#i may or may not be slightly delirious right now

[ravenfrogsandco]

modern lockwood & co au, but it gets progressively more cursed/odd:

flo and george run a cursed meme page

george's instagram is predominately blury pics of lockwood & co daily life shenanigans and inanimate objects

holly has an aesthetic instagram and/or bookstagram account

lucy has a tumblr for art and angsty thoughts

lockwood is an influencer (and has one of those sh!tpost instagrams) whose entire branding is depressed but well dressed/sad but hot

the skull has a troll/cringe account and spends hours arguing with people in comment sections

fittes (kipps' team) as influencers (everyone who has said this before is so right)

bobby and ned youtube vlogs

kipps makes sad simpsons edits (yes those) on a throwaway account

barnes as a gentle parent (of teens) tiktoker

sir rupert gale posts those baddie comeback tiktoks and is frequently found on AITA (he is always the AH)

the winkmans and "millionaire grind" videos

leopold streams on twitch

[horrorhot-line]

rafayel's nsfw alphabet

➵ pairing: rafayel x female!reader

➵ word count: 3.3k

➵ genre: nsfw

➵ warnings: minors dni. this post is pure smut, no plot here. slight exhibitionism, sex toys, edging, blindfolding, handcuffs, overstimulation, somnophilia, praise kink, bondage.

➵ summary: pretty self explanatory, the nsfw alphabet on your favourite boy.

➵ xavier's ver. | zayne’s ver.

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

horrorhot-line © 2024. all rights reserved.

notes: this one's for you @jaiden-zhou, i was gonna take a break and post these later, but your reblog asking for rafayel and zayne's version meant i got to work right away. hope you enjoy <3333

credit to @multi-fandom-imagine for the template

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

➵ a for aftercare (what is he like after sex?) he loves talking after sex. most would get tired after the extracurricular activities, you included, but not rafayel. he loves picking your brain about anything and everything. still semi inside you, lazily thrusting into you as he empties the last of his cum inside you, trailing kisses across your face as he asks you where you'd want to go if the two of you went travelling. he won't admit it, ever- but he does it because he's realised it's when you're the most honest, spent and cheeks still flushed after your orgasms, still delirious after he's fucked the living daylights out of you. he will also never admit, he doesn't want to fall asleep and running his mouth makes sure of that, he doesn't want to risk you leaving him again. "what do you think about the city of love? i'd love to fuck you in paris."

➵ b for body part (his favourite body part of his and also his partner's) he adores your body, you know this, but his absolute favourite part of you is your eyes. no matter how many lifetimes he's spent waiting for you, your eyes are always the same, soft, shining and focused only on him. he loves fucking you, starting off slow as his pelvis collides with your clit and has you seeing stars, he loves the way your gaze focuses on him when he's thrusting into you, pulling out ever so slightly only to snap his hips back into yours. and fuck, does he love the way he gets to watch your eyes roll back. his favourite part about himself is his dick, pretty self-explanatory. he loves the way you tell him his cock is perfect as he fucks into you, pressing the rough of his thumb against your clit as you throw your head back. "you look so pretty like this, drooling all cause of my cock."

➵ c for cum (anything to do with cum, basically) he may have asked if he could use your cum as paint once, promising he'll never let anyone else see his creation apart from you. rafayel loves shoving his cum back inside you when it leaks out, plugging you up with his fingers as he makes sure you don't waste a single drop, ignoring the way you look like absolute sin with tears of overstimulation in your eyes. though, he can't ignore the way his dick hardens again at the way you glow after you've orgasmed, thighs wet with slick and looking so inviting, "one more round? come on, i know you can cum again- do it for me."

➵ d for dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his) if you hadn't guessed it already, rafayel lives for validation- your validation. he'll never admit it; he doesn't want to bruise his ego by telling you how much he likes hearing you whimper and moan. he loves when he first puts his dick inside you, grabbing the hand that reaches out to place itself on his stomach as you struggle to take him in, and he raises that same hand above your head so he can plug your slick pussy with his cock. "ah, ah, ah- you wanted this, can't back out now. instead of trying to stop, why don't you tell me how good my dick feels, hm?"

➵ e for experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?) he knows his way around, he's watched enough porn when he was researching for an art project of his. the real thing is different though, and he realises that when you're under him, spreading your legs for him, and he finds no matter how hard he tries, you're pussy is just too good. the first round is always quick, but he knows how to work his fingers and his tongue, making sure you cum more times than he can count before he's ready to go again, forcing your legs apart as he raises his top and bites down on it, watching how his dick enters you. "lost for words? why don't you start off by telling me how good i feel?"

➵ f for favourite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) this is a hard one for him, but if he had to choose it would definitely be cow girl. the sight of you riding his dick so well, struggling to take him in, sweat lining your bodies as he grips your tit and watches the other one bounce. he loves the way you lower your chest to his after a few minutes, legs aching, letting him know he can take over. he manages to hit all your sweet spots in this position too, and there's no escape for you as he wraps his arms around you, angling his hips to fuck into you, making sure you feel his tip against your cervix. "tired already? if you wanted me to take over, my love- all you had to do was ask."

➵ g for goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc) he knows how to be serious, but if there's a queef, he'll laugh. how can you expect him not to? that, and he likes catching you off gaurd, because when you join him, giggling at his antics, he snaps his hips into yours, setting a brutal pace that has you struggling to catch your breath. "what? you not gonna laugh, anymore? no? didn't think so."

➵ h for hair (how well groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes) he's always well-groomed. always clean-shaven and there's never a stubble that gives you carpet burn, because he likes to stay on top of it. he wants you to focus on the feel of his dick inside you and nothing else when he's pounding your wet cunt. he treats his body like a temple, basically. "i wanna look good for myself. it has nothing to do with you." (it does.)

➵ i for intimacy (how is he during the moment, romantic aspect…) rafayel acts like he doesn't care about being romantic, but he does. when he's not salty about how you make him wait, he gives you the best treatment, always eating you out first, fingering you until you can't take anymore, begging for him to fill you up with his cock, which he does, rubbing your clit as he rolls his hips into yours, making sure you remember the way his dick feels buried deep inside you. he always makes sure you finish, and he likes to admire the artwork in front of him one he's done, you laying flushed beneath him, lips parted, breathing heavily and still twitching. "you look so pretty when i'm through with you. hey, can i draw you like this? no? just one quick sketch, please…"

➵ j for jacking off (masturbation headcanon) you make him horny 24/7, even when you're not around. he'll be in his studio, casually painting and lounging when you pop into his head, and his mind will drift to all the times you've been underneath him. by the time you've come home to him, he's a needy mess, flushed, dick in his hand already leaking precum as he begs you to help him out because he's been edging himself for hours, waiting for you. "please, my love. i need you."

➵ k for kink (one or more of their kinks) what kinks does he not have? he has a huge praise kink, that's for sure. loves it when you get vocal and tell him how good he feels, how he's too deep and that it's too much, he loves watching you struggle to take him all in, slamming the last few inches in just so he can hear you sob. he's also a huge fan of overstimulation; he loves pushing you past your limits, watching you become a mess as he squeezes out another orgasm with his fingers. he's into bondage too, something about the idea of you being all tied up, looking pretty for him, helpless to what he has in store for you. he's a bit of a switch, too- he loves you taking control when you've had enough of his teasing just so he can roll you over and force you to take his dick. he also adores watching you use him, making yourself feel good with his cock. "you gonna cum, baby? feel good? who knew you'd love my dick this much?"

➵ l for location (favourite places to do the do) he's a bit of an exhibitionist, reckons it comes with the job description of being an artist. so, he likes it anywhere as long as it's you. he has a list of places he'd love to dick you down at, but his favourite would be his art studio. you're his muse, what gives his paintings colour and life, and he loves spreading you across his desk, raising your hips off the table so he can snap his hips into you only to imagine the same scenario as he starts his new piece. he also loves the beach; something about being close to home, the waves around your feet and hands as he bends you over, lifting you by the arm so you're body's flush against his, calloused fingers reaching for your clit. he loves the way he can feel the water against his thighs as you throw your head back against his shoulder, and he can watch your lovely fucked out expression. "told you the sea was warm during the summer. having fun, baby?"

➵ m for motivation (what turns him on, gets him going) just thinking about it gets him horny; you know this already. it doesn't matter where the two of you are, he will borrow your hole to empty his load, whining and teasing you until you give in, finding the nearest secluded place before pulling his pants down and sliding your panties to the side. you have this effect on him, he can't control himself, and he blames you for it, something he lets you know often as he fucks you from behind, grabbing your tit in one hand, arm under your shoulder and across your chest to lock you in place so you can't run, "it's all your fault for turning me on. that means it's your responsibility to help me out."

➵ n for nicknames (what are his favourite pet names for you? what does he call you when you're both alone?) he calls you 'my love.' a lot- something about your heart being his. he likes calling you his, repeating the words "mine, mine, mine." as he's fucking into you before his lips latch onto yours, swallowing your moans and desperate cries. he does like to use babe when he's teasing you or being mean as payback for you making him wait, rubbing your swollen clit, grabbing the wrist that reaches out to stop him as he rolls his hips into yours, "come on babe, i know you have more left in you. cum one more time for me- yeah?"

➵ o for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc) he loves receiving but will never pester you for it. he'll ask, but if you say no, then so be it. when you do agree, though, he'll shove himself as deep as he can go, hissing as his tip kisses the back of your throat, running his fingers through your hair before wiping away the stray tear going down the side of your temple, smiling down at you as he reaches over to plug his fingers in your pussy, stretching you out as you choke on his dick. "don't cry, my love. save your tears for when i fill you up. not long now, i know you can do it."

➵ p for pace (is he fast or rough? slow or sensual?) he's not slow, but he is sensual. setting a brutal pace that has you falling off the edge and clenching your thighs as your orgasm hits you, before slowing down his thrusts and taking his time, letting you ride out your high before he's fucking into you again, squeezing your ass and moving you up and down his dick so his cock reaches the deepest it can inside you. "you're mine, yeah? fuck, you're so tight. 'm gonna cum inside you."

➵ q for quickie (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc) yes, the answer is yes anytime that word is used in a sentence. he'll wait for you to initiate unless you make him horny, which is more often than not- he loves subtly teasing you, hands finding their way into your panties underneath tables, fingers tracing your hips, feather-light touches across your thighs to let you know he needs you, leading you to wherever's semi-decent before he's shoving your clothes aside, bending you over and kicking your legs apart so he can fuck you until he's satisfied. "you're gonna have to cover again with thomas for me, babe. this is all you, you know? wearing those thigh highs- thinking i wouldn't react."

➵ r for risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks, etc) definitely game to experiment, he adores finding new ways to pull reactions out of you. the first time he tried fluffy handcuffs and a blindfold on you, he swore it was the hardest he'd ever been. he was in awe, starstruck, watching you twitch at the slightest touch, looking all pretty and helpless. you were at his mercy, and it made his cock twitch. the wait was worth it, though- after he was done using his fingers to push you over the edge enough times, he lined himself up with your pussy, and hissed at the way he slid right in. buried completely inside you, he held your hips up as he started fucking you, realising you were louder when your sight was covered. "who knew you'd like being used? since you enjoy it so much, why don't we do this more often?"

➵ s for stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last) you usually lose track after the 7th to 8th round, mind blank after he's pulled another orgasm from you, towering over your spent body, a smug smile on his face as he pulls his dick out of you, slapping it against your slick pussy a few times, before shoving it back in completely, with no warning. he will quite literally fuck you until you pass out. "come on, babe. keep your eyes open, and on me- i know you can go one more round."

➵ t for toy (does he own toys? does he use them? partner or himself?) he owns quite a few, most are in the first drawer of his bedside table, the others are scattered across his mansion. he likes buying them to see how you react, keeping the ones you enjoy the most. his favourites are the ones that focus on your clit, he loves fucking you when he uses them, feeling your pussy spasm around him as you cum again. he does own a pussy pocket and uses it often when you're away. also, he's definitely asked if he can have one moulded to the shape of your cunt specifically.

➵ u for unfair (how much does he like to tease) he's very unfair, often teasing you as payback for all the years you've made him wait for you, thumb hovering over your clit as he stops you from orgasming, halting his thrusts as he watches you try and grind against his dick. he turns your head to him and kisses you, mouth swallowing your complaints and sobs as he watches you twitch from overstimulation. he breaks the kiss only to fuck into you nice and slow, building up the pace before he's slamming into you from behind, arms wrapping around you when you try to crawl away from him with how sensitive you are. "what now, my love? you can't move, poor thing. try and escape me this time."

➵ v for volume (how loud is he? what sounds does he make?) he loves being vocal, letting you know just how good you feel as he manages to stuff his dick in your tight cunt, tip kissing your cervix as you double over at the feeling of being so full. he'll pull you right back up against his chest, not letting you catch your breath as he starts fucking into you, fingers flicking your hardened nipples, hands squeezing your tits as he moans in your ear. doesn't help that he sounds like pure sin, and his moans alone have you tightening around his cock. "fuuuck, you have no idea how good you feel. you're so wet, baby… feeling good? yeah? i know i am."

➵ w for wildcard (random headcanon for him) you agree to it after he gives you the pros and cons, and find that he uses it every chance he gets. you didn't expect this out of him, but this man really wants to fuck you in your sleep. just something about the idea of having his way with you when you're not conscious. that, and he gets horny during the night and doesn't wanna wake you just to fuck you. he'd much rather finger you until you're ready to take him, stirring in your sleep but not fully awake as he rubs his dick along your pussy, using your slick to lube himself up before he's lining himself up and shoving his dick in, inch by inch. he'll rolls his hips experimentally, and moan softly in your ear. he waits for you to wake up, dazed and disoriented as your brain catches up, before he slams his dick completely into you, not giving your confused mind the chance to register your arousal as he starts rubbing your clit, teasing an orgasm out of you the minute you're up. "there she is. how'd you like your wake-up call, babe?"

➵ x for x-ray (what's going on in those pants of his) his dick is perfect, no, really. it is the most gorgeous dick you have ever seen, not a hair in sight, and his tip is the prettiest pink colour, all flushed from how turned on he gets because of you. he's circumcised, hates the idea of his penis ever getting dirty or smelling, that- and he reckons it makes it easier for you to suck him off. he has length and girth, not too big that it hurts but enough that you can feel him in your gut when he's inside you.

➵ y for yearning (how high is his sex drive) very high, no matter how many times he fucks you, he can never get enough. rafayel loves the feel of your pussy, maybe more than the feel of a paintbrush in his hand when he has newfound motivation to finish a project, and he enjoys having his way with you whenever he wants. if he's ready to go, it means you'll soon follow. you can't refuse him when his touch trails across your bare skin, hands down your panties and fingers shoved two digits deep inside you, teasing and edging you until you give in to his need to fuck. "you can't blame me- it's your fault for looking so pretty, all fucked up like this. 'm gonna mark you up, let everyone know you're mine."

➵ z for zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards) he wants to fall asleep right after he's done with you, having spent most of his energy fucking you until you're leaking his cum all over the bed sheets, but he likes staying awake until you pass out, idle talk lulling you to slumber as he brushes your hair out your face and behind your ear, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest before he pulls you into his arms and rests his cheek against your tits. "you're asleep already? …i love you."

[imrllytootiredforthis]

you know how cats like when you scratch above their tailbone

that but with lee know, like

if your fucking him from behind, just scratch and stroke over his tailbone, its enough to get him coming untouched

and the way he mewls like a kitten...

kitty~

lee know x reader

warnings: dom reader, sub lee know, reader fucking him though could be w a strap or a dick, cumming untouched, kitty lino, idk what else

a/n: help, help, help, anon you are 😵‍💫🙏, this is really short and kinda shit bc i haven't written in forever but found this in my inbox and couldn't resist

it happens when you're fucking into him, ass up and head buried into the pillows bc poor baby is too embarrassed to let you hear the downright slutty whines and pleads dripping from his lips one after another as you ram into prostate over and over.

any other day you'd tug him up by his hair, wrap your hand around his throat and pull his back flush to your chest. making his head spin by placing your lips beside his ear, teeth nipping at his earlobe while you whispered such dizzying things to him.

but you're feeling nice today-or cruel.

with you, he finds that the two are often intertwined; one and the same really. able to bring him to the brink of insanity, leaving him drowning in the pool of your desire.

mercy is delivered in the form of sweet words and honeyed praises that seep into his skin, making him delirious like venom. and mercy is injected into him in the cruel way you thrust, pulling hoarse whines from him with every jolt of your hips: rough, demanding, animalistic, just the way he likes it.

"oh kitty~" you coo, and he mewls, proving the point you've made. "so pathetic." and you were right. you make him feel like he's melting, drooling into a puddle for you to mold and remake into whatever you pleased.

you sigh, "so messy," another truth, you were almost worried for your sheets with the amount of pre-cum he was leaking. "you gonna purr for me next? like a good kitty?"

he clenched around you, delightfully so.

he just looks so much like a cat right now.

the cat ears you had so lovingly placed in his hair, matching in colour so well they fit in seamlessly they might as well be real.

the way his hips sway, grinding back onto you to match your thrusts. you swear if he had a tail it would be flicking back and forth. wrapping around your thigh or ankle, trying to find some form of holding onto you- stay sane in the depths of this haze.

you were sure if he could purr, it would be loud enough for you to hear no matter how much he'd try to hide them. you could still hear his muffled mewls and cute hiccupy gasps even now.

just like a cat.

your pretty kitty, your lino.

and maybe...just maybe...

experimentally, cautiously (because much like a cat, you knew he didn't need to be provoked much to bite) you pressed your hand, lightly against his tailbone.

his reaction was immediate, and obvious, startlingly so.

his back arched. his thighs trembling, keening as he pressed back against you, grinding needily, like he couldn't get enough, like he could never get enough.

so you pressed slightly harder, rubbing small circles to the area, ripping high desperate mewls as he spasmed around you. unable to help his head snapping back, looking at you with wide, watery eyes as he came, dirtying the already ruined bedding with his spend.

you couldn't bring yourself to care at this point.

and he couldn't either.

you hummed, amused as you watch him slump onto the dirtied sheets, completely boneless. a quiet cry following when you slipped out of him.

"well that's something new~"

"-you...-you are never doing that again." he huffs, quietly, with little deliberation. with just enough force, in a way that you know he's going to be begging for it in less time than one may think with a stubborn, steadfast man such as your lino.

you only laughed and he shuddered at the sound.

"we'll see, kitty."

a/n: please, please give me a little slack if this is awful-the thoughts took over i wrote this in like half an hour in a moment of weaknessssss😫 i can't control them anymoreeeee

also ik i have a taglist i'll prolly get that out later today if i ever get it out at all😭

[baronessblixen]

I wish you would write a fic where mulder falls asleep on skinner’s shoulder

Another ficlet! Gonna tag @today-in-fic this time 😁

“Is your son all right?” Skinner lifts his eyes to the nurse; one he hasn’t seen before. She’s young, her smile genuine, and her eyes curiously big. He’s tired. Not as tired as the man sitting next to him, whose head keeps ending up on his shoulder.

The first few times it happened, Mulder startled awake, his expression haunted, and apologized. Now, his head is on Skinner’s shoulder, his breath as even as it can be. If he weren’t so tired, or if Mulder were awake, maybe he’d correct the nurse. After the day they’ve all had, he has no strength left.

“His wife is- she’s not well.” It’s a white lie. Mulder and Scully may not be married on paper, but they are in every other way that counts. Once upon a time, Skinner felt the sting of jealousy seeing what they have. Now, he’s glad they have each other.

“I’m so sorry,” the nurse says. “Do you want me to go check on her? What’s her name?”

“Dana Scully.” Skinner keeps his voice soft so that he won’t wake Mulder. He should have known better; her name penetrates his sleepy mind and he blinks open his eyes.

“Is she- Dana Scully? Is she out of surgery?”

“I will check on your wife. I’ll be right back.” Her shoes squeak as she walks off. Mulder shakes his head, trying to wake up.

“My wife?” he asks Skinner, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. Skinner is going to keep to himself that the nurse thought Mulder is his son. That’s for himself to deal with. He’s a mere 15 years older than Mulder. Right now, though, he sees it. He looks like a boy. One who’s scared to lose another person he loves, unable to stop it from happening. Again.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” He changes the subject, hoping Mulder won’t press.

“No, I- I need to know how Scully is before I… before anything else.” The man needs a meal and sleep, preferably in a bed and not a hospital chair. Even if he threatened Mulder, Skinner knows he won’t leave here.

Before he can say another word, the nurse returns. His heart skips a beat until her face transforms into a big smile.

“Good news,” she says. “Your wife is out of surgery.”

“Is she-”

“She’s stable. She’s going to be just fine.” Mulder folds in on himself hearing the words and Skinner puts a hand on his back. “Is he-”

“He’s fine,” Skinner says, meaning it. “It has been a long day.”

“She’s going to make it,” Mulder mumbles, sounding almost delirious.

“She is,” Skinner assures him. “And I’m sure she wants to see you when she wakes up. How about you go home, take a shower and sleep?” He has to try. He knows that Scully would would want him to at least do that. Mulder just laughs humorlessly.

“You know I won’t.”

“The sit back down,” he says, aware that it sounds like an order. Mulder glares at him. “You’ve been using my shoulder as a pillow. Come on.”

“You sound as crazy as I do, sir.”

“Come on.” Another moment passes, but Mulder sits down. A minute passes and Skinner pretends to read the magazine he got hours ago. Maybe he’ll take that quiz again, the one that promises to tell you why you can’t ever keep a man. A sigh from the right, and then a soft weight on his shoulder. Mulder sleeps and Skinner keeps watch.

[midnight-bay-if]

The ROs suddenly get hurt and shy MC immediately rush over to them panicked and start tending to their wounds. All inhibitions lost for a moment as they openly fret over ROs.

How do the ro's react/feel?

S: They're in pain. Of course, they always position themselves to their advantage, but they're only human. They get hurt. Seeing how scared it has made you awakens an entirely new feeling in them. The pain of their wounds isn't comparable to the pain they feel when they see the fear in your eyes. The days of strategic injuries may very well be over.

They don't want to see you scared any more. "It's okay, MC," they soothe, rubbing your back as you fuss over them. "I'm going to be okay."

Rain: Rain can't stop themselves from smiling despite their injuries. Whether it's because they feel slightly delirious from the pain or because they're finally seeing your walls come all the way down, who can say?

They reach out, holding your face in their hands, their thumb caressing your skin. "The wounds aren't serious, MC. They're a drop in the ocean, I promise."

Taj: They're openly staring. You're pushing against their clothing, inspecting the wounds closer, but Taj is just watching you, slightly awed. Where has that little meek bird gone? The sadness is the same, but the aggression is new. You look as if you'll swat them over the head if they try to pull away right now.

It makes them want to tease you. "Watch your claws, Koel. Am I not dying fast enough?" When you do, in fact, swat them on the head, they are amused.

N: N doesn't know how to process it. Why does your face look like that? Do you not realise demons heal quite quickly? Perhaps not if your panicked voice and irregular breathing are any indication. A mocking smile tugs at the corner of their lips. It's a mask they wear well. Deep down, however, they're trying to reason with the fact this is the first time anyone has ever cared about them bleeding.

"If I had a heart, my dear, you might very well break it."

Umbra: Umbra never felt pain for the longest time, despite existing dangerously. You brought about a lot of changes in their life. Joy came first. Then came pain. One cannot exist without the other. There was a time when, in the end, that was all that existed. Pain. Now, as they are wracked in it, your touch soothes each mark like a balm, your usual quelled emotions washing away its remnants.

But they are also afraid of your fear. They're afraid they will leave you permanently that way again. "I'm not going to let go. I won't."

(One day, I will answer these simply, but I have a habit of getting lost in the language, lol.)

[greywritesthings]

Cherry trees and lavender

Spencer reid x poet!f!reader

Fluff

Warnings : tooth rotting fluff

A/N : slightly delirious with lack of sleep writing this, may rewrite the end but heres it for now, reblogs likes and follows appreciated massively, i have freaking discover turned off for ages

Masterlist

spencer reid Masterlist

Read on AO3

“Honey! Jordan Bell has a new poetry book coming out!” Spencer yells as soon as he walks in the door, expecting you to be curled up in your shared bedroom given it was a Friday afternoon and you had normally long since finished work for the day. He was surprised to find you laid out on the couch laptop resting precariously on the edge of the sofa, your tablet now resting face down on the floor, already having fallen victim to your slumber. He walked across to you, going to right the laptop and tablet, fully intending to turn them off once they were on the coffee table when an email caught his eye. Book signing meeting: Cherry trees and lavender

What

Why would you be getting emails about meetings for the book his favourite modern poet had just released. He looked at your tablet and saw two more surprising tabs: Release day sales reports and one off specialty collection edition delivery conformation.“What on earth.” he muttered to himself, nearly going to snoop more but he felt bad already just for looking at the open tabs on your computer, so he decided to just wake you up. “Darling? Wake up sweet girl” he moves the hair from your face smiling down at you as you slowly blink your eyes open as they go from confused to recognition. “Hi baby, tired from work?” he asks, laughing slightly as you just pull him down onto you. “Sweetheart, you left your laptop open from when you were working and i didnt mean to snoop but i saw some stuff about cherry trees and” he gets cut off as you basically push him off of you to sit up and turn towards your laptop. “What emails did you see, exactly spence? I don't mind you knowing, there's just a surprise I don't want ruined.” 

“I don't know, what do you mean? Why are you getting emails about cherry trees and lavender? Let alone sales reports or book signing meetings?” He is painfully confused as you turn around to look at him like he's missed something painfully obvious. “Darling, why do you think I would get those emails? Given I'm not an accountant nor a secretary, I'm sure your genius brain can figure it out pretty boy.” you say as you stand up heading over to the kitchen, you hadn’t explicitly ever told him, but hadn't really kept it a secret, but once you realised he hadn't yet guessed you were Jordan Bell you figured you would tell him with a one off collection of your books, with customised covers all with something that reminded you of him and the latest one, cherry trees and lavender had a dedication page just for him. It had come today so with the kettle boiling you walked off to the bedroom to grab the stack of books waiting on the bed. 

“Sweet girl, your Jordan Bell? The poetry author?” he asks, still sounding utterly bewildered at the thought as you walk back into the room. You place the books down on the coffee table, “Read this, look at these, then if you don't get it i might just have to start questioning that genius title of yours my darling.” you say opening to the dedication page you wrote to him personally and laying out the covers of the books one by one. 

He doesn't move for ten minutes, seemingly frozen on the dedication page, you made sure not to mention him by name but described him well enough that you would hope and pray he gets it. “You okay there darling?” you ask cautiously. Unsure what's going through his head. He shakes himself free of the trance he was in. “Im, your, sorry yes i'm fine darling just, shocked. How did you hide this from me? Also, you're my favourite twenty-first century author just by the way.” he grinned at you. “Well, i didn't care if you found out before this really, but when i realised you didn't know i was part way through writing cherry trees and you ended up being a large inspiration for the lavender part.” you say with a smile, taking the book out of his hands and placing it down carefully. “So, I ordered a special edition collection from the publisher with customer hardcovers that have little things that remind me of you or us, and added some bonus ones to each, so they're all a tad longer than the original. I know you wanted the anniversary collection when it came out but I thought a one of a kind edition was better.” At this point you slotted yourself in his arms, chin resting on his chest looking at him as he looked down at you, smiling as wide as a kid in a candy shop. “I love them darling, they're the best, I just can't believe I never caught onto this.” he says reaching over to grab his new book as you shuffle further down him grabbing your own e-reader as you spend the rest of the evening basking in each other, with spencer commenting on the poems as he goes, smiling at everyone that points towards a memory you shared together.

[spicy-pears]

𝑨 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒅 𝑴𝒂𝒏

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 1-𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚. 2-𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔. 3-𝑬𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒔.[WIP]. 4-𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍'𝒔 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 [WIP].

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: 𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙡(𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜), 𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙚, 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜,Sadism,sexual vulgarity.[For the dirty readers like myself, the smut is towards the bottom 🤣]

𝙒𝙘: 3.4 k

Disclaimers: I researched a bit on johnny, and per the Pflugerville incident. Breaking into houses is not his Forte. He has tendencies to be extremely wreckless and impulsive. I'll be exploring that a bit more here. Along with mentions of babi sawyer.

I hope you enjoy❣️

Weightless, your warm dream state embraced you. The only God-given blessing, that took away the human flaw of pain. But this was only temporary. Voices, they were chaotic and many. But you could pick out your keeper's voice easily. You began to descend; your senses awoke in a violent rush. Your hip produced a festering burn. Wrists denied circulation as they were tightly bound. your eyes opened to the mesmerizing glimmer of your tears. Although awake you couldn't make sense of anything. Feverish sweat rolled off your heaving chest, as you were hung off the ground like butcher's meat. Your senses conflicted fear with peace you found yourself smiling at a small girl, a curious older woman, and your captor. Johnny's eyes glanced at you for a short moment, as if he knew something was wrong with you already. Your ears finally began to focus, now able to take in the chaos.

"Oh? Is she now? Well, babi's doll could use some fresh bones!" an old man mocked Johnny and topped it off with snide laughter. The older man leans down, getting a good look at you. "With how you roughed her up, how do you expect to keep her?" your eyes strangely couldn't keep up, as the old man shuffled round to meet your burning side. Using a red stick, he pushed up your dress slightly spotting the source of your delirium. "Your little work of art is infected, now she's no use at all!" He sucked his teeth and shook his head with grave disappointment. "Again, she ain't for eat'n old man" Johnny's voice trembled like an angry kettle. As you took witness to the conversation, you realized how badly you miscalculated. There was no section about cannibals, in your "How to tame a psycho" handbook.

"Big boy was allowed to have babi. I should be able to have my own too. I do plenty for this family!" johnny began to argue his case, making his importance and dominance in the family Prominet. "He's allowed that right! He works hard to support the household and does as he's told. All you do is bring trouble and damned mess about!" the older man continued to argue not backing down, to Johnny's bubbling annoyance. "Quit yer' barking at me. Or I may have to put your rabid ass down."

"Well, if she was a virgin, it should take just fine" Suddenly a cold yet maternal voice chimed in, to tame the rising tensions. Instantly you had a feeling this woman had to be Johnny's mother. as no one else in the room but her was sticking up for his passionate pleas. "No! No no no! We just got out of that Flores mess! And we finally just tamed babi. now you want another love child around here!?" you watched the older man quickly shuffle towards her. If her being johnny's mother wasn't already obvious her quick temper made it undeniable. "If you don't shut up! Those big Ol ears you still can't hear what people are saying! Feed the girl. She doesn't eat she don't live."

With a point to prove the old cook took no time to rush into the kitchen. he intended to present to you the most morbid dish he could muster. He hated Johnny's swaggering attitude and Nancy's persistent coddling. He couldn't wait to relish in Johnny's failure; all it took was you refusing to eat. Johnny followed him close behind and began to protest again, "You blind old bat! She's delirious, she can't eat meat yet.". Drayton confidently shot back, "She eats, or she doesn't live. You heard your mother." this time he had Johnny. there was no way he could huff and puff out of this one.

Nancy uncharacteristically took pity on you. She bent the rules for just this once. She took a handkerchief out from the pocket of her house dress. With it tightly balled in her fist, she let it soak in the blood at the bottom of a empty meat tray. "Well, she can still drink, go on sweet boy." Nancy handed johnny your saving grace. And stayed in the kitchen with Drayton, to finish her verbal lashing.

Johnny approached you with the blood-dripping cloth in hand. You tried to show your disapproval by shaking your head no. But in your delirious state, not much of a fight could be done. You felt Johnny's hand caressing your sweat-glistening cheek, ever so gently. As he began to bring your face down towards him, your lips now closer.

You held your lips firmly closed with all the strength you could muster.

"Come on now kitten, drink for me."

For the first time, his voice was heart-rending. You weren't sure if it stemmed from his pride or selfish desires. But he was desperate now, for you to accept his morbid request. Your eyes began to well with tears, watching the seemingly innocent 10-year-old girl. Her dark innocent eyes peering a curious glance at you. Babi would pass off as a sweet child, but she was proudly raised twisted. Close to her chest held her baby doll, something you knew was deprived of all innocence. How could you bring a child into this hellish environment, how selfish and cruel. You became content with the idea of death.

But one final look into Johnny's eyes broke your resolve. Deep down, unknowingly you etched out a part of your heart that cared for him. Your lips slowly began to part, opening your mouth as much as you could. Johnny's relieved gasp was met with drops of cold blood onto your lips, painting your tongue.

"There we are,let it be."

HOUSTON TEXAS.

SEPTEMBER 15, 1989, TIME: 2:00 AM

"I was wondering, 1 month into the search we found you in newt. How did you end up there? Many miles from Austin?"

"I honestly...don't know, the last thing I can piece from that time. Was going to a small-town college bar; in September."

Your eyes were fixated on the TV, examining each and every movement of yourself. Frisking for any nervous twitch, a self-soothing gesture, or even a moment of self-restraint. An aggravated huff radiated from your chest, as your fingertips ran against your scalp soothingly. why? why couldn't you remember anything? You watched your taped police interview so many times, combed through your written statements thoroughly, and attended each and every therapy session and then some to combat the mind wipping delirium. All exasperatingly fruitless, you couldn't even understand why the month of August held such great personal importance. so much so, that your sweet baby boy was named after it.

Your tired eyes began to shut, everything becoming silent and still in your mind. A soft grazing feeling ran up your neck, a feeling you could have sworn was a hand. Promptly your body shot up, and your hand protectively held your neck. Frightened you began to scan the room until they froze on a peculiar sight. Leaning in, you focused on an odd dark shadow casted against the crystal back door. As if shadows had awareness, it quickly moved from your inspecting gaze. You quickly excused it away, figuring it was a wild rabbit again.

Wisley, you called it a night. Not before quietly stopping by your son's nursery. Admiring the sleeping baby from his angelic expression down to his pretty boy lashes. All of which faintly reminded you of someone, someone who is now far from your memory.

TIME 3:15 AM

Your eyes fluttered open to the familiar melody. The upbeat romantic song that played during your wedding, bringing you a warm feeling of safety. The safety you cherished when you were finally found, finally free. But it was strange, your lazy eyes caught the time. 3:15 am, why would he play this so late? . You remembered your husband's disappointed confusion at his broken record player. Which now played eerily off key, deep and slow. Why would he play music on it now? Lazily your feet shuffled against the carpet. And unexpectedly met the soft rattle of your son's comfort blanket. Now Perplexed, you examined the small bat covered blanket. Abruptly, the flashing blue and white lights of your TV caught your full attention.

You felt the fear on your fingertips, as they glided against the wooden stair railing. Holding your breath, in an attempt to stop your heart from beating so violently. With each braved stair, your skin crawled with a stabbing chill that only increased. Until you stopped halfway, there he was. Your baby boy is being held by a shadowy stranger.

"Da-da!" The sweet babble from your baby boy brought you so much dread. He could never piece his babbles into a clear "Pa-pa" or "Da-da", To your husband's dismay. But now sitting on the knee of a stranger, he joyfully rang out his newfound word. The stranger leaned down, playfully shaking a teddy bear. While the smiling babe sucked on his knuckles, feeling truly entertained. Promptly, a pair of mirror dark eyes cut from him to you.

"Does mama remember me?" You knew that build, those eyes, and that damned intoxicating southern twang. With no more stairs to stall the inevitable, you now stood in Johnny's open view. You watched the corners of his mouth, curl into his signature devilish grin. "Well, Hey there kitten!". You were rendered stuck, each attempt to speak was snuffed out with exhales of confused disbelief. Before you could finally say anything, a frantic knock at the door, snapped you out of your confused loop.

"Hey, neighbor! It's me Carol from across the street? I know it's late, but I was looking out the window. You know, As I always do. And I think I saw a man entering your garage." Slowly you turned your incedulous glare at Johnny. Who averted your gaze, paying his full attention to his coo'ing baby boy. You looked up at the ceiling, the new object of your ire. As it received an array of silent French curses.

"Uh! That was just the emergency, pest control guy. I found a rattlesnake in there not so long ago, scared me half to death!" you devised the quickest excuse for the tall scar covered man who took presence in your home. Then the realization hit you, this wasn't a cute little night time visit. You instantly knew johnny was going to kill you tonight.Before carol could walk away, you quickly opened the front door and stammered your desprate request. "Hey, carol? could you watch August for a bit? Even for just an hour, ....please?".

She noticed your desperate distress, before she could ask what was going on. august was already in her arms. "O-oh!" she looked at the tiny heartbreaker in her arms. She looked up, in a second attempt to ask what the matter was this late. Only for her eyes to be met with johnny's. She was frightful under his stone-cold, intimidating stare. "Oh! Goodness!" Carol looked down at August, her eyes gradually widen with revelation. The baby oddly looked exactly like the pest control man. Before she could get in a second look, Johnny shut the front door in her face.

"Now why would you go on and do a foolish thing like that?" You were now alone with Johnny's full upset. He waited for a response from you, but you were silent entering a state of doe-eyed fright. johnny knew that look and knew what it meant. He wasn't here to kill you, as far as he was concerned you are his family. But the look he gave in return was different; it wasn't his hungry grin, nor was it any sign of the bad man. It was rather calculated, he circled you. Letting you take in the unknown expression, and he knew it drove you crazy. The corners of his mouth curled softly, and his eyes appeared gentle. For once you admired the light dancing off his eyes, a rare sight. Then the realization struck you, and at the same time the pain did. This was his calm before his storm.

Swiftly your body was yanked and pressed against his from behind. He began savoring the way your plush ass cradled his now hardened length. With a soft exhale, you felt your needy cunt tighten on nothing. As if your body was preparing itself for a battle. Johnny's soft drifting lips against your neck acted as the carnal declaration of a long night. Sly as ever, you felt him lick his lips against your neck. The tip of his tongue teasingly ran across the small area on the back of your neck. The sweet fantasy ended, with his devilish chuckle.

"Enjoyed yourself?" As he began to pull away, your eyes filled with dismay begging for him to continue. "You know half of the family wanted me to come down here slit your throat and leave. but where's the fun in that?" Johhny would exact his usual cruelty, firmly pressing his finger down on your still very sensitive branding. You tried your best to stand still on your feet. refusing to give him the satisfaction, of watching you crumble weakly before him." we have an hour, right?" He asked you a question, in any other situation he'd demand an answer. but tonight, he didn't need any answers. You were to be thoroughly disciplined. His controlling press got maliciously harder, his fingers almost digging into it. Unable to hold in the pain any longer, you fell to your knees. A hunched-over teary mess, panting as you attempted to collect yourself.

"You know, you have no business being up this late" Johnny knelled down to your eye level. His hand displaying a unexpected gentleness. His fingertips softly taped the bottom of your chin. Promptly, you raise your head to look at him "Time to teach you the house rules.". you felt a swift yanking of your left hand. before you knew it johnny tossed away your wedding ring into a trashcan. You watched his leather boots re-enter your view. Eagerly you watched johnny make a display of taking off his shirt Infront of you. He met your starving gaze, only to unzip his pants. allowing his thick curved length to spring out for you.

"Lesson one, who's the man of the house?" He gave you the sweetest smile. You knew something was up. This felt like a trick question, but you had no desire to navigate his mind games. Your hips began to grind in a circular motion, begging to be fucked. You answered his question with ease, "You Johnny". Johnnys sweet smile slowly curled into a coy smirk. His fingers carefully glided through your hair, only to vandalize your locks with a rough yank. The pull by the top of your hair forced your mouth wide open. Assuming the position, you let your tongue lay out flat, ready to receive him. You felt his eyes impatiently glaring down, before his grip exucted a rough correcting yank. "Follow the curve, memorize my cock." His deep voice firmly demanded you, his gaze sharp and equally dictating.

Johnny was nice enough to slowly thrust into your mouth, allowing you to learn how to follow the perfect upward curve. Your jaw achingly tensed up on the first stroke, as you took in his full girth. Your sloppy warm tongue caressed each ridge from the veins that adorned his length. He'd let out a pleased groan that traveled down his spine. Encouraging him to thrust deeper into your mouth, his pace growing increasingly rough. The tip of his cock began tapping the back of your throat, dipping in deep until he felt your lips meeting his base. Each rough thrust forced your nose to press hard against the base of his cock. Leaving you in a sweet breathless starry haze. Eyes half lidded you enjoyed the bouncing stars that rivaled Exstacy.

He watched you struggle to keep up, your eyes prickled with thick beads of tears. You desperately dug your nails deeper into his toned thighs, each time he denied you a chance for air with his punishing thrusts. He even ignored your needy fingers, trying to tame your aching clit. The view was truly beautiful, your sloppy hot saliva dripping off his cock. While your wet cunt covered your fingers in a constant dripping stream of wasted slick, combined made the perfect lewd puddle.

The grip on your hair tightened, while his length pulsed against your tongue. Your fingertips felt the muscles in Johnny's hip and thighs begin to contract. The rumble of his frustrated moan alerted your eyes to look up at him. god did he love your face, especially when it was an innocent-eyed mess. "Get up" His tone is now dangerously impatient, his hand gesturing you towards the dining table. Your obedient mouth parted ways with his cock, leaving a connected string of salvia as a parting gift. hastily you tried to catch as many breaths as you could. Before you could even take your dress off for him. He tossed away your uselessly wet panties to the side. And proceeded to hike your left leg up over the top of the dining table, allowing you to stand on the other. The new position stretched the muscles in your thighs into a tingling numbness.

Johnny's forceful control of your hair didn't waiver. He kept his heated gaze on you, yanking your head back onto his shoulder. Your pussy stood no chance, he maliciously watched you build yourself up. Your needy well-manicured fingertips rubbed your clit in so many ways. Never once did you stop, nor did you ask for permission. And for that, he wanted to make you suffer all that build-up all at once. Your breath hitched into a soft hiss. Your entrance is teased with a shallow thrust, Taking in the full girth of his tip.

"Impatient whore, you couldn't just wait, could you?" Johnny's hands roughly gripped your ass, spreading you open for his abuse. leaving no room for your squirming, you weren't going to run from it this time. His hips thrusted deep into your pussy with calculated precision. His tip ruthlessly hit the sensitive spot of your cervix. Your loud moan became a choked-out sob, as Johnny kept your head still in his desired position. He had the best view of your Sobbing face and quivering sweat-kissed body that couldn't handle the intensity of your sudden release. Numb your fingertips reached back meeting his rugged abs with a push, trying your best to request for a moment of pause. With a pathetic whimper, you began to beg "Please Johnny, i cant" Which was ignored. With a low demonic growl, his thrusts picked up a feral pace.

Johnny reveled in the symphony of cries, as your oppressed pussy gushed and squelched around him. "Damn!" He cursed Through a deep trembling snarl; his cruel discipline grew animalistic against your broken body. Letting go of your head, his chest firmly pressed against your back. Your hips began to tease back, pushing back in circular movements along his length. For once Johnny began to break a sweat, feeling the tight wet gummy ridges of cunt flutter around him.

In an attempt to stop your antics, his teeth sank into the soft cartilage of your ear. The blood-rendering bite brought a stabbing pain that shot down your spine, freezing your disobedient body still. His hips rocked you into a sensual wave, as he fucked his thick spill into you. overwhelmed your pussy struggled to take the weight of his cock and now his heavy load. He probably pulled his satisfied cock out of your thoroughly disciplined cunt."Still a defiant slut, we'll fix that later" Your head whipped around, eyes filled with yearning as you watched Johnny dress himself back up, his fingers combing his hair back into his signature style. He wore an amused smirked, while looking at your pitiful expression;

"Aww, too bad. Your hour's up kitten"

CHAPTER 2 END.

CHAPTER 3 PREVIEW:

"10-23, empty squad car located on the emergency lane. No sign of suspicious activity, looks like he left the car to move roadkill maybe."

The female officer looked around the empty highway, for any signs of blood or a wounded animal. With no luck, her eyes inspected the inside of the car.

" Uh, 10-13, I see what looks to be...sunflowers? left on the driver's seat?"

Refusing to foolishly taint any evidence, she took her pen and flipped over a card that simply read.

"Family First." Warning: upcoming chapter will be bloody (potential end) of the series.

PREVIEW END.

[writingsofwesteros]

May I please request Viserys x niece reader. Her being in labor and everyone just freaking out and being on edge but her dad and foster parents trying to be calm for her but also ready to snap viserys neck the second he says or does something stupid. Also them interact with with baby after and rhaenyra.

AN:Hi, I hope you like it x

Gods, you’d never known anything so painful, you thought to yourself as you tried to hold back the cries of pain. The fear you held for your pregnancy was tightening around you now as the birth came close. It didn’t help that Viserys was in the room and even as you had grown to care for him; love him even, you didn’t know if you trusted the King.

“Shh, you are doing amazing.” Rhaenys whispered into your ear as she brushed the locks of hair from your face. The words were a slight comfort as you tried to calm yourself down to ease the pain. Your husband stayed away from you as he watched from a distance. You wondered if he saw his first wife. 

Those thoughts haunted you more than the pain you were suffering right now as you grabbed at the sheets. Viserys could only watch and hate himself that he was reminded of such a familiar scene. He didn’t notice the eyes of his brother on him at all times. His body twitching and on edge. 

Any wrong move from his brother and Daemon would have his hand. He didn’t care if he was the King. All that mattered to Daemon was you and your safety. You would survive this, he would make sure of it. He had promised you throughout the pregnancy up until this very moment.

It was the only reason you were still sane right now as the tears began to easily fall down your cheek. The pain was extraordinary; you weren’t sure if you could ever go through this again. Not that you were sure Viserys would allow that. You fought against those thoughts as you concentrated on the present.

The very painful present, you might add. Not that your thoughts were clear anymore as you cried out. Your hands tightened on your foster mother’s hand as the midwives tried to sooth your cries. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears. It was all you could hear and your own screams.

Your eyes locked onto Viserys and his eyes softened for a moment as he watched the scene in front of him. You tried to take comfort from him but found that you couldn’t. You weren’t in any state to feel sadness for that. Not as another pain flooded through your body and you arched from the bed.

Your hands grabbed at the sheets around you as your heart seemingly wanted to jump from your chest. You turned away from the eyes in the room and burrowed into the pillow beside you with fear settling inside you. “Shh, it’s okay.” Rhaenys whispered into your ear and softly stroked your hair.

“Oh gods..” You bit into the pillow now and so desperately wanted to curl into a ball but you couldn’t. Your legs were spread apart without your desire as you whimpered. More tears falling from you. Daemon stepped forward as you cried out in pain even more. His heart is breaking at not being able to help you.

Viseryes eyes locked on his brother for a moment as he began to play with his rings to calm himself. Your whimpers of pain only echoed around the room some more as you hid into Rhaenys again. She kept you close as you softly began to pant out now. The pain is still coursing through you.

The moments that passed seemed to take eternity to fight through as you whimpered out even more. You pushed until you felt like you could hardly breathe. A moment later a new cry entered the room. You could hardly enjoy the moment as you tried to calm yourself from the traumatic event. 

You didn’t even hear the announcement that the baby was a boy as you burrowed your head into the pillow. “Y/N..” Daemon softly whispered as you panted into the pillow. The midwives checked you over before you could realise what was going on. “Hmm?” You hummed; slightly delirious for a moment.

Daemon gently cupped your face and watched you blink. You were finally coming around and all he could do was thank whatever gods had been looking down on you. Viserys came closer as you slowly moved to sit up. Your eyes easily found your king as he settled on the side of the bed. 

“He’s beautiful.” Viserys whispered and gently placed the now calmer babe into your hold. Daemon’s eyes watching the scene like a hawk. You smiled down as the little one reached to clutch at your hair. “He is.” You were still weak but you tried to bring comfort to the sleeping boy as best you could.

Viserys’s fingers gently moved into your hair and you moved your attention from the babe to your husband. “Can we be left alone?” The King ordered. Your eyes locked onto your father as he stared at you, waiting for you to dismiss him personally. You ducked your head with a nod for him to leave.

He softly smiled at you before leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. His eyes softened as he looked down at the sleeping babe. “You did well.” Your father praised you before stepping away. Rhaenys wrapped her arms carefully around you and whispered sweet nothings before leaving too.

The room slowly began to empty as the midwives checked you over once more. Viserys’ fingers continued to play with your hair until you were both alone. “I’m sorry.” The King whispered and you looked up at him from under those lashes of yours in confusion. “I’m sorry that I put you through this.” He whispered.

“Shh, it is my battle.” You slowly sat; the pain moved from you. You knew he was thinking of her and you couldn’t fault him for that. They had loved each other and who were you to deny him the mourning he hadn’t had. Viserys only smiled and kept you both close as peace came over you.

You didn’t realise you had fallen asleep. “He’s beautiful.” You heard the voice of Rhaenyra seemingly in your dreams and your face fell in confusion. “Is she well?” The Princess asked as you slowly began to wake up. “Yes, she did wonderfully.” Viserys praised you and your body shivered at the soft tone.

“You can hold him, if you want.” You whispered out when your eyes finally fluttered open. “Oh..” Rhaenyra locked eyes with you as a soft smile came over her face. “I would like that.” She whispered and gently plucked the babe from your arms. You missed the smile gracing Viserys’s face as he watched his family be completed.

[heartfullofleeches]

Oc-tober Day Seven – Cupid Au

Yandere Incubus – C.C

Word Count: 700

You stumble through the empty city streets – slightly buzzed and utterly done with the romance game. Tonight was the fifth date that month that bailed on you before the evening. No explanation, no apologies – just disappearing off the face of the earth and leaving you alone again on a Friday night. At this rate you suspected you’d never find a partner, and were slowly coming to terms with that cruel fate.

Taking a shortcut back to your place, you walk towards a park’s main gate. Bulb lights were wrapped around the trunk of each tree; a bench placed between every other one. The branches hung low – giving the area a sort of secluded feeling. The night was still young and the weather at the perfect degree where it was neither too hot nor too cold. The perfect place to take someone after a nice date. Your chest hurts.

You slump down by the fountain; arms cradling your head as you stare into the clear water. Fuck, this sucks. Are you really meant to be alone like this for the rest of your life? Why did everyone leave without giving reason? Were you so unlovable? You take a deep breath and just breathe. You can’t be thinking so negatively. No matter how much it hurts, someday you’ll find love. For now, you had the cherub statue reflecting in the water to keep you company. You’d head home, clean yourself up, and try again another day. 

“I can’t give up so easily. Someone’s got to like me enough to stay eventually.”

A single white feather floats across the still water.

“There already is….” 

A plethora of feathers fall around you as wings flap overhead. Turning to face the cause of the anomaly, you find a male standing behind you. Pearl color robes loosely fit his frame that stop just below his thighs, a garter belt baring a heart strapped to his left. Fluffy, light pink hair that reminds you of the statue behind you blocks you from making direct eye contact – but you can tell he’s looking at you. An arrow bag sits on his back, nestled between a pair of white, angelic wings that reach from his shoulders to lower torso. The tip of one drips with a red liquid. He twists the handle of the bow in hand, smiling shyly. 

“Uh, hi there. My name is CeeCee, your assigned Cupid Angel. It’s nice to meet you.” 

You stare at him for a moment, completely at a blank. You may not have been feeling the best that night, but you weren’t delirious. “huh?”

CeeCee stammers, wings growing stiff as he rambles. “I know this is the most appropriate way for me to make my presence known, or that I shouldn’t have at all – but I just had to meet you and apologize.” 

“Apologize for what?”

He continues to play with his bow. “For all the pain I’ve caused you. I accidentally shot your date with an arrow while they were looking at someone else… May not have been  very much of an “accident” since I’ve done it to all your past love interests.”

Your confusion skyrockets to anger. You stand up, teeth clenched. Even if this was a figure of your imagination you’d give him a piece of your mind. “You did what?” 

“I’m s-sorry! I really am, it’s just that… I like you too. I’m in you, in fact. It’s against protocol, but in the time I’ve spent watching you, I started to fall for you as well. None of those people were right for you… Soulmates are actually chosen by my kind, and since you don’t have one, I was hoping I could be yours?”

You look at this supposed angel, still fidgeting as he awaits your answer. His golden eye becomes visible through his bangs as he shies away from your gaze. They were gorgeous – like amber honey. There’s something behind his stare that you can’t read, but you're bewitched by their beauty. It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?

“Can we start with just a date?”

CeeCee instantly perks up. “Yea, totally! You won’t regret it, Y/n. I have to get myself ready, but I’ll come pick you up soon. Don’t worry, I already know where you live. I love you so much, I’ll see you soon.”

CeeCee extends his wings, flapping them a few times before shooting off into the sky. He couldn’t take you out on a date like this, especially with the sweat he worked up earlier. As a red soaked feather falls to the ground, you wonder if you made the right choice by accepting his offer. 

[urfavslav]

comfort4hurt/fluff babeyyyyy ... könig x gender neutral reader. readers callsign is selene because they watch the moon and talk about it a lot.

you hear a faint yet gentle hum, almost like the melody of a tune as you finally come back to your senses, autopilot wearing off. soon you notice the ache coming from your body.

you push around the area of the wound like a squishy toy, slightly delirious from the lack of sleep this mission demanded and adrenaline high fading.

When did I get injured?

you level your breathing, clumsily take out a mass of gauze from your vest to apply to your body in attempt to slow the bleeding.

Your mag is empty. Change it. Answer comms.

the comms go off again, informing you to meet up at the rendezvous point. you made your way. the team occasionally buzzing your earpiece to check on you every so often.

"Selene, How copy?"

you responded every so often with a; "Fine" or "Be there soon." the beloved callsign soon loosing all meaning with how often it rang in your ear.

your destination is just up ahead. a couple more steps. keep going then you can drop.

it was pretty dark, around 2200 hours and you had reached the building, already eerily quiet as you opened the door expecting someone awake, but no. there were small lights coming from another side rooms where you could only assume someone was still functioning.

after stalking around for something to drink you stumbled to the bathroom, stripping of your gear and boots.

heavy steps could be heard meandering around but you ignored the sound, keeping focus on your task at hand. cleaning your face and wound as the steps got closer and closer till they stopped.

you shot up at the voice from behind the door, the vial of vodka you were going to use to disinfect your injury now in bits and pieces on the tile.

"Selene?" it was könig.

"Shit," you whisper, no energy in your tank to deal with the glass on the ground. "come in.."

the masked austrian carefully steps in. no emotion is visible yet you can practically feel the worry as he sits down and looks at your almost clean face asking your permission to assist. "May I?"

he points at your messy excuse of a bandage. you nod and könig reaches for the first aid kit he left outside the door just in case. "When did you arrive?"

rough fingers slowly peel back the gauze as you turn your head to the teeny window in the washroom, "Not long". He ignored how your answer didn't fully make sense but he understood, giving you a curt nod.

the gash wasn't deadly but it wasn't shallow, you were glad it was who it was taking care of you right now. königs hands were huge ─big enough to cover yours if they were formed in a fist─ but he was cautious with them.

making sure that he didn't graze your injury or press to firmly when he applied a disinfectant. hell, you even told him to pull the medical tape tighter when he was placing it over the fresh gauze, weary of causing you any discomfort.

the full moon is in blossom, just in the window's view tons of thousands of stars shine over you. at this you perked up, a small grin appearing on your lips.

"Hey König, full moon." he tore his eyes away from your torso to see your lovely features attending to the moon's glow, full of glee. it was contagious, he smiled to himself.

"Yeah," he trails off, his light blueish green eyes focused on your face rather then the afore mentioned object of your attention. god, he wished you gazed at him like that, like nothing else mattered. like, he was all that mattered. "The chopper comes tomorrow morning, 0600 hours sharp. you should get some rest."

he returns to professionalism as he packs up the first aid and stands up, "G'night König," you pause, sleep overcoming your senses, but you push a kind smile to appear. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it, rest well." and he walks off to the room he was in, vanishing in the shadows of the abandoned building as you gather your remaining strength to go sit in the open 'living' room succumbing to heavy eyelids and a big yawn.

★ all works belong to @urfavslav , do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. thank you !

[riddle-me-ri]

A/N: hey hi hello, sooo I still think about Love and Suds at least once a day and I have an itch to keep writing for it. Idk if it'll be like a long fic or anything but more like a collection of various one offs pertaining to a reader who loves Jervis and cause of that in turn tries to save him from going back to his old ways. 

However, you don’t necessarily have to read Love and Suds to read this scenario, but it may help provide context to the nature of reader and Hatter’s relationship. 

Also, also I did not mean to post two Hatter fics in a row, I just really needed to get this dialogue chain out of my brain lmao

Trigger Warnings: slight angst, so hurt/comfort?, arguing, references to Jervis’ crimes, Batman being Batman (I really tried with him and like his weird stern way of showing concern?). That’s about it.

Word Count: 2.4 k (...oops)

“I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it.” - Alice, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

It was pitiful really.

As Jervis was checking himself over in the bathroom mirror…he found himself echoing the mental health checklist they often asked in the asylum. 

“How are you Tetch?” 

Good for once it’d seem. 

“Where are you right now?” 

Gotham, unfortunately. 

“In the past two weeks have you thought of hurting yourself or others?”

No…actually.

“On a scale of 1 to 10…how are you feeling?” 

For once the answer would actually be higher than 5 and he actually means it. He wasn’t being delirious or perpetually thrusting himself in a fantasy to make him happy. 

He actually had something…someone rather that made reality worth being in. 

Jervis scrunched up his nose and furrowed his eyebrows. Debating…dictating. 

Should…should I wear my hat?

It didn’t have any mechanisms or circuitry along the inside, like he initially planned for his newest hat when the rest were confiscated. 

Jervis glanced back in the mirror for another glance. His hair was combed and not greasy, he was able to part it neatly and his bangs didn’t cascade down past his forehead and were less spiky and erratic looking. 

Darting his eyes back to his hat in his gloved hands…he bit his lip. This shouldn’t be as difficult as it was. He knew what the hat stood for, what it-it can represent. As many terrible things it was tied to…the formal headgear gave him confidence. It made him stand taller, walk with his shoulders back. 

It would be nice…to be confident without it…

Inhaling, before he exhaled deeply. 

Would you be proud of him if he didn’t wear it? 

The night was for you after all. 

It had been a couple weeks since you swooped back into his life and pulled him from one of his darkest moments yet. You stayed with him by his side for a week, until…your reality set in and you had to go to work but you were always close by and he got to hear your voice every day. 

As a thank you, Jervis offered to take you out to dinner. While at first you implored the thanks wasn’t necessary, ultimately you couldn’t deny the opportunity to spend time with him. 

He began tracing the rim of his hat in thought. Perhaps he could bring it along and ask for your opinion when he saw you. You were always forthcoming and genuine with him. One of the many things he adored about you. 

Jervis held the hat in his hands, still fiddling with the rim as he took a taxi to your apartment. The taxi driver didn’t seem to fidget or notice a high profile villain was in his backseat…

For all the nerves bundling and firing in his veins from anxiety…he also couldn’t deny the elation he felt at the prospect of finally seeing you again. 

Jervis stood in front of your door, a fresh bouquet nestled in his hand. He rocked his knuckles along your door. 

His blood ran cold when the pressure from the knock caused your door to open slightly. 

Did you forget to lock it? Was it broken? Should he go in? 

You–You knew him better…you knew he wouldn’t break into your apartment for no reason other than to ensure your safety. 

He softly pushed the door open more as he snuck in. 

Should he sneak? 

He called out your name as he crossed the threshold of your door. When he turned on his heel to close the door back, he noticed the broken lock mechanism on your door. He felt himself gritting his teeth. 

No doubt you put in a complaint and they’ve gone ignored…this city couldn’t careless if anything happened to you. He would, he cares, he cares more about you than any wretched being in this shallow city–

“I told you to leave! He’s not doing anything wrong or going to do anything!” 

“You can’t be sure…”

“I am sure. Because I am here now!”

Jervis’ ears perked up at your voice. The other one was too muffled for him to make out. 

Oh, he shouldn’t eavesdrop. That…that was rude. Agh, be polite or be curious…

He at least wanted to know who the other person was. 

Jervis noticed a small streak of the moonlight cascading down the hallway. That was likely your bedroom at the end of the short hallway. Jervis slowly crept down the hallway. He once again softly pushed the door open a little more to have one eye visible to the events unfolding. 

“Jervis Tetch is an extremely deluded individual. He–he is dangerous.”

“Not to me! He hasn’t nor will he ever hurt me! Because I care about him, unlike you and unlike those doctors at Arkham! None of you cared! You just want another punching bag and the doctors want to be able to control the minds’ of their patients. Nothing more!”

Batman? Batman! W-what was he doing here? To discuss him with you? And why did it seem like you two have had this conversation before? 

Batman sighed as he jumped down from the metal railing and properly onto your balcony. You were sitting on the side of your bed looking up at the dark figure.

“I can’t…I can’t ask for you to watch over him. He’s too chaotic and you have your own life to live–” 

You stood up in fury. “Don’t–Don’t! Don’t get chivalrous with me oh, Dark Knight! I know what I’m getting into.”

“Do you? Have you seen his case files? Seen the images of the countless women he-”

“I’m not oblivious to his crimes, Bat. You don’t have to remind me.” You put your hands up to your hips. “I–I know what he’s done. It’s horrible, but it could’ve been prevented…It can be prevented.” You began rocking side to side, contemplating. 

“Tetch was a brilliant man. He could have done amazing things and accomplished great feats. But I’m afraid he’s passed that…and I don’t want you to blame yourself for not being there for him to prevent his crimes–”

“Stop…”

“I don’t want you to blame yourself, and now assign yourself as his guardian…you may know him but so do I-”

“No! No you don’t! If you knew him so well you wouldn’t have constantly called me to findout more about him! You came to me because you knew I knew him better. If you knew him, detective, you would know more than anything he needs help!” You argued. 

Your fists were clenched and held against your chest. Your body shuddered as you fought back tears. Not wanting to show any vulnerability to the Dark Knight. 

“He needs help…actual help, from someone that cares about him. That knows him for more than his criminal history…”

You saw Batman begin to open his mouth but you cut him off. “I know what Jervis did, Batman. I’m not naive. You don’t have to guilt trip me or shame me, it’s not going to work.” 

"If you know what he's done, you know what he's capable of. What happens when your own reality calls for you to…have to leave Gotham, again? You can't always be there for Jervis. I agree he needs help, but help that's much bigger than you…"

"Oh, you mean like you?" You snarled. "Someone who beats him up, throws him around, and locks him up in an asylum that wouldn't do any better! You don't care about him…not like that Catwoman or better yet your precious clown." 

Batman furrowed his brows. "You don't know what you're talking about. You're confused." 

You shake your head defiantly, "Bullshit! You give that clown chances after chances, expecting a change…he's done terrible things too Batman. He's killed men, women, children. Husband's, wives, sons, duaghters…" 

"Enough." Batman snapped. "This isn't about me. It's about you and Tetch. I'm trying to help you."

"You sure have a funny way of helping…" You sniffled, the tears slowly pouring from your eye ducts, no matter how hard you tried to push them down. "I-I-I I know I left when he needed me most…I regret it every day…I-I had no choice.." 

Once Jervis heard your voice crackling from your tears and whimpers, it was like he snapped out of the trance he was in. 

He heard every word. Every single word. Jervis didn't appreciate Batman's input a single bit…even if deep down Jervis knew the Caped Crusader had a point. 

"That's enough!" Jervis intervened. 

You felt his familiar glove hands rest on your shoulders, giving you a comforting squeeze. 

You almost jumped out of your skin at his voice and presence.

"Jervis! Oh my god, where…how…when-when did you–?" 

He squeezed your shoulders again. "It's all right, darling. Don't worry, I understand."

"Let them be, Jervis." Batman took a step closer to you two. 

"Don't take another step, Dark Knight!" Jervis stood in front of you now. "I think you've upset them quite enough! I think it's best you make haste to whatever damp dark cave you call home!" 

Your eyes widened as you saw Jervis began walking towards Batman almost going toe to toe with him. 

"Jervis! Its-its–" 

Batman didn't move as Jervis invaded his personal space. He was studying him, looking for any possible signs of the eccentric deluded man he's come to know. 

There wasn't any. His irises were normal, his blood pressure was…normal even considering his angered state, he wasn't rhyming or chortling…and he didn't have his hat. 

Batman began walking backwards away from Tetch and back on to the balcony. 

"Here's some good advice," he looked over Jervis' shoulder and towards you. "I know you care about him, it's admirable. But you can't do it alone. Best to get out while you can before you're in too deep." 

With that he jumped up on the railing and began gliding through the brisk Gotham night air. 

Jervis growled in annoyance as he slammed the door to your balcony shut. 

"Rude. Positively rude! Breaking and entering! Harassing and interrogating an unsuspecting individual! Why I dare–" 

His enraged ramblings were brought to a halt when he heard your sniffling.

Jervis rushed back towards you. He got down on his knees in front of you. He quickly placed your hands in his and squeezed them as he looked up at you sitting on your bed. Tears flowing like a precious stone fountain. 

"Shh…it's okay. I-I…I apologize for listening in…I just…never knew…" 

You shook your head. "No, no I should apologize. I should've told you, but I didn't want you to think that I was siding with him or anything. What you saw was the norm. He comes storming in and asking questions and telling me what I should and shouldn't do with no regards for my actual thoughts and feelings…" 

You squeezed his hands again. "I…I also want to apologize for leaving Gotham! I didn't want to Jervis! It was the hardest thing I ever had to do!" You cried as more guilt driven tears began glowing. You had no choice, you couldn’t find a job pertaining to your field, nor find a part time job that could afford you a room and board in Gotham. 

He tried to shush you, bringing his hands up to run your shoulders and gently rock you back and forth. "Darling, darling, please it's all right. You're here now! You were there for me when I needed you most!" 

You gulped down a breath. "B-But I couldn't…I didn't-" 

"No one could have, if anything I'm…I'm glad you weren't here for all of that." 

Jervis brought himself up from off his haunches to embrace you. You rested your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

After a moment filled with your soft whimpers. You tightened your grip on him as his hand rubbed your back up and down. 

"I meant what I said…" You croaked in his ear. "I-I do care about you Jervis, I want to help you and be here for you." 

He smiled warmly. "I know you did…I must admit it's very rare to see someone defending me.." he pulled away from the embrace to look at you. 

"But I couldn't imagine a better person to have in my corner." He brought his hand up to cup the side of your face and you happily clasped it with your own hand. 

"I'm not going anywhere…despite Batman's advice…" You muttered in disapproval. 

"I know, and I assure you…it won't be in vain. I'll do whatever it takes."

You smiled softly. You closed your eyes as you leaned your head into his hand. Relieved in the peace that wafted over the hostile air in the room when Batman was there. 

You knew what Jervis was capable of, but you were even more aware of his potential to be a better person. 

You opened your eyes slowly too look into his bright eyes that crinkled from his own smile. 

Then you noticed something was slightly off. "Jervy?" 

Jervis giggled, adoring the nickname. "Yes, my dear?" 

"Where's your hat?" 

His eyes widened. Instinctively his hands reached up to his head only to notice what you said was true. He recalled having it in his hand when he arrived. Had he truly set it down somewhere? In his worrisome state for your safety?

"Oh, um…I brought it with me…where?” 

The both of you looked frantically about the room. 

“Here it is!” You opened the door from your room and saw it…surprisingly on the floor. 

You picked it up gently and softly brushed off some dust from the hardwood floor. “I’m surprised you weren’t wearing it.” 

You handed the hat back to Jervis, but he hesitated. 

“Do-do you think I should? I-I mean wear it that is…” 

Your eyes widened. Something really was stirring in his mind if he doubted putting his hat back on. If anyone knew anything about Jervis it was just how precious his hat was to him. 

You glanced down at the headgear and back to Jervis. He was swaying side to side with his head hung low, he stared at the ground.  

You walked over to him, lifted his chin up by the tips of your fingers, and gently placed the top hat on his head. 

“Here’s some even better advice…Just because you’re changing doesn’t mean your wardrobe has to.” You giggled. “Besides, I absolutely adore your hats…they make you look that much more handsome.” 

Jervis couldn’t contain his giddy smile anymore as he chuckled softly. He did feel better with it on, or perhaps he just felt better overall in your presence. 

Who needs good advice from someone who doesn’t know you? When you have someone that knows so much and cares so much more instead.

[gizm0-gadgetz]

Epilouge Au- Chapter 4

Been a while whoops. Kinda short sorry

Allens awake now, and they need to talk. After he comes to terms with being awake again

Time felt so slow as they sat in the waiting room. Lucas was drumming against his legs while Desmond just sat there, thinking. There was so much that had happened he didn't know what to think. After hour of agonizing silence, one of the nurses finally came out. 

    "You may come in and see him. Please note he's only just awoken, so he's likely delirious. Do not be surprised if he starts spouting nonsense." Desmond couldn't help but roll his eyes as he watched the nurse leave. Lucas had already gotten up and started toward the room, he stopped outside the door. 

   "You should probably go inside first. He knows you, but I don't think we know each other." Desmond nodded and stepped inside first. 

   Allen was sat up, well more accurately propped up against a stack of pillows. He seemed focused on the IV coming out of his hand. Desmond wasn't quite sure how to break the silence. Thankfully lucas did. He knocked against the door frame, startling allen. He stared at Lucas, confused before his eyes drifted to Desmond stood next to the man. 

    "Doc! Mr wales! You!" Allen seemed to stumble over his words a bit, not that it surprised Desmond. The guy had just woken up. "You've come to visit me..! So thoughtful… How ya doing man?" Desmond couldn't help but smile a little at his attitude. He didn't seem too different then before the accident.  

   "I'm doing alright… Thank you for asking." He nodded and sat down on one of the waiting chairs near the bed. "What about yourself? How are you feeling?" 

   "Like I just woke up from the worst nightmare in my life…" He shuddered. "Like I've had some bad nightmares but man… This was bad." Allen's eyes drifted toward Lucas again, fidgeting with the IV tube coming out of his hand. Desmond wasn't sure if he was just avoiding eye contact or saw something. "...glad you're doing good doc…it's good. Very good." He nodded but Desmond could tell he wasn't quite focused. 

    "Are you alright Allen?" 

     "Huh? Oh yeah I'm fine…" Allen faces Desmond again. "Fine as I can be… after...all that." His eyes drifted away once again. It was quite obvious that he was on edge. "Real weird question here doc," he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Is there a man over there?" He gestured toward the door where Lucas awkwardly stood. 

   "Hm? Oh! Yes. Yes there is- Lucas!" Desmond looked over to the veteran, who clearly had been lost in thought as he startled upon hearing his name. He could see Allen startle too, though he wasn't quite sure why. "Thats Lucas. Hes…" Desmond trailed off, not quite sure how to describe it.  

   "Hoping to help fix this mess…" Lucas spoke much softer than before. "Lucas Cole." He did a mini salute. "Nice to properly meet you." He wasn't sure what else to say, what was there to say? He didn't want to scare the guy. "Desmond insisted we come and check on you.." He shrugged, leaning against the wall. 

   "Right..uhm… Right." Allen shook as he took a few deep breaths. "Hello.. Lu..Lucas…" He quickly turned to look at Desmond again. "I didn't realize he was actually there- this..this can't be good man. I..i.. Ya can't just trust these guys.." Allen was clearly struggling to process his thoughts, constantly glancing at Lucas quickly. "You just can't…" He moved to fidget with his hair, stopping upon realizing it wasn't as long as usual. "Oh no..thats not right either…" His hands started to shake more as he tried to focus on his breathing. 

   "Its alright, I promise-" Desmond tried to calm the younger man but he was interrupted. 

   "Yes! Yes… yes… it's fine. Alright. Everythings fine and dandy and there's nothing to be worrying about...heh…" He smiled weakly at Lucas. "Just an accident after all… just an accident… heh…" He knew it wasn't very convincing but he hoped the gentleman in the corner wouldn't push. "Y'know..accidents happen all the time… just a normal guy..in the wrong place…" 

   "Allen," Desmond's tone was soft but firm as he slowly took the other's hand. "Deep breaths. You know this trick. In and out." 

   "Trick…?" He blinked a few times staring at Desmond's hand. "Oh! Yes… This trick. In…." He took a deep but shaky breath in, "and out…" He slowly stopped shaking, closing his eyes momentarily. "In and out. Focus on what's real." He ran his other hand across the fabric of the bed. They all just waited in silence as he slowly came to grip with reality again. "Sorry.." 

   "I told you allen, you dont need to be sorry. Its fine."  

   "Thanks doc." He smiled a bit, genuine this time. "...why did you come visit me..? Did you know id wake up?" 

  "No… No i did not. I just…" Desmond trailed off, trying to figure out how to explain it. "I just hoped you'd be up." He shook his head. "Thats not the focus. I have some stuff i need to explain… To both of you." His tone changed, it was time to get serious. 

   "Both of us..? What does...Lucas have to do with me?" Allen was confused more than anything else. 

   "You'll understand in a second… Just...let me explain." Desmond took a deep breath and began explaining the journey he had been on.

[femmefeedist]

That Gretel and the witch ask gave me an idea:

What if you take that RP scenario, but your gf gets to stuff you first. I mean, she was just captured by a scary (but strangely cute) little witch after all, so it stands to reason she'd try to plot a clever escape, right?

So, she plays into your seductive sweetness, something about staying in your care, getting delightfully plump on delicious treats till she's too heavy to leave, "delicious enough to eat". All too eager to agree just for the hopes of catching you off-guard, but a deal nonetheless. You grin with satisfaction and just as you turn your back to start piling home-baked pastries onto a plate, she makes her move, pushing you onto the nearby chair, planting herself on your lap, and shoving a pastry into your surprised mouth before you can even utter a grievance

You try to push her off you, but between the weight of her pleasantly chubby figure pressing down on you and the constant flow of delicious treats passing through your lips and dancing on your taste buds, you find it more than a little difficult to resist. The curse of being a good cook, right? It's not long before you resign yourself to the situation, getting lost in a haze of chewing, swallowing, and groaning as you feel your own pudgy potbelly begin to bloat outwards against the snug confines of your dress

By the time she finally stops cramming sweets down your throat, you feel like you're ready to pop, you look like it too. Your belly having ballooned into what can only be described as an overstuffed gut, so distended and swollen that it's completely filled the distance between your two midsections. It may have only been a few inches, but it might as well be a few feet with how unbelievably full she's stuffed you. You realize your belly has grown so large that you can actually feel it brushing against hers as she begins to shift on top of you. If you weren't so deliriously full, you might've remembered to blush, but the thought is quickly tossed aside as she rises to her feet and turns towards the door

With what little sense you still have, you grab her wrist, her hastiness surprisingly being enough to drag you off the chair and send you both tumbling to the floor. You conveniently land right on top of her, groaning heavily from the impact's effect on your poor, bloated gut, but quickly realizing your turn of luck after taking a moment to regain your bearings. She's beneath you now, trapped firmly under your newfound girth, a prison of her own making. Even her arms wound up perfectly wedged between the softness of her sides and your thighs, you can't help but smirk and laugh to yourself as she cutely squirms and wiggles in a vain attempt to free herself. You probably weight just as much as she does now...don't you?

You reach up towards the table and snag another plate, shoving an particularly large pastry right between her lips, eliciting a small whimper as she meets your eyes. You lean in closer, not even trying to hide your sultry smugness, "you know, I was going to play nice, but...since you decided to do this..." you give your gut a small smack, pausing slightly to stifle a groan, "I think it's only fair that I feed you twice as much as I just ate. I mean, you wouldn't go back on our little deal now, would you?" Despite the uncertainty in her eyes, you can't help but notice a small blush betraying them and spreading across her puffed-up, treat-filled cheeks

You lean in closer still, enough that you can feel the resistance of your taut gut compressing against her plump mound of dough. You grab another pastry, press it gently against her lips and stop, her eyes rapidly shifting between your hungry gaze and the inevitability of her next bite. You can only imagine the flurry of thoughts racing through her pretty little head before she locks eyes again. Her head bobs slightly as you hear an audible 'gulp', followed immediately by a hungry gasp that allows you to press the pending pastry firmly between her open lips, her rosy cheeks deepening a few shades at your next words...

"Good girl~"

---

Not sure what your budget is for in-home feeding sessions, but uh, shouldn't be more than a few bucks for all the necessary set dressing, right? If you don't end up making it a reality, hopefully you both at least enjoyed the read and end up a little fatter from it in some way, lmao

The entire time I read this all I wanted to do was go fuck my girlfriend so I may or may not have even finished reading this before I got incredibly horny for her 🥵 Even if I'm not personally into this specific type of roleplay I WILL dress up all witchy and feed her - we've already decided 🔥

[ronanceisintheair]

@el-fandom-birb this is lovely and Robin totally would. But let me raise you this absolute daredevil!Robin move:

Robin who's slightly delirious--battered and beaten. Some blood loss--they've gotten into the routine of going to Nancy's place to get patched up.(totally as just friends/acquaintances that sometimes team up no need to look into why they keep finding ways back to her.)

But then they remembered; oh shit Nance said I needed to stop showing up like this!

So here's daredevil!Robin, fully suited up still, stumbling into some cozy little family owned pizzeria--only after already stumbling into some small convenient store--obviously they've seen better days, but the owner doesn't have time for this(they know what happens when you get too mixed up/curious in superheros business).

So now Robin totally solved that problem right? They're not showing up empty handed. Incorrect.

"I have a door." Nancy looks only slightly amused seeing Robin sitting on the fire escape, leaning against the wall hands full.

"But do you have company?" Robin asks pointedly.

"I guess I do now." Nancy can't tell that Robin's on the verge of passing out; now that they're crouching it hides most of the injuries. "And you brought pizza?"

Robin let's out a noise, "and I may or may not have met the bed end of a sharp objects... so please let me in or you'll be dragging in my unconscious body."

"May or may not?!"

[msfbgraves]

((and Terry doesn't even know he's gambling with his heart.)) And he lost big time and soon enough lmao. Tsk tsk, oh Terry. Once he had Daniel, there was no way he could ever let him go. Not that Daniel minded, luckily enough…;3 These two fools, I swear! ♥️

Today isn't about him, grazie a Dio, and yet he feels he's been catapulted back in time. There's not even a pup to anchor him to his life, he feels like he's not in it – as if, by some divine grace, he's been given a do-over.

And yet there's still Terry.

He feels exactly the same about him: torn between desire and fear, sadness and hope. Did he know, then, who he was being given to? Has he always known?

He tries, he tries so hard, as always, for everyone's sake, but he can't forget the cold, dead look in his mate's eyes when he took him.

It's a look he's known longer than Terry – he has seen it in his father, his sister, his uncles, his brother, and he's believed them when they said: “That's not for you.” Never for you.

Until it is.

And yet.

Look at his brother, look how he holds his bride. So serious, so determined to show her that he's worthy. Trying to make himself tall in the procession. It's not much, what the Vitellis have, and yet it's everything for Mike, Daniel can see that. He's proud of Mikey, and his wife, too, Apollonia – she's serious on her first day as a woman, for that is how she'll see it.

Does she know what they are? Does she care?

He's with the other omegas first, of course, and with Nessa to welcome Apollonia into their circle, for he'll have a new sister from today. But then, his place is with Terry, inescapable as gravity.

He loves him. He knows it. He tries –

But at the touch of his hand, his smell, everything inside him freezes up. He tries not to let it. He tries –

For a man with no forgiveness in heart, living even worse punishment than death.

Kumiko. And that line is not even hers, he knows it; she told him it's by her uncle, Miya – something, and he vaguely remembers wanting to meet him one day. Another pipe dream. Still, he can hear her if she's sitting next to him.

Help me, he prays then. God, help me.

Suddenly his mate stirs. “Wait here,” he says, softly, then goes over to say something to Nessa. She looks confused, but walks to the musicians, who disappear into Vitelli's café, and, after a lot of noise, emerge carrying a slightly battered piano. They place it, as instructed, apparently, right in the middle of the circle of chairs, about a foot from where the couple are sitting.

Terry grins, then walks to Michael. “Miguele. Traduci per me.”

That's more Italian that he's ever uttered, and now Daniel walks to the front. “Terry, I can -”

“Sh.” It's not unkind. “Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart.”

Terry knows Michael's Italian isn't flawless. Nessa, now, she's fluent in six dialects, something which she's quite obviously trying to communicate.

Daniel shakes his head, laughing in spite of himself. These two! Mercifully perhaps, Terry keeps it brief.

“Dear brother,” he says, with a mocking bow to Michael, “sweet sister,” that's Apollonia, already offended on Michael's behalf. “I have a wish for you. May you ever feel like this.” He swallows, sits down at the piano and now looks straight at him.

“So in love.”

It's different on a grand piano, but Daniel recognises the melody in an instant.

New, to him, are the words.

Strange dear

But true, dear

When I'm close to you, dear

The stars fill the sky

So in love with you am I

Even without you

My arms fold about you

You know, darling, why

So in love with you, am I

He tries to look at him, but Terry seems gone into a universe all his own.

In love with the night mysterious

The night when you first were there

In love with my joy, delirious

when I knew that you could care

Now their gazes do meet. And Daniel's back, on his wedding night, close to his mate of a few hours, with all those feelings that then they didn't speak. The passion in Terry's voice, it makes him fear, for the very first time:

Did they miss their chance?

Can they go back?

...What if they can't?

A chord fades, then, and Terry closes his eyes, his face a rictus of pain:

So taunt me

And hurt me

Deceive me, desert me

I am yours till I die!

So in love

So in love

So in love, with you, my love

He stops, and neither of them breathe.

Then Terry looks down.

Am I

He didn't think he had any tears left in him. But never were they tears of fear or regret, not for their love, and when his mate embraces him, he feels gratitude, and darkness, too, but now, at least, it comes with words:

“You're a bastard.”

"I know." A kiss. "I know.”

“You don't deserve me.”

“I know – ”

His voice breaks. “You've really hurt me!”

“I know, I'm sorry, love, I'm so sorry...” His mate holds him through sobs so strong he's nearly puking with tears. “Daniel, I'm so sorry,” he hears again, “for everything I've done. All of it, Daniel, I'm so sorry -”

He kisses him then, and it must be disgusting but it serves him right, and when someone is calling “Viva gli sposi” it feels like it's at least partly for them this time.

“I love you,” he whispers, completely exhausted, and in response, his mate tenderly grazes his bitemark with his lips. Daniel feels warmth, a gush of blood, a small cramp – Terry's whole body stiffens –

“Oh...”

He doesn't think anybody has ever held him this tightly. “Get. A. Car!” Terry calls, but there's a gleeful uproar; as one, the guests are herding them towards the nearest house, which, to Daniel's horror, seems to be the Vitelli café. He tries to protest, but Vitelli seems to be shaking his head, a blessing on the wedding, and indeed there are a couple of guest rooms upstairs. At the very least, they're herded to the one furthest from the square.

“Oh, God, they'll hear,” Daniel says as his mate is stripping away his suit under loud whistling outside.

“Oh, yeah,” Terry grins. “Let's show them how it's done.”

“Bastard,” Daniel says, again. “I'll never live this down.”

“Hmm,” Terry says. “Better make it count then, huh?”

[marley-manson]

hunnihawk leader follower and/or meta shit lol if you're still doing the wip game

Thank you! Yeah I'll always answer ask meme prompts as long as people want to send them, idc how long it's been.

I'll give you everything I have written for the first one, which is:

AU where instead of Carrie Donovan BJ cheats with a man and Hawkeye finds out. BJ has a crisis, and Hawkeye straight up takes advantage. Instead of encouraging BJ to stick with his wife, he encourages BJ to explore those feelings and consider that he may not be happy in a heterosexual marriage etc etc and makes out with him.

Basically the idea is a fic that leans into Hawkeye's force of personality and tendency to take charge and pursue what he wants vs BJ's paggro resentment of it even as he goes along with him. Plus I think the fact that Hawkeye once canonically tried to cajole someone into leaving their spouse for him, and was perfectly fine being ~the other man~ to Margaret, should get more attention lol. Like, if the circumstances were different with BJ, as in he's not straight and Hawkeye realizes it, I could see him going all out in pursuit of an affair, and I’d love to see that explored. So like, it would basically be Hawkeye convincing himself that it’s in BJ’s best interests to fuck him because that’s what he wants, and BJ going along with it because that’s also what he wants but being wracked with guilt at the same time and sort of letting himself be led because then he can put more of the blame on Hawkeye rather than himself for not either divorcing Peg or putting his foot down and not cheating.

***

meta shit is probably the fic I’m most likely to finish and post next, since I actually wrote it all the way through to the end and now I just have to edit it. And figure out a title lol. But basically Hawkeye gets insomnia again circa like season 9 or 10 and in his half delirious state notices the tone differences between the early seasons and the late seasons and tries to investigate them. It’s not full like, Hawkeye realizes he’s in a tv show style meta, more just a vehicle to self-indulgently explore some of my own takes on the show and Hawkeye.

Hawkeye squinted at him. His eyes were taking a while to adjust to the dim interior after coming in out of the light. “Why aren’t you in a dress?” he asked.

“I don’t wear ‘em anymore. Are you feeling all right?” Great, now Klinger was clucking over him. 

“I’m fine, but green isn’t your color.” 

“I was always partial to yellow, personally. But you’re a few months out of date for that, Captain.”

That word hit him like a mild electric shock. “Hey, hey, look - why do you call me that?”

“Huh?”

“That, that, ‘sir,’ ‘Captain,’ all that. Seeing as how you-you-you hate it here so much.” His brain was sliding out of his ears but his body had more than enough energy and drive, so he started pacing.

“Gimme a break, here, Captain - Hawkeye. I had to be a model citizen to get out on a section eight. You know that. Please don’t walk on my bed.” 

He diverted his route slightly for the next lap. “You don’t anymore.”

“Yeah, well, old habits die hard. When in Rome, you know.” Klinger said it with fake cheerfulness. Hawkeye had infinite reserves right now and he still couldn’t help but wonder where he got the energy to dive into every pointless little task and gesture with a smile and a crisp salute. 

He spun around and walked backwards for a few paces to look at Klinger. “Don’t you think it’s demeaning?”

“I’m pretty used to it.”

“Guess you can get used to anything eventually.” A sudden rush of vertigo hit him so he sat down on the bed when he got back to it, needing to ground himself on something for a minute. Klinger was at his side in an instant. Maybe he’d wavered a little as he sat down.

“You don’t seem drunk,” Klinger said, “but you’re definitely something. You stay right there, I’ll get the Colonel.”

“I’m not sick, I’m just not tired either.” He rested his forehead in his hands, palms pressed against his eye sockets and elbows braced on his knees. 

Klinger didn’t run to find Potter; he sat on the bed next to him. “When’s the last time you slept?” he asked. 

“Two days ago.” He rubbed his eyes and opened them again.

Klinger whistled. “Want me to whack you around the head with a two-by-four?”

“Let’s give it another day before we resort to that.”