer.” You put down your mug, dusting your knees off before you stand. Spencer is not much taller than you where you’re standing in front of him, but you look up at him anyways. Your face tips ever so slightly to one side. “Would you want to do it again?” you ask softly. 

Spencer looks around the office. He neglects to check Hotch’s window, perhaps because the blinds are more often drawn than not, and so he doesn’t realise Hotch is watching as he draws you in for a kiss. 

You preen and lean back, hands fighting to cup his cheeks, a gauzy, practically gleaming aura around you as you smile into his mouth. Your fingertips tease his hair, and Spencer’s hand settles in place against the small of your back. You kiss back for only a few seconds before you’re laughing.

Spencer moves away quickly, taking your wrists into his hands to pull them away from his face. 

“You give up too fast,” you say. 

“I don’t think this is the place for it.” 

“Well, we can’t do it at my place. What if the raccoon sees?” 

“Good point. How about Marina’s, would that be better? We can get dinner at the same time.” 

Hotch feels oddly proud of Spencer’s suave suggestion, but he also has a migraine brewing between his brows. He really doesn’t need the extra paperwork. 

[evilminji]

Ooooh~ Drink mix up? >.>

Because! Wes DID, in fact, get that dream job. HAS learned... after many, many hours of "beat about the head and shoulders with an ethics pamphlet by his great aunt", to keep his mouth shut! Family curse of Sight? WHAT family curse?

He doesn't see shit! Mind your business.

What're you? A cop?

Look, he sent Fenton a gift basket. He was a shitty, shitty "I have to be RIGHT and nothing else matters!" Stubborn lil asshole of a kid. He got better. Grew up. No one is there best Self during puberty. He DOES, in fact, regret it.

Which is WHY, he is deliberately ignoring Kent's terrible, awful, paper-thin, "who meee~?" Aw shucks BULLSHIT excuse of a disguise, like it isn't blatantly obvious he's Superman. Yep. Nothing to see here! Nothing but us chickens! Mmmmm, morning coffee! Delicious.

But see, here's the THING.

The Itty, bitty, teeny lil PROBLEM...

Wes grew up in Amity "Totally Not Supernatural Hotspot For Centuries" Park. He is... to put it mildly, genetically? A freak. His biology is ALL fucked up. Everyone's is. And it WAS NOT made better by the Fenton's playing fast and loose with their hell basement. The Ectoplasmic NUKE that was that portal.

There is a REASON his morning coffee? Is COVERED. Contained. Fenton brand, LEAD LINED, specialty cups. The sort that can't be EATEN from the inside out. Eroded after a few uses. They're ugly as sin, but they work. He even ordered a few covers from Star's etsy shop. (Apparently he wasn't the only one who hated how ugly they looked. Good for her though, he heard it was doing well.)

He SAYS this? 'Cause his morning brew is less... straight COFFEE... and more... how to put this? A blend? Brew? Potion, really. Like an energy drink. From hell. Or, partially at least, the Zone. It's the combination of roots, seeds, and a few dried berries. Kinda like a tea, actually!

Tasty. Adds this nice fruity, warmth. A zing. Goes GREAT with the coffee. And it really perks you up... if you are Limnal. If you AREN'T? It'll desolve your esophagus like swallowing straight acid. And that's not TOUCHING the... witch-y, more Seer specific bit of the blend.

That stuff is medicinal. You know, "calm the mind" and "mental clarity". That sorta thing. With a good ol helping of "don't blurt out everyone's secrets, you spacey bitch! For the love of God, those are our INSIDE THOUGHTS!". Which? Really helpful! Infinitely less likely to get decked. It's a family staple.

Poisonous, though.

They're fine cause they've basically developed an immunity to that part, but like? Wouldn't recommend. It's why he NEVER shares his drinks. Food? On occasion. If he PLANS it and knows not to add and interesting spices. But DRINKS? Never. Weston family brews are basically NEVER safe.

Which? Begs the Very Important Question ™!

Who's Coffee Is This?

Cause it SURE AS FUCK AINT HIS!

You never realize quite how fast you can go from "completely calm and kinda sleepy" to "bomb strapped to my chest, primal panic AWAKE" until it happens to you. His coffee was ON HIS DESK. People have passed by. He talked to them. Cups put down and picked up. Lazy early morning. He doesn't even register, really, as his chair crashes to the ground.

He's shouting.

People confused. They don't realize yet. His head whips around, looking for that distinct cover. Before it's too late. Before someone takes that fatal sip. He spots it. Bolting from his desk. Crashing through coworkers, over desks. Chaos and outrage. "It's 'just' coffee!" They cry.

Kent turns, confused. Pretending. Raises his (HIS! Oh god!) cup to his lips, unknowing. Wes SCREAMS a warning. But he doesn't listen. "It's 'just' coffee" They never listen. Curse of Cassandra. God's damn it. This is why his family fucking CONVERTED!

He TACKLES the man of steel.

RIPS his cup away from him, knows his eyes are frantic. How much have you had?! Spit it out! Wes voice ECHOES in the sudden silence. I'm a META, Kent! It could KILL YOU!

And oh, Oh NOW they get it. Or perhaps it is the burn in his mouth that finally registers. He rolls, spits oil slick nebulae that eat away the floor. There is blood mixed within it. It took mere moments. Superman stares, transfixed and horrified, as Wes shakes. He... he should probably get off of him.

He'll move in a moment.

When his legs no longer feel weak from terror.

The news room is in chaos. Lane kneeling by her husband, Perry trying to do damage control. He... he's probably gonna lose his job, isn't he? Wes wants to cry. Protection laws only go so far, after all. And warning his boss about his dietary needs means jack shit, after an incident like this. Beloved as Kent is. Not that anyone likely believed him.

They never do.

And now he's nearly killed Superman.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles

[tender-rosiey]

king teatime — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: sukuna forced into playtime with daughter LETS GO

your daughter, a bundle of energy and enthusiasm, is setting up her tea party on the coffee table, her tiny hands arranging an assortment of plastic cups and saucers with meticulousness.

from where you’re seated nearby, you watch the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and affection.

your daughter babbles on, her high-pitched voice bubbling with excitement as she fills the cups with imaginary tea and hands them out with exaggerated ceremony.

sukuna, while visibly disinterested, maintains his position with a begrudging tolerance. his gaze flickers occasionally towards you, perhaps a threat that you roped him into this.

you chuckle and shrug your shoulders, “papa duties, my dear husband.”

he is about to retort, but your daughter interrupts him.

“papa, you have to drink your tea!” your daughter insists, her big eyes shining with earnestness as she thrusts a cup towards him.

sukuna raises an eyebrow, glancing down at the flimsy plastic cup with a look of mild distaste. “right. and what exactly is this supposed to be?”

“it’s tea!” she replies, her voice tinged with a note of exasperation, as if the answer should be obvious. “you have to pretend it’s delicious.”

sukuna’s eyes twitch at the command, but he swallows his protests for the time being. he takes the cup with a practiced air of detachment, bringing it to his lips and pretending to sip.

his gaze shifts to you, catching your eye with a hint of reluctant amusement. you offer him a playful wink in return, enjoying his silent struggle.

“is it good?” your daughter asks, her voice filled with hopeful anticipation.

“splendid,” sukuna replies deadpan, placing the cup back on the table with a precise motion.

she seems to take his words at face value, her face lighting up with a proud smile. “I’m glad! here, have some more!”

as she continues her animated chatter, sukuna’s attention wanders back to you. his eyes hold a crap ton of exasperation. you suppress a laugh. sukuna sends you a little look, and you instantly go quiet.

“brat, can’t you let uraume play instead of me?” sukuna mutters under his breath.

your daughter’s head whips around, her face instantly clouding with indignation. “no! uraume is not my papa! you’re my papa, and I wanna play with you! not anyone else!”

sukuna’s expression remains unchanged, but you can see the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. his eyes meet yours again, and this time, there’s a hint of reluctant acceptance in his gaze.

he doesn’t say anything.

you grin, thoroughly entertained by the interaction. “looks like you’re stuck with tea time, honey,” you tease lightly, your tone affectionate.

he narrows his eyes slightly, “I see that.”

your daughter, undeterred, continues to pour imaginary tea, occasionally placing a cup in front of sukuna with a flourish.

“more tea, papa!” she demands with a commanding tone that leaves no room for argument.

sukuna accepts the cup with a resigned sigh, lifting it to his lips and pretending to sip again. “how can I refuse such a generous offer?” his voice is dry, but nonetheless, he indulges her, even if in the tiniest bits.

your daughter beams, and she clicks her cup against his before drinking her tea—very dramatically. your husband places the cup on the table, seemingly have had enough.

your daughter looks at you proudly and declares, “papa has become very good at teatime!”

“right?” you agree, “as expected of the king of curses.”

“do not mock me,” he grumbles, standing up and dusting his clothes. he folds his four arms against his chest. he looks down at your daughter, “that is enough.”

she pouts for a second before smiling mischievously, “papa, how about you wear a skirt?”

“how about I chase you and eat you for dinner today?”

your daughter shrieks and runs out of the room, laughing. she got used to her dad’s empty threats—much like you did—but he still is pretty scary.

you watch her dash out the room before bursting into laughter, “that—” you wheeze, “that was the best entertainment of my entire life, oh god!”

a large shadow looms over your figure, and you cover your mouth. small giggles escape your lips, as you lock eyes with your husband. a scowl is ever-present on his face, and he continues observing you.

he cocks an eyebrow, “looks like you’re having fun?”

you purse your lips and rapidly shake your head. he lets out a breath, obviously unconvinced, “I have been too lenient with you two.”

“we love you too, honey!”

he clicks his tongue in annoyance, but the hand that ruffles your hair speaks a whole different story.

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[yuellii]

PLEASE ( DON’T ) BE MY WINGWOMAN !

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 his female best friend tries to help him win your love, but knowing her, it all goes wrong

feat. lyney, neuvillette, ayato ( separate )

note. gn reader, features : lynette, furina, ayaka. hello i am officially back and also officially 21 !! :]

LYNEY.

“Oh, woe is me! Please assist, my dearest sister!” The magician sat sprawled atop the couch quite dramatically, backhand over his forehead feigning feverish feelings. “Whatever shall I do when the God of Romance is plotting against a hopeless romantic, such as I?”

“What’s wrong this time?” By contrast, his sister’s voice proved no fluctuations, tone lacking the honeyed sound he needed for sympathy. Instead of catering to his sorrows, she instead sipped lightly at her tea, for it was far more relaxing than her brother’s ‘woes.’

Still, Lyney sighed. “The love of my life—my soulmate!” he cried out. “How should I win the affections of my other half, when I can’t even grasp the scale of romantic favor?”

“Desserts.”

Lyney sat up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Give desserts,” Lynette shrugged. “Everyone likes desserts.” This reasoning totally made the most sense to her.

She watched as Lyney started at her blankly for just a moment, and then he inhaled sharply. “So I should… use desserts as my gift…” With each passing word, Lynette watched as a staggering excitement in his voice grew tenfold. “And then, if I keep giving their favorite treats”—Lyney gasped—“they’ll start to associate the sweetness with me! Oh, Lynette, you’re a genius!”

Lynette blinked at him. That strategy explanation was not what she said at all, but whatever. Not her problem.

But when Lyney dragged her by the hand to go purchase desserts, and then forced her to sit down at the cafe just to watch him gift treats to you, then maybe it was her problem.

“A very special dessert!” he presented, and Lynette sat with disinterest as she watched your eyes light up at his cheap old appearance trick. “For a very special person.” And now came her own eye roll—caused by the way Lyney giggled to himself at the end of his own sentence.

Maybe it was charming ( but personally Lynette didn’t see the appeal ), because there was a sparkle that appeared in your eyes in admiration of him. And suddenly, Lynette didn’t understand why he was trying to win your love at all, because it’s clear to her that he’s already won it.

“This is for me?” she heard you say. “This is actually my favorite! Oh, Lyney, you shouldn’t have!”

“Don’t even worry,” she watched Lyney wave off. “It was given to me for free at the shop”—Huh?—“and I have no space for it”—What was he…?—“so I thought you might like it!”

Lynette blinked to herself. Then she blinked to herself again. And then one more time, and now Lyney was back to her spot with you no longer in sight. “How did I do?” Lyney excitedly questioned her. “A good start, right? Step one of your idea to get my crush to become obsessed with me is complete!”

Okay first of all, that was literally not her idea, but maybe she should’ve communicated it better. And second, “Why did you lie? That dessert wasn’t free—You specifically bought it to give to them.”

Lyney immediately raised a finger with that confident smirk of his. “Because, my dear sister,” he began, “it’s called playing hard to get.”

If she could sigh, she would. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am! And I’m taking this game very seriously, too. Do you know how hard it is to keep my cool when I’m around the love of my life?!”

“Playing hard to get just makes it harder to get someone, Lyney. They might lose interest and move on.” But still, Lyney insisted. And still, Lynette just silently rolled her eyes.

The next time this happened was literally only a day later. So much for playing “hard to get,” she supposes. Perhaps Lyney didn’t quite fully understand the scope of how suspicious it was to offer you another “free dessert” only a day later. Or, he was just so lovestruck he absolutely could not wait to talk to you again.

Lynette decided the answer to be the latter option.

And once again, he claimed not to buy this dessert on his own, and Lynette did not miss the obvious eyebrow raise you gave her brother this time. You were still grateful since it was your favorite, of course, but it was rather clear you were beginning to question this. Lynette sighed to herself.

“Lynette!” Lyney called excitedly once he left you. “Oh, dear sister, did you see it this time? She stayed with me a bit longer—grabbing the plate much more slowly. She must have been at the start of falling in love with—!” Lyney stopped when he saw the empty seat. “Uh, Lynette?”

Farther away, you suddenly yelped in surprise, almost dropping the plated dessert in your hands.

“Sorry,” Lynette mumbled. Oops, she didn’t mean to scare you. But… maybe appearing in your field of sighs so suddenly once you turned a corner and coming from a darkened alleyway was not the most subtle.

“It’s alright,” you brushed of. “Oh, you must be Lynette, right? Lyney’s sister!”

“Correct.” Ah, how would she bring this up? She was never really the best with words… And definitely not when she had to use a lot of them. “Um, my brother,” she started. “Don’t mind him being weird.”

At the mention of her brother being weird ( perhaps she should defend him, but whatever, he was being weird. ), you seemed to relax. “Yeah…” you trailed off. “He’s been giving me these desserts lately—didn’t seem too coincidental that he keeps getting them for ‘free’… Especially since they’re, um, not even having a promotion right now.”

Again, if Lynette could wack her brother on the head right now, she would.

“He likes you.”

The sudden shock on your face tells Lynette that maybe she shouldn’t have said that so bluntly. Or that she shouldn’t have said that. At all.

“You’re a very dear friend to him,” she correct. Oh, wait, but she didn’t want to completely shut off the idea of romance. Correct it again, quick. “Or, very dear person… Yeah.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, probably trying to process the amount of confessions and corrections she just shot at you. Archons, you probably thought her and her brother were so weird. Unfortunately, she couldn’t blame you.

“Thanks, Lynette,” you said, and she noticed your feet shift to walk away. “Actually, I think I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Well, Lyney certainly hoped you would. She just silently watched as you walked off. But she wasn’t worried, no. As long as you spoke of this “next time,” Lynette was sure her brother would eventually succeed with you, even if he was being weird at this game.

NEUVILLETTE.

The thing that gets Furina the most excited—absolutely elated, much shown in the way she kicks her feet and patters her fingers—is the fact that her dear Iudex has no idea he’s so in love with you.

To not only her, but also the rest of Fontaine, word is quick to spread with the simple way his feet always end up turned in your direction, or how lips curve a slight upwards motion when he speaks to you. Or, the way his feelings of admiration brings out the colors in his eyes, and the shyer tone in which he laughs along with you.

And Furina, being the bestest of friends she certainly is, only wants what’s best for the Chief Justice, truly! It’s such a downer seeing him be a quiet, unsociable, hard-to-get-along-with loner all the time. And so, the moment she catches wind of his feelings, she is more than quick to come up with a way to loop the two of you together.

She pats herself in the back. She’s confident that he’ll totally thank her for all her efforts later.

This confidence still yet remains even when she has you standing up nervously on trial, wide eyes a bit scared to be accused of a crime by the Hydro Archon herself. And Neuvillette atop his seat looks exasperated, much so in a way the audience is always eyeing him with fluttering eyes and chattering whispers—because the Iudex is looking at you with such a public display of concern that he has never been known to show another on trial.

Oh, she could already see the Steambird’s morning headlines! Chief Justice Neuvillette casts eyefuls of worry towards the accused?! Or, The Iudex’s rumored lover: Accused by Lady Furina?! —Oh, oh! She was so excited!

Amidst her internal giggles was when Neuvillette’s cane came hammered down on the wooden floor of his balcony seat, silencing every voice in the Opera Epiclese. “Furina,” his voice scatters as firm as ever, though the Archon could some people gasp to themselves—Ah, she could always trust her people to spot even the slightest difference in his voice; He was clearly angrier today! “I believe you have some explaining to do.”

“Is it not obvious, my dear Iudex?” she loudly proclaimed as if acting in a performance. Her voice was playful and teasing as always, and she could tell Neuvillette was much more annoyed by it than usual today. “I am pressing charges against a darling citizen, yet a criminal over here…!”

And that was when she threw the back of her hand over her forehead for dramatic effect, making you only more nervous upon your stand. Such an increase in your fear was clearly noticeable to the Iudex, of course, as he immediately spoke to silence the Archon accusing you.

“And what would those charges entail, Furina?”

There was a sudden glare in his eyes, almost threatening. But oh well, nothing he could do—She knew he would stick by the law and allow her to make her claim anyways. This was so easy, she could almost laugh to herself!

“For…”

Oh, celebration was already at the back of her mind!

“Murder!”

…Holy shit. Oh Archons. She was supposed to say theft. “Theft,” for stealing Neuvillette’s heart. But instead she slipped up and said murder.

Oh, she can’t take that back now. But… But no worries! She was the beloved Archon that had absolutely no issues performing for her people—ergo, she could totally come up with a new plan! Certainly, a single-word slip-up will surely not mess up her entire pickup line here.

“Yes, you heard me,” she played along, hands balling to fists and dramatically sitting at her hips. “Murder!”

“Furina!” Neuvillette silenced from his place below on the podium. Never before has she seen his facial expression this angered. There was a furrow between his brows that betrayed his usually calm and emotionless look—and aw, she thought it was so romantic for him to show these emotions so outwardly just for you! The audience must love his display of passion right now—all to defend your honor! “What is the meaning of this?” his voice boomed.

Furina cleared her throat. “Murder…” she began to make her case against you. You, who looked up at her so fearfully. She almost felt bad. ��For… For breathing…!” Wait, that’s not what she meant. “No, no, like murder… of breath— of my breath— no, of Neuvillette’s breath, I mean—” Okay, at this point, she just needed to spit something out. And that was when she raised a finger, pointing it accusingly down at you and making her claim: “You killed Neuvillette!”

The next instance was filled with a silence so deafeningly powerful that she felt her own stomach churn and her knees grow shaky. Well, this was definitely an embarrassment she hopes to never feel again.

Surely, this silence wasn’t awkward enough for her land the finishing blow…?

“Like, you stole his breath away…” she tried. “So you technically killed him.”

Okay maybe it was time for her to shut up.

Neuvillette’s face; oh, he looked absolutely furious. This was not the picture-perfect sight of cherry tomato blushing she was hoping for here. And you: a horror-stricken disbelief. Your mind looked like it was racing to comprehend both being charged with such a serious crime, and having the Chief Justice just randomly outed in public for… having a crush on you…?

Meanwhile Furina stood still in her usual place, just about ready to curl up and die from her failed attempt at a love confession. But before that, perhaps Celestia heard her prayers.

The audience pretty much erupted in girlish screams and whispers—all those watchful citizens of Fontaine who treated your relationship with Neuvillette like the hottest topic of the century, like the storybook romance they were reading obsessively. And now, Furina watched—watched as your expression contorted to slow realization that maybe your Archon wasn’t exactly lying about Neuvillette’s feelings, and that maybe almost the entire nation was already romanticizing you two.

And then, there: that was when Furina watched as your face blew up an expression of pure embarrassment, all the fear being completely wiped away. Then Furina could almost die when she turned her gaze to Neuvillette—who was still watching you very intently—and how the ends of his ears turned a blushing red.

Oh, this view was priceless. Once again, perfect Focalors saves the day!

KAMISATO AYATO.

Thoma clicked his tongue. “Tall and awkward.” He squinted his eyes. “Practically unrecognizable in Inazuma despite your status.” Then, he tilted his head. “Absolutely terrible at small talk.”

Finally, Thoma nodded his head. “Yep, you don’t have a chance, my Lord.”

Thoma yelped as a paper fan hit his shoulder, and that was when Ayaka slid at the seat next to him. He made a quick apology to her, but when Ayaka looked across the table, she saw how her older brother didn’t seem quite phased at Thoma’s mean evaluation at all.

Instead, he seemed to be really considering what was told to him.

“Oh, brother,” Ayaka caught his attention. “Don’t listen to Thoma, he was only being mean. Personally, I think you have a good chance at winning this date!”

“No, no, Thoma might be right,” Ayato pondered. Aw, Ayaka didnt like it when he doubted himself. “All of those traits may make this date go horribly wrong—I might end up appearing as undesirable…”

Ayaka frowned. She may not have a love life of her own, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t watching her brother’s love life like an Inazuman drama act or like a romantic storybook. And the fact that Ayato has downright fallen tremendously hard for you—who Ayaka also loved dearly, and who she admired so much—makes her pray to the Archons every night for your relationship to set sail.

So Ayato scoring this first date with you was already a big deal on its own. Only… He wasn’t quite sure what date plan would make him the most appealing man to be courting you.

Of course, who else could he turn to, other than his darling best friend and sister? Ayaka certainly had no expertise in this, but if there was one thing…

“Brother, please take this!” Across the table, she shoved a stack of just a few papers, slightly faded and lightly wrinkled, into his hands. He blinked in surprise at them for a moment before squinting at the rushed handwriting that clearly did not belong to his sister. “The Traveler gave this to me; It’s a recipe for a pizza dish from Mondstadt!

And that was how she ended up here, watching with Thoma from the sidelines of the estate as Ayato gives you the friendliest smile can force upon himself as he offers to make the both of you food. Now, the last time Ayaka tried this, she blew up the oven with the Traveler in earshot. But surely, she knew her brother had much better survival skills than she did, and there was no way he would ruin a perfectly easy pizza recipe.

But then Thoma almost burst out laughing from their secluded hiding spot, and that was when she noticed her brother bringing out not one, but instead two platters of pizza. A rather odd aroma in the air. Oh.

“I thought we’d spice things up!” they heard Ayato say to you, clasping his gloved hands together and regaining his weird, excited smile and that equally weird, excited tone in his voice. Oh brother… “One pizza is normal, and the other pizza has random toppings I threw on it—as a taste test!”

And when he set the two down, it was… quite interesting. One was a normal mushroom pizza, cooked based on Traveler’s recipe: Ayato certainly made it much better than Ayaka could’ve attempted. But the second pizza was topped with a rather colorful palette: lavender melons, sea grass, and what looked like Sea Ganoderma. Ayaka and Thoma already found themselves gagging at the smell.

When Ayaka glanced at her blonde companion, he was furiously shaking his head at her, running a thumb straight across his throat as if saying “It’s over for him.” And honestly, Ayaka might have to agree this time. Maybe she should’ve never given him that pizza recipe or that cooking idea.

“A ‘taste test’…” you echoed. The two eavesdroppers heard shifts from your side do the table, meaning you reached forward to grab a slice—they quite obviously guessed you picked the regular mushroom pizza. “The host should go first, don’t you think?”

Oh? Did that mean you were interested in this game of two after all? Ayaka’s eyes practically lit up—She was so excited for her brother!

“I’ll take up that offer of yours,” Ayato chuckled lowly. And with no gag or hesitance at all, he takes a large bite with a whole unsavory mixture of the ingredients entering the cave of his mouth. “Mm, not bad at all.”

You were visibly surprised by his calmness, now reaching out to grab a slice of your own and biting it just as he did.

But almost immediately, that bite was spat right back out onto a napkin at the mere taste of this weird concoction. “Bleh, Lord Commissioner! How did you manage to eat a whole slice?!”

The first thing Ayaka and Thoma noticed: The way you said this was amidst laughter. You were laughing, and it even sounded like you were smiling. Because whenever Ayato tried this sort of gross mixing method with Thoma or Ayaka, they would also say the same line of disgust, but in an unfavorable way. But, no—You sounded genuinely lighthearted?

The second thing Ayaka and Thoma noticed ( from even the slightest of peeks ): The big, bona fide grin on Ayato’s face at your reaction. Oh, he was absolutely eating this up, as no one ever showed a positive reaction to his weird little hobby before. And of course, being partnered with the fact he was ( not-so ) secretly in love with you, only made it so much better for him.

“It was alright, I’d say!” he spoke excitedly, a hint of an uncontrollable laughter and uncontrollable smile laced in his voice. “It had the most memorable texture, and the taste felt like I was in touch with mother nature.”

You only scoffed at him in a joking manner, “None of those ‘compliments’ of yours weren’t inherently positive, Commissioner.”

To that, he gave you another big grin before silently reaching to eat yet another slice of this suspicious pizza. Well, Ayaka supposed her brother’s weirdness landing a perfect date with you, after all. And then she pat herself on the back—because maybe, giving him that recipe was the best mistake she could make.

// not proofread ;; THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNIER THAN INTENDED. BUT IM BAD AT BEING FUNNY :(

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖

Kento Nanami

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Summary: Your neighbor always watches you at night, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, voyeurism, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, squirting, creampie, Nanami takes panties and doesn't give them back

10k Event Masterlist

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At nine at night, you get out of the shower and walk to your room with nothing but a towel. A towel that’s dropping and getting dangerously low with every step you take. You make no effort to hold the towel and it eventually drops to the ground– It happens nightly. 

You don’t seem to care to close the curtains, you don’t care if the whole world sees you naked. And your neighbor shakes his head in disapprovement every time he sees. He sits on the armchair that’s in his room, facing his window, one that looks directly into your room as he sips on his nightly tea. 

Kento watches you bend down to the lowest drawer, and grab a pair of panties. God, he feels so perverted doing this, but he isn’t a pervert. You’re showing yourself to the world, he isn’t at fault that his eyes just happen to look. He might be at fault for continuing to stare, but he isn’t a pervert.

Occasionally you make eye contact, and he’s bold enough to remain watching. And you’re bold enough to accidentally drop something, and remain naked as you slowly pick it up. You do everything much slower, really different from when you first walked into the room. Kento enjoys the show that you put on, putting everything on so painfully slowly so he can admire every inch of your body even from a distance.

Suddenly you have to get something from across the room, and you’re still naked. He can’t complain though, he likes the view, that’s why he continues admiring it. You grab your phone and lay down on the bed, where you indulge yourself in something– He doesn’t know what, but you’re entertaining yourself. His eyes still linger on your naked body, and he’s thinking of everything he’d do to you.

He finally feels like a pervert when he’s thinking of having you under him or on top of him, he doesn’t mind. He just wants to hear his neighbor’s cute little voice as she yells his name over and over again. He’d love to have a taste of her.

You look back at him again, where they make eye contact. You have a sly smile on her face before you stand up from the bed and finally put on your underwear and your pajamas. Kento is almost sad to have it be over so soon, he was hoping you’d put on even more of a show for him. He assumes it had to end eventually.

You walk over to the window, and you blow a kiss at your neighbor before you shut the curtain, leaving his field of view. The man stares back at his own reflection in the window, almost embarrassed by his actions.

He’ll see you tomorrow again, he’s not sure how he’ll face you. Perhaps he’ll apologize, even though he knows that at the same time tomorrow, he’ll do it all over again. He tries to focus his attention on the book that’s in his hand, but it’s hard to when he thinks about you, completely bare just like you were a second ago, only this time you’re in front of him.

Maybe he should man up and knock on your door. Or maybe he should stop being so perverted and focus on his book.

“Hey neighbor!” You wave excitedly at the man that’s unlocking the door to his home. Your voice makes him nervous, causing him to drop his key. You walk over to him with a smirk on your lips. You try to disguise it as a sweet smile when you’re in front of him, and Kento freezes in his spot when you’re right there. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” He clears his throat before he speaks. His eyes look up and down your body, and they linger on the tight dress you wear. He looks straight at your cleavage, and his cheeks turn pink, picturing clearly how they look underneath your clothes. He’s seen you thousands of times walking around your room naked.

It’s surprising that this is the first time you approach him. Sure, you’ve talked but you’ve always had a reason to– Mail got mixed up, a package got delivered to the wrong house, you need a cup of sugar for baking; point is, there’s always something but today there doesn’t seem to be anything. At least not yet.

“Do you need something?” Kento asks, making your bottom lip stick out. He unlocks the door of his home and he opens it. He realizes how hostile his question sounds, and he assures you, “Not that I mind your presence but…”

“Just wanted to talk to you.” You respond. You take a couple of steps closer to him, and you bring your lips to his ear. You lower your voice and whisper, “Or am I out of line?”

“I– No, not at all.” Kento is caught off guard, and he tries his best to remain calm. You lightly bite down on your lip before you glance inside his house. “Do you want to come in?”

“If you insist.” You answer before walking inside the home. You want to walk straight to the bedroom since you know exactly where it is, but you decide that you want to chat first. You walk to the couch in the living room, taking note of how organized and clean the space is. Kento follows behind you, his eyes glued to your ass and thighs as you make yourself welcome in his home. “You have such a nice home.”

“Thank you.” He answers, watching as you take a seat on his couch and cross your legs. He stands in front of you, his arms crossing in front of him. “So… Do you have a conversation topic or–”

“I’m just surprised you haven’t made the move on me yet.” You interrupt him. “You’ve been watching me for a month straight, and yet you don’t even try to talk to me. You clearly like it since you keep watching.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one to make the first move? You’re the one that puts on the little show. Every single night.” He reminds you, making you click your tongue. He proceeds to take a seat beside you, his arms still crossed. His arms look so big and strong, and it takes everything in you to not stop the conversation and get on your knees. You need the man that sits beside you so fucking bad.

“I already do so much for you… You should have the common courtesy to at least thank me.” You tell him, your hand going to his bicep. He hums, raising his brow.

“Why did you come here? You want a thank you or…?” He asks, and you slowly nod your head in response. That’s when his hands go to your thighs, while his face inches closer to yours. He lowers his voice and he asks, “You don’t want a simple thank you, do you?”

“What do you think?” You smirk at him, and he chuckles before his lips land on yours. It’s the least the man can do after watching you every single night. Your tongue swipes his bottom lip before it enters his mouth and presses against his own. His hand goes under your dress, going to your panties. His finger hooks under the cloth and he begins to pull your panties down.

Kento pulls away from the kiss, kissing down your neck before he begins to suck on your skin. You help him pull down your panties, and within seconds they’re down by your ankles. The man reaches down to take the panties, stuffing them in his pocket. His fingers begin to run through your folds, and before he can do much you tell him, “You wanna do this here? Or in your bedroom?”

“Why?” He asks, pulling away. You stand up from the couch, grabbing his hand and leading him to the stairs of the home. 

“Just wanna see it.” You answer. You can easily guess where his bedroom is, and you’re assured when your eyes land on the armchair that you always find Kento sitting in. You stand still for a moment, deciding where you want to go next, and you feel Kento unzip the back of the dress. You laugh, “Aren’t you eager?”

“I just want to say my thanks.” Kento says as he takes the dress off you. Of course you aren’t wearing a bra, he noticed when you walked up to him but he didn’t want to baselessly assume. His hands go to your breasts, his fingers rolling and playing with your nipples. 

“You’re too kind.” You answer, your body leaning back so your head rests on his chest. One of his hands going down to your pussy. His ring and middle finger run through your folds before he begins to play with your clit. You look up at him, and he’s smirking as he looks down at you.

“Is this good enough? Or should I do more?” He asks, and you swear you’ve never been turned on more by a voice. He’s nearly driving you to your knees. You’re squeezing your thighs, and you’re biting down your lip as you look up at him. There’s so much desire in your needy eyes. “Aren’t you pathetic? Cat got your tongue?”

“I need more.” You answer, and he gets his fingers wet enough with your slick before he pushes his middle and ring finger inside your cunt. A soft moan leaves your lips as you feel his thick fingers fill you up. You’ve gotten a glance at them a couple of times, and you always had the thought of how they’d feel inside of you. Now that you feel them, you’re cursing yourself for not making a move sooner.

“Your pussy feels so nice.” He comments as he slowly moves his fingers in and out of you. You begin to moan as Kento’s thumb begins to toy with your clit. He’s making you feel so good, you’re nearly putty in his hands even though you haven’t been with him for long. “You sound just like I expected.”

“Fuck–” You mutter, shutting your eyes as pleasure slowly gets the better of you. You make the cutest face that your neighbor has ever seen as your orgasm approaches. You slowly start to get louder as pressure builds up in your lower abdomen. There’s a smug smirk on Kento’s lips before he does an evil action– He takes his fingers out of your pussy.

He brings his fingers up to his lips, and takes them into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around them to get a taste of you, and you taste just like he imagined. He hums. “You taste just how I expected too.”

“I thought you were going to thank me?” Your brows are furrowed as you look at him, irritated that he took your orgasm from you. His eyes look at the window, and your eyes follow lead. You’re confused as to what you’re supposed to be looking at, until you realize he’s looking into your room.

“You hate closing that curtain.” He comments, his hand putting pressure on your back so you begin to walk to the window. When you’re mere inches away, he pushes your back to the window, your hands landing on the spotless glass. “You really have no shame.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You respond as you hear him unzip his pants. You eagerly wait for his cock, and it feels like he’s taking his sweet time to undress– You have no idea why, all he has to do is take off his pants (matter of fact, he’s just unzipping, not even taking them off). You’re too impatient, that’s why. 

“I’m glad you are. Always putting on a little show for me. It makes my night better.” You feel the tip of his cock run through your folds. You shake your ass, wanting him to hurry up because you can’t wait any longer. He slaps your ass in return, causing a whine to leave your lips. You feel his breath on your ear before he whispers, “Be patient, I’m not running anywhere.”

“I need you so bad… Please.” You sound so fucking pathetic. He finally pushes his cock inside of you, and your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head as his cock stretches you out. He’s bigger than you expected, but you aren’t complaining.

The man hisses as he feels your warm cunt wrap around his cock. He shuts his eyes as he takes it all in. You feel better than what he thought, and fuck, it’s taking everything in him to not lose control. Shamelessly watching you as you walked around naked in your room was enough for him but after getting a taste of you, he doubts that just watching through the window will be enough.

He gives you a moment before he begins to move. His nails dig into your soft flesh as he tries to set a steady pace. He watches your ass move with each of his thrusts. His hand pulls on your hair before he presses your face on the window, making sure your makeup leaves a mark, “You get to see my view now– Minus the goddess that blesses me at night.”

His cock is hitting every right spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He knows what the fuck he’s doing, and you hate the fact that you doubted that he did. Maybe you should’ve stopped the teasing and walked up to him earlier. 

The hand that holds on your hip goes under and begins to play with your clit, and you’re convinced that the man is set on driving you wild. But you’re also driving him insane by how your cunt squeezes around him. You’re thankful he lives alone because you can’t control how loud you are; although the window does help suppress your loudness. 

“What a tight little pussy. Even better than what I expected.” He praises. He works you up, and it doesn’t take too long for your orgasm to build up, especially after the one he ripped away from you. You begin to get tighter around his cock, and you hear as he groans in pleasure.

“Oh– Fuck–” The biggest smile forms on his face when you finally reach your climax– You feel as the liquid leaves your body, and you’re sure they’ve stained his pants. You could die of embarrassment mainly because you don’t see the excitement in his eyes. He’s only pissed off that you didn’t squirt while his face was buried between your legs. 

He has to have you again, simply for you to squirt while he’s eating you out. That thought makes him think that maybe he is the pervert that he claims he’s not. But he doesn’t give a shit when you’re so pretty and you feel so good wrapped around his cock.

His thrusts begin to get sloppy and he becomes louder. He wants to finish inside of you and fill you up with his seed– But he’s a gentleman… A perverted one, but regardless, a gentleman. He has to at least try to ask, “Inside or outside?”

“Inside.” It comes out muffled but he hears it, and when he finally reaches his release, his cum fills up your warm cunt.

He stays still for a moment before he finally pulls out his cock and puts it back into his briefs. He watches his cum drip out of your cunt, and he takes two fingers to push his seed back in. You take a moment to sit back on the bed that’s near you, staining his tan comforter with his cum. You feel embarrassed as you look at the makeup that’s on the window, and as you remember the fact that you squirt all over him.

“Sorry…” You mutter, and his brows furrow.

“What for?” You point at the pants. He chuckles. “You’re coming over again so you do that all over my face.”

It does take you by surprise.

“I have to start dinner soon, so you can either stay and join me, or leave.” He says, and it sounds like a tempting offer to stay and have dinner with him but you doubt you can wear that tight dress for too long. You wore it for him to take it off you. He watches as you ponder and reflect on your options. “Either way, I’m expecting to see you at nine.”

[theinnerunderrain]

Flowers only bloom when the sun comes out [Yan! Prince x Fem! Maid-Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, child neglect, mentions of suggestive behaviors and lustful behaviors, manipulative thoughts, etc.

+

Miserable.

Prince Cassian would choose "miserable" as the precise term to depict his fragile existence. Born a prince into a mighty kingdom, his father ruled with an iron fist and unwavering will. Yet, despite his royal lineage, his life felt devoid of meaning, a constant struggle in the shadows of his father's reign. Maybe his father held Cassian accountable, at least in part, for the death of his beloved queen. Perhaps that's why he was abandoned to decay in the queen's once-grand residence, where dust settled like a shroud, paint flaked from the walls, and sinister spiders claimed every corner.

However, the king, perhaps out of lingering kindness or a trace of pity, permitted servants to attend to the prince. Yet, few were inclined to care for a forsaken prince; servants came and went as the boy matured into a young man. Initially, some felt sympathy for him, but they soon departed upon realizing there was no benefit. Others, driven by greed, chipped away at the scant jewelry and valuables left in the building before absconding to sell them in the market. His existence drifted aimlessly, filled with endless hours staring out his window or sipping the bitter tea his younger sister, kind but unaware of his plight, managed to sneak to him.

It all seemed so pointless.

Then, one day, you appeared. A young maid, your smile radiant and your enthusiasm palpable as you embarked on this new job. He couldn't help but feel sorry for you, knowing that your optimism would soon be crushed once you discovered the reality of serving a prince like him, someone you might deem unworthy of your efforts. Every day, he observed you closely, noting your tireless efforts and how your face, though marked by exhaustion from tasks meant for many, retained a composed and bright demeanor.

He found himself admiring your diligent work ethic, transforming his once bitter teatime into a sweeter experience as you mastered the art of brewing it just right. The clothes he wore now carried a scent of softness, feeling gentle against his skin, a stark contrast to the past when they often felt itchy and smelled of sweat. The garden flourished with the flowers you tended to, and his bedroom felt fresh and inviting, as if it were truly lived in. Your presence became a source of comfort for him. He enjoyed your greetings each morning, your smiles making him feel truly alive, reminding him of his own humanity.

He felt a growing desire to be near you, craving the comfort of your presence. He longed to bask in the warmth of your soft smile, to feel the gentle touch of your hand as you helped him dress. He treasured the moments when you enveloped him in warmth on cold, restless nights haunted by memories of his mother. Your gentle fingers combing through his hair brought a soothing calmness to his troubled mind. He delighted in teasing you during work hours, reveling in the sight of your face blushing a deep scarlet as his hands playfully found their way to your waist, causing you to momentarily lose your grip on the dustpan before scolding him.

He likes you.

Well, he didn't just like you. He was consumed by you, obsessed with every thought of you, you, you.

He yearned to be enveloped in your essence, to drown in your intoxicating fragrance, to be devoured whole by you. He craved for your lips to consume his, for your touch to consume his skin, for every part of him to be consumed by you. He was acutely aware that his thoughts about you would be deemed sinful by the church, yet he couldn't help but question God's justice in abandoning him for a crime he didn't commit. Considering your background as a commoner's daughter, burdened with constant toil, he doubted you had any prior experience with men, leading him to wonder if he might be your first.

He hoped you preferred younger men, despite his slight age difference. He vowed to bring you pleasure so intense that it would bring tears to your eyes. With your face flushed in red with his hands tracing over the curve of your body, admiring the plumpness of your swollen breast. The way your supple body would quiver and twitch with every flick of his tongue against your adorable clit, with your soft thighs grappling around his head much like soft pillows.

Ah, perhaps he shouldn't be thinking of such lustful matters.

Anyway, he was acutely aware that as a powerless and forgotten prince, his presence posed a constant danger to himself and those close to him. His older siblings, viewing him as a potential threat to the throne, could easily target him. He contemplated two options: either showing up at the King's castle, pleading with his father to take him back, or fleeing with you to another country. The idea of living as a commoner didn't seem so daunting, considering his current life despite his royal title. Yet, a third, more manipulative thought crept into his mind—perhaps he could exploit his younger sister's naivety to regain entry to the main palace, using her pity as a means to an end.

He believed that in the end, whatever sacrifices were necessary to attain the power to keep you would be worthwhile.

[tmleia]

his

in which he needs to rethink his ways of letting it be known that you are his.. -a bit suggestive at the end, fluff!!!

neuvillette never was one to display public affections, though he couldn't help but grasp onto your hand as you walked through the court of fontaine. he saw the way people couldn't keep their gaze off you, looking as if they'd want to eat you alive. so in conclusions, he always had a hand on yours hoping people would take the hint. unfortunately for him, many people thought of this as a friendly gesture. “e-excuse me?” a man said, interrupting you and your lover as you shared brunch. “I just wanted to tell you that you're gorgeous..” he said, completely ignoring the squinting judge sitting across from you.

you smile sheepishly, “thank you, sir..” awkward silence follows after. your lover continues to stare at the flushed man. “would you perhaps like to grab a coffee ton-” “they will not.” neuvillette interrupts the man and proceeds to take a sip of his freshly brewed tea. the persistent fellow narrows his eyes at him and says, “how are you to make decisions for them?”  neuvillette raises an eyebrow at this in confusion. he’d thought it was quite obvious you were his lover. before he could respond, you speak up, “hes my husband, sir” you say as you put your left hand up, showing the shiny right that matched your lovers. your husband flushes, he’ll never get used to you calling him that. He reaches under the table to cradle your hand. “ indeed i am, so if you'd kindly-” the man had already dashed off before he could finish his sentence. he sighed and gazed at you softly, “it seems as if the ring on our fingers dont state clearly enough that you are mine, hm?” you giggle at him, “it seems so..” you say while staring at him lovingly. “shall i find a alternative way to show my claim on you, my dove?” neuvillette whispers suggestively. your ears burn and you stutter, “neuvillette!”

published 9.25.23

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Baby Blues || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: motherhood has not been kind to you, neither has Coriolanus.

Warnings: r is implied to be young, toxic, mean Coryo, r experiencing post-partum depression,

Wc: 794

A/n: I’m always gravitating to write these type of coryo fics for some reason…. I hope you like them! Apologies for lack of Tom Blyth/Coryo content, I promise I have some coming!!

You sat in the sunroom, the weight of your 5 month old daughter on your hip, while Coriolanus read his newspaper, seemingly unfazed by his daughter’s cries that filled the room.

Your hands shakily pick up the delicate china tea cup, bringing it to your lips and taking few sips.

You stared at nothing in particular, feeling the weight of both youth and motherhood. You subconsciously start to bounce your leg, all while your daughter wails in your arm, begging for attention from her own mother.

Coriolanus sips at his black coffee, trying his best to drown out the cries as he tried to focus his attention back on his newspaper. Your concerned servant in the room exchanged worried glances with Coriolanus, and finally, he glances at you, frustration etched on his face.

“Y/n, tend to her,” he instructed, irritation evident in his voice. “Don’t just sit there like a mad woman, do something,” He hissed as your gaze moved to him. Your eyes seemingly empty as you stare at his icy blue ones.

At an attempt to soothe her down, you stand up to bounce her on your hip, hushing her. Your daughter’s cries only intensified, drawing Coriolanus to his feet.

The rustle of the newspaper ceased as he took his daughter into his arms. Almost magically, her cries subsided in the secure embrace of her father. A wave of inadequacy washed over you as you witnessed his effortless ability to calm her.

~

You stand infront of the large floor to ceiling window that overlooked your courtyard, gazing blankly at the last few socialites leaving the presidential mansion after a soirée that Coriolanus hosted.

Your once vibrant, youthful eyes now dull, overshadowed by the weight of motherhood. Coriolanus, sat on one of the chairs, watches you from where he was. “You’ve been standing there for about 20 minutes, sit,” He says, gesturing to the seat beside him as you turn your head, lightly biting your lips before moving.

“It’s like you were in another world tonight, what ever is the matter with you now?” Coriolanus remarks, frustration edging his tone.” You feign a smile, “I’m just tired, Coryo. That’s all,” but your eyes betray the facade, revealing a profound weariness that transcends mere fatigue.

“You always seem tired,” Coryo scoffs. Your gaze flickers towards the nanny, cradling your daughter in her arms. Your heart aches with a mixture of guilt and relief as you observe the bond forming between them.

Coriolanus’s gaze follows your eye line, “Perhaps you’ve been focusing too much on your duties and not enough on our daughter,” He suggests, unaware of the storm raging within you.

“I’m doing my best, Coryo,” you respond, voice barely audible as Coriolanus lets out a tired sigh, massaging his forehead.

The baby’s cries cut through the air, and you flinch as if struck—something Coriolanus observed. He glances at you, a mixture of annoyance and concern etched across his features.

“Can’t you tend to our daughter? You’re her mother, after all.” You nod absentmindedly, standing up and making your way toward the source of the cries.

The nanny, a woman just a couple years younger than yourself, hands over your daughter, a look of sympathy etched on her face.

You clear your throat, feeling Coriolanus’ eyes on you. You cradle her awkwardly, attempting to soothe her, but your efforts were feeble. Coriolanus observes, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“You’re always like this. Will you always treat our child as if she’s a stranger?” He spat, and you bit your lip, glancing down at your daughter whose features closely mirrored yours, except for her eyes and blonde hair.

Your eyes well up with unshed tears, swiftly wiped away. “I just… just need time, Coriolanus. I’ll adjust,” you stammer, seeking to reassure your husband and, more importantly, convincing yourself that you will.

Nearly half a year has passed since you gave birth to her. Skillfully, you’ve evaded numerous public appearances with your daughter, fully aware of the pervasive curiosity surrounding your role as a mother.

You were aware of their judgments. The notion that you were too young to be a mother echoed in your mind, a sentiment you shared as you gazed at yourself in the mirror, your stomach swollen with the imminent arrival of a child into the world.

Coriolanus sighs, a blend of disappointment and impatience coloring his tone. “Pull yourself together, for both our sakes. The people want to see their First Lady and my heir. You can’t keep hiding away. There are already whispers going around,” he admonishes sharply, and you gulp, your baby cradled in your arms as you turn to face him.

Coriolanus couldn’t deny the noticeable change in you since giving birth. When he married you, the youthful aura enveloped you, a stark contrast to the transformation he now witnessed.

The aura had dissipated entirely. Despite your youth, you appeared to have weathered a lifetime. Fatigue etched into your eyes, weariness evident in your mental state.

“It’s wise for you to step back from the public eye for a while, away from your duties. You need to rest,” Coriolanus states firmly, his gaze fixed on the world beyond the window.

Your gaze shifts to your baby in your arms, her doe-blue eyes locking onto yours. Unaware, Coriolanus discreetly signals the nanny to take your daughter.

Caught off guard, you hesitated when she reached for your child, desiring to hold her longer. Reluctantly, you allowed her to take the little one. With a heavy heart, you observed the nanny exit the room, and Coriolanus broke the silence, reassuring you, “Don’t worry about her; go rest.” Slowly, you nodded in agreement.

[lucysarah-c]

Levi's horrible flirting skills part 6.

Masterlist link to all the previous parts.

“I simply do not understand… we were talking so well and all of a sudden—!”

“You called her stupid.”

“And naive,” Hange added after Erwin, almost tired, while taking a messy sip from his tea, not bothering to raise his head properly.

Levi clicked his tongue, running a hand through his hair and almost tugging at it out of frustration. “I was just trying to tell her I was worried about her!”

“You’ve a very peculiar way of expressing your concerns,” Erwin remarked, raising one thick eyebrow at his friend's illogical actions. Unlike Hange, he raised his cup to his lips with elegant, measured movements.

“UGH!” Levi bent over the table where they should have been having a tactical meeting, but instead were having a catch-up moment as friends. His forehead hit the polished wood covered with glass, and he scoffed against the surface in frustration, fogging it up.

“You should have known,” Erwin said softly, shaking his head with closed eyes as if the outcome was easily predicted, like a palm reader foretelling your life. “When a woman asks you to repeat something, it’s not because she hasn’t heard you. It’s because she wants to see if you have the guts to say it to her face. That’s the precise moment you should buckle up, fold the imaginary paper where you wrote your speech, smile, and say, ‘nothing, honey.’”

Hange frowned deeply, even curling her lip in disdain. “Since when are you such an expert on how to keep a woman?”

The blond put down his tea and looked at the squad leader, almost offended. “Excuse me, I had a very long relationship with Marie before we broke up. I learned a trick or two.”

“Whatever, I fucked up and it’s all wasted now,” Levi said woebegone, his cheek resting on the surface and his eyes looking to the side, completely bereaved. He couldn’t complete a single sentence without clicking his tongue or sighing in resignation.

“Oi! Come on, shorty! You just have to go and apologise. Don’t be such a coward,” Hange tried to raise her friend’s spirits.

“Yeah… but give her a couple of days. Let her cool down a little bit,” Erwin added, fearing that Hange’s enthusiasm might cause Levi to make another mistake.

But perhaps waiting a couple of days became weeks. Between work and each time he tried to lock eyes with her, she either completely ignored his presence or didn’t seem particularly happy.

While it was still freezing cold, certain trees began to bud, and the sun warmed more than usual on some days. Early one morning, he saw her again, walking on the front sidewalk with five friends, each holding something from a nearby pastry shop. Her face had the softness and lethargic appearance of someone who had just woken up.

Clenching his teeth and with hopeful eyes, his body naturally straightened from his slouched position against a wall. He thought of taking one hand out of his pocket and waving at her casually, worried, and timid as he was that time on the boat.

“Good morning, Captain,” three youthful cadets passed by and bumped into him with suspicious dorkiness. Their rosy cheeks and shining eyes made Levi slightly uncomfortable.

He hadn’t even noticed them, and the loss of focus on his main objective made him turn back frantically to where he was looking. She was already gone.

“Morning,” he replied disinterestedly to the girls who still wore their training ground jackets with swords on their backs. Levi returned to his slouched position, head down. He quickly heard the little girls giggle enthusiastically, muttering among themselves as they hurried away, thinking they were far enough for him not to notice.

“Did you see how he looked at me?” one whispered. Levi grimaced uneasily; he knew better than anyone that at their age, having silly little crushes on higher-ups was normal. ‘What are you, 13? You should be worried if I looked at you like that.’

He sighed loudly. ‘What would it take for you to look at me like that?’

Not that he daydreamed of her being like them, but he wished for the enthusiasm. Sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, nervous chuckles, and rushed steps to tell a friend.

‘I can’t just keep spying on you from afar like a creep. I’ve run out of innocent excuses to pass by your workplace.’

“Well, it’s decided. On the 2nd of March, we leave again,” Erwin announced as he exited the building with signed papers.

‘I don’t want to die without having at least something with you.’

Such a simple thought. For a split second, which lasted days, he wondered if it was a sort of fetish he hadn’t added to his list. But as another nurse, with the same uniform and the same soft touch, stitched up a cut he got when he came back and looked up at him from his left side, he felt nothing.

It reminded him so much of when she had tricked him into getting a vaccine, but it had no power over him. With her, it was like he couldn’t get her face closer without fighting the overwhelming need to grab it and kiss her.

‘Once again, do I really need to tell you that I’m dying to have a single silly chance with you?’

Something that feels utterly humiliating, like apologizing or confessing, really fades into oblivion when you’re visiting cadets half your age who are either dying or won’t be able to live a standard life after walking beside you to near-certain death. Levi looked at his soldiers in immaculate rooms and whitish beds, their bodies and faces blending into the sheets as they were covered in bandages the same shade as the rest of the room.

“Did I do good, Captain?”

Levi’s eyes opened slightly wider as he came back from his mental storm. “Yes, you did great, soldier. Your sacrifice won’t be in vain.”

He wondered, only sometimes, if his words really held any real power. But they always muffled cries of relief and pain.

‘I’m being a fucking coward, that’s what I am.’

As the family members arrived in the room or fell asleep, Levi left. ‘Even a kick in the ass pushes you forward.’

He took secure steps down the halls. It was very late, and there was no security that she might be in the staff area. Or perhaps there was; he had learned which days she was on duty. Was it a bit on the stalker side? Perhaps. But Levi took pride in knowing her and wished to know much more.

It was stupid, but he held on to that information. Sometimes he was miles away in his office doing paperwork late at night, looked up at the clock on the wall, noticed the time, and something clicked in his mind. He would check the calendar and worry. The huge hospital, empty corridors, or long hours of staying up helping women in labor or taking care of the ill. Perhaps returning home when the sun hadn’t completely risen yet. He was miles away, but he worried.

‘I just need to know… I need to know if she’s alright, if she’s safe.’

That had been the reason for this whole issue, but this time he was confident in solving it or at least trying to.

He pushed open the door to the staff area. The room was freezing, either because it was in the basement or because the heating budget was spent on the patients. He froze momentarily when her pitched scream and little jump echoed in the room.

“DEAR Shenna! You scared me!” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her chest to calm her heart and sighing loudly. She had a cardigan over her uniform and rubbed her arms to keep warm.

Her body was next to the stove where she was warming up a kettle, her frown haunting him across the room. She said nothing, only scoffed and kept silent.

‘This seemed ten times easier in my mind five seconds ago.’

He pushed the door closed with his body, giving serious thought to the words he was going to use.

“Look, I didn’t mean to insult you. That was just me bitching,” Levi said, raising a white flag in the mental no man’s land they held. It earned him a sidelong glance, but her body language showed she hadn’t completely given in. “Tch, what I am trying to say,” he scratched the back of his head, feeling the sensation of his undercut beneath his fingertips, “You’re not stupid, but you’re too nice, and assholes like him abuse that.”

This time she turned to him slightly, still folding her arms to hold in the warmth, looking tired. “I’m not naive. I know my boss can’t keep his hands to himself,” her voice was hushed, either because it was late or because she seemed exhausted. “But not all of us are Humanity’s strongest, held in such high esteem by the military. I could lose my job. He could make my life a living nightmare. Plus, I prefer he bothers me rather than the new girls who are too young and too impressionable. No, Captain, I’m not stupid.”

Levi wondered if his admiration was as palpable in his features as he felt it. ‘I’m not stupid,’ his mind repeated. ‘Yeah, you’re right. The stupid one is me.’

A young woman who held her own, whom he met having fun with her friends at a party, all of them keeping each other safe, who lived on her own. She wouldn’t have survived the Capital if she was stupid. Levi knew firsthand how those environments shaped you: either you blend with them or you break.

She sighed once again, “The last thing I need this week is to argue with you.”

It made him want to ask what else had happened, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Instead, he rose from his slouched position against the door, walked to the countertops next to her, and rested there.

“It’s fucking freezing here,” he said, hoping the little shaky fire from the stove would warm the air more.

“Yeah… I can’t feel my feet,” she replied. “You look good, though.” This time, she managed a side smile, perhaps too tired to smile fully.

Levi quickly assumed she was referring to his recent return. “Yeah, it was a shitty mess of an expedition, though.”

She hummed. “I heard. A lot of rain, I’m sorry.”

Levi shook his head, dismissing her apology as she held no responsibility. “Tch… about your boss, someone should put him in his place.”

Her eyes rolled as she chuckled. “Who is going to do it? The MPs who go to men-only parties with him?” she joked, though her words carried no humour.

Levi, unable to stop looking at her face, said, “I could cut his balls off for a modest price.”

She giggled, tilting her head to the side and biting her bottom lip to suppress her chuckles. But he felt his chest warm up. ‘Holy shit,’ he thought, feeling pride at making her laugh genuinely for the first time. ‘I wish I knew another fucking joke to pull off.’

“You’ll go to jail if you do that,” she replied, entertained. As the conversation flowed easily, her sleepiness slipped away. “You’ll go to jail, and Erwin will kill me for losing his best soldier.”

“No, I’m the stupid military board’s favourite, didn’t you say that? They’re too scared because I’m the only one who could kill the titans if they break another wall. I’ll just pull off a shitty excuse,” he replied, bending slightly forward and closing the space between them.

“And your excuse, Captain?”

The way his title rolled off her tongue, it was just not holy what it created in his system.

“He’s fucking tall… maybe I confused him with a weird titan who has balls… or should I say had?”

This time she laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she showed her teeth. She tried to cover it with her left hand, and Levi was tempted to hold it down so he could still see her laugh.

The little slap of her hand against his arm caught him off guard. It didn’t hurt, but the proximity surprised him. “Stop it, you’re going to get me punished. This is a hospital; we should keep quiet,” she whispered.

She was so close, both bending forward. ‘Maybe I should just fucking go for it. Go big or go home,’ he thought. But she straightened up, pushing the sleeve of her cardigan further into her hand to use it to grab the kettle that was already whistling.

Back to being slouched against the countertop, he lost his chance. Hands in pockets, he couldn’t help but watch her as she walked to the cup with the tea ready for her to pour the water.

“You want one?” she asked, and Levi tried to hide the fact that he was mesmerised by the way her hips moved in the skirt. He just nodded. “So, what’s your modest price, Captain?”

“Huh?” The question confused him, as his mind couldn’t think of two things at once. He tried to remember his own words while thinking that she had the best ass inside the walls. Men’s brains have limitations.

“You said,” she began, pulling another cup out of the cupboard and filling it with water, “that you would do it for a modest price. What’s your modest price?”

His brain was still recovering from seeing her laugh next to him about a joke he made, the cute little swing of her uniform as she walked, her cheeky smile as she looked at him. It was hard to come back from that and reply as he usually would. No actual thoughts, no consequences.

“You going out on a date with me.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime @hagridshaircare Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[radiance1]

"Old fuck!" Said Dan as he kicked down the wall to Vlad's office. Vlad only let out a sigh, apologizing for the noise and then ending the meeting right then and there. He glanced over at Dan and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Do you truly have no concept of a door?"

"It's more fun this way," He mentioned offhandedly as he stomped his way over the Vlad's desk and slammed his hands down on it. "Do something for me!"

Vlad, silently, moured the loss of another table and those three glorious months of peace. He looked Dan in the eyes and raised an eyebrow. "And what, exactly, do you want me to do for you?"

"So you know Superman-"

"No."

Dan reared back like he'd been slapped. "The fuck!? You didn't even hear me out yet!"

"I don't need to." Vlad calmly sipped at his tea that wasn't there a second ago, and then let out another sigh. "And do stop screaming obscenities at me, it is horribly low-class and you're better than that."

"You're only saying that because I'm a fusion of you." Dan pointed out with a deadpan expression. Vlad snorted. "Obviously."

"Hear me out and I'll think about it."

Vlad sighed again, crunching away at a cookie -seriously where is he getting all of this??- before waving a hand in Dan's direction that basically said "Go on."

"Alright so Superman, you know the guy and you most certainly know his weakness." He swipped a cookie, then continued at Vlad's nod. "Kryptonite, nasty stuff yea. You know who uses Kryptonite the most out of basically everyone?"

"Lex Luthor."

"Lex fucking Luthor."

Vlad placed his teacup onto the desk, threading his fingers together and resting his chin on them as he stared the fusion down. "You know, if you wanted me to... complicate, his gathering of Kryptonite. You could have just led with that."

"Would it have worked?" Dan genuinely asked.

"I would have thought it over a bit more before my refusal." Vlad answered and Dan growled. "Just accept already you old-timer."

"Now, now. If I didn't know any better, I would think that you were perhaps, worried about the Man of Steel himself?" At that, Vlad's eyes turned red as a playful smirk graced his lips.

Dan's eyes narrowed as he lifted a finger towards Vlad acusingly. "Don't you dare try your mind control bullshit on me."

Vlad chuckled. "Oh I would not dream of it, I was merely..." Vlad's eyes shined with mirth as he deliberately paused. "Stating an assumption."

Dan hissed, translating his sheer annoyance through ghost speak while Vlad respond back with a purr. More than throuoghly pleased.

Usually, it was the other way around.

"You can go to hell with your assumptions." He leaned over the desk, destroying it even further as he his claws dug into it. "Either you deal with him or I'll do it myself."

Vlad stared him down for a good few moments, the room falling silent as they stared each other down. Vlad sighed. "Fine, I don't need your little temper tantrum leaving me with such a giant mess to clean up." He tapped a button under his desk -mercifully safe from the destruction- and waved Dan away. "Now if you will excuse yourself, I have a few calls to make, a desk to replace, you know the works."

Dan nodded and over to the giant hole in the wall before pausing. He reached out with ghost speak, sending out a violent threat through intent if he did not follow through.

Vlad simply responded with nonchalance, exasperation, and even a bit of annoyance.

A few weeks later

Lex Luthor is livid.

Someone has been buying up all of the Kryptonite before he could get to it, which should be impossible in itself. But no, then they proceeded to mess with the shipments he managed to get his hands on, interrupt deals to acquire them and even outright destroyed a few.

He has his own stockpile for emergencies, yes. But it's very noticeably dwindling.

Meanwhile with Vlad

"Now what exactly am I supposed to do with all of this?" Vlad asked himself, staring at the large pit of Kryptonite capable of filling multiple warehouses.

Honestly, it was utterly useless to him.

[mockerycrow]

PACK CUDDLES (Hybrid!141 x GN!Human!Reader)

multiple characters masterlist

summary; the base’s heaters have all broken and aren’t due to be repaired for a week—it’s the middle of winter and you’re one of the few humans on base.

[WARNINGS; hybrid stuff, can be read as platonic or romantic, fluffy, sickness.]

THE BASE HEATERS decided to break at the worst possible moment—during the harshest part of the winter. They’re baseboard electric heaters that line every barracks room; the general community rooms such as the common area and the training rooms have central air and heating, but they didn’t decide to provide the barracks with the same luxury. It was never much of a problem, really. Nearly everyone on base was a hybrid of some kind, usually a bigger animal due to the needs of the military so they would produce body heat hot enough to keep them warm for the duration of when the electrical technicians would come in to fix the wiring, or replace the heaters.

Unfortunately for you, you are not a hybrid. You were born to completely human family members, and you have no hybrid genes in your chromosomes. Also unfortunately for you, you were for some reason one of the ones tasked with shoveling the pathways and roads on base—your station has no snow plows as the winters are usually mild to moderate, but this year decided to fuck you over harshly. You spent hours outside in the snow, bundled up in your warmest uniform with a winter coat, boots, gloves, hats, and even a balaclava on to keep as much warmth as possible. 

On day 2 without a heater, you woke up in the middle of the night unable to breathe through your nose. Your face is aching terribly—likely your sinuses—and it feels like you swallowed glass and gargled salt water right after. Your chest aches and you overall feel terrible, and you feel both hot and cold at the same time. Even after bundling up in your warmest hoodie and sweatpants—you slept with socks on, too—you just could not evade the sickness. Harsh coughs rack your body, your eyes tearing up as pain shoots through your chest and your throat to your ears. You groan and press your face into your pillow for a moment before you slowly kick your blankets off, pulling your hood up after sitting up.

You slip your feet into your slides and you check the time—0328. Fuck. The boys should be returning from a short mission soon. You hold in a sigh in fear of further hurting your aching throat, making your way towards your bedroom door. You grab your keys on the way out, letting your door close behind you. You squint as the hallway lights irritate your eyes, but you lay them no mind, walking down the hall to seek out the kitchen. Luckily, this base allowed basic medicines in a cabinet in the kitchen, so began your search for some cold medicine, and perhaps some sinus medicine too if you can take both at the same time.

To your sickly delight, no one seems to be awake right now—or at least hoarding the kitchen—despite many of the hybrids on base being nocturnal. You aren’t in the mood to really talk.. Not like you could, anyway. You shuffle your way to the counter with a harsh sniffle, opening the cabinet and rummaging around. You find some compatible cold and sinus medications, and you decide to grab a tea bag and the little plastic jar of honey, deciding that you want to soothe your throat. The air running through your throat makes it ache more. 

You put your forearms on the counter and arch your back, laying your head down as you wait for the electric kettle to heat up the water. At least the kitchen is warm. You holy a bit after it must be a few minutes, hearing the kettle heating up. You lift your head and see steam emitting from the opening, so you switch it off and begin to make your tea, stirring honey into the mug. You shove the pills into your mouth and swallow it down with a wince, using the tea. You sip the tea slowly until the mug is empty, so you quickly wash it out and put it in the sink to properly wash later. With your throat feeling a little better and a handful of paper towels, you head back to your room to go back to sleep.

The next time you wake up, it’s slow and uncomfortable. You’re on your back and you first feel the pain rippling through your throat with every wheezy breath you take—it’s a bit harder to breathe than before, even with the sickness—and then you notice the heat. Wait.. the heat? Isn’t the heater broken?

Your eyes flutter open, unfocused and bleary, with twinges of pain due to the dawn shining through your poor excuse of black-out curtains. Something shifts on your chest, causing you to glance down. When your eyes focus, you’re face to face with a wolf looking husky—striking blue eyes that are peering into your soul, the wolfdog’s fur being thick; white and grey, his ear twitching as he stares back at you. It takes you a moment before recognition filters through. It’s Soap!

A lazy smile spreads on your face as you pet his head between his ears, causing him to lick his snout. “Hey, Soap.” You croak. You sound absolutely dreadful. Three more heads pop out of view, making you flinch ever so slightly. “Jesus!” You hiss, looking at the other three. You’re met with a Grizzly bear, a Barbary lion and a Jaguar; Price, Ghost, and Gaz. Your bed springs croak under the weight of all of them—they broke your frame a year ago, still in the search for a frame that can handle a bunch of weight—and they shift closer to you. A low, rumbling noise comes from Ghost. There’s not much noise he truly makes in his lion form, he often is silent—except for the occasional chuff or intimidating growl—so you know the rumbling means something. 

You reach out to him with your other hand, tangling your fingers in his mane, feeling the rough texture between your fingers. His dark eyes stare at you and if you didn’t know Ghost as well as you do, you would likely be shitting yourself right now. He pushes his snout into your palm for a moment before his rough tongue peaks out and licks over your palm, making you wince from how prickly his tongue is. Ghost then lets out a huff, his breath reaching your face as you watch the Jaguar—Gaz—slink up to your face, the three of them; Gaz, Soap, and Ghost invading your personal space. No doubt that they can smell how sick you are. You think absentmindedly about when they returned from their mission. 

“I’m okay.” You say, your voice hoarse. You can’t help but wince at how you sound, but you don’t dwell on it too much when Gaz’s hard head pushes into your cheek, making you smile. “Yes, I promise.” You add on, moving your hand from Soap’s head to Gaz’s neck, your other hand still attending to Ghost’s mane. You glance over to where Price is, seeing his two little ears peering up behind Ghost. You groan dramatically and pat the spot next to yourself. “C’mon, Captain. You guys can be my heaters, I guess.” You weakly joke, earning a whine from Soap, who hasn’t moved an inch from laying on top of you. You make a noise in return, your eyes feeling heavy once again when the heat surrounding you finally becomes comfortable. “Supposed to fix ‘em soon.” You mumble, already half asleep by the time you feel Price’s nose sniff your cheek, checking in on you.