#i should have not coloured it then it would have stayed a joke

[saltysaltdog]

Posting this by itself too because I spent too long drawing this joke it so it's no longer just for the bit.

Ratau and Kallamar now have a very deep and checkered past. Based off the fact Kallamar actually remembers his name.

[katakaluptastrophy]

I think what's so interesting about Gideon as a narrator at the anniversary dinner is the fact that there's clearly tensions that she's just not picking up on because she's only there to eat a dessert.

But these people are all the immensely powerful leaders of the Houses and consider themselves to be in competition for literal godlike powers and the favour of the emperor.

There's so many little snippets that are potentially intriguing: why is Teacher trying to prime the Ninth to consider the Fifth a threat? Why are the Third and the Sixth "sizing each other up like prizefighters"? The Fifth absolutely knew what they were doing when they sat the teen heads of the opposing cults near each other.

Through Gideon's lens, Magnus' speech is a little awkward jokey thing. But...the seneschal of the House that is known to be actively trying to absorb another House is saying it's such a shame they're all so remote from each other and what do they all have in common (and it's so quiet you "could have heard a hair flutter to the floor") - that had to feel a bit different to people who aren't Gideon.

Palamedes' is dissecting the meaning of "Master Warden" and at one point compares it to a prison warden. 'Dulcinea' asking about whether Magnus and Abigail have children is perhaps less small talk and rather more pointedly political. Harrow's apparently stilted conversation with Protesilaus is clearly her actually probing his limitations like he's a bad Chat GPT-run chatbot.

And then 'Dulcinea' tells Gideon she liked the dinner because it was "useful". In her typical "I never lied to you" way, Cyth wasn't lying when she said Abigail had to die because of her hobby - Abigail Pent let loose on the Facility would have risked blowing Cyth's cover sky high. But what does a Canaan House look like where after the dinner party, the Fifth go down to the facility, get a key, and survive to continue their 'the Houses are going to get along or else' agenda? We've seen Fifth House soft power on a smaller scale in HTN: and it looks like inviting a teenager round for coffee, lulling her into a false sense of security with small talk, and then physically preventing her from leaving the room until she does what you want, while smiling the entire time. A series of little coffee chats could probably have led to a lot of cooperation in Canaan House, one way or another.

Gideon jokes about Silas marrying Ianthe because of their similar colour pallete, but it does raise the fact that there seems to be some tension around the Third, its succession, and the *point* of Ianthe. Why is Silas openly saying Ianthe should have died at birth? Combined with Judith's comments in the Cohort Intelligence Files about succession on the Third, it feels like there's something else being said here that Gideon isn't picking up on.

And of course, Harrow wasn't the only one desperate to become a Lyctor because her con was unsustainable. Presumably at some point Corona and Ianthe would be expected to marry, or at least take on more separate roles as Corona prepared to take over the throne and Ianthe was funneled off elsewhere. At some point, their package deal would have become unsustainable and Corona's cover would have been blown. But much as Harrow wants to become a Lyctor so she can reveal the state of the Ninth without repercussions, Ianthe is probably in part motivated to become a Lyctor for the same reason. Because otherwise, what would Ianthe's expected role have been? Amidst the suggestion of anxiety about the Idan succession, the dinner party also presents the fact that the reason Abigail and Magnus' infertility isn't a succession crisis for the ruling family of the Fifth is that Abigail's younger brother dutifully married in his early 20s and had kids. We know there are branch families in Ida - Babs is from one. He may be a prince, but he's not treated well, and you do get the sense that the stakes to stay in power in Ida are high.

We don't learn anything about the political situation in the Houses themselves during HTN or NTN, but in the wake of Canaan House, you have to suspect there are a number of tensions and concerns.

[augustinewrites]

it’s been…a while since you and satoru have gone on an assignment together.

having two young children at home made it difficult to take off on short notice and be away for days at a time. they needed stability and routine, so the two of you had decided that one person would stay home while the other was working.

for a while, that’d worked fine. but now that megumi and tsumiki were older, self-sufficient teens who loved nothing more than being left alone, satoru had seen this as an opportunity.

you’d still been a little hesitant, but it was a simple surveillance mission. easy, right?

“water. you need to stay hydrated.” you instruct when he gets back into the car. he takes the water bottle you’re holding out, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.

“gakuganji isn’t even home yet,” he reports with a sigh. you hum, distracted as you check your phone. gojo reaches across your knees to pull open the glovebox, rifling through colourful snack wrappers.

“tsumiki hasn’t texted me back,” you mutter. “should i ask nanami to check in on them?”

“nah, i’m sure they’re just super busy trashing the apartment and racking up charges on the emergency credit card. ah– found it!” he pulls out a black silk sleep mask, slipping it on so it rests on his forehead.

“really?” you ask, unimpressed as he holds a second one out to you. “you’re taking a nap?”

“yeah, it’ll be easier to sneak around when it’s dark, why stay awake till then?”

“is that a good idea?” you ask, though you know there’s really no point in trying to argue with his logic.

“your fault for keeping me awake all night. late night laundry folding is no joke.”

“if you’d put it in the dryer when i’d asked—”

“can’t hear you,” he sing-songs, pulling the mask over his eyes. “you can take a nap too, you know. that old fart couldn’t get past us even while asleep.”

“i’ll pass on the nap. need to wait for tsumiki to text.”

he grumbles something incoherent that you’re sure is meant to be argumentative as he reclines his seat a little and lays back, getting comfortable and quiet.

…for about 45 seconds.

you watch out of the corner of your eye as he pulls the mask up a half inch, just enough for his right eye to observe you.

“what do you want now?” you ask.

then, with casualty akin to asking what you want for lunch, he clears his throat and asks, “do you want to have sex?”

“do i want to have what?” you ask, turning to stare at him incredulously, but your face is hot and for a split second, you’d considered agreeing.

“sex,” he repeats, patting his lap with a shit-eating grin. “we’re going to be here for a while, anyways. these seats recline way back—”

“i am not having sex in this car with you, satoru!”

he groans over-dramatically (as he tends to do). “will you at least cuddle with me then? i’m desperate and touch-starved and hopelessly in love with you!”

you make a note to figure out what cheesy rom com he stole that line from, but lean across the console to trail kisses up his shoulder, his neck. satoru does nothing to protect himself from your overly affectionate onslaught, he’s quick to catch your jaw, pulling you in for a proper kiss.

“wait. no, no, no!” he protests when you pull back, eyes suddenly trained on the house you’re meant to be watching. “you can’t just leave me high and dry—”

“he’s home!” you whisper, pressing a hand over his mouth (though he continues with muffled complaints). “pull the car a little further back before we get out.”

you’ve already summoned your shikigami as satoru maneuvers the car into the dense forestry, about to send them off when your phone vibrates in your lap.

“oh! megumi texted me,” you inform him. “he said…‘already made dinner. tsumiki is out on a date—’”

the car grinds to a halt and abruptly turns, the momentum causing your to slam into the side of the car as it peels out onto the dirt road. you curse loudly as your fiancé, devoid of all his playfulness from earlier, speeds through the forest.

“what the— satoru!”

[veritasangel]

Keep me close

ft. Simon Riley pt.2 here

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw content {mdni} ↣ piv, oral (reader giving), cum eating, fingering, cheating? not really (reader is price's wife but it's agreed upon)

↣ John doesn't mind sharing you with one of his best...probably gonna do a part 2 to this or maybe a series?? (@shkretart is the artist for the simon and price art)

wc: 4.3k

Simon never enjoyed breaks. His body did, sure, but not his mind. Too much time to think about everything, the pain, the bloodshed he’s drowning in. Johnny would go home to see family, Price would head home to his wife and even Gaz had a partner to return to.

They’d all discreetly offered for Simon to join, but he wasn’t one for pity so it always ended with a mumbled, “God no, I’m perfectly fine with my own company, thanks.”

And he thought he was, had convinced himself that was true, but it wasn’t and subconsciously he knew that too. Every night ended with one too many drinks and an almost drunken call to one of the boys, asking one of them to take him in.

It was a few weekends later before he eventually gathered the courage to call Price.

The phone rang once, twice...fuck, maybe he should hang up.

“Hello?”

The voice not being Price's caught him off guard momentarily, of course his wife is the one to pick it up.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Simon?”

“Hi, I- Sorry to bother you Mrs Price...Is John there?" he says a little apprehensively.

“Always so formal.” you joke. “I’ll go get him.”

You make your way through the house, before approaching John in the kitchen and mouthing

'It’s Simon…sounds sad.' you frown a little as you hand the phone to your husband.

“Simon? Is everything alright?” John says as he finishes up what he'd been doing in the kitchen.

“Yeah, jus’ checking in….” he trails off, “You uh, you see the football last night?”

“Yeah, was shit.” John says, ignoring the look you're giving him.

“Yeah….”

You glare at Price to say something more substantial.

He clears his throat, “What did you really wanna talk about?”

A beat of silence.

“...I was maybe wondering if that spare bedroom offer was still available.”

“ ‘Course it is, Si. I’m offended you even have to ask.” Price sighs, shaking his head before adding, “You want a roast tonight?”

Simon lets out a small genuine laugh, “I’ll never say no to your wife’s cooking.”

“Then come over. How long you planning on staying?”

“However, long you’ll have me.” Simon mumbles.

“In that case, may as well pack a suitcase and pick a colour swatch.” Price says, half joking. 

You know he’d honestly let Simon move in if he wanted to, he was basically family and even you adored him, dark humour and stoic mask included.

As expected by Simon, the next few days flew by, as opposed to when he was alone and just trying to get by.

Waking up every morning to a nice breakfast and good company did a lot of good for him. Every now and then he had to remind himself that you were a taken woman.

“Simon!” you beam happily, “I see you’re back from your run.” you smile softly, “I went to the market earlier today so there’s some fresh fruit in the kitchen.”

“Ah, thanks doll, you’re too sweet.” Simon smiles, eyes flittering across the hall before lingering a little too long on your sundress.

God, maybe Soap was right, I do need a partner. Is this how life would be?

He shut his thoughts off, mumbling pleasantries before heading upstairs for a shower.

He also had to control his thoughts when John came up to him one afternoon stating that he had to handle something with family so he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

Christ, he trusted him enough to leave him alone with his wife, the woman he keeps wrongfully fantasising about. Oh how he felt like an awful person.

But he refrained, kept reminding himself that he was a trained soldier. He wouldn’t give into such desires, let alone betray someone he calls family.

And so the rest of the day continued as normal, as did dinner.

Simon retired to the living room for the rest of the night, watching TV. Some time later you joined him, sitting maybe a little closer than usual but he brushed it off, only for you to then extend your legs onto his lap and he had to inhale a sharp breath to keep his cool.

His heart raced, and his hand twitched, eyes darting to the smooth skin of your legs resting way too close to his groin. “You alright there, love?” he asks.

“Mhm.” you nod and he can't tell if it's his imagination that he can see his own desire reflected in your eyes.

He couldn't hide the need in his own eyes either. They flickered with want, need. Simon shifted ever so slightly, trying to get comfortable. It was a lost cause, though, his cock had already hardened, the fabric of his pants hardly concealing it.

With great effort, he managed to restrain himself. He had to, after all, he was Price's friend and you were his wife.

“Have you checked your phone this evening?” you ask tenderly as you tilt your head at him.

“No...Why?” He asks curiously, hands already reaching for his phone, seeing a few messages from Price.

2 messages - Cap'n Figured you might need to let loose a little, maybe have someone take care of you for once....if you catch my drift. Oh but for the love of everything, please wrap it!! I don't think I'd ever live down the embarrassment if you got my missus pregnant before I did.

His heart skipped a beat as he read the message.

Smirking, he turned to look at you with a newfound light in his eyes. 'So that's how it was, huh?' Simon thought, his mind whirling. He knew Price well enough to know he'd planned this with you and he couldn't deny that he felt a surge of lust as a result.

"Well, well," Simon uttered. "Looks like Price gave us his blessing." his hand finally reaching out and brushing against your leg, before resting it there, chuckling at the goosebumps that ghosted your skin.

“So you guys planned this, huh? Don’t know whether to feel awkward or take the opportunity with no regrets?” He jokes, chuckling a little.

“It’s not a pity thing, jus’ wanna take care of you too.” you say softly as your eyes meet his.

“Surprised the fucker didn’t want to watch.”

“Oh he did.” you laugh softly, “He just didn’t know how into it you��d be.”

“...Maybe we’ll have to see for next time.” he winks.

"Next time? Getting a bit carried away, aren't we?" you quip.

Simon's palm grazed over your knee, tracing upwards as he leaned closer to you, the air between the two of you thickening with desire. "How do you plan on taking care of me, hmm?" He questioned, his voice low and seductive.

You grinned as you looked at him, your hand sliding up his thigh, stopping just before his crotch. "Well, I have an idea or two," you tilted your head at him, "but I need to know if you're game."

Your finger trailed along the outline of his erection, feeling the throbbing heat underneath the fabric, causing Simon to let out a sharp breath.

After getting the green light from Price, it was as though his brain had shut down, just allowing him to indulge in the moment. "I'm game," he answered, his voice husky, dripping with want. His hand moved on top of yours, guiding it towards his bulge.

"Good," you whispered, moving in as your lips hovered above his. He leaned in and you moved back slightly, just enough so that your lips wouldn't touch.

He chuckles darkly before grabbing your chin and forcing you to keep your gaze on him, "I thought you said you wanted to take care of me, hun." he says, "Don't be a tease." he warns

Simon's resolve wavered for a moment as your lips hung tantalisingly close to his. The game was almost too much to bear. But he wanted you badly, and that want became a demand. "Take care of me," he repeated, his voice gentler this time, pleading almost.

His heart raced as he felt your soft lips against his. The kiss was gentle and tender. As your tongue sought entry, he opened his mouth to allow it in, his own tongue dancing with yours, yielding to your lead. 

His breath hitched as you nibbled on his lower lip. The sensation went straight to his cock, making him shuffle in his seat. A low moan escaped from his lips as he deepened the kiss, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer.

The feeling of your palm against his erection through his clothing was almost too much to bear. Simon's grip on you tightened, and he groaned into the kiss. He wanted you, his cock throbbed desperately with need.

It wasn't long before Simon found himself getting carried away. His hand gripped your hip, tugging you closer, grinding his hard-on against your hand, eager for anything that could bring him closer to release.

Simon's body responded to every touch, a soft hiss escaping his throat as your tongue trailed along his jaw. His grip on you turned possessive as you moved down to kiss his neck. He gasped, and his cock twitched, desperate for your attention.

Simon's mind was a blur of lust, and all he could think of was you, your touch. He needed more, and he knew he'd crave you even more once this night was over. Price might just have to share you more often.

His head fell back, giving you full access to his now sensitive flesh, begging for more. His cock was aching so badly and he could feel the precum coating it. He felt as though he was losing control and he wanted nothing more than to feel you enveloping him.

You pull back for a moment as you tug the waistband of his sweatpants down.

His eyes flickered open, catching sight of your intent before he closed them again, basking in the feeling. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the waistband of his sweatpants being tugged down. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, pre-cum glistening at the tip. It was thicker than John’s and the poor tip just so looked so worked up.

His breath hitched as he felt your warm, soft hand envelop his shaft. His eyes snapped open, meeting yours for a brief moment before closing once more. "God, thank you…” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal.

“I’m not God.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Simon's lips. "Fuck off." He replied, his face flushed. As you continued to stroke him, he leaned back and closed his eyes, fully submitting to your touch.

You smirk as you lean down so you're eye level with his cock, your hand still running up his shaft, brushing the pre over the tip as you lightly blew on it.

A soft moan escaped Simon's lips as you blew on his engorged tip, sending chills coursing through him. His breath hitched, his grip on his chair tightening as his knuckles turned white. "Fuck," he cursed, his head falling back once more.

He wanted more. He wanted to know what it was like to be yours, if only for a moment.

"Please...fuck, please." Simon pleads.

Your attentions had Simon close to begging, and he was hardly the kind of man to do so. Yet, here he was, desperate for your touch, needing you to take him over the edge. His hips bucked subtly, silently asking for more, demanding that you give him what he craved.

His mind raced, thinking about all the ways you could pleasure him. He wanted it all, and he needed it now. Simon liked to believe he was always in control, but right now he wasn’t so sure.

You laugh a little before kissing along his shaft, relishing in the sight of a prominent vein twitching on the underside of his cock.

Simon shivered under your touch, feeling the heat of your lips against his sensitive skin. He bit his lip, an almost inaudible whimper escaping his throat.

This was different, unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt vulnerable to you, but he didn’t quite mind.

He had to bite his hand to stop him from shooting his cum all over your face when you'd barely even touched him. Fuck it was embarrassing, a grown man acting like a virgin over a few gentle kisses to his cock.

“Please, just– Just let me have you-”

His mind painted vivid pictures of the two of you entangled and sweaty. He wanted to give you the same pleasure you gave him. “Need to fuck you, I can’t fucking last right now.” he babbled.

Simon tried to keep his composure, but the fire inside him raged, threatening to consume him. "I need to be inside you," he panted, his body quivering. "Pleasepleaseplease... I can't- fuck, last like this."

He wasn't a man to beg, especially not for something like this, but he was helpless. Your touch had left him feeling desperate.

You looked at him as you licked along his shaft before finally taking him into your mouth. Simon's eyes widened as you took him into your mouth. His entire world focused on the incredible sensation. His entire body tensed up as your mouth worked him over.

"Fuck..." he moaned, a sheen of sweat across his face, cheeks flushed. His hips bucking slightly, yearning for more. It was almost hard to forget the man was a hardened soldier.

Each bob of your head brought him closer to his release. His moans grew louder, his movements becoming more shaky. He felt needy, desperate, even.

“Can’t cum before I’ve fucked you...” he groans. "...Need to feel you around me," Simon stammered, his voice strained. The need to feel your warmth envelop him was an intense desire. He needed to be completely consumed by you.

Yet, as you continued to focus on his cock, it seemed he was fighting a losing battle. Every trail of your tongue, your lips, your breath, brought him closer to the edge. He bit the inside of his cheek in a futile attempt to quieten himself.

His body tensed as he struggled to maintain control, his restraint quickly depleting. His mind raced as he tried to steady himself and appreciate the moment as best he could.

Simon was fully aware of what was happening, but it was like his body was betraying him, surrendering to the pleasure your mouth provided. His grip on the sofa tightened once again and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

The room seemed to fade away, all that existed was the direct connection between his aching cock and your skilled mouth. He was spiralling towards an inevitable conclusion.

Simon's eyes clenched tight, his body tensing as he felt the familiar build-up within him. "God-" he groaned, the sound strained and desperate. He knew he was nearing his limit, the end of his restraint.

A wave of pleasure hit him that he was powerless to resist. With a loud grunt, he let go, his cock twitching as he came, ropes of cum shooting into your waiting mouth.

Pulling away, you smiled as you looked up at him. A shudder ran through Simon's body as he came, groaning in pleasure as his hand intertwined with your free one. He stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He smiled weakly, a look of gratitude and appreciation in his lidded eyes.

You had given him a pleasure he never imagined possible, and he would cherish this moment.

Simon's eyes widened at the sensation of your hand returning to work on his sensitive cock. The aftershocks of his orgasm still lingered, leaving him feeling raw and needy.

He groaned, hand moving to grip your wrist as if you were the only t thing able to keep him grounded. He mumbled something incoherent, not even sure what he wanted to say with his mind racing.

Your touch was addictive, and he needed more.

“You wanted to fuck me, didn’t you?” you tease

Simon's breath hitched at your question, his eyes locking with yours. "God, yes." He confessed, the intensity in his gaze unmistakable.

A slow grin spread across his lips as his cock began to harden again. He stood up, pulling you to stand with him as his lips crashed against yours.

He was too caught up to fully undress himself or you for that matter. The kiss deepened and intensified as he pressed you up against the wall, the same wall adorned with photos of you and your husband. Your hands tangled in his hair as his free hand reached up your dress, tugging your underwear down until they pooled at your ankles. The urgency with which he did this was testament to how much he needed you.

You hand fumbled with the unit beside the two of you as you kissed. your hand roaming around the draw before reaching a condom and passing it to Simon who held onto it with one hand.

You deepened the kiss, the two of you practically breathing one another in as his fingers slid between your legs, probing your entrance, his touch both urgent and gentle. When he slipped his middle and ring finger inside, the sound was loud enough to have him grinning into the kiss.

He pulled back slightly, "You’re soaked doll," he breathed, his fingers coated in your wetness. He was aching to fill you, to take you.

"Well, I guess you don’t even need prepping," he drawled as his other hand wandered your body lovingly, despite the heat of the moment. He turned you around, your front against the wall as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

"Tell me you want it.” he said, the words a mixture of question and plea.

"I want this," you confirmed, your voice breathy. The vulnerability in your tone only served to heighten Simon's arousal.

He gritted his teeth, his breathing heavy as he pushed himself into you, slow at first, letting you adjust to his girth. Once fully sheathed, he held you close, his hands roaming your back before coming to rest on your hips.

His eyes closed, a low groan escaping him, "You feel amazing," he muttered as he rested his head on the back of your neck, pausing for a moment to gather himself.

Then slowly he began to move, thrusting in and out of you, setting a rhythm that built with each push. The intensity of the moment drove him wild.

The way you fit around him, the way your walls gripped his cock, it was heaven, and he wanted more. Your moans spurred him on and in this moment everything faded away for Simon. All that existed was the two of you, lost in each other.

Simon's breathing grew heavier, his thrusts becoming wilder, each one an attempt to bury himself deeper within you, to become one with you. The ferocity of his movements belied the tenderness with which he held you, as if you were a precious treasure.

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me.” he groans, “Price’ll have to watch I don’t steal you for myself.”

He chuckles as you clench around him, "You like that thought, hm?" he teases, hand taking both of your wrists in his as he held them behind your back, forcing you to rely on your tiptoes to keep you up against the wall.

His words were laced with a mix of possessiveness and adoration.He wanted to show you the affection and love you deserved, wanted to take care of you and you weren't even his. Simultaneously, he needed you to satisfy the fire within him, the passionate beast that roared to life in your presence.

In that heated embrace, Simon forgot who he was, drowning in the sheer pleasure of being with you. His thoughts blurred, and all that remained was the hunger for you.

Between thrusts, Simon teased, "He's a lucky bastard having you, ain't he? In your pretty little dresses, making his breakfast, cleaning his clothes. Such a good girl for him."

It was a mix of jealousy and admiration. He wanted to claim you for himself, to have you wait on him like that. But he was more than happy to indulge in however much or little you or John allowed him.

As his pace increased, each thrust became more fervent than the last. His thoughts were a jumble of desire. In this moment, the lines between fantasy and reality blurred, and Simon clung to this dream, hoping it would last.

He was lost in the rhythm, in the way you fit around him, in the way you responded to his every touch, in every soft sound that escaped you. There was no going back, no escape, as Simon dove headfirst into the abyss of pleasure that was you.

"He's putting a lot of faith in this condom, hell he's trusting me not to fill you up." Simon whispered in your ear, the words laden with desire. He would never actually commit to that fantasy, but he could dream.

If anything, it fuelled the fire, the knowledge that Price was trusting him to be this intimate with you. His thrusts grew more furious, each one driving him closer.

The moment was electric, and Simon found himself living for each sensation. He was chasing the edge, the precipice where pleasure surrendered to ecstasy. His hips moved with abandon, every muscle tensed, as he sought the ultimate release.

"You're mine tonight," he growled, his words filled with intent. He wanted to etch this memory in your mind, one that would leave you longing for more.

He was determined to leave an enduring mark on your soul. It was a need that had taken hold of him, and there was no going back now.

As the intensity of the moment grew, Simon could feel the pressure building within him. His thrusts grew wilder, more desperate, as he sought the release that awaited. He could sense it, feel it, just beyond his grasp.

His movements became erratic, his body trembling underneath the weight of unrelenting pleasure. A sheen of sweat coated his skin.

His grip on you tightened, holding you as he rode the wave of impending release. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice thick with need.

He was at the brink of release, a long awaited one that wasn’t a result of his own hand for once. The anticipation and hunger, all leading up to this moment. 

The world around you two dissolved. It was just the two of you, caught in a symphony of lust and pleasure. Their hearts raced in unison, the rhythm of your bodies synchronised. There were no inhibitions, no boundaries, only the ever-mounting tide of ecstasy.

His body tensed, every muscle straining as the climax built. One final thrust sent him over the edge, and he released, his cum filling the condom. His free hand worked over your sensitive clit, willing you to follow behind as you cried his name, gushing around his cock.

The release was explosive, the tension that had been building between you both, finally released. He leaned in, resting against you as he lowered your wrists, arms encircling your front as he clung to you. It was a moment neither would forget, one he would think about for a long time.

The aftershocks of his orgasm rippled through him, his body still connected to yours. He held you close, as if he were afraid to let go.

"That was... something else," Simon managed to mumble, the words breaking through the haze of post-orgasmic euphoria that washed over him. A satisfied grin spread across his face, the look in his eyes a mix of contentment and pride.

He had claimed you in a way he never thought he could, and it was exhilarating. Slowly, he began to pull out, but his hands lingered on you, as if drawn to the warmth of your body.

Despite the quick encounter, Simon knew he had found something that he wanted to explore further. For now, however, he was content to simply bask in the afterglow. He exhaled a deep breath as he pulled out from you.

You took a deep breath, the action drawing Simon's gaze. As you turned around, he watched you lean against the wall, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you.

Simon's heartbeat slowed, but his chest still rose and fell rapidly. He stared at you, trying to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. This encounter had changed something between you, there was no doubt about it.

"He's a lucky man." he says resting his forehead on yours.

You let out a small laugh as you brush some hair out of Simon's face.

"And I'm lucky to be married to him."

Simon smiles as he reaches down, pulling your panties back up, along with his sweatpants."I'll have to call him in a bit to say my thanks." he quips, "Buttt, he's not gonna be back until late tomorrow and I wanna' experience fully what it'd be like to be yours." He smirks down at you, his lips hovering dangerously above yours, "You know, if you're game."

༄ cod m.list ༄ reblogs are appreciated if you like it.

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[justporo]

I love to imagine that after everything is done, the city is saved, Astarion and Tav bought their house and settled down: they just stay in bed for a week.

Even though it might not be more than a mattress on the ground and there is barely anything else in the house.

Exhaustion just hits and they just want to feel cozy and comfortable 100% of the time, only going out to get some food for Tav and wine for them both. And they mostly just cozy up naked or at maximum wearing underwear or Tav just wears Astarion's shirt.

They just have sex whenever desire hits them because now they just can and for the moment there are no distractions, no worries, no fear. They can just hardcore hit the honeymoon phase where they can barely keep their hands off each other and a single look can be enough to start blazing flames.

But they also just lay there, cuddle, relax, talk - maybe Tav starts doing somersaults on the mattress because they were never able to do that as a kid and almost whack Astarion in the face while giggling like mad.

And they talk lots. Of course they did that before but it's different now because they have something they weren't sure of before: a future. And they plan their future, talk through all kinds of differents possible versions - even the most ridiculous ones. They talk about the most mundane things, like what colour curtains they want or what kind of wine glasses they'd like, what way bread should be stored and - "I have nerver ONCE in my life thought about duvet covers, Astarion - not even once." "Well, a nice point to start then, isn't it, my heart? Because silk looks amazing but I'm pretty sure you would like linen more..."

Or they joke until they're crying laughing, half hanging off the mattress or on each other and they can't breathe anymore because they both have never felt this light and safe in their life.

Maybe Astarion tries to teach Tav something: like how to let a coin wander over your knuckles or another language or he just talks about something like his favourite artworks and the history behind it and promises Tav to take them to a museum and show them more.

And even after the initial phase is over and they actually decide it's time to spend some time out of bed and finally get a real furniture, it becomes their little safe haven. The place where they always can be absolutely intimate in every kind of way and can be safe and comfortable - and at home.

[ameliathornromance]

He first saw you picking flowers.

The Orc was on a walk through the town centre, heading towards the beach. It was too nice a day to be staying inside, baking in the heat and becoming one with his leather sofa. If he must melt into a large green puddle, he will do it at the beach.

As he strolled through the town centre, he admired the impeccably kept gardens of lush grass, bright red roses, purple and pink lilies. And amongst the colour, was you.

The Orc stopped in his tracks, watched you working, trimming away at dead flower heads and picking off wilting leaves. This was the first time he’d ever seen someone take care of the gardens.

The peaceful smile, combined with the delicate way you picked the flowers enraptured him with a kind of calm that he hadn’t felt in years.

You just looked so content, so natural to be surrounded by the bushes, as if you were a deer drinking water from a still lake.

Feeling eyes on you, you looked around to see the source of your discomfort. Locking eyes with the Orc, he flinched, “s-sorry.” He apologised, looking away from you. “I didn’t mean to stare.” He must have looked really creepy to be watching someone so intently.

You smiled at him. “It’s okay, it’s not a normal sight.” Tucking the flowers into the crook of your arm, you stood and made your way over to him. “I mean, it’s not often you see someone raiding a public garden for flowers, right?” You let out an awkward chuckle.

The Orc nodded in agreement, reflecting your awkwardness. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Silence sat between the two of you for a moment. “I’m technically not allowed to be picking them.” You said, after a moment. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”

Smiling, the Orc assured you, “I won’t tell a soul.”

From that point onward, he made it a point to go and see you at the gardens every day. It was such a rarity to see someone be so happy in their own company, doing their own thing.

He didn’t like to just watch you though, he always made conversation with you. The last thing the Orc wanted was to make you uncomfortable. It would look to other people, a lone Orc, sat on a bench while a pretty young lady tends to the flowers in the public garden.

Through your talks, he learned that you actually work for the local council and take care of the garden every day… while taking some of the flowers home for your own viewing. “I mean, I tend to them, I should at least be allowed to take some home, right?” You told him.

The Orc had nodded absent-mindedly in agreement. You were just so passionate about your job, the delight and excitement you had on your face when he asked you botanical questions made his stomach bubble.

You never acted annoyed by him, laughed at his jokes and even invited him to come and help you with your work. Whenever he had questions, you answered them without judgement and with such zeal.

After spending his days with you, he’d return home, the world seemed… dull. Without all the brightly coloured flowers around and your glowing prescence, he sometimes wondered if it had always been this way to him. He then realised it hadn’t, because you lit up the world.

The Orc pondered on how best to tell you about his feelings. There was a part of him that worried you were only nice to him to… be nice to him. But it wouldn’t hurt to tell you how he felt… would it? It’s not like you were ever nasty or cold to him, so there had to be a chance for him, right?

He thought how best to tell you: Box of chocolate? No, too stereotypical. Just asking you out to dinner? That’s way too basic, and then you might think he wants something else.

He didn’t need to worry about that for long however, one hot summer day, you asked him:

“Did you know that the Victorians used to have a language for flowers?”

“No, I did not.” The Orc answered. He was sat beside you this time, holding up a Rose bush so you could reach the thorns at the roots of the plant.

“They used to use it to tell other people things,” you said as you snipped off the sharp edges. “Like, if you wanted to tell someone you loved them, you’d bring them honeysuckle and roses.”

“Huh.” He said, thoughtfully. He was silent for a moment, thinking on what you’d said.

This was it. That’s how he’d tell you he liked you, through Honeysuckle and Roses.

Once back at home, he jumped on his laptop and researched. The next morning, he went to three different florists, and got what he needed.

While in his car, the Orc did his best to rearrange the flowers in an attractive manner. After adjusting them five or six times, he sighed. The Orc still had his reservations. Of course he was nervous, he hadn’t told anyone he liked them since… Wait, had he ever even liked anyone this much?

He shook his head. “Just have to tell her,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out of the car. As he made his way through the garden, picking and making final changes to the bouquet in his hands, he looked up and stopped dead in his tracks.

You stood at the edge of the garden, talking to a human man. You held a strong scowl at the man, who jabbed and pointed a finger at you, similarly angry with you.

The Orc hung back, watching the altercation unfold.

Finally, the man sighed, and raised his hand to your cheek, like he was going to cup it. But before he could, you raised a hand and slapped him hard across the face.

The man let out a shout, grabbed at your wrist and yanked. You jerked forward.

Within seconds, the Orc was by your side and caught you around the waist with a free arm. He glowered down at the pathetic man, “what’s going on here?” He growled.

The man let go of your arm. “It’s none of your business, I was just having a conversation with the woman here.” The man glared at your Orc. “This hasn’t got anything to do with you.”

“It is, actually.” The Orc hissed.

“How so? You’re just some random-”

“I’m her boyfriend, actually.”

The moment the words escaped him, the Orc wanted to clamp a hand over his mouth, to take back the words and hide them away.

His realisation of horror thankfully, hadn’t shown on his face.

The human man flinched. “Oh…” He said. His tone low, “sorry, I didn’t know…” And with that, he turned away and stalked off.

Huffing, the Orc turned to you. “Are you alright?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed. “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

You shook your head, “no, I’m fine… He was just some creep who wanted my socials. That’s all.”

Your Orc friend let out a sigh, “I… I’m sorry I said that. The boyfriend thing…” The bouquet of flowers were still clutched in his hands, petals wilted slightly from the unpleasantness.

He probably really lost any chance now, just announcing that? To a park full of people? He wouldn’t be surprised if you just stopped talking to him entirely.

“It’s okay… I liked the title, actually.” Your words came out small, mumbled. But to the Orc, they were like the clang of a church bell. His stomach somersaulted, his heart thumped hard in his chest, eyes widened.

“I was hoping that you would ask me out at some point… otherwise I would have asked you myself today.” You gave a cheery, but abashed smile.

Clearing his throat, face burning, the Orc held the flowers out to you, “I still can.” He smiled, hands shaking, “would you like to go out with me?”

You bit your lip, taking the flowers from him. “I’d like that.”

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[darkdevasofdestruction]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓵 𝓝°5 ~ 𝓗𝓾𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Oh, to be young and in love, in the most romantic era of the notorious 1950s, with one very magical man who never fail to make you swoon with every suave look who offers.

It isn't very often that Husker reminisces his past life - He knows, if he does, he will remember all of the good times, when his heart was gold and trembling with pure emotion - After all, if he recalls the time he was alive, and very much in love, his frozen heart will just shatter to dust once again, with the same infinite anguish he felt once everything was ripped away from his grasp.

A pain so intolerable, that runs so deep - A pain that no amount of alcohol can mend.

He never truly knows whether he wants to remain asleep forever, so that he will never have to face reality again, or if that would be a nightmare, tormenting him for the remaining abyss of eternity...

Or, perhaps he should stay awake, so that memories will stop toppling him over, beginning with a most beautiful reverie, yet always ending with the same night terror he must face every time.

If this is his way of paying for his irredeemable sins, then he is well aware he deserves it, and even more - Yet every smell reminds him of that sweet Chanel N°5 that she used to wear. Every time he closes his eyes, he dreams of the gracious dances he would share with her. Every song he hears, he recalls that angelic voice of hers, and every time he lays abed and stares up at the ceiling, her seraphic visage flashes before him.

"You are drinking again." Angel slumped in one of the stools by the bar, noticing his best friend looking in a far worse state than usual. "Rough day?"

"Rough life." Husk rasped, chugging down a whole bottle of strong spirits.

"Wanna talk about it?" he tried, in vain, to appear sympathetic - The feline demon was far too gone into his own darkness to even think about slurring away his never-ending sorrows.

"I wanna die, that's what I want." he growled, slamming away the bottle into the nearest wall. "Just like this fucking bottle. That's what I fuckin' wanna do - I wanna die, damn it!"

Angel's eyes widened greatly - Yes, life in hell surely was crazy, and especially for demons like the two of them, who sold their souls away because of their own failures, both in life, and now, in hell - But what in the world could it have caused him to get so hopeless that he was unable to fight back the tears glistening in those tortured eyes?

Even someone like him couldn't dare to make light of the situation, or try and crack a joke, let alone taunt or flirt with him. He felt... Pity, for the poor bartender who always listens to others' woes, yet dares naught speak out his own problems.

"Listen... Husk, ergh... I'm not the best at comforting, okay? But... If I can help, you can tell me... And, if not, then... I'll still be here. And maybe try to keep the others away from you. How's that?" Husk didn't quite seem to compute what his friend said, though he robotically nodded his head, as if remote controlled.

Angel remained in that stool for a few hours, watching the winged demon drink bottle after bottle after bottle, yet his sorrows only washed over him tenfold with each shattered glass against a different wall. He wonders what is going through Husk's mind, what he's ruining himself over with each sigh o grip on his fur.

Who would have thought that, of all things possible, Husker's greatest lament was...

"I fucking hate red. Why the fuck are my wings red? Of all the fucking colours in hell, they just had to be red, yeah?" he stammered angrily, pulling at his feathers. "Y'know what? They can't change colour. Tried dyeing 'em, but nothin'. Got so much fuckin' red on me - I wonder if it's Hell's way of punishin' me forever for my fucking sins."

He hates red...? What an odd statement - He truly seems to have a personal vendetta against that colour - But why? It's just a colour, after all, it can do no wrong. "Why... Do you hate red so much...? Angeldust dared to ask.

At first, he was met with a low growl, hostile, yet inoffensive at its core. Then, he heard a most disturbing answer. "That was the colour of my wife's dress when I last went home." Angel's brain shut down completely. To think someone was trusting him with such a vulnerable piece of himself, the very core of their hopelessness, their weakness; In a way, he felt flattered that Husk trusted him so much, yet in another way... He couldn't help but feel borderless pity for his friend. He wishes such a fate to no one... Well, maybe to Valentino.

Angel forced himself to smile softly, placing his hand gingerly over his own, taking away the alcohol from his hand. "What was her name?" Husk looked up with shock, a little startled, right into his dual coloured eyes - He hasn't ever spoken her name out loud, it almost felt like a blasphemy against her purity. Yet... Maybe... "Y/N." he dared whisper.

"Y/N." Angel repeated after him. "A beautiful name for a beautiful lady." Husk nodded his head.

"She was a Princess." he muttered, his sight blurry with tears.

"A Princess? Really? Nobility and all that?" much to his surprise, Husker chuckled.

"Nah, not quite." he rasped. "At heart, she was. Her family was very rich, so she was pampered up. Huge manor, servants, a personal maid, luxury brands, jewellery and perfumes, indulging in any studies and hobbies she liked..."

"How'd you two meet? I don't suppose you were a Prince or something, were you?" Angel tried to joke friendly, encouraging his friend to open up.

"Ha. Far from it." in his hand, a few dices appeared, and he idly played around with them. "I was an ugly dead beat from a working class broken family. Hardly worthy of her attention." he gritted his teeth bitterly. "Got around to finding work at a young age - Gambling, magic, sax player - If I had money to live, anything worked."

"Did you meet at one of your gigs?" Husk nodded his head affirmatively.

"No clue what she saw in me, Angel. She could do so much better." for a split second, he had a dry smirk on his face, before it disappeared again. "I asked her once, what the hell did she see in me - And she said... I played her favourite song. Silly, innit?"

He didn't receive a mocking laugh, much to his surprise - Instead, Angel cooed. He never imagined the jaded demon before him could be so romantic! "What did you play?" Instead of answering, Husk turned around to his bar, and took out another bottle, yet this time, he hummed a familiar tune as he was doing his bartending for two glasses. "Oh, now I get it - You always hum that song when no one's around! I thought you were just bored out of your mind." he let out an amused exhale. "Fly me to the moon... Refined tastes, alright."

"The stars in the sky never sparkles as brightly as those in her eyes when she looked at me." no wonder he never accepted any flirting from anyone - How could anyone match the love he had for Y/N? "If I were a decent man, I'd have told her not to waste her precious time and love on me. Instead, I was a selfish fuck. I stole years of her life... And in the end, I even stole her life. All because I wasn't even half the fucking man I pretended to be."

The conversation soon turned significantly sour. "I was the man - I was supposed to provide for her. Afford all that fucking expensive Chanel N°5, and the Dior dresses, the Chantelle lingerie, and the damn Cartier and Tiffany's jewellery." even someone more modern like Angel knew all those luxury brands, and was even more impressed and shocked that they could so easily afford such high-end items. "I brought her flowers every day and I took her out on brunches every morning, on dates every afternoon, and to soirees every fucking evening. She loved dancing at parties... But I suppose she preferred the moonlight over the chandeliers."

"You must have overworked yourself a bunch to afford all these things. I'm sure she appreciated it." Angel tried to comfort him, earning a nod of agreement.

"She told me she didn't need any gift, except for my presence. Genuine woman, that one. But how could I, in good conscience, go to her parents and ask for her hand in marriage, when I couldn't even afford a half-decent house with a room for each of her hobbies, a drawer for each month outfit, another for her shoes and three more for her bags, jewels and perfumes; and a large flower garden and a fucking rose gazebo and a swan pond with ten different breeds of pedigree dogs." Angel cringed a little, realising the tremendous gap between their living conditions. "I lost myself on the way to greatness. She was making me so euphoric that I just wanted to see her excited every moment of her life. I didn't need to eat or drink, I just needed to see her smile, and I could work again a few more days without rest."

"But then... You collapsed from overworking?" Husker shook his head.

"Worse. I fooled her parents completely, and we planned our wedding." he replied bitterly.

"How is that a bad thing? Isn't the wedding day the happiest day in a couple's life?" Husk sighed, from the deepest part of his soul.

"It was." he said. "I got greedy. I went to loan sharks, took a shit ton of money to make that wedding the most grand event the country saw in a while. Then went on a month-old honey moon around the world." he cursed in a few different languages that Angel couldn't understand, but was sure were some highly offensive and crude words that he would never utter around Y/N. "I don't need to say more, do I?"

Yeah, he needn't continue speaking the descent into madness, alright. Angeldust didn't want to hear that his friend's love story ended up in his soulmate getting murderer by the loan sharks, only for him to end up killing them, and then himself, out of pure rage and sorrow. He didn't want to hear that an innocent woman like Y/N never knew that her husband was broke and took loans, just to try and mimic the lavish lifestyle she grew up with and deserved. He didn't want to hear the broken shriek of anguish, or the streaming river of tears that befell as Husker saw her dead, on the floor, her pearly pink dress dyed a deep crimson from her own blood, and getting even more stained with each strong embrace he held around her shattered body, just like a precious porcelain doll fallen off the shelf.

They only just recently became something akin to 'best friends' from both sides... Yet Angel couldn't bare to hear the tragic end of the story, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he felt, having to live his afterlife as a Sinner, for as long as he has, without the woman he loves by his side.

"It's better this way, I guess. At least she finally got rid of me. Wherever she is, she must be living far better, than with a lying fuck like me who couldn't keep it together." the spider demon frowned, watching his friend slump on the bar counter.

"I don't think that's the case." he spoke vehemently. "I don't believe there is any person, of any kind, treasuring her as much as you did." Husk's ears perked up immediately, twitching lightly. "At least on an emotional way, I'd say, you and Y/N were lucky. There's so many people who never experience the love you had, let alone get to meet and marry their soulmate."

"What the fuck would you know?!" he growled, throwing a bottle at his head, only for the demon to dodge.

"... I wish I had fallen in love too, you know?" Husk gritted his teeth, realising the sensitive wound that he unwillingly stabbed open - But it wasn't his foult - He is hurt! He is in pain! "As a human, as a demon... I was like you, sort of. I was so shit at managing my life, that I ended up falling prey to my vices... I needed more and more, and I couldn't resist. I had no ration or logic. I gave in to my so-called 'friend group' and got addicted to drugs... Couldn't get rid of that addiction even after death... And I clinged on the only demon who could give me what I wanted... And now, I can't escape Val, even if I wanted to turn my life around and live the life that I never could." Angel had a wry smile on his face. "Do you really think a drug addict or the most famous porn star of hell would be able to meet his soulmate, without destroying their life in the process also?"

The two remained silent, only hanging their head and sighing. No matter how happy life can be for some... It will never have a chance of turning around for them. It just couldn't be. They are in hell, after all. Even Charlie won't be able to save them and bring them on the path of redemption, no matter how insanely enthusiastic and cheerful she can be... They were still sure to drown.

Somehow, this few hours of vulnerability brought Husk and Angel closer, and although they won't be speaking about it again, it was clear to the residents of the Hazbin Hotel that the two were as close as two demons can get, without the inclusion of vice or extortion.

Things were going well enough for them, even with the new addition of Sir Pentious, the villain turned... Something? It was still not too bad around the hotel. Though unsure of whatever Charlie's plan was, to fight against the purge from the Angels, they were still there to sort-of support whatever dream the Princess of the Pride Circle has.

That is, until the Hotel opened its doors to a brand new resident, a gorgeous demoness dressed elegantly in a dress of pearly pink, adorned with high quality jewellery, and with her long hair done stylishly, and smelling like a fresh day of Spring. She walked in guided by the Radio Demon, of all people, and she was smiling so demurely, completely unafraid of the fiend next to her, yet still reserved and soft.

"No way, is that Chanel N°5?! How'd you get it in here?!" Angel squealed, fangirling over the flowery perfume - But then, it clicked for him. Didn't Husker mention his wife loving this scent the most?

"Oh, you noticed! I am so happy that there are more sensible people - Erh - Demons with refined tastes!" the girl unfolded her laced fan and giggled behind it demurely.

Although she looked even more regal than even the Princess of Hell herself, as they stood next to each other, there was one particular detail that made the new-comer stand out from any other netizen.

With her hands clasped together over her chest, a bright white gold ring, with a most brilliant zircon was shining brighter than even the moon herself.

Whilst the other demons gathered around the seraphic beauty, wanting to have her attention, and even going as far as to have Alastor speak out about this new lady, Husker's breath stopped completely; His brain was going into overdrive, and his heart, he wanted to rip out of his chest.

That ring... That ring, he knew all to well - After all, he bought it himself, when he proposed to Y/N. That voice, the fashion, the mannerism... Even with altered looks, she looked the same. Even in hell, she looked the same. Even with demonic eyes, she looked the same.

She was the most beautiful woman in the universe.

"Y/N, this is Husker, our bartender." Charlie's face was split open by her overly-cheerful grin. "Husk, won't you introduce yourself to Y/N?"

"I'm not a fucking child. I don't need to introduce myself." the man hissed aggressively. "This is fucking stupid, I'm out." without even realising, he shattered the glass in his grasp, before stomping away into his room.

How could that be? Was this a nightmare? Surely, this must be some impersonator demon or something - There's no way an innocent being like Y/N could possibly have ended up in Hell, with a bunch of Sinners, of all thing. Was this his fault also? Did he bring her down with him to hell? Was he never going to be forgiven for all of the shit he's done in his previous life? Did Alastor bring her to the Hotel, so that he could blackmail him even more? Was his empty soul worth so little, in the end?

He was so afraid - Will Y/N be angry once she realises who he is? He couldn't blame her, obviously, he's earned her scorn... Yet why is his heart hurting so bad? He wishes so badly to jump on her and wrap her in his arms and wrings, and never again let her go. Ah, but he looks like a stupid flying cat... He looks ridiculous. There's no way...

...

Perhaps... She should stay with Al...

He has the influence, the money, the fashion sense, the looks, the freedom and privilege, the elegance...

Alastor has everything, and embodies everything that he could never be.

In life, he was selfish, and he didn't let go of her. Perhaps, the only way to apologise and make up for his sins was to let her be cherished by a man capable of doing what he never could.

As he lay awake on the bed, curled up and cursing his whole existence, wanting to sob until his body was all dried up and shriek until his throat was bleeding raw; he wanted to claw his face to velvety ribbons and drown his lungs with all of his blood... As he was succumbing to his self-hatred and spiraling down into the depths of despair, Y/N decided to end the day with some delicious pastries and an aromatic cup of tea in the garden, with her friend, Alastor.

Y/N was idly playing with her ring, looking at the inscription inside of it. 'Y/N ♡ Husker'. How absolutely adorable, she thought, a beautiful smile gracing her features. "He looks... Different. Are you sure it is the same person, Alastor?" her voice showed nervousness.

"Y/N, Y/N, would I lie to you?" he grinned, as always, sipping from his tea. "You should hear him purr. He truly resembles a little kitten."

Y/N looked up into he friend's eyes, a look of intense surprise and borderline intrigue taking over. "Are you being truthful? He... Purrs?" she gasped, quickly slipping her ring back on her finger.

"Yes, my darling. Unconsciously, someone strokes his fur, he gets so very adorable~." Alastor hums, watching the lady before him being so romantically melancholic over a life long gone. "What did you think about today's meeting?"

Y/N sighed, looking up into the sky. "I feel guilty for enjoying the moment I ripped Velvette apart, yet I feel no remorse for killing her. Such an uncouth and vulgar person has no right to behave with such disrespect towards me." Alastor's grin widened significantly. "And... I cannot wait for the next purge. I want to burn Heaven to cinders. Those hypocrites have grown far too arrogant for their own good, and I believe they need to be taught a harsh lesson."

"I see we are on the same wavelength as always, my dear." the demon sipped from his tea. "I am quite glad those arrogant hypocrites turned you away, for such a silly thing like - Vanity - They say. Beautiful women should be allowed to feel that-a-way, not ostracised for being such jewels for one's eyes." ever the charmer with poison dripping from his tongue. "Before I turn in for the evening, I have a gift for you - For friendship's sake." Y/N rose a suspicious eyebrow, watching as he took out a carefully folded picture from his blazer's pocket, and handing it to her. "I am going for a new fitting with Rosie tomorrow, should you wish to join us for a lovely day of self-care." the girl smiled, nodding her head at him in appreciation. "Have a pleasant evening."

Y/N muttered her pleasantries, and waited for Alastor to leave her sight, before unfolding the picture and bursting to tears. She cradled the precious memory to her heart, and sobbed for as long as her heart needed.

What have they done so wrong to deserve this? They were so happy while alive, so what went wrong? Was her opulent life, the reason for their downfall? Did her beloved think she wouldn't love him, if he couldn't match her family's wealth? Were all soulmates made to be torn apart while at their most blissful?

Still, she was grateful that she wasn't accepted into Heaven, for she would have had a most awful afterlife, as opposed to the many Overlord friends she made since she's been sent to Hell after her gruesome death, and the many favours she received from the Lords and Royals who went to Earth to retrieve items of importance for her.

Drying her tears, Y/N walked back inside the hotel, ready to turn in for the night, only to stop in her tracks as soon as she heard a soft sob, followed by a few very familiar curses in a variety of languages that she knew all too well. Her heart clenched as she stepped cautiously towards the foreign room, eavesdropping for any other sound, only to be met with more muffled cries.

Biting her lip, the demoness knocked on the door, only to be cursed harshly and told to fuck off. Y/N gulped, feeling taken aback by being talked in such a way - Though she immediately composed herself, reminding herself that he, too, is hurting, most likely far more than she is.

She excused herself before opening the door and entering. "What fucking part of 'FUCK OFF' don't you FUCKING UNDERSTA---" Husk was livid, getting in a sitting position as he growled with incredible hostility at the one who dared barge in his bedroom so rudely, only to remain speechless as he realised it was the demoness herself, standing with a sympathetic smile on her face. She also seemed to have been crying prior to this. "Oh. It is you." he cleared his throat, getting back on the bed, unable to face her.

"I have missed you dearly." her voice was so soft, so beautiful, so endearing... "I... Cannot believe that I am seeing you again. It seems to me that, no matter how far apart, our souls will forever traverse oceans of time and space, just to embrace each other once more."

She could hear him sniffling, his nails digging deep into the blanket. "You have always been so romantic and poetic." he grumbled, hiding his face in the pillow. "You shouldn't be here."

"You will have to be more specific, my love." she hummed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "Here - In Hell? Or here - In your room? Either way, I would say, I am right where I need to be."

"I don't understand." as if burning with frustration, Husk shot up, looking with self-hatred at the girl. "You did nothing wrong your entire life. You were nothing but a living sunshine. A fucking flower in human form. What the fuck did those angels not agree with, that they cast you to this shit hole?"

"There was a time when you would beat up any man who would curse in my presence." Y/N's adorable giggle made the demon's face flush red. "I am sorry that you are suffering so much, at my expense. I could never repay you for everything you have done for me, while we were alive."

"What the hell are you apologising for anyway? I got you killed, not the other way around - And even if it were that way, it'd've been a blessing in disguise, getting rid of a dead beat worthless fuck like me." he huffed, looking away. "You always were too good for me." the demon had so much to say, so many regrets to yell, so much love to spill... Alas, he remained quiet. "You seemed happy with Al. I wish I could be that, while we were alive." his voice went to soft, it was barely audible. "You should... Stay with him."

"Yes, I am happy being friends with Alastor. He was the one who introduced me to Rosie and Carmilla and Zestial, and I cherish them all dearly, as my like-minded friends." Y/N spoke calmly, reaching her hand to cup her lover's soft cheek. "He also was the one to tell me of your misdemeanours. How you succumbed to your vices; to gambling and alcohol, to the the point that you lost your soul in a deal with him. How pitiful." he was so confused as to where she was trying to get with her words, yet in spite of the anticipation for blames and reproaches, he couldn't help but lean into her warm and gentle touch. "He is the one who helped me become an Overlord, and I took your place. And it is Alastor, and some other friends of mine, who helped retrieve some objects I thought long lost."

"... You still smell like Chanel N°5." his comment made the girl giggle again.

"One of my friends had his little imps go to the human world and rob an entire Chanel store, to bring me all Chanel N°5 perfume bottles." how incredulous, Husk thought, staring at the girl flabbergast, speaking of a clear crime, committed in her name. And then, he started laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of her statement.

"Angel would kill to have a whole room of Chanel N°5." he said, his eyes softening as he put his hand over hers. "Y/N... Knowing that you are doing fine... That you aren't suffering... Or anything that I put you through... It makes me... Content."

"My darling." Y/N called out. "Do you remember the day of our wedding?"

"Of course I do. What's that question?"

With a cheeky grin, she took out the picture from her purse, handing it to her beloved. "Alastor was able to find this. His connections truly are amazing." Husk's eyes were wet with falling tears, and his lips were trembling. "I forgot I had pink roses braided in my hair. I was so busy looking at my handsome husband, that everything around me vanished." Husk's sobbing got even louder. "I wanted to frame this picture first, but I couldn't resist showing it to you first."

"Get out, Y/N! Get out!" his voice was broken and raw, so pained that even her heart shattered. "I am not the man you fell in love with. Why do you think my name is 'Husk'? I am just that - A husk of the man I never was. I am not worth anything. I don't amount to anything. I just gamble money I don't have and drink booze until I pass out. I don't deserve a second chance, and I certainly don't deserve you. I never did. I got you killed, damn it!"

"You think too much, you fool." Y/N cupped his face, bringing him into a gentle kiss - A kiss so loving that it numbed his pain, and hightened his senses, that got his heart pumping again and his lungs screaming for air. "I fell in love with you for good reason, and I intend to remain by your side, loving you." she smiled, wiping his tears with her thumb. "You can try as much as you wish to drive me away, but it will not work. You may succeed in convincing yourself that you are a lesser man, but you cannot do that with me. I know the man before me, and I know I will never leave you."

"Y/N..." the man sniffled, burying his face in her bosom, holding so tightly onto her petite body that he almost feared breaking her.

"There was once a time when you would only call me 'Sweety'." her honeyed giggle sounded so teasing, yet it didn't embarrass him. It served only to make him chuckle.

"There was also a time when I would only call you 'Chanel', if you recall." it almost felt as though they were both alive, and during their honey moon, without a single care in the world, and living a most carefree life.

"That does bring back some very amusing memories." Husk hummed in agreement, feeling melancholic, despite the intense joy surging through his body. Perhaps it was due to the unfamiliarity of this positive feeling, that he felt exhausted, or maybe from his excessive crying and whining. Regardless, he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his wife's arms, and never leave this blasted room ever again.

"Can you promise me something?" the man asked. "I am selfish still - Even more so as a demon. I am nothing but filth. I didn't deserve you then, and I deserve you even less now. Still... Now that you're here... I can't let you go again. So..."

Though he found himself eating his words, Y/N only smiled, laying down on the bed and taking him down with her, nestling him comfortably into her loving embrace. "Alastor said you purr like a kitten. I would love to hear that, tonight." she hummed, hearing his annoyed snarl. "And every night going forward, for as long as we may live in this afterlife we have." Husk's body became stiff, frozen with shock. "That is what you wanted me to promise, isn't it? That I will never leave you." he didn't respond. "It is within our wedding vows, silly. There is no way I would walk away, after I have just found my soulmate."

"... Even though I look like... This? And I am irredeemably addicted to gambling and drinking, even more so than before... And I have lost my soul to the Radio Demon? I am stuck doing his bidding for eternity... And..." Y/N only hugged him closer.

"No matter what, in sickness and in death, you and I will still be soulbound." his small body was softly trembling with emotion. "I've got you, my darling. Worry not about anything. I have got you." she remained silent for a little while. "But, Husk..." her voice sounded so distant, so... Melancholic. "Do you... Still like me? The way you did before?"

Startled by her words, Husker jolted up, looking at the pitiful visage of his lover. "What... What do you mean...?"

"My skin is pure white, with no colour, except for my make up. My eyes are black where they should be white, and the worst carmine red, where they should be embodying the aspect of nature. Even my hair looks to be an abnormal colour, and no matter how much I try to dye it, it will not retain its original shade." she gulped, looking away from him. "Any shred of normalcy that I have... Is so tiresome, so much work to keep up, the princessy facade that I used to have, that I used to love... That you used to love..." she sighed softly. "Yet even that completely dissolves as soon as I transform in the monstrous form that I fight so hard to keep veiled from the world."

"Y/N." he caressed her soft face, only to notice small particles of powder latching onto his fur. "I'm a fucking furry mammal with wings. I look like a children's plush toy or somethin'. Meanwhile, you look as doll-like as always, and you're afraid I wouldn't like you anymore? How silly." he sighed, leaning to place a kiss on her forehead. For a few seconds, he stopped to ponder over a rather bold move, and in a split second, he retrieved a wooden box from under his bed. "This is my secret. Nobody has to know about this." he spoke, a rosy tint on his cheeks. "Open it."

Carefully, the girl did as instructed, revealing the content of the box. A bunch of letters were preserved there, all of them neatly placed and handwritten with black ink. "Husk..." Y/N felt the air in her lungs dissipating, as she realised all those letters were recreating the exchange of love words from their time alive. "H-How...?"

"I have all our letters memorised." he chuckled lightly. "I... Needed some way of keeping you close... Of remembering you. I am shit at drawing, but I have a good enough memory... So this was the only way of preserving what we had."

"It's been so long... And yet, you... You still remember... All of it? There must be tens, if not, hundreds of them... How...?" the girl was flabbergast, yet melting completely.

"I read them every night before sleep, when alive, and I read them every night now also." those precious teardrop diamonds caressing her cheeks falling down so gracefully.

𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈; 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒; 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

His usual raspy voice sounded so romantic as he recited the love poem he wrote to her. A voice that he only reserved for her. A voice that only she would ever know.

𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁; 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼'𝓂 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒; 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.

A love so pure and true, bottomless and without boundaries; Husker himself forgot just how endless his emotions could run. He thought himself jaded and cold, having lost his own heart, the second he lost her... Yet now... Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he first thought. Perhaps... Even someone like himself deserves some kind of redemption.

𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒.

Without her, he wasn't whole. Without her, he is not himself. Without her, he is empty. Without her, his whole life falls apart. Without her, he is nothing but a worthless deadbeat.

𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒢𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.

But now, he is not alone anymore - Well, perhaps he never was to begin with, considering he still had Angel and Charlie, to some extent, yet nothing can compare to sweet Y/N's existence by his side. Nothing can heal his aching soul, or revert the damage he did to himself throughout life and afterlife, the way her love for him did.

♡ ~𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼~♡

[luveline]

would you ever consider writing poly!marauders? or even more of the luna reader with platonic (or romantic) marauders?

if u have more poly!m requests please send them (to clarify this is romantic) fem!reader tw cut

"You should be more careful," Remus says, "really, dove." 

You lean back against the kitchen counter and try not to wince as he finishes with the dressing on your arm. 

"I am careful," you say. 

He laughs softly. It's a rare sound, kind that has you smiling immediately. You wrap your arms around his neck, careful not to press down on your injury, and kiss his neck quickly. 

"Thanks for fixing me, handsome," you say. 

Remus pats your back. "That's never something you have to thank me for… You might like me less when the boys come home." 

You pull away. "You texted them?" you ask, already resigned to your fate. 

He looks gorgeous even when you're mad at him, pale skinned but dark in his way, dark eyes and dark brows and his amazingly handsome nose that makes you wanna lean over and kiss him. 

"Afraid so." Remus squeezes a path up your arm to your shoulder. "You know the lashing they'd give me if I didn't." 

"Well," you murmur, "I suppose you did patch me up." 

He kissed your forehead as the sound of the front door opening echoes down the hall. "That's the spirit." 

"Angel?" 

You relax. It's James, which means you aren't in for a loving telling off, just a loving. You stay by Remus' side until James is in view, a shock of green rugby uniform stark against brown skin. He sheds his bag and you practically throw yourself into his open arms, 'cause usually that's exactly what he wants. 

"Wait wait wait!" he says, holding out his hand, his wrist brace scratchy against your arm. "Don't hurt yourself worse! What happened?" 

You fight him, trying to hug him and laughing when he holds you back like you're nothing. He's strong. "James, come on. I cut it on the garden fence." 

He makes a sound like he feels super sorry for you and finally lets you hug him, your face in his solid chest, your hands at the small of his back. You settle in for as long as you want, James and you both suckers for a good hug, and sigh as his cheek kisses the top of your head. 

"You okay, Moons? You look tired." James voice rumbles through your hear, low and warm. 

"Fine. She just shocked me, running in the house with blood dripping down to her elbow." 

"Give us a hug." 

"I'll make tea." 

James turns his lips to your forehead, "How come he'll hug me when we're alone, and he'll hug you all day long when you're together, but he's totally allergic to affection when we're together?" 

"He's shy," you mumble, "ask him again in an hour and he'll say yes." 

The door opens a second time and you'd hide your face pretty much in James' armpit, laughing through the horror. "Hide me." 

"No, I don't think so." 

James works your face away from his chest, hands held over the soft slopes of your shoulders. He looks you in the eye, all melty brown and sweetness. "Sure you're okay?" he asks. 

You hum. He kisses your cheek. 

"Okay, I'm gonna go harass Remus for a hug then, before he boils the kettle and threatens me with a scalding. Love you." 

"I don't love you, you're leaving me for the wolves." 

"I'm hardly a wolf," comes Sirius' amused drawl. 

James raises his eyebrows at you in a silent gesture for Good luck, angel, and disappears around the corner to the kitchen. 

You sigh and spin on your heel, finding your arch nemesis (concerned boyfriend) propped against the wall. He's in casual work attire, which for Sirius is a smart pair of trousers and a dark button down with the sleeves rolled up. His tan seems to have waned in the winter, leaving him pale. Though he often claims in a joking manner that it's a consequence of loving you, he's always so worried it steals the colour from his skin. 

I like to worry, he'd assured you once. 

"You might not believe me, but you look very handsome today," you say. 

He raises a dark brow. "You say that every day." 

"Emphasis on 'very,'" you say. 

He pulls his weight off of the wall and holds out his hand as he approaches. You let him take your arm, let him assess the small dressing bandage Remus has applied over your cut. 

"It was deep," you admit, "but not very long." 

"Mm, Remus said," Sirius says, near murmuring as his thumb works into your wrist. He rubs over unbroken skin gently. "Does it hurt?" 

You shake your head vehemently. 

"Swear?" 

"Why would I lie?" you ask. You smile at him. "You really do look handsome. And you didn't need to come home from work." 

"It's my lunch break." 

"Oh, good! Let me make you something, while everybody's home." 

"Or I can make you something," he suggests. 

You enter into a stare off. He faces you with little expression, a blank slate. A pretty blank slate. His lashes don't so much as flicker, while you struggle to keep a straight face under so much seriousness. Your lips twitch with a laugh and something about it must break him, because he takes your face into his two hands and presses your noses together. 

"You make it very hard to be sensible about things," he says, and gives you a chaste kiss. 

His lips are a warmth you savour, and he steals them back much too swiftly for your liking. 

"Remus is the sensible one," you deny. "You're the overprotective one. And James is… James." You sigh, lovelorn. "And I'm the stupid one who cuts herself on chicken wire. You really didn't have to come home." 

"I wanted to." 

He leads you by the hand into the kitchen, where James and Remus stand in front of an unboiled kettle, Remus face smushed into James broad shoulder, a muscled arm locking him into place. He looks quite happy. 

"Sorry, I'm still making tea," he says into James' sleeve.

"No, I'm gonna make dinner," you say, yanking Sirius to the lovefest. 

You worm under James' other arm and Sirius strokes at the hair curling over Remus' forehead, mumbling, "Oh, god, she's killed you." 

"Worse ways to go," Remus says. 

[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 1)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Arguing, and Name Calling

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Five years later, Rafe makes an unplanned stop at a diner that reveals a secret that Y/N has been keeping from him.

Masterlist

Y/N wipes the counter with a clean rag, looking up at the clock across the wall. Three more hours until Stella is dropped off from daycare. “If you think rubbing that spot over and over again will make a genie appear and you can wish for her to be here faster, then I’m sorry to say that you are going to be disappointed,” Harvey jokes, following her gaze to the clock. She stops cleaning, “Sorry, I just miss her so much. I think I’m PMSing.” “Sure, we can blame it on your period,” he laughs. Y/N pushes him over in annoyance, escaping to her back office to hopefully make the time go faster. 

She smiles at the picture of the grandma on the desk, settling on her chair to order more inventory. Her life plans weren’t exactly to take over the diner, yet it’s not like she was planning on having a baby at twenty either. Y/N was left the diner in her grandma’s will and she took it so that it could stay in the family. There are no regrets in either of those decisions. Sure, she didn’t get her big break in LA or New York, but she would never dream of trading her daughter for anything in the world. Stella Y/L/N is the light of her life, even if she is the spinning image of her dad. Stella is all Y/N’s and that’s all that matters. She may have Rafe’s eyes, but she has Y/N’s sense of humour. Her lips are the same as his, but she loves the same movies as her mom. Her hair colour may match his, but she also has the same bad habit of biting her nails as her mom. 

Y/N focuses on the words on her screen when Harvey comes running into her office. “A total hunk just came into the restaurant and I have been ordered by Patty to come get you. She thinks he can be your soulmate. Says to let you take his table,” he informs, pointing behind him with his thumb. Y/N shakes her head, “I’m the owner. I really should be the one telling you to take tables, but I won’t disappoint Patty. I’ll be out in a second.” Harvey nods and heads back out to check on his customers. She finishes up the order she was working on, fixing her shirt before heading out the door. 

The sound of a door opening draws Rafe’s attention and his heart stops at the scent of vanilla he hasn’t smelt in five years. Even if it was only one night, he has been haunted by the wearer of that scent for years. His eyes land on her and he can’t believe he gets to see her again. Her smile is still as brilliant. Y/N heads behind the counter to get an apron and his insides collapse in on himself as he watches her smile dim at his sight. He doesn’t know why she would be upset at him. She was the one who left in the morning without a word. Suddenly, the face on his watch needs to be constantly adjusted.

As Y/N exits her office, she has to stop herself from screaming at the man sitting in the booth. She could never forget him; a living reminder of him literally came out of her vagina almost four years ago. Fear creeps into her brain. The only possible reason he could be here after all these years is because of that living reminder.  With the resources he has, he would most certainly win custody over Stella and Y/N couldn’t allow that to happen. But maybe he doesn’t know about her. If he did, then wouldn’t it make more sense to bring a lawyer with him? She decides to find out why he is really here first before she goes on the defence as she walks over to take his order.  

“What are you doing here?” she grits through bared teeth. He gives her a confused look, “I had a meeting with clients. I thought I would stop to get something to eat before heading back to the Outer Banks.”

Her expression lightens up at his words. “So you aren’t here to see me?” His head moves from side to side, “No. I mean that night was amazing, but I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I’m just hungry.” He notices that her eyes keep glancing towards the clock and the nail of her thumb is being gripped by her teeth. He wonders why she looks so worried all of a sudden. 

“Okay, good. I mean cool. What can I get you? A burger? Salad? Pie?” 

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, Buttercup. Why are you in such a rush? Aren’t you going to get my drink order first?”

“Right. Of course. What can I get you to drink?”

“A coffee, please.” 

Rafe had never seen a woman run away from him so fast before and he has got to say that he is offended. He doesn’t know what he did to garner such a reaction from her, but he vows to make it up to her. His hand goes up to his mouth, so he can check his breath. Smells fine. The mug of coffee is quickly placed in front of him and she practically forces him to give her his food order right at this second. 

Y/N hands the order to Patty in the kitchen, “Pat, I need you to focus on this order, please. Get it out first and as fast as you can.” The older woman’s eyebrow shoots up. “That’s a little unusual, but I can do that for you, honey. Can you watch the other food then for me, please?” she asks. Y/N does as asks and makes sure the chicken tenders in the fryer don’t burn. Patty gets Rafe’s food done in a jiffy and Y/N takes it out to him. She stays behind the counter, looking between the clock and Rafe eating every so often. She swears she has never seen someone eat so slowly. He has to be doing this on purpose. He can feel her gaze on him and he has pieced together that something must be coming that she doesn’t want him to see. His curiosity gets the best of him, so he decides to make this lunch last.

The jingle of a bell above the door catches his attention. He turns to see a little girl run into the diner and round the counter to the woman standing behind it. “Mommy,” she screams, jumping into Y/N’s arms. With a clear view of the girl now that she is being carried by her mom, Rafe can now see her in more detail. 

The long locks that frame her face are the same muddy blonde colour as his. Her eyes match his ocean-blue ones. And she definitely inherited the shape of his lips. He tries to do the math in his head. He isn’t great at guessing kids’ age. She looks about three, maybe four. So four years plus the ten months of pregnancy, that child is almost certainly his. He feels like his world is falling in on itself. How could he not know that he had a little girl? Did she know she had a daddy? He promised himself if he ever had a kid that they would never feel the same way about him as he does about his dad. But he did one step worse by not even being in his daughter’s life. Anger starts to fill him and he knows he needs to find a way to manage it before he lets it out on the wrong person. 

“Stells, what are you doing back so early?” Y/N questions her grinning daughter, moving the hair out of the girl’s face. She nods along to the explanation about daycare ending early today, so Mrs. Winters dropped her off early. Her eyes are focused on Rafe and she watches as he pieces the puzzle together. She observes as he slaps money onto the table, quickly making his exit. “Shit,” the mother whispers. “Can you go to my office, please? Mommy will bring you a snack, baby.” Y/N makes sure Stella is making her way to the office before running after Rafe. Her feet slap against the concrete and she spots him entering his truck. She goes to chase after him, but he drives off in a blink of an eye.  

——

He had a daughter. He had a little girl that he could cherish and watch grow that she kept a secret from him. He doesn’t even know their daughter’s name. His anger fills him to the brim and he needs an outlet to get rid of it. The white powder in the small baggies calls to him, so he rushes to his coffee table. He draws the cocaine into lines and brings his nose down to snort the powder. The drugs start to affect him; his judgement starts to be clouded. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to dial a number, “Barry, I need you to find an address for me.”

——

“So how was daycare, Stella?” Y/N questions her daughter, cutting up a cucumber for a snack. Stella runs up to the counter, “It was good, Mommy. I got a rainbow sticker for being a good girl.” The girl pulls at the front of her shirt to show off the sticker on it. “That’s great, Baby. You must have worked hard today to be a good girl. I’m proud of the effort you put in. Now, why don’t you go get ready for your snack? Mommy is almost done getting everything ready,” she suggests, moving on to get the cheese cut. Stella yells an okay and runs to the bathroom. 

The hard knock on the door reverberates around the open floor plan of the small house. This stops Y/N in her tracks and she goes to answer the door. When she sees who it is, she tries to shut the door in his face, but his foot stops her. “How come you didn’t tell me I had a daughter?” he growls, pushing his way into her house. His force causes her to stumble backwards and luckily, she is able to catch herself before she falls on her bum like on the night they first met. She shuts the door, turning toward him, “I was going to tell you. But by the time I found out I was pregnant, I had already learnt the type of person you truly were.” 

“The type of person I truly was? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Can you keep your voice down, please? She is just down the hall.”

“What do you mean?” he snarls, approaching her so they are chest to chest. The dark look in his eyes and the towering figure over her should’ve scared her. She can see the abnormal size of his pupils, so she knows he is high. However, she can’t stop thinking about the man that she met. Not about the stories of his anger issues or how he beats people to a pulp. Not about how he not only does cocaine but sells it at parties too. All she can see is the man who lost his button and ranted about how his father is an asshole. Passing the anger of her hiding Stella, she can see the sadness he feels about missing out on her life so far. Yet, the fact that he shows up at her house, high and yelling while Stella is there causes her to feel her own fury as her maternal side starts to show. 

She stands straight, taking a few steps forward that makes him walk backwards, “What do I mean? I mean that I found out that you not only do drugs, but you sell them. I found out that you beat people up who aren’t in the same financial circle as you. I found out that you have anger issues that you don’t seem to want to change. Rafe, you weren’t the type of father I wanted for my daughter.” Seeing such a sweet person say all those vile but true things about him sends a pang through his heart. 

“You never gave me a chance to change! I would’ve done anything for her if I knew she existed.” 

“Really? Because from where I’m standing right now, you are proving me right. Look what you did when you found out about her. You didn’t try to talk to me like an adult. You went out and got high then barged into my house demanding answers.” 

“You know what? All of you bitches are the same. You think that you are so much better than everyone because you don’t do drugs or get angry. Well let me tell you something, you are just a poor slut who got pregnant on purpose to have a permanent cash cow. You aren’t better than me. You are just better at hiding it than me.”

The volume she was about to talk at was not one she had ever used before, but she wasn’t about to let him talk about her or her daughter like that. “GET OUT! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN UNLESS YOU HAVE A LAWYER WITH YOU!” She storms toward the door and throws the door open. Rafe didn’t think someone with such a nice personality could be so loud. It helps bring him back to reality and he realizes what he just did. His shoulders relax with his anger. He looks at her sadly as he follows her pointed finger out of the door.

Y/N shuts it once he is out the door. She runs her fingers through her hair, giving a tug to the end of her roots. The frustrated sigh she lets out is the only sound in the room until a small voice catches her attention. “Mommy, are you okay?” Y/N turns to her teary-eyed daughter and concern floods through her. She rushes to her, bringing her up to rest against her hip. Her forehead rests against the younger girl’s temple, “I’m okay, Stells. Mommy isn’t hurt, just angry. Are you okay, Baby? I know hearing Mommy yell might have been scary. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Stella’s arms circle her mother’s shoulders and she gives her mother a kiss on the cheek as comfort. “I’m okay, Mommy. The scary man is gone now. Who was he?” 

Y/N wishes she could pretend like there was no man, but Stella had obviously seen Rafe. There is no denying it. Y/N just has no idea who she wants Rafe to be to her daughter. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii

[vampyrris]

just you and levi being pervy at the beach, tsk tsk

cw: being touchy-touchy in public lol

nestled on the beach towel, you watched your friends in the distance. they splashed around in the water, huge smiles plastered on their faces. hange was trying to dunk erwin under the current, going down with him in the process as a huge wave hit. you giggled at that.

you weren’t a big fan of the sea. the mostly unexplored ocean scared you shitless, so you opted to stay back on the shore instead. clearly bothered by your decision, levi had thrown some colourful terms at you before leaving with the rest of them.

and so now you remained eyes closed and basking under the sun in your little refuge.

but not long after, you sensed a presence near you. cracking one eye open, you found levi looking down at you, eyes furrowed and mouth set in a deep pout. you also couldn't help but let your eyes run over him—his white shirt unbuttoned, exposing his wet skin, and his damp shorts clinging deliciously against his buldge. your eyes lingered on his abs for a while, droplets of water cascading down the slopes, before quickly returning to meet his gaze.

“hey you,” you gave him a lazy smile, shifting on your side and propping yourself up on your elbow.

his eyes gave away nothing as they swept over your figure. you tilted your head, letting him see his fill. you’d picked your favourite bikini set today, knowing even if you didn't exactly go for a swim, you could at least look sexy sitting here.

you definitely did not pick this one secretly hoping levi would appreciate it. definitely not.

he cleared his throat, sitting down beside you.

“why are you still here?” he shook his hair, spraying water all around him. you yelped, sending him a glare.

“just chilling, looking pretty. you done having your bit of fun for the day? social battery run out yet?” you asked as you sat up.

he shrugged, looking at the others in the distance. “just was wondering what you were still doing here alone.”

you reached out and pinched his cheek. “aww, were you worried about me? that’s new.” you threw him a smirk that you knew would get his blood boiling.

he only rolled his eyes, shoving you off. “you’re fucking annoying, you know that?”

“you didn’t think i was fucking annoying when you were checking me out just now.” you pouted.

he scoffed, even as pink tinted his cheeks. “i was only about to say you should put a shirt on and stop giving everyone a weird porno fantasy at the beach for free.”

you looked around, noticing there was almost little to no one around. “well, since it’s just us here, i’m giving you a free porno fantasy.”

he scoffed again, looking away.

you sent him a teasing smile, assuring him you were only joking. well, half-joking.

it had been a long while since this tension bloomed between you and levi, and he had done shit-all about it, not even letting you know where you both stood. so naturally, you took matters in your own hands.

you’d begun teasing him unabashedly, whether it be brushing up against him, playing with his hair, touching up his thigh, or even wearing a pretty bikini for him.

but all your efforts had gone down the drain, since he never seemed to be taking the hint.

you chewed on your lip as you thought about your next move.

“you know what, i wanna get in the water.” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed your bottle of sunscreen. levi looked at you in surprise, but you paid him no heed. squirting a generous amount on your palm, you worked it between your hands started rubbing it onto your arms and chest.

you made sure you were slightly facing him as you sat on your knees, spreading the cream on your skin slowly. your hands glided between your breasts and over your stomach, going lower and lower.

levi was watching you very carefully.

keenly aware of his gaze following your every move, you adjusted the string securing the fabric between your thighs, pulling it up so the cloth strained against the plumpness of your pussy.

levi’s arm shot out and grabbed you, stopping your motions.

“i know what you’re doing.” he muttered, giving you a hard look. his eyes were glazed, and you felt a surge of satisfaction knowing you were the reason.

you bit your lip, peering up at him through your lashes. “so, it’s working?”

he snatched the bottle from your hand, surprising you.

“wha—?”

“lie back down on your stomach.” he ordered.

he levelled you with a look, waiting. you bit your lip again and smirked before doing as he asked.

as you got comfortable on the towel, you could still feel levi’s piercing gaze on your back. wiggling your ass a little as you settled, you turned your head towards him only to find his eyes fixated on your behind with an intensity that made heat loom low in your belly.

a little flushed, you moved your hair to one side and nestled your head on your folded arms.

you watched him squirt the cream in his hands before lathering it between them.

a sigh escaped your lips when his palms came into contact with your skin, the lather’s coolness soothing against the heat of his palms. he slowly dragged his fingers down your spine, undoing the strings of your bikini top.

“levi, our friends are right there!” you hissed, lifting your head anxiously even as excitement thrummed in your veins.

he began massaging your back despite your protest. “i’m just helping you out, nothing to see here.”

your heart thundered in your chest as you watched your friends still in the water, paying zero attention to your little performance a few feet away.

levi’s touch was gentle but firm as he stroked across your shoulder blades, his fingers gliding smoothly across your soft skin.

“relax,” he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. the sound shot straight between your legs, making you clench them in anticipation.

he moved lower down your back, his touch skilled as his fingers moved deftly in even strokes. an involuntary moan escaped your lips as he worked a particularly tight spot. you slapped a hand on your mouth, cheeks flaming in embarrassment, but his hands never stopped even as he chuckled and wrung out another strained moan from you.

“levi..” you weakly protested, not really wanting him to stop.

but then, levi leaned down and whispered, “does this need some attention, too?” he gently squeezed your ass. you gasped, meeting his stare.

noticing how heated his gaze was, you took his hand, feeling bold. you lowered it between your legs over your clothed, throbbing cunt.

“this requires more attention, i think.”

he shut his eyes and groaned, feeling your wetness seep through the cloth as he pressed a finger there.

“you nasty fucking minx.” his gravelly voice made you clench again, but this time around his fingers. he rubbed tight circles on your wetness, eliciting a shameless whimper from you.

you raised your head a little, brushing your lips against his. “i wanna hear you calling me that when you’re fucking m—”

something hit your head, and you jumped back, slapping levi’s hand away. you heard levi curse under his breath.

“not here, please! spare us!” hange yelled. erwin beside her had his hand over his eyes, visibly cringing.

levi snorted and slapped your butt playfully before removing himself from you. he sent you a promising smirk. “later, then.”

you sent one right back. “i’ll be waiting.”

[rynbeerose]

What if you and Price got married because you two made that silly pact when you two were in your early twenties? You two have been friends for longer than you can remember, you knew him since he was just a troublemaker boy in school and your friendship continued even until he left to join the military.

John was just a young Lieutenant who was in his leave. His mate from school invited him over for a small gathering at the said friend’s new house, for some kind of a housewarming party. His friend had other people over, some he knew some he didn’t. But, John was happy to be able to see some of his old classmates after being away in another country for months.

And you were there. He hadn’t seen you since he left school to join the military so you two caught up and chatted for a bit, with some other friends as well. The evening went by, the party died down after some people left. Just before nine p.m. you got up and decided to leave. John offered to give you a ride since you two were going to the same direction anyway. You agreed and the two of you said goodbye to the rest before leaving.

In the drive home, you two chatted again, the conversation went on about your current life, his job, and throwback memories of when you two were still in school. He drove you to your flat and you two exchanged numbers before he left. And that was how you two started being friends again.

Two days after that housewarming party, you two met unexpectedly when you were shopping for groceries, he took you to have lunch before you two went to your separate ways again. Then a few days later he came over to your flat to help you with your dripping faucet and you two ended up watching film together in your living room. You two continued to hang out together from time to time when he came home from his deployment, sometimes with other friends, sometimes only the two of you.

One day when he came over to your place to help you installing your new TV and he ended up staying over for dinner. You two ended up watching some film together and had some wine while chatting until the conversation about relationships came up. He was a busy man, always occupied with his work to find someone. And you joked about how he’d end up alone. He then jokingly said, “It doesn’t really bother me. If I’m still unable to find someone, maybe I’ll just marry you.” And that was how the pact was made. “Maybe if we’re both still single by the time we’re thirty, we should just marry each other.”

It was a lighthearted conversation, and you didn’t really take it seriously. I mean, sooner or later one of you would eventually see other people, right? Though, you two remained friends who only got to see each other once or twice every six to seven months due to his demanding job.

But, here you are now, age thirty six, picking up a mini version of John from his school. The resemblance is uncanny, proof of John’s strong genes. The boy has his blue eyes, his nose, and his cheeky smile. The only thing the boy inherited from you is his hair colour.

You can’t help but smile when he tugs on your hand as you two walk together towards your house, that warm feeling blossoms in your chest when you see the boy trying to dribble a rock like it’s football. Even the boy inherits John’s hobby and athletic skills.

Never would’ve thought that lighthearted, silly pact led you into having a happy family with that man.

[actual-changeling]

An angel and a demon walk into a bar.

It sounds like the beginning of a joke, one that would have annoyed Crowley greatly before- before. Maybe it would have been mildly amusing, were it not for the fact that it is a pub, not a bar (a mere technicality that somehow still mattered), and it is the first time in seven months that he is looking Aziraphale right in the face.

He chose the place, walked right out of the bookshop and across the street the second Aziraphale looked at him with his stupid purple eyes and opened his mouth. Same table, same drinks. New silence.

A demon leads an angel into a pub so he does not kiss him again.

Less of a joke, more like the beginning of a nightmare he has had every single time he tried to sleep, woken by whispered words either confirming his worst fears or greatest desires; both incite fear, one way or another.

The low table between them is enough of a barrier to prevent a repeat of their last interaction, it has to be, although this time Aziraphale is looking at him with violet-coloured longing and an apology on his lips, no longer pleading, no longer angry. He is asking for forgiveness, and if that isn't a deeply ironic twist of fate.

Before either of them says a single word, Crowley finishes his drink and raises his hand to order another one, clinging to the familiar sting of alcohol in his throat to burn away the questions lingering on his tongue.

An angel followed a demon into a pub because he loves him.

Aziraphale wishes he could tell himself Crowley looks like he did seven months ago, that he hasn't changed, but he is done lying to himself, to either of them. Behind his shades, dark, darker if that is even possible, he can feel his golden gaze heavy on his face, familiar and the answer to an empty longing in his chest.

His drink goes untouched as Crowley downs one, then another, and it is after the third that he finally begins to talk.

"What do you want?"

Bitter, sharp, spit at his feet with an anger he expected and yet doesn't know how to react to. Underneath it is pain—more pain than any being should ever have to experience—and instead of trying to carry some of it for him, he only added to it.

"I want to apologise."

"Fine." Crowley shoves his empty glass away and gets up. "I don't forgive you."

Reflexively, Aziraphale reaches out and curls his fingers around his wrist when Crowley tries to walk past him, blinking up at him with eyes the colour of dying Myosotis.

Forget-me-nots.

They both freeze, the point of contact a crack in the walls they have spent centuries building and seven months rebuilding, and he knows he has made a mistake immediately.

Crowley stares at him, still as stone, until he suddenly rips his arm out of his grasp, almost cradling it against his chest. With dawning horror, Aziraphale realises he is shaking, tremors running through him like waves breaking apart on a rocky shore.

"Don't you dare touch me." Panic, not anger. Pure, unfiltered panic blooming beside a mountain of fear that could outlast an eternity.

"I-" He doesn't know what he wants to say, what he is trying to say, what he needs to say to make him stay. Oh, the irony of it all.

Crowley leaves the pub, and the Supreme Archangel stays behind.

Not a demon anymore, not technically, he is done with sides, and deeds, and choices; he never makes the right ones anyway. His wrist hurts with the ghost of a kiss, and he cannot get the glint of purple where summer sky blue should be out of his head. 

The Bentley is waiting for him, providing an escape from the noise, the people, him.

Apologies instead of I'm coming back.

A sickening aura of holiness tinged with the burn of ozone instead of books and dust and soft, silly angel.

Seven months of waiting, of pleading with God, of cursing Her, cursing him, cursing the entire fucking world for taking and taking and taking from him without pause, without even a fragment of mercy.

For this.

An angel returns to heaven. Crowley curses the stars and cries.

[inkonparchment]

re6!Leon x agent!Reader drabble.

decompressing after missions is not as easy as it seems.

mentions of ptsd, implied age gap, slightly graphic scenery but nothing we aren't used to in the RE-verse.

Your fingers flex by your side. Fingers splaying out against your thighs as though in search. In search for the feel of cool metal against your skin. Your hand feels empty, too light, the weight isn't correct. And then you clench your hand, rounding up your fingers in a fist.

Breathe. Breathe.

Maybe you should have stayed home instead of coming to the office party. You couldn't even remember what the celebration was for. But what good would it have done you by staying home? Staring at the walls, watching the paint peel, letting the harsh blue glare of your TV bathe you.

Breathe. Breathe.

You bring your glass to your lips, taking a small slip, rolling the liquid around in your mouth to coat it with bubbles. What was it your therapist had said? Find other ways to ground yourself. The tonic water did help put your mind off your hand. No alcohol for you though, no. So afraid that if you ventured once to seek comfort at the bottom of the bottle, you wouldn't be able to stop.

You squint against the harsh lights. Are they harsh or do they just seem like that to you? You can't tell the difference right now. The music is nice, low and soft, the sight of your coworkers intermingling keeping your eyes busy. But you can't help it, can't help your eyes darting across the room.

Locate the exit. Any hostiles? How many active shooters? Anyone with their skin peeling off, eyes popping out of their skull with their hands outstretched, mouths upturned in a snarl, the scent of rotting flesh-

Breathe. Bubbles. Breathe.

You take a step back, melting more in the background. Best not to attract attention right now, you don't think you have the energy to muster up a social conversation. You exhale a deep breath, looking down at your shoes, slight pain starting to creep in your toes from standing around in your heels too long.

You don't notice someone slide next to you.

"You're standing so far back, people might mistake you as part of the decor."

You freeze, recognising the voice. The soft, gentle low cadence that you're sure you'd be able to recognise anywhere. You lift your chin and the gnawing voices in your head cease.

The lights cast a shadow on his blond hair, almost creating a halo, blue eyes hiding under his bangs that are gentle in their way of looking at you. His warmth, the scent of his cologne drifting around him wherever he goes. And suddenly you feel awake, brought back to the ground with a sudden yank to your chain.

"Agent Kennedy!" You sound surprised and that amuses him.

"And here I thought we were finally going to be on first name basis."

You look away, put at an ease by his teasing tone. A running joke now between the two of you. Passing each other in the hallways, he would greet you by your name and you would greet him with an 'Agent Kennedy'. You don't know what it is but you can't seem to find it in yourself to call him 'Leon'.

He watches you carefully, a little shake of his head to move the bang from his eyes. "When did you get back?"

You shift the glass to your other hand, "Yesterday."

When he doesn't respond, you look up at him again to see a small smile on his face, a question dancing in his eyes. So blue. You could almost drown in them.

"What?"

"Can't believe you came to this party right after an assignment." He shrugs his shoulders. "I would've headed out to Hawaii instead."

A chuckle escapes from your lips, "Well we can't all do what you do, Agent Kennedy."

He's grown his stubble out a bit more, you notice. Eyebags lighter, more colour in his cheeks, like he isn't carrying around an unsurmountable exhaustion.

You want to know how he does it. How he's so much at ease right now. How much he's able to handle the shitload well that he's not standing in the middle of an office party of one of the most secure departments in the country, mere moments away from a breakdown.

Your eyes get a bit hazy, not wanting your state to be put on such a display, especially not around Agent Kennedy. You can feel a slow spiral beginning to grip you but it almost immediately stops.

Warmth blossoms against your skin and  the sound of your name falling on your ears brings you back to reality. He's standing more closer now, a reassuring hand pressed on your wrist where neither your dress shirt nor the coat of your pant suit covers your skin.

His face is full of understanding as though he knows, knows exactly what's been running your mind like he's been there himself. A soft squeeze. "You know where to find me."

And with a final smile, he let's go, walking away from you. You watch until he disappears into the crowd, leaving the ghost of his burning handprint against your skin.

The lights feel softer now.

[sephifrog]

so we're property huh?

sephiroth x reader

Cleaning the training room after the firsts destroyed it wasn’t how you wanted to spend your afternoon but after the stunt you pulled on your last mission you were surprised Lazard didn’t give you a harsher punishment. You knew you shouldn’t have left your post. Wiping away the sweat from your brow you almost smacked yourself when you heard someone clear their throat, you spun and saw Sephiroth in the doorway, a man who seemed so untouchable why was he here? Were you cleaning the wrong ruined training room? “O-oh? uh hey?” your stutter, something a lot of the soldiers joked about, caused you to narrow your eyebrows and clear your throat missing the small chuckle that left the man.

The silver-haired general was the whole reason you (and a lot of others) joined Shinra power company, you wanted to meet the legend but after years of only catching glimpses of him, you gave up on that dream and transferred from soldier candidate to inventory grunt, still a decent pay but less work at least that's what you told yourself.

So seeing him here was a shock. “I lost something when I was training you don’t mind if I look for it?” His voice was smoother than you thought it would be, hearing it through speakers didn’t do it justice and you could feel your face warm up as it rang through your ears. You almost couldn’t answer but willed yourself to choke out a noise that you hoped sounded like a “sure”

Tearing your eyes away from him you start to tidy again wondering what he lost, unsure if you should offer your help or if that would seem like you're trying to pry. In the end, you decide on just finishing the task the director gave you. While your back is turned Sephiroth peaks at you, he feels like he’s seen you before but can't place where, he hasn’t spent much time with inventory but he’s sure you weren't employed last time he worked with them. As he opens his mouth to ask an almost silent laugh is ripped out of him as you slip and start to grumble. Moving towards you he offers his hand and when your eyes meet he can't help but be taken by the colour, so beautiful, only snapping out of it when he spots the mako. “You had treatments?”

It was a whisper curious in nature almost childlike, his thin pupils seemed to have locked onto the remnants of mako swirling in your eyes. Interest is clear on his face as he observes yours closely.

You almost couldn’t respond to him, too lost in his eyes and feeling your heart race from him being so close but you cleared your throat.

“A while ago, before I transferred”

His lips press together as he pulls you up, eyes trailing over your body in interest.

“The mako didn’t take? I don't think I've heard of many transfers”

Again you noted curiosity in him as he asked, it put you a bit more at ease seeing him so human. He let go of your hand and started to continue his search but you could see he was still listening to you.

“Eh, they took but I didn’t want to stay so I transferred, I would have left but the contract says we can’t until the mako leaves our system, something that I don’t think will ever happen” you grumble the last sentence but snap your mouth shut realising who you're talking to.

He laughs nodding in agreement. “You would be correct, Shinra likes keeping their property close” His voice wasn’t harsh but his words seemed to be angry, you could tell it wasn't directed at you when he cleared his throat and looked away. the air seemed tense as you turned to continue cleaning the tinkering of metal rang out as you swept it up.

“We could continue to talk smack about Shinra over coffee?”

You froze as the words slipped out of your mouth, nervous laughter bubbling up but before it spilled out-

he responded.

“I would like that”

[edges-of-night]

OMG YIPPIEEIE YOU'RE BACK🎉 you're one of my favorite Lotr blogs ever❤❤❤ hope you're having an absolutely wonderful day❤

You know when there's a short character that's comically strong? Could you do the characters of your choice reacting to a short reader just tossing them over their shoulder like it's nothing? I'd think it'd be a little funny

Thank you very much, nonnie! I hope you’re doing well, too. I picked six characters which I think would be the funniest for your prompt!

Also: I’ve decided to introduce a “humour” tag! And a divider, perhaps? What do you guys think? Anyways, have fun reading!

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

When you pick him up, Boromir is so stumped he cannot speak. How could a small person like you be so strong? Did you practice dark magic? Have you been bonded to the enemy and only now shown your true colours? It causes him quite a dramatic headache. He would stay up late by the fire to stare into it and question your relationship. Once he realises nothing had changed – you’re still yourself after all, always have been! – he would grin and exhale in relief (but still probably ask you to not do that again).

.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

You probably won a bet against Éomer, that’s why he lets you throw him over your small shoulders in the first place. He expects to hate it but actually has a lot of fun being carried around like this. The two of you would often joke about how you could become his horse (or rather: pony) and use your strength to win many bets and free drinks among those who haven’t heard of your power. Additionally, Éomer would invent legendary stories to tell about you at drinking sprees. His fun would only be over when someone would ridicule your height – then it’s time for a brawl.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

When you first threw Éowyn over your shoulder, she protested like a dragon, so you let her down again quickly. But as time passes, she grows accustomed to the thought of being carried by someone she loves so deeply – just maybe not over your shoulder, but bridal style through the halls of Edoras. She would also carry you in return, needless to say, though she would often blush when asked about it. But she would always defend you against bigots! Sidenote: Éowyn loves your standing on your tip toes to kiss her ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

You and Gimli vow to never speak of the day when you effortlessly carried him all the way back home over your shoulder. Though it fractures his Dwarven pride, Gimli is impressed with your strength. After all, he was wearing his heavy armour as well as his helmet and axe. Secretly, he would think back fondly to the instance. Still, the principle remains: “No one tosses a Dwarf over their shoulder!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

You wouldn’t have carried Haldir all the way back to Lothlórien if it hadn’t been absolutely necessary. But he was unconscious, so you had no choice. Other Elves of your party had volunteered, but you were quicker than anyone else (and also untiring). Every single one of you swore to never speak of this again, though you now do share a great insight joke to rile dear Haldir up more than you already do. Needless to say, he would never suspect you tiny little thing were the main culprit!

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Being the Elven prince that he is, Legolas likes being carried around by you (and the scandalised faces of other people) so much that he would pretend to be fainting or otherwise stricken so that you would pick him up again. He is very playful about the entire thing, throwing his long arms around your neck and kicking his legs like a damsel in distress. He would also retort to your massive strength to threaten people, should the need arise…

[lichenes]

vincent renzi nsfw alphabet? :3

Thank you for the ask anon ;D

I figured this would be the best way to start writing nsfw soooo :3c

Giggling. kicking my feet literally. If you want me to elaborate on any particular letter feel free to lmk :]

I tried to make it as gn as possible :p

Vincent Renzi x gn!reader

CW: Less descript-y than my usual works, different format basically, kinda drifted from the nsfw-ness of it in a few of the subpoints lol, NSFW

wc: (excluding the template) 1,2k

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿____

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like he would kiss you through your orgasm and after you've both come off your high he would get up lazily still basking in the afterglow... He would look so good doing it too, his tired eyes observing your still heaving chest. He would ask you if you need anything and provide it for you. A caring partner thats for sure.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also yours)

In this context- he likes his own fingers. You clearly like his hands and he confronted you about it jokingly a few times to tease you. The first time he uses them on you, oh mon dieu... His favourite part of you are your eyes. To look into them while you cum is like heaven to him. While he eats you out he likes to keep eye contact if possible...

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I wouldn't say he's obsessed with you swallowing his cum. He is a tad bit opposed, being familiar with the risks it carries with it. He wouldn't be completely against it so if you feel like it, go for it.

D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He's a massive yearner. He'd never tell you that but he made a social media account solely to stalk you on it and not for work like he assured you. He would gaze lovingly at your pictures if you post any or just stare at the blank profile picture icon imagining what you were doing at the time.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mostly, he was pretty vanilla for most his life so if you want to try anything kinkier you should research it together to give him the security of knowing. When it comes to the basic things, fingering, eating out, different positions, he passes with flying colours.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Whatever you're comfortable with and whichever ones he can see your face in. He's obsessed with your face contorting into expressions of pleasure or pain if youre into it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He stays pretty serious for most of the time, teasing you if he feels bold that day. When he feels like you're in a bad mood he tries his best to cheer you up in... many ways. He doesn't crack jokes at random times while you have sex though.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's a clean man that's all I can say. His carpet does indeed match the drapes. And most importantly he cares for your comfort which makes him trim himself quite often. When it comes to his facial hair he sometimes forgets to shave and his moustache comes in. He noticed that that's when you make love most passionately so he sometimes 'accidentally' forgets to shave, when he's feeling particularly needy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Oh big romantic type, the first time you had sex he did the whole, rose petals on the floor, candles lit and all. Every time you have sex it's a special occasion and he feels obligated to make it seem so every time. During the moment he's very tender with you, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings into your ears...

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Remember that social media account I was talking about earlier? The first time the thought crossed his mind to masturbate to your pictures he got so flustered he had to go to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face to get rid of the thought. After he has aquired your photos though he does it with only a twinge of embarrassment.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He's big into undressing you if you, the act of stripping your clothes from your perfect body, lord, he couldn't imagine anything as arousing. He is a vanilla man up untill it comes to you riding him. When he's in that state you could convince him to do anything.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bed, your patio on the outdoor sofa. You tried to convince him to go at it in his office at the law firm he works at but he got too flustered just at the thought and thought that he'd die of a heart attack if you were to actualise your fantasy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As previously mentioned, undressing you. It's not like he's a complete maniac, taking your shirt off in front of him won't make him faint but he still will get a little flustered. Begging. That's it. He also loves seeing you relaxed. Whenever you're lounging on the sofa he gets the urge to make you just a bit more tense...

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I feel like he wouldn't degrade you unless you begged for it. He is also against impact play, but he's a covenantal man. Talk to him about it and you shall see.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving or recieving is fine. He's a master at eating pussy and if you aren't comfortable with oral he won't force you to do it. He will happily welcome it thought, giving you tips as you go.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Highly depends on his mood. If he's feeling particularly foul he won't have any qualms to pound you into the matress. If he's upset he'll go slow and sensual to relay to you how much you mean to him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers longer sessions to quickies. Fervency isn't what fuels him most so he prefers to go slow.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He likes experimenting, with certain limits of course. He prefers not to take risks, a calm and calculated man he is. When he warms up to you though, you could convince him to do it outside your bedroom (ex. the sofa on the patio).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

When angry or self concious he can go for many rounds, his stamina knows no bounds when he's mad. Normally, he prefers 1-2 rounds a happy medium.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on you or themselves?)

He doesn't own any toys as he's too embarrassed to buy them, online or at brick-and-mortar. If you use any, he likes using them on you during your raptures to rile you up even more.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh this man adores teasing. Especially when he can see that you're too self-assured that day, he likes breaking down your barriers of faux confidence and making you melt in his grasp.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Aside from occasional grunts and moans he isn't very vocal. He loves listening to your sounds though. This man is generally lovestruck by you. With little sounds comes how quiet he is. Maybe that little office endeavour could happen then?

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think he would go feral if you were to wear lingere for your first time with him. He is definitely a flatterer but he would be talking and thinking about you on the bed just in those perfectly enveloping you bra and panties... MON DIEU.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is on the lean side with his medium height statue perfectly complimenting his overall shape... What? Oh yeah his dick. That's what this subpoint is about. He's hung, not uncomfortably so that you couldn't take him all at once but enough to not be able to put it in without some prep first.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Once again he will do it as often as you like, it all depends on you. Although once he's desperate he won't hold back on you and go at it for hours...

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After clean up, he falls asleep in your arms pretty quickly spent from all the lovemaking. Sometimes he stays still just to face your sleeping form and watch your peacefull demeanor, safe from all the evils of the world when in his embrace.

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