#of food courts and closests

[whimsyprinx]

i had a dream that my roommate poured me a cup of milk without asking me if I even w aged any and between the time in which they poured it and the time I acknowledged it a spider had crawled in it so I was like “I can’t drink this, it’s warm and there’s a spider floating it it” so one of my roommates removed the spider from the milk and both of them got increasingly more annoyed at me for refusing to drink the milk saying “the spider isn’t even in there anymore, it’s fine” and kept trying to pressure me into drinking the spider milk

[goth-automaton]

I'd say it's funny, how a person so obsessed with mpreg can't stand little children at the same time (and by "can't stand" I mean "the sole sight of babies makes me gag"), if it wasn't making my life so difficult!

[gremlingottoosilly]

The horror and the wild (Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader) Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 Word count: 4906 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

This fic on AO3

— I do not wish to speak about politics before breakfast!

— Your Highness, I’m afraid, politics would not be waiting patiently until you’re finished with your sweet pastries. 

— What do you mean? 

— The Emperor’s army is on our doorstep. 

The look on the face of the Princess – your Princess – was priceless. First, it was a surprise, her adorable features all twisted in a very unladylike gasp. Then, it was terror – the first time you saw her ever express that emotion since the palace was always clear of anything that could scare her royal highness, from mice and snakes, and up to severely ugly people(poor, poor Elvin – he’d a good life if it weren’t for his pointy slabby jaw). Then, and it was the final emotion on her illustrious face – it was anger. To nobody’s surprise, the anger was mostly coming at you. 

You see – you’re a Princess's most loyal handmaiden. Raised under her crib, going to the same classes, doing everything in favor of your royal highness, from warming up her jewelry and to trying the food first to see if it’s poisoned – your whole life’s goal is to make sure that the Princess is as comfortable as possible. You’re her shadow, her servant, the closest to a friend she can have – and if you were the bearer of the bad news, it’s only natural that she would be angry at you in the first instance, and not at the imperial army clashing down at your tiny bordering kingdom. 

— Where are the guards?!

— Judging by the screams I am not sure if there are any left in the outer levels of the castle. And if the King didn’t come with a usual note after breakfast, it’s safe to assume that he is more busy. 

With a trained movement, you quickly duck under the table when the Princess, naturally, throws a plate in your direction. You knew she wasn’t meaning it – your poor, innocent darling Princess, she was just as scared as you were but had not learned of how to hide her emotions under sarcasm and false calmness. Your job is to keep her safe – and calm – even if there is no royal family to serve anymore. You don’t want to think of the possible outcomes – King took you in, a simple peasant girl with no talents whatsoever, and gave you an illustrious education, the most sought job in the whole kingdom, and an allowance that would allow you to study in the real collegium, were they to accept women. You don’t want this place to fall in Northern Empire clutches – and you especially don’t want the Princess to learn the harmful ways of two pretty young women trapped in a castle full of enemy soldiers. 

— How could this happen?!

— I’d have an answer for this question, Your Highness, but you ordered to urn any mail from the Northen Empire. Perhaps, they send us quite a bit of war declarations before finally going down. 

Your hand goes to the side of your skirt, clutching on the suicide dagger – if something happens, you’d have to kill the Princess first, take the sin of killing oneself from her innocent soul – and then go down after her, hoping that your dog-like loyalty would allow you to serve her in heaven. 

The Princess has many things that she’d like to take with her to the afterlife. You better start preparing her package soon – this castle wasn’t built to be protected from the army of beasts, hiding under human skin – your kingdom never provoked any wars, always trying to search for the opportunity of negotiations – and now this comes to bite you right in your soft rear, without a sufficient amount of guards or a suitable army to protect itself. 

You’d pray for the god, but your god wants you to die. 

— Princess, we need to…

Before you could say anything else, an explosion erupts somewhere in the southern tower – the closest place to enter the Princess chambers. You can hear screaming, you can hear laughing – a foreign language, the one you are proficient with, but it never made it less barbaric, less harsh. These people talk like swords clangs against each other – like a harsh metal against your skull. You’d give up anything to not understand what they are talking about. 

There is something to be done before the soldiers arrive, finding only a few guards and two pretty, terrified young things. You might not be afraid of death, but you sure are terrified of what will come before their blades would slit your throat. You do not wish to die with blood between your legs. You do not wish that fate for the Princess either. 

“The Princess should be here.”

“Did Lord say anything about trophies?”

“Don’t take anything now. Tiger said we were never here – he would pay us later”

“What about…”

“Don’t kill the Princess either. Emperor want her to himself, remember?”

“Come on, are we here for a whore?”

“A royal whore, dumbass. Now shut up before Emperor hears you.”

They laugh and you can hear the Princess whimpering, crying softly – all of the layers of harshness are washed away with every tear rolling down her perfect cheek. You move to them as fast as you can – these stupid clothes allow you at least some freedom of movement, saved from the excessive decorations and expensive, heavy fabrics – you are only as few levels higher than cleaning rags. you could probably rip away the lower levels of your skirt and run – the Princess wouldn’t even be able to move without your hand steadying herself. 

You need strength to not slap her right now – you know that the pain on her perfect puffy cheek would help get her to listen, but nothing in your body moves to ever hurt her, no matter the cause. You push yourself to the door, thinking – your castle isn’t the highest one in the whole world, if anything, the Princess would be able to escape either via the window or the secret tunnels – but they would search for her, they would never accept defeat like that. Even if you’d stall them for long enough, pulling every bit of luck you don’t have – they wouldn’t stop if they had the goal of catching the Princess. 

— Your radiance, we have to go!

— Where? The castle is going to crumble any second now, and Mama and Papa are…

You press your ear against the tough wood, listening to the soldier’s speaking – language is even harsher now when the adrenaline runs through your veins instead of blood. You would give up anything to be strong – to have your dancing and embroidering lessons switched to sword fighting, to archery, to read dark arcana books instead of romance novels that you and Her Preciousness liked so much. Your hands are soft and delicate, only a bit harsh from occasional cleaning and serving – you’re a shame to any servant in the castle, a house pet made to entertain and please, not to fight and work. 

The Princess is a cherished treasure for your kingdom. Protected and hidden away, the King was smart enough to know that a royal gem like her would make all the old rulers of kingdoms surrounding yours go into a frenzy – so Her Radiancy wasn’t ever allowed to any royal mingling and balls until she’d reach the age of at least 21. Her birthday was next month – a small mercy, knowing that there was a possibility of never getting of that age. 

“Is that a Princess?”

You hear a woman – probably one of the higher members of the court, considering her high-pitched accented whimpers with a familiar voice. God bless her soul and dedicate her a quick death – you don’t want to think what would come of her if not for this prayer.

“Princess should be in her quarters. This one definitely doesn’t speak like a royal meat”

“How do we even know which one is the Princess?”

“She should speak like one. Would be easier if her family ordered a fucking portrait.” 

But…you were with the Princess your whole life. You know how to act like her, you know how she talks, how all royals talk. You know how manners, you know how to sing, how to dance, you received the education that allowed her to copy your study work and give it to her personal teachers – her own reflection wouldn’t copy her better than you would. 

You’re young, like a Princess, you’re pretty, almost like a Princess – and you’re loyal like a dog, itching to pay your debt to the royal family. 

— Your Highness! You need to run, please, just take the secret route through the walls and…

It was the most horrible moment for her to put her foot down.

— I…I live to serve the royal family. Dying for you will be the greatest of honors. 

— I will not just leave you here!

— They’d defile and kill us both, Your Highness. But if I just pretend to be you, they won’t come looking for you, won’t they? They would have what they wanted and you will be free.

— What about you? 

You’d feel hurt for how quickly she ran to the secret tunnel – if such feelings were normal for a servant to have. You’d feel betrayed if it wasn’t the life or death situation – if you weren’t putting on her dress as swiftly as possible before the soldiers would come running for you. It’s funny, how you always wanted to try her dress – how you were jealous of everything she had, even if you were the closest to her – you pride yourself in not caring about such silly mortal possessions, and yet, you always wanted to try something as beautiful as her dress. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror – terrified, small, ready to die at any point or to be hauled back to the Northern Empire like a piece of meat. Dress suits you, the bright pink would tell about innocence and radiance – but not it smells of blood and betrayal. If the soldiers thought that the Princess killed herself in her room, they would surely not think about trying to find her. 

You push the tiny dagger against your wrist, praying to all of your knowledge of medicine that your death will be quick and as painless as possible. You left out a silent prayer – knowing that the god would only welcome you after your death. 

Not a war, Horangi corrects himself – a massacre. 

***

Tiger of the North was fucking tired.

This whole mission – declaring war that no one seen and no one wanted, marching through the street without an army behind him, felt more like a bandit’s doing than something that a general of the best army in the world would do. This whole operation is a stunt, an order from the Emperor that no one expected – seriously, sometimes he still felt like a child with new, exciting toys. For all he knew, König never saw a Princess – yet, he sent his best men to take her out, not caring that this would mean a war on the bordering kingdom.

Not his fault this shithole didn’t even bother to reply to any of the Emperor’s letters regarding the marital status of the Princess. Not his fault they don’t even have a proper army – the king died, gutted like a fucking pig, and the queen followed soon after. Their unit can count less than 20 people, with royal hounds and other animals to help – yet, no one was able to foresee them entering the castle and butchering it. It’s a hunt, not a war or even an assassination – a hunt for the Princess, the useless fucking thing. 

If they’d only bothered to get at least some portraits – something to tell what she looks like. Perhaps, she is ugly, a mix of a toad that fucked a pile of shit. Perhaps, she is crazy and eats pillows and keeps her handmaidens' heads like a trophy. Perhaps, she don’t fucking exist and the king just didn’t want to say out loud that his dick was never working enough to produce an heir. 

— Search the quarters! I don’t want them to have time to know that their precious king is dead. 

The low rumble of König beside his almost makes him dart from surprise. He wears a mask, of course, not even trusting his people to see how he looks like – perhaps, he is as ugly as a toad that…ah, shit, he is using the same comparison again. 

A faceless ruler and a faceless Princess – a match made in heaven. 

— You think other kingdoms would send their condolences? 

— I’m sure that Price is already aching to write a congratulatory letter for the expansion of the empire. A nice addition to the title, ja? 

The emperor laughs, a sword in his hand, dark from the king’s blood. Horangi still doesn’t understand why he would decide to go on such a dangerous operation – if anything, they could haul the Princess back to the capital, or at least the nearest Empire territories – but no, König decided to go here himself, searching for a Princess that would, surely, not be worthy his attention. If this man didn’t want to marry all the options other kingdoms offered him, he surely wouldn’t be satisfied with a girl from this shithole of a country. Their land is barely enough for a normal castle, let alone all of the riches that the Empire provided. 

Yet, König stumbles in every room, searching for something – for someone. Other soldiers don’t dare to take trophies in front of their emperor, knowing that this operation should be as secretive as possible – no other rulers would bat an eye for a mysterious royal passing and the quick marriage of the Princess of this kingdom, but Graves would be quite concerned and bitching about the Northern Empire coming close to his kingdom. God, if König could just bathe every last one of them in blood, he would have. 

— Sir, I believe the Princess should be here Unless she killed herself already. 

— Those people honor death more than they do life. Better be fast before I’d have to marry a corpse. 

— We could bring her back. 

— Nothing can wash off the dead smell even after resurrection. You think why Krueger can only have sex with common whores? 

They both have to suppress their laugh at the thought of the royal advisor. Poor, dead Krueger, serving a contract that even death would not be able to break – it’s a good thing to have it on their side. Provides a good amount of jokes just from being around him. 

König rushes to the door that looks the most guarded – judging only by the amount of dead servants around it. The Princess must be here and, knowing the traditions of your kingdom, he has about a minute before you’d kill yourself, yelling something ridiculous about finding solace in death and that they would never take you alive. The door comes crashing down ridiculously easy – or it’s his strength challenging in the form of barbaric savagery. When he pushed into the room, he didn’t see what he was expecting to see. 

He sees something better. 

You look divine in the moonlight, your form, draped in an expensive dress that you only managed to take on halfway through, getting stuck in that stupid corset and billions of tiny bows and cutting jewels. You look majestic, godlike, you look like something from a fairytale. He was anxious before this, thinking if it was worth it – overthinking every bit of the operations, evaluating if the enemy kingdoms would be fine with him just taking you. König wasn’t sleeping a good few nights before this – now he looks at you and wants to kneel in front of your perfect form. 

— No wonder they didn’t have portraits. They wouldn’t capture your beauty. 

He shook the knife – little thing, as dainty as you are – from your trembling hands. Poor thing terrified of him – he’d pick you up and haul you on your shoulder already, but he wants to take a moment and just admire the comparison between his huge, muscular arms and your fragile form. He knows he is big, imposing, threatening – but compared to you, he feels like a war god paying tribute to his newest sacrifice. 

You shake in his grasp, not fighting it – Princess wouldn’t fight, you remind yourself. If killing yourself is not possible, if your dignity is tarnished, the death and torture shall be met with silence – you put your lips together, as firmly as you can. Still, you can’t stop yourself from sobbing when his hand goes to cup your face – a faint trace of your makeup staining his dark gloves. 

— This is the declaration of war. You were…

— This is no war, meine Liebe. How could we fight the nation with a dead king? 

The Princess would cry, learning about the death of her parents. You try to force more tears, making yourself look as miserable as possible – it isn’t hard in this brute’s hands, with his soldiers surrounding you – but, for some reason, he doesn’t look surprised when you are not crying immediately at the mention of the death of your supposed parents. 

He laughs, cupping your face in a rough, crude gesture. He shouldn’t treat Princess like this – even you are not used to men being this vile, to speak of such lewd matters with his men. They surround you, laughing, not even bothering to pay the least bit of respect in front of their Emperor. 

He wears a hood and it makes him look like an executioner, not a ruler. But, perhaps, you would welcome a butcherer more than you would a husband. 

— Let me go! The guards shall rise to my abduction and they will not leave thou to…

You don’t even need to force yourself to speak like her – you’re royal by any means, other than blood and service. You can imitate her your whole life if needed, shadowing her your whole short existence – it only hurts you more when you are praying that the Princess, dressed up in your garments, would be able to escape. You know that someone will save her, and take care of her – it’s just like the plot of your favorite romance book. An abandoned Princess of the burned kingdom rises to be the wife of a mysterious, masked blood knight, saving him from pushing his soul into the darkness. You, in this story, would be just a minor victim for the author to kill.

— The guards would rise if they weren’t dead, Princess. Too late to call for them now. 

He sneers at this “Princess” like a snake, ready to sink her teeth into your soft, limp body. You whimper, finally trying to get your knife from his hand – as gracefully as you can, remembering that you are to stall the time for her to escape, not to actually save yourself. He laughs and lets you go suddenly – only to pick you up like you weigh nothing. Pick you up like a bride, not a pig for him to gut. 

The tip of your ears is burning – your whole face is burning, you feel ashamed, embarrassed, angry, every emotion swirls in your head as he doesn’t even try to be subtle about his affection. You thank god for the layers of skirt you are wearing – but the upper part of the dress is barely holding together, showing a scandalous amount of shoulder. You are tainted – a scandal in the court, if there was a court alive. 

— Put me down this instant. My kingdom will not just accept these levels of disrespect!

You say this weakly than you wanted to. He laughs – thunder and bear roar, ocean waves against the mountains – you whimper when his hand goes to rip the upper part of your dress entirely, leaving you barely covered, with only three layers of clothing and a corset between you and his horrible, dangerous hands. A lady should not be seen by men when she is in less than five layers of clothing – still, you feel much better when the heavy fabric lets go of your skin. Still, you feel mortified, knowing, what would happen when he started to take off your clothes. 

Well…you think you know what will happen. You and Her Highness read books with a scandalous amount of intimacy – touches, hugs, kisses even, the last book having record five instants of the main heroes being in close proximity with each other – you also know that whenever a male enemy soldier captures a woman, he is doing…something before killing them. Not quite sure what, but obviously torturous. 

— The only kingdom that is left for you, your Highness, is what lies between your legs. I’ll be sure to pay my regards later.

Before you could say something – anything for that matter, he already hauls you away, still stuck in his hands like a trophy. You thank god that he doesn’t see the difference between you and the Princess. You never knew your acting talents would be of this amount, but nonetheless, you feel complete, knowing that the Princess is safe and sound. 

— What is the purpose of your actions? 

You are weak, voice whimpering and quiet. You don’t want to touch him, but the hungry gazes of his soldiers make you weak and fragile – you cling to him, trying to cover your modesty. The corset is a part of the wardrobe that no fine lady should ever show to men – yet, this is the only thing now that is keeping your tits together, saving at least some of your dignity. The heavy skirt of the torn dress lingers on your legs, covering you as much as barely holding up fabric can. König’s chest rumbles with a laugh when he notices you clinging onto him like a helpless kitten. 

— I’m taking my bride as your parents were not kind enough to answer any of the proposals.

— Why didn’t you just visit? 

If it were for him, he would just sprawl you on the ground and take what he wants. He would, were he a simple soldier, not the North Emperor – he would if there weren’t any witnesses if there were no intentions of marrying you later. But alas, he needs your hands in marriage – he needs you whole in marriage, from head to toe, from your heart to your soul, from your pussy to that sweet mouth of yours – and he can’t have all that unless he is patient. 

— I did. Right now, for that matter.

— As the only heir to the throne, this would mean the death of my country. You can’t just…

— Who is there to stop me, little one? Your parents? Dead. Your army? They would kneel for my men were we at actual war. 

You close your mouth. He laughs again, this terrifying hood of his moving when he shakes his head. You sob, tears flowing freely down your cheeks – it’s a wonder you can still talk while crying like this, but you need to keep up the act and you need to stall the time as much as possible. His hand goes to wipe away your tears and, for a second, you almost want to bite him. But, Princesses don’t bite – they lay in the hands of their captors and wait for princes to save them. 

— The other kingdoms would protect us, we had war pacts!

— Were you loved enough to start a war with the Empire to protect you from getting married? 

— I shall…

— You’re too young to speak like a queen, Liebe. Leave that to me, ja? 

You open your mouth. 

You close your mouth. 

You open your mouth again. 

— Please, let me go. 

This is a quiet, soft sob – König stops for a second, looking at your fragile, vulnerable expression. You’re as weak as a kitten, as adorable as a bunny – and precious, his little treasure, tucked away nicely in the deepest corners of this kingdom. He almost feels bad for breaking you, for taking you away. He killed many men, the king included, and he captured more land than his father ever could dream of – the biggest empire lies at his hands and yet, he feels weak when you cry in his hands. 

It still suits you more – a pained expression, pure terror, all the emotions that a young woman like you should experience when she is captured by someone like him – he believes in terror through submission and the tears streaming down your face makes his cock twitch in his pants. 

— I have all the right for you, little one. It’s your father’s fault that you were not protected more. 

He laughs, his large, imposing hand goes to cup your ass – you don’t even understand how his touch manages to get through this many layers of clothing. Your skirt is in complete disarray when he touches your legs, squishing and destroying the crinoline parts and whale bones. So much went into creating this skirt, a horrifying construct that never allowed the Princess to move freely, stuck in one place like a glorified little dolly – now it becomes your grave, mortifying and freezing you in one place. 

— You can’t…no, please, don’t…

He grabs your hips with the ferocity of a warrior, not an emperor. Rulers shouldn’t kidnap Princesses from neighboring countries, and they shouldn’t lead their troops on an operation that would destroy any diplomatic relationships with them – but he stands here, no more than a normal soldier, and you were never this terrified in your life before. He is a monster, a beast, an anomaly that shouldn’t exist in this world – even your desire to protect the Princess isn’t stopping you from crying and shaking. You bite your lips and sob softly, quietly, hoping he won’t just throw you to his men. 

— This is what politics leads to, no? Your father decided to stop being diplomatic…and I did too. 

He isn’t my father, you want to scream. He did nothing but take you from the streets, and slums you were scrambling aimlessly like nothing more but a tiny critter under his boots – he gave you everything, any book you wanted, the best company in the whole kingdom. He isn’t your father, still, but you pay for his mistakes – mistakes that you had no idea of. Princess ordered you to ignore any mail that would come from “This Northern brute” and you didn’t know that it could come to this. 

If only you were to steal those letters and read them instead of throwing them away…but what would it come to? Princess wouldn’t marry someone like König, she had no like for the emperor twice her age, for the human who defiled the very laws of nature, sitting in his high castle, ordering the undead soldiers around. Monster with, probably, three heads and two faces, with four hands hiding under his magnificent armor. A beast who is…

A best who is cradling you in his arms like you were his lover, not his victim. 

— Put me down. Please. 

— I’m getting tired of listening to little Princesses wailing. Tell me, Liebling, do you wish to continue this journey quietly or unconsciously? 

His hand goes to your neck – no doubt, he would be able to squish the life out of you if he so wished. No doubt, you are fucked – utterly and completely, with his ability to do whatever he wants your inability to stop him in any way. Sobbing softly, not wanting for him to continue this humiliation, you simply nod – to whatever option he deems appropriate. Princess would be screaming, yelling for help, and she would stomp her adorable feet on the ground until she’d get what she wanted – but you are no Princess, and playing pretend already makes you miserable enough. 

— I do not wish to see the destruction of my kingdom. 

— It’s not destroyed, little Princess. Merely defiled, captured and burned down. 

— You didn’t…

— Of course not, kleine Hase. I wouldn’t dare to burn the newest addition to my empire…unless you would make me to. 

It’s not a threat – it’s a promise, poorly concealed by the obvious smile in his voice. You cling to his chest and hear the rumble of his laugh when he pushes his cape over your shivering form. It’s a small form of comfort, but an unwelcome one – you’d rather be shivering, naked, and exposed in front of his troops than find comfort in the way he treats you. His cloak is heavy, more suited for the harsh weather of the central parts of the Empire – not your kingdom, mostly warm and wet, with bountiful rains and plentiful soil. You understand why he would want this land – you don’t understand why he would want you. 

— Don’t hurt my people. 

— Be nice then. You can be nice to your husband, ja? 

If you weren’t a Princess, you’d claw his fucking eyes out – get your dainty hands under his hood and scrap the pulsating flesh, turn his face into a mush of blood and gore. If you were real Princess, you would declare war on the Empire and die the protector of your kingdom – not a terrified girl. 

But you’re neither a Princess nor a commoner. 

You push your lips together, allowing König to take you away. Accepting your fate not with dignity, but with quiet, fearful acceptance. 

[munson-blurbs]

Happy Saturday! If you’re still taking requests for the 2k celebration, could I request Eddie/mall/lingerie? And happy 2k followers, definitely well deserved!

It's the return of perv!best friend!Eddie, y'all. Hold on tight.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, pet names, public sex (no one around tho), barely any foreplay because I'm lazy, friends to lovers

WC: 1.6k

--

Shopping with Eddie is like pulling teeth. First, you have to convince him to actually come to the mall with you. Then you have to continually bribe with treats from the food court just to keep him from driving off without you. Today, he’s snacking on a giant cinnamon pretzel from Auntie Anne’s and slurping on a root beer.

“Remind me why I need to be here again?” he whines as you compare two denim miniskirts that look identical to him, but apparently, you can spot a difference. He takes another bite of pretzel and sighs indignantly.

“Because,” you explain, exasperation evident in your tone, “I need a man’s opinion on what to wear for my date tonight, and you’re the closest thing I have.” You laugh as he playfully shoves you. “And I needed a ride, so…”

“So, basically, you’re just using me for my male gaze and my car, huh?” he asks, running a hand over a neatly folded pile of shirts on display.

“Pretty much.” you chirp, putting both skirts back on the rack. “Ugh, this is hopeless! I’m never gonna find something.” You blow out a big breath, puffing your cheeks. “One more store and then we can go home, I promise.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but dutifully follows behind you, taking the opportunity to check out the way your shorts perfectly hug your ass. He feels a twitch in his pants as your hips sway back and forth, and he wills himself to look away.

Unfortunately, in his pursuit to keep himself from popping a boner in the middle of the Starcourt Mall, his gaze lands on the entrance to a lingerie boutique. The mannequin out in front is adorned with a red lace teddy that leaves nothing to the imagination. His eyes dart back to you, and all he can think about is you wearing it. But not for your date with whatever schmuck you’re going out with tonight; no, Eddie wants you to wear it for him. In his bed, straddling his waist, grinding on his–

“Shit,” he mutters. He thinks his voice is low enough to keep you from hearing, but he cringes as you swivel around to see what the problem is, catching him trying to discreetly adjust himself over his jeans.

“You okay–oh,” you giggle, taking notice of his predicament. “Careful, Casanova; y’might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.” You put your forearm on his shoulder and rest your chin on top of it, making him tense up even more. “Who are you picturing in that? Chrissy Cunningham? Tammy Thompson?” Before he can answer, you press on. “Ooh, or maybe a supermodel, like Cindy Crawford or Iman? C’mon, who is it?”

“What if I was picturing you?” Eddie tries to play off his words teasingly, but the raw lust blowing out his pupils gives him away. 

Biting your lower lip, you can taste the gloss you’d applied earlier. Every time Eddie jokes with you like this, pretending he wants you, it kills you inside. “Do you think I should try it on?” You look at him innocently, batting your eyelashes as you call his bluff. “Y’know, for Kyle tonight?”

At the mention of your date’s name, Eddie shrugs your arm off of him. “No,” he growls, hooking a ringed finger through your belt loop, “want you to try it on for me.” There’s no hiding his hardness now, and you can feel his heart beating faster as he draws closer to you. He swallows thickly, waiting for your response. 

You’re too stunned to speak. Eddie has always been a flirt, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a crush on him, but he’s your best friend. There’s no way he seriously wants to see you in lingerie, right?

“O-Okay,” you manage, turning towards the store. Eddie intertwines his pinky with yours as though ensuring he won’t lose sight of you. You find the teddy in your size and bring it into the dressing room. To Eddie’s dismay, you yank the velvet curtain closed. He tilts his head slightly, trying to find a gap wide enough to get a glimpse of you changing. He can just imagine you shimmying out of your clothes and into the sheer lingerie. 

Fuck it. 

Careful not to expose you to a customer passing by, Eddie slips into the room, resting his hands on your waist as you examine yourself in the mirror. The lace clings to your body, hugging your curves in all the right ways. You can feel his hard length pressed up against the back of your naked thigh. 

“Eddie,” you breathe out, trying to ignore the fluttering below your belly, “what are you doing?”

“Tell me something, princess,” he says, purposefully ignoring your question, “I pictured you putting this on, but who did you picture taking it off?” He waits for what seems like an eternity, silently praying that Kyle’s name doesn’t pass through your lips.

You turn to face him, letting his strong hands fall below the curve of your ass. “You, Eddie. Always you.” As soon as you give your answer, Eddie’s mouth crashes onto yours. He brings one palm to cup your cheek while he kisses you hungrily, moaning lightly with each flicker of his tongue against yours. He guides you to the wall, palming your breasts through the minimal covering.

Eddie nudges his knee between your thighs, brushing against your sensitive sex, and you moan involuntarily. “Oh, baby,” he coos, chuckling at your reaction to his touch, “so needy, aren’t we? I bet you’re already soaking wet. Almost pathetic how desperate you are f’me, huh?” You want to fire back with a witty retort about how he was the one who wanted you in lingerie; he barged into the dressing room while you were changing, but you can’t string words together to form a sentence. Instead, you nod dumbly, making him laugh again. “Don’t worry; I’ll tell you a little secret.” He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about your sexy little body in one of these. Not even the first time today, actually.” 

With that, your fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it as deftly as you can, and tug his pants and boxers down his thighs. His throbbing cock thwacks against his torso, leaving a pre-cum stain on his shirt. He hisses at the sudden relief, using his own fluids as lube to pump himself. You start to get onto your knees, but he stops you.

“If you put your mouth on me, ‘m never gonna last,” he warns with a smirk. “That’ll be for next time, yeah?” The promise of a next time excites you even more, and you allow him to hoist you up against the wall, pushing aside the lace as he runs his cock along your slick folds. “Y’ready?” His eyes are wide; though he wants nothing more than to be inside you, but only if you want to. When you nod, his smile exposes his soft dimples. “Thas’ my girl.” 

My girl my girl my girl. The words swirl through your brain as Eddie pushes his mushroom tip into you. The stretch is a mixture of pleasure and pain, melting into only the former as he slowly ruts up into you, allowing you to take a bit more of him each time.

Eddie’s never had sex this good before. You dig your fingernails into his back as your pussy clenches around him; he feels himself growing even harder inside you. He grabs the plush of your ass as he quickens his pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Goddamn,” he groans, nearly whimpering as you tug on his hair. “Your body was meant for me, baby. Takin’ me so well, like you were made for my cock.” 

“I was m-made for you,” you echo, feeling your body tremble with delight. “Eddie, Eddie, oh, fuck, Eddie!” You lean your head back, exposing your throat and giving him the perfect angle to suck a bruise just above your collarbone.

Eddie chants your name, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he leaves more hickeys. “Can’t hold back much longer,” he confesses, trailing his tongue over the fresh set of love bites, but he keeps the same rhythm that’s driving you wild. “Wanna get my princess off before I do, though.”

“K-Keep going until you c-cum, please,” you beg him, “just like that.” You bring your middle finger down to your clit, rubbing deliberate circles until you feel your orgasm wash over you. “Yes, Eddie. I’m cumming, cumming for you…feel s’good.”

Bucking his hips harder and chasing his release, Eddie is a panting mess. “Shit–gonna cum, gonna cum in-inside you, fuck.” His hot seed coats your walls as he cries out your name one last time. He gently pulls out of you, leaving cum dripping down your leg while you struggle to regain your balance.

“Looks like we ruined it,” he offers, motioning to the lingerie. There’s tears along the crotch where he roughly moved the fabric, and the mixture of your releases is starting to leave a stain. He tears off the price tag and crumples it, tossing it to the floor. “Put your clothes on over it, hmm? It’ll be our little secret.” He pauses, giving you a mischievous smirk. “Unless you wanna tell Kyle tonight?”

You shake your head. “No. No Kyle. Only you.” Honestly, you’d forgotten all about your date until Eddie just reminded you. “Gonna cancel so we can do…that again.” And hopefully again and again and again.

Eddie throws his arm around you. “Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, “now that I’ve got you, we’re not stopping until that little number is completely destroyed.”

--

[corroded-hellfire]

My Favorite Elf - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: When you and Nancy go to the mall to finish up your Christmas shopping, the sound of a familiar voice leads you to a jolly surprise.

Note: I wrote this for @palomahasenteredthechat’s 12 Days of Joemas with the prompt “Is that velvet?” 💚❤️

Words: 1.4k

The holiday season at Starcourt Mall can be a chaotic nightmare on nights and weekends. Crowds so dense you can hardly see any of the mannequins modeling the latest looks at the GAP. It’s for this reason that you and Nancy decide to make a mall run straight from school one Tuesday afternoon. 

With most parents still at work and middle and elementary schools still in session, the mall is the calmest you’ve seen since before Halloween. You and Nancy plan on taking full advantage of getting all those last minute gifts you’ve been meaning to buy.

“Okay, I got the shoes,” Nancy says, jostling the brown paper bag in her hand in emphasis. “You wanted to go to Walden Books next?”

“Yeah!” you say. “I saw this book there the other day and I think Eddie would really like it.”

“Why didn’t you get it for him then?”

“He was with me,” you laugh. “As busy as it was, I still think he would’ve noticed me buying something.”

The bookstore is on the second floor, so you and Nancy have to take the escalators closest to the food court. Right before you lift your foot to hover over the silver steps, you hear a familiar voice coming from behind the escalators. 

“Are you ready? Come on, we’ll go up together.”

Your brow furrows in puzzlement, and Nancy turns to look at you with the same expression mirrored on her face. Together, you walk around to see what Eddie is doing at the mall and who he’s talking to.

A Winter Wonderland greets you and Nancy as you step around the towering escalators. The centerpiece is a life-size gingerbread house decorated with every type of candy you can think of. Colorful gumdrops frame the front door, pieces of licorice act as shutters to the icing windows, and oversized swirling lollipops stand around the house like a security team. 

Fake pine trees dot the scenery, their needles covered in fake snow. In fact, fake snow permeates about every spare inch on the display. It’s all around the platform and heavily dusted over the roof of the house. 

Sitting right in the middle of it all is the man himself: Santa Claus. He’s perched atop a large red throne smack dab in the middle of the wonderland. The entire display is surrounded by a white, glittery snowflake fence. 

There’s a girl dressed as an elf in a green tulle skirt and red tights standing behind a camera facing the big man. Your eyes then come across the best sight of all.

Your hand comes up to cover your enormous grin as you take in your boyfriend in his very own elf attire. The left half of his button up shirt is red, while the right half is entirely green. The same is true of the pants, just reversed; a green left leg and a red right leg. His hair is tucked up in a bun at the base of his neck and the rest of his curls are hidden by the green Santa hat on top of his head. The hat has golden jingle bells on the top and fake points to rest on top of Eddie’s ears to give the magical illusion of elf ears. The part that tickles you the most though is the shoes. They’re green with pointed toes that curl up, with a golden jingle bell attached to the tip of each. 

“Did you know he was working here?” Nancy asks you, a few giggles escaping her. 

“No!” You laugh but find it strange to look at his hands and see no chunky silver rings. 

The only people in the line to meet Santa are a little girl with long blonde hair, half up in a pink ribbon, and her mother. It’s understandable that there's hardly a crowd here on a Tuesday afternoon. The little girl looks scared and won’t let go of her mom’s hand no matter how much she encourages her. 

Eddie walks over to the girl and crouches down to her level.

“Hi. My name is Eddie. What’s your name?”

“Christina,” she answers softly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Christina. Are you a little nervous to meet Santa?”

She nods her head.

Eddie offers her his hand. “What if we go up there together?”

Christina still looks hesitant.

“You don’t have to be afraid of him,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “He just wants to know what you want for Christmas so us elves can get to work on it. That is…if you’re on the nice list.” Eddie tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. “You have been good this year, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I thought! Now, do you want to come up and tell Santa what you want?”

Christina stares at Eddie with wide blue eyes for a few moments before she nods her head. Eddie gives her a smile and extends his hand again. This time, Christina takes it. 

You watch as Eddie leads the small girl up to Santa and tells him her name. He crouches down and stays there until Christina seems more comfortable with Santa. When she climbs on his lap, Eddie steps aside so she can share what she wants with Santa in private. 

Once a picture has been snapped, Christina hops off of Santa’s lap and Eddie gives her a candy cane before she leaves the little Christmas village with her mom.

There’s nobody else in line to meet Santa, but he’s still scheduled to be there for another two hours according to the sign. The photographer elf starts cleaning up around her area and Eddie shuffles around his small space, looking for something to do. You take the opportunity to walk closer to the magical scene, Nancy right behind you.

“And here I thought Hermey the little elf dentist was the cutest elf I’ve ever seen,” you say as you approach the fence.

Eddie looks up and you immediately see his cheeks darken, but he gives you a bright smile.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks.

“Shopping,” Nancy answers, holding up her bags as proof.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, looking at all the festiveness around him.

“I’m just here for the candy canes.” He laughs when you pinch your eyebrows together. “Figured I’d get a holiday job and make some extra money.”

“What for?” you ask, knowing there’s nothing you want that could cost more than a few dollars. And that Wayne will probably just get a new mug. Again.

“Well,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I know your favorite band is starting a tour next month…”

“My favorite band besides Corroded Coffin,” you say, pointing an index finger at him.

“Yes, of course, that goes without saying.”

“Eddie, you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him, though your heart grows three sizes at the gesture.

“I wanted to,” he says with a bashful shrug. 

You peek behind the gingerbread house and raise your eyebrows at Eddie when you see it’s away from any possible prying eyes. He chuckles and nods his head in that direction.

“Be right back,” you tell Nancy.

“Take your time,” she teases.

Eddie helps you over the snowflake fence and you take another look at his costume. He looks even cuter in it closer up.

“Is that velvet?” you ask.

“No, thank God. Cotton. This already gets hot enough.”

“Look at my adorable elf boyfriend,” you say with a playful smirk.

His face starts to turn red as you wrap your arms around his neck. He places his hands on your waist and gives a small squeeze.

“You know,” you muse, tilting your head to the side. “You didn’t ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“If I’ve been good this year.”

Eddie laughs and leans in to nudge his nose against yours.

“Because I already know the answer to that one. Pretty sure I contributed to it,” he says in a low voice, causing goosebumps to run down your arms.

He presses his lips over yours and holds you up against his body as he claims your mouth. Your hands slide into his hair, and it makes the green hat move, causing the little bell to jingle.

You pull away, unable to keep kissing because you’re full of giggles. Eddie sighs.

“Fine,” he whispers. “I guess we’ll just have to get naughty later then.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)

"The path to paradise begins in hell."

— Dante Alighieri

Word count: 5.5 k

Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

No one has ever scolded him.

He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place. 

Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.

And he's fucking confused.

He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.

"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"

"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"

She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional. 

Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.

"Y'could use the alias."

"I'm not going to call you that."

She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.

"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.

"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.

"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.

But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind. 

The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.

Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.

When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book. 

"Did you need something?"

…You. All of you. 

Now and forever.

"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"

Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.

"What about your… The mask?"

He shrugs.

"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.

"I do. But let me feed you for a change."

He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.

"Come on. Let me take you out."

"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.

…..…..…..

Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below. 

He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.

"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."

His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.

"How I'm your luxury whore."

The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.

"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"

He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.

"Was it the rookie?"

He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.

"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.

So, it was the rookie.

Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously. 

But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.

"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"

He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." 

"At this hour…?"

"Can't sleep anyway."

He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.

…Are you just here for sex?

Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out. 

He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her. 

The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet. 

Wet, even, if he wants.

"Baby… Honey?"

Baby.

Baby.

He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him. 

"Are you okay...?"

"Yeah."

He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.

"They're just words. Right?"

I'm more than just your whore, right?

Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness. 

"You're awfully quiet," she tries. 

Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.

"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave. 

"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."

He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.

"They're just words, Simon…"

…..…..…..

He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right. 

The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams. 

He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed. 

And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?" 

People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)

He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.

Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus. 

He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.

"Where's the rookie?"

"Getting stapled."

"Where?"

Which room? 

Which fucking room?

He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug. 

The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.

"What're you doing here?" 

His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.

"What are you doing here…? Sir."

She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately. 

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.

"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice. 

"My office. Five minutes."

The boy dares to give him another foul look.

"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"

He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.

The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull. 

Yes, boy.

Death is coming.

"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders. 

The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.

"Simon. I just stitched him together..."

…..…..…..

He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time. 

He uses his fists and a knife.

It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.

"Get out."

He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman. 

He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.

After that, everyone salutes him feet away.

His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.

Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.

He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.

"You must be the craziest man I've ever met." 

She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.

"Good."

"...and the most incredible."

His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.

She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.

"You're a brute, Simon."

The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.

The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.

"No one's gonna call you a–"

She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.

…..…..…..

The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo. 

The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea. 

Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.

She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist. 

If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this. 

It's her. 

"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."

She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris. 

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No."

There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.

"I have no words for this."

"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.

Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck. 

"No. No it's not. This is paradise."

She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv. 

And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.  

She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin. 

What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?

"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"

"Pet. I know."

"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."

Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.

"They?"

"Well, John. Captain." 

Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.

"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."

He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust. 

But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.

Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.

"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.

"Love–"

"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"

"...Sure."

She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her. 

"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..." 

"Yeah. Not the perfect man."

"But you were. You are." 

"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."

"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."

He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.

But he had no fucking clue that she–

"Or during, I don't care…"

Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier. 

"Is that so?"

She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs. 

"You like that…?"

She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine. 

"Simon–"

"I'll light a cig first."

"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.

"...Roger that."

His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.

She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.

"How do you want me?"

Fucking fuck… 

He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.

"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.

It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex. 

"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.

"Want your–I need your cock…" 

She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.

"Have to go slow, love."

"Riley–for god's sake, now."

"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.

"Tried to warn ya–"

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this. 

He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.

"Hold me tighter..." 

It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.

"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.

"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering… 

"Simon, do you love me…?"

She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.

"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.

"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"

No. No…

I fuckin' don't–

"And I'll always be here for you."

To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.

"Love, I need you to–need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.

"You're so silly…" 

"Yeah? I know." 

He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.

"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"

The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.

….….….

"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength. 

"I lied too."

"I know."

She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"

"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."

She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.

"You really don't know…?" 

"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."

She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.

"People cry from happiness too, Simon."

[behindthesoul]

hii, dear! could you write a smoke x princess!reader request? (a small detail is that reader's Mileena and Kitana's sister.) but if you can and want, of course. 🥺

Smoke Dating Outworld’s Princess

Masterlist

Tomas swore he heard wedding bells ringing when he first laid eyes on you. His eyes immediately softened, and he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you.

Kuai Liang encouraged him to talk to you, and just a few short months later, you were together.

Tomas just can’t believe that he has the privilege of courting a royal. His favorite thing to do is call you your highness. He finds it funny when you roll your eyes and laugh, before telling him to drop the formalities.

If you ask him to join you at any formal events, his eyes will widen. Even if you’ve been together for years, he’s still shocked that you want to show him off at royal banquets.

You haven’t had many opportunities to speak to Kuai Liang, so you don’t know him too well. On the flip side, Kuai knows everything about you. He knows your favorite color, your favorite food, and the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you; all because Tomas never stops gushing about his princess. Kuai smiles and nods during these moments. He’s happy for his brother, but doesn’t understand why he has to know your shoe size.

A princess seemingly has never ending duties, and a Lin Kuei never rests. The two of you are often busy and cannot meet as much as you’d like. At night, it’s not uncommon for Tomas to sneak into the palace and knock on your bedroom window, asking if he can talk to you. You’ll either let him into your room, and you cuddle until he has to leave, or the two of walk the palace gardens until sunrise. You’re both a little sleepy the next morning.

Being Sindel’s youngest daughter has its challenges. You often feel like you live in your sisters’ shadow. Your mother loves you very much, but her attention is drawn to your eldest sister, the future empress. If you ever feel insecure in your place in the royal family, Tomas is there to comfort you.

He praises your beauty, your smarts, your kombat skills, and your efforts to help the people of Outworld. He never wants you to feel less than your sisters.

During these moments, he’ll try to jokingly lift your spirits by calling you my empress instead of your highness or my princess.

There comes a time where Tomas wishes to be your husband. He wonders what a royal wedding would be like; will the two of you just have your closest friends and family in attendance, or will all of Outworld bear witness to your ceremony?

He imagines you in the most dramatic wedding dress ever. One created by the finest designers in all the realms, and tailored to your body to fit nice and snug. Tomas knows he’ll cry on your wedding day, but for now he has to hold back tears at the thought, or else you’ll think he’s upset.

[sinnful-darling]

Yan! Kitsune Hcs

tws: stalking, manipulation, deceit, abuse, fox-like courtship, implications towards rutting but nothing happens.

information needed beforehand: kitsune are known to gain up to nine tails- one for each 100 years they've lived. as they get older, their fur changes from red to orange to white. they're also known to ascend to celestia when they turn 1,000 years old, but Sisko was cursed by his brethren and has no chance of ever ascending to celestia due to his evil nature. Sisko is also a Yama kitsune. Yama kitsune are known to prey upon human sadness and fear

Yan! Kitsune who is the protector of the mountains closest to you. he initially spots you out with your friends, a smile on your face that had the corners of his lips tugging up into one of his own.

Yan! Kitsune who sneakily follows your group, watching as you revel in the beauty of nature, throwing your head back and taking deep breaths of the clean forest air.

Yan! Kitsune who continues watching as your group sets up camp for the night, grimacing at the use of tents and packaged food. seriously, how had you survived this long?

Yan! Kitsune who is elated when you come back the following week (on your own), taking the opportunity to introduce himself.

Yan! Kitsune who introduces himself as Sisko, his nine tails swishing mischievously behind him.

Yan! Kitsune who puts on a friendly face and asks to be your friend. you can’t tell him about anyone though! no one else can see him but you! you’re special.

Yan! Kitsune who was lying, anybody could see him. he just wants to gain your trust and then hurt you so he can prey upon your fear and negativity when he starts breaking you down.

Yan! Kitsune who does exactly that. he gains your trust and then kidnaps you, taking you away to his home and doing awful things to you.

Yan! Kitsune who slowly falls in love with you and your fearful expressions, denying all sense of affection for you when he finds himself becoming more and more reluctant to hurt you. what was this? did celestia and his ancestors curse him? why doesn’t it feel good anymore?

Yan! Kitsune who starts developing a sexual attraction for you, but refuses to touch you in anyway. that wasn’t his style. he wanted you to give yourself to him willingly.

Yan! Kitsune who, when he can’t deny his feelings for you any longer, starts courting you in the ways his kind taught him to. he’ll hold you close to him and scent you, pleased when you don’t resist. surely, you love him too. you’re just scared he’s going to hurt you again if you move.

Yan! Kitsune who takes you with him through the forest as he searches for a new den, making you choose the spot. contrary to his kind, he won’t allow you to build it yourself though.

Yan! Kitsune who tethers you to a tree when he begins crafting the den, a cozy little cottage he builds with his bare hands.

Yan! Kitsune who curls around you at night when it’s time for bed, his tail wrapping around your thighs and locking his arms around your waist.

Yan! Kitsune who starts barking at you…

Yan! Kitsune who becomes softer with you, doing your hair all nice and bathing you, becoming more playful and cuddling with you more.

Yan! Kitsune who chooses you as his mate. there’s no one else for him and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[moonlight-s0onata]

Anon said "Please can you write something fluffy with Neuvillete? I just got to the archon quest and his appearance totally deceived me to think he would be a meanie when he's such a sweetheart 😭 please tell me you are already on the quest but ignore in case you aren't, thanks in advance!"

Sure, I can, anon. I am in love with Neuvi after all, the archon quest just made me even more soft for him.

-Lumi 💫

After the Rain

Neuvillete (Genshin Impact) x Reader

Warnings: None

Fluff and a picnic.

You woke up at the sound of light rain. Yawning and stretching, you get up to look out the window. The clouds were heavy with no signs to stop soon, and you sighed. This was the third consecutive day.

For occasions like this, it was truly an inconvenience to live so far away from Fontaine's court.

You worked all morning on preparing many little snacks, some fruit salad and a patisserie you learned from your grandma, a great family secret. After that, you worked on packing it all on a basket, rushing out your cozy home and into the worsening weather outside.

- It's a miracle we haven't turned into fish yet - You sighed, quickly walking towards the closest aquabus station.

----

The Iudex of Fontaine was facing yet another day filled with trials and the dreading sense of not fulfilling his duty as he should, yet he wasn't sure of what the exact problem was.

The downpour worsened, and people grew a little more anxious. He also tried to stay calm, to no avail. Everything felt overwhelming. Maybe a break would be in order. He needed it more than everyone else.

----

As you got off the aquabus and into the lift towards the court, you couldn't help stop to fix your clothes and to check the little bouquet you put together from flowers in your little garden, you took a deep, determined breath and walked towards the gate.

- Y/N, good day, what brings you here? - The voice of the Chief Justice broke you out of your mind.

Walking towards him with an easy smile, trying to calm down your running heart. - Good day to you too, Monsieur Neuvillete- You were glad you seemed to walk in on break time. You raised the basket a little bit, his eyes following. -I thought it was a good day to enjoy a picnic over in Fontaine. Would you like to come? -

He raised an eyebrow, looking directly into your eyes with his piercing (beautiful) silver eyes, and you had to avert your gaze. - A picnic? In this weather? - He asked with a genuinely nice voice. He was always so kind, and your heart flipped again.

-A-ah, right...- You trailed trying to find an excuse -I... wanted to come even before the weather became like this... I had already made the food, and I was thinking about going to a place that had shelter from the rain- Every word came harder than the last, and you felt your face burn. Thankfully, he wasn't looking at you and he just hummed and nodded. - Then please lead the way -

----

You lay your picnic right below a nice pavilion on a park near the court, some otters playing around in the pond, and the rain just a light drizzle now.

You shared your food, talked about some funny and trivial happenings of your daily life away from the city, and made some easy talk that made him almost forget this was a break from one of the trials.

As you finished and put everything away again, you took a little box holding a couple more of the patisseries you made. Holding it for him, you smiled - I hope you ate well and had a good time. Thanks for accompanying me when you are so busy - you spoke sincerely, bowing lightly to him. He smiled softly, looking at the box in your hands and shaking his head. - Pleasure was all mine. Thank you for this time and for everything you shared with me today, from your food to all your stories -

- These are also for you, for when you need another break - You blushed lightly as he took it and gave you a gentle smile - Thank you so much, I will enjoy them for sure. Please, be safe on your way back - And with that, he turned around and left, walking back into the court.

----

Your trip back was uneventful and quiet, riding the aquabus and walking between the ponds and flower patches towards your home. Everything looked shiny, with a light coat of droplets that sparkled with the now present afternoon sunshine.

The sky was clearing and the clouds moved away fast. You smiled, looking at the beautiful scenery both in land and sky.

"When the Hydro dragon feels sad, it rains" Your grandma once said, as you looked out the window to the pouring rain. You turned to her with a surprised face, running to her.

- Then we must help him be happy again! so he can stop crying! - Little you said, with worried eyes, fisting into your grandma's skirt.

- Hmmm... You are right - She chuckled as she got up from the couch, and into the kitchen - and I happen to know a secret recipe that makes him all happy again - Those words made your face light up, jumping around happily.

- Then teach me! I want to help him so I can go play outside! - As you jumped and ran around with some ingredients, you learned how to bake a patisserie with a soft and sweet scent of lavender and honey.

That fond memory made you smile, reaching your home. After so many days, the rain finally went away.

When it rains, the hydro dragon is feeling sad, but he just needs some rest and a little treat to feel happy again.

[dockofshame]

Alejandro x Reader Relationship Headcanons.

Because of his ah, less than flattering reputation, Alejandro has to do everything he can to show you you’re not just another notch in his belt. Sierra tells him your favorite food, your hobbies, and your relationship green and red flags. You don’t need to know how she knows all this.

The courting process is slow and he has a way with words and the people closest to you say he’s “sus”. You initially agree but this goes on for weeks, if not months… he couldn’t be faking his interest in you for months, could he?

You eventually agree to go on a date. He WANTS to go all-out to impress you, but worries that coming on too strong would drive you away. The first date is smaller scale; perhaps a picnic in the park or a trip to a carnival that’s come into town. The dates get more elaborate and fancy once you become an item.

You’d expect your first kiss with Alejandro to be steamy, and while you could definitely tell he was experienced, it was slow and tender and mentally took you to another planet.

As seen on All-Stars, Alejandro’s relationship with his own brother isn’t good so if you have any yourself, he tries his best to get on their good side. He lowkey has some old-school tendencies so in the beginning of your relationship, he’d privately ask their blessing to pursue you.

Someday, if you’re up for it, he really wants to go to Hawaii with you to create some good memories to make up for the bad ones.

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝙰𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚊 - 𝙰𝙱𝙾 𝚄𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚝

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

ft Unknown Omega/First Heat, stepcest, claiming|mating + Daddy Kink, fingering, belly bulge, creampie, knotting, breeding

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own BNHA or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: includes stepparent-stepchild stepcest and large age gap(R: early 20s, A: late 40s-early 50s)

WC: 4,375

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

“Daddy! Can you drive me to the mall? I gotta get my phone fixed!” You called down the stairs to your stepfather. While you had your license, you didn’t have your own car and your stepdad’s was the only car you could use, though never without his permission.

“Sure thing, sweetheart! Just meet me in the car when you’re ready to go?” You heard his deep voice call back up to you. His deep, gravelly voice had an odd effect on you today. You had always known his voice was hot, though you tried to not let your mind wander too much. Today, though, it sent a shiver down your spine and just about made you weak in the knees. Literally. You felt your knees almost buckle below you.

“What the..” You muttered but just shrugged it off as your mind still being a little hazy from sleep. So you continued to slide on your clothes and pack your messenger bag.

“You almost ready, princess?” As you heard his voice again, the same shiver shot down your spine and a warmth planted itself in your lower belly. Now chalking it up to simply being hungry, you just grabbed your bag and threw the strap over your shoulder.

“Coming, daddy!” You heard the door close though it didn’t latch and you jogged down the stairs to meet your stepdad at his truck.

“Morning, princess. What’s wrong with your phone?” He asked when you climbed into the passenger seat.

You looked over at him and noticed his long black hair was tied back in a loose bun that hung low on the back of his head and his stubble was growing back from when he’d had to shave it for a meeting with the school board of the High School where he works. He wore a tight-fitting long sleeve black shirt and simple dark blue jeans with his normal black boots. His normally tired eyes didn’t quite seem tired but they were still lidded in an easy manner.

“I have no clue when it happened but the screen is entirely cracked and it looks like someone ran over it with at least a dirt bike..” You grumbled, twisting to pull your seatbelt across your body, leaving a hint that your stepbrother might have been responsible, though your stepdad seemed to gloss over it. He probably chalked it up to your constant butting heads with his son.

“Huh, well, hopefully, they can fix it quickly, it’ll be bad if no one can reach you if you go out on your own.” The rumble of the engine shook the truck and he started on his way to the super-mall in town since that was the closest place with a cell phone shop.

“While we’re there do you wanna get some food? I’m starving!” You announced with a slight laugh, seeing an amused smile playing on the Alpha’s features as he shook his head at your dramatics.

“Sure, princess, we can get some food. You okay with the stuff they got in the food court or do you wanna check anywhere else out?” He asked glancing for half a second at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Hmm.. Well, I’ll probably have to leave it with them to see if they can salvage it, or at least my data, so we should probably stick close.” You reasoned, thinking of places in the mall with any good food.

“Good thinking, we’ll get there and see where our bellies take us.” He chuckled, patting his hand down on your thigh which made you laugh more with his sentence. He fully turned to look at you with his amused smile when he finally parked at the mall, which you hadn’t realized you’d arrived at.

Having been so caught up in conversation, you hadn’t realized that you felt really warm and a haze starting to infect your mind. As you moved to leave the car, you felt an uncomfortable throb in your nether regions. Pushing it to the side in favor of getting your phone fixed, you trudged forward with the tall black haired man into the mall.

“You feeling okay, sweetheart? You look a little red.” Said man asked, lifting his hand to rest it on the side of your neck opposite him, slightly wrapping his arm around you. The touch on your scent gland felt better than you ever could have imagined and your instincts all but screamed at you to curl into his body, but you resisted any and all reaction.

“Y-yea.. Maybe it’s just the summer heat catching up to me, I guess I might have put on one too many layers,” You reasoned, forgetting that you only wore one layer over your underwear, as just a tank top and leggings.

“Hmm.. Okay, but if you start feeling off you tell me, alright? I’ll drive you home and come back to grab your phone if I need to.” He kept his arm around your shoulders, though he removed his hand from your neck. The loss of contact made you inexplicably want to whine. ‘It’s probably just because I’m feeling weird so I want the comfort or something..’

“‘Kay, thanks, Daddy.” You slightly leaned into him with a content breath and he just wrapped his arm further around you as you both walked through the bustling hallways. Finally reaching the cell phone shop, you were glad you didn’t have to wait too long to reach the desk.

“How can I help you- Oh! Aizawa Sensei! What are you doing here?” The green-haired Beta teen behind the desk greeted the black-haired Alpha.

“Midoriya,” Your stepdad greeted back with a slight nod, “I’m here with my stepdaughter, her phone is busted so we need to get it fixed.” He simply explained, vaguely gesturing to you with a glance, you still being tucked into his side and still looking slightly flushed.

“Oh, hello! Are you feeling alright?” The Beta, Midoriya as it seems, asked with worry upon seeing you flushed and leaning into your stepdad.

“Mhm, fine, thank you, just a little off today,” You offered with a smile which seemed to appease the boy.

“Well, alright then! What seems to be the problem?” He offered a smile of his own in return.

“You tell me,” You chuckled, fishing your phone out of your bag as you moved to stand on your own away from the comfort of your Alpha stepdad’s side. You placed your phone on the counter and badly concealed a laugh at the way the green-haired boy’s equally green eyes nearly bulged at the sight.

“W-What happened??”

“Not sure. I left it on the kitchen counter to make dinner and I couldn’t find it for an hour or so afterwards and suddenly it appeared like that in my room. I personally suspect my stepbrother..” You muttered at the end, earning another chuckle from the man beside you.

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse to blame him for something, sweetheart.”He teased, setting his hand on your shoulder as he sent another amused grin at you as he eyed you out the corner of his eye, making you ‘Hmph’.

“Well, I’ll have to check with the Techies if this can even be salvaged, and if not we’ll do whatever we can to retrieve your data. Either way, it’ll be a while so if you just want to stick around the mall until it’s ready, that’ll probably be best. Aizawa Sensei, we can let you know when it’s ready since the time can vary by whichever process is needed. Either way, I’ll get you guys a discount.” He lowered his voice with a mischievous smile and a playful wink.

“Thank you so much! You are a lifesaver! If I don’t have my phone I’ll pretty much be confined to the house without a chaperone,” You chuckled.

“Thank you, Midoriya. We’ll stick around near here until then.” Your stepdad said, giving a small nod of appreciation. After leaving your phone in the care of his student, the Alpha lead you out of the shop and started walking in the direction of the food court.

“You still hungry, princess?” He leaned down to speak into your ear from how loud the corridor was with the people yelling speaking loudly to each other. The closeness and feeling of his breath on your ear and neck sent a shiver wracking through your body and your knees weakened leading to you falling into his embrace, though it could easily be passed off as simply leaning back into him.

“Uhm.. A-a bit, yea..” You said, moving to lead him to the restaurant stations before he could question your stutter.

Once you arrived you were then even more flushed and you felt heat rising in every part of you, between your legs throbbing even more with a sort of cramping fire in your lower belly. You were panting and the haze in your mind had even more of a hold on you now. As you entered the dining area you could feel all the sensations overwhelming you.

“Daddy..” You whined, entirely falling into him for support as your legs couldn’t keep you up any longer.

“Y/n…” The Alpha muttered out your name, his arms wrapped around your back, keeping you up. His voice was huskier and thicker and when you brought your head up to look at him, you saw his pupils were blown and his nostrils were slightly flared.

“Daddy… It.. It hurts…” The heat was overtaking your body and the throbbing between your legs was verging on painful, your lower belly feeling just about on fire and an ache building inside that your instincts knew the solution to. It was your instincts that told you that that ache you felt was from the emptiness you were so hyper-aware of.

“D-Daddy… Please.. Make it stop.. Make the heat go away.. Please… Alpha..” As soon as his denomination left your lips he had your neck craned up, cradling the back of your head, his lips locked with yours. Your mouths moved clumsily against each other, teeth bumping and saliva leaking down your chins as your tongues tangled wetly. Your pheromones leaked out in droves and made every Alpha in the area turn and look.

‘Unclaimed Omega! Just presented!’ All of their instincts practically screamed at them. When they turned and saw an Alpha already ravaging you, their jealousy and competitiveness flared. A few started moving towards where your stepdad had hoisted you onto a table and started ripping your tank top off your body.

The second that your Alpha stepfather noticed other Alphas encroaching on his Omega- stepdaughter- he turned and planted his hands on either side of you. His hands, were far enough behind you to shield you from the Alphas trying to sneak a peak. He then let out the most vicious, possessive growl you’d ever heard from him and it sent another shockwave of need through you.

“A-Alpha..!” You let out a whiny moan, catching his attention once again. He dipped back in, making quick work of shredding the rest of your top, and started laving his tongue over your scent gland. His mouth pressed against your Claim Site made slick pool in your underwear and your need to submit grew even stronger. Suddenly, he stopped. He pulled away from your neck and clenched his teeth.

“Fuck… Can’t claim you… Fuck, I’m so sorry, princess.. I’ll make it stop hurting.. but.. I can’t claim you. No matter how fuckin’ much I fuckin’ want to, princess..” He muttered in your ear. You didn’t entirely know what exactly he was talking about but you knew it made you whine and let out a whimper. “Shh, it’s okay, princess. I’ll make you feel good, okay? That sound good, Omega?” At the sound of the title, it’s like something snapped in you and you didn’t let yourself wallow in the confusing distress his proclamation caused and only focussed on trying to get his clothes off, or at least enough that you could reach your end goal.

“Alpha.. Alpha, please.. Need.. Need a…” You tried to beg but you didn’t even know what you were begging for. Your stepfather assisted in your messy rush to get his pants open with one hand while the other lifted your chin to press another sloppy kiss to your already swollen lips.

“Need a knot, princess, ‘n’ I’m gonna give you one. Promise.” He growled out against your lips in his sultry voice.

“Yes!” Your instincts cried out that that was exactly what you needed, ecstatic that your Alpha was going to give it to you.

“Just hang on a second, ‘Mega, ‘kay?” He asked, trying desperately to stay calm and not lose his head. He knew that the second he gave into his instincts fully he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from claiming you. You, his little stepdaughter who still calls him Daddy, even though you’re already 19. 19, and only now presenting, as an Omega, at that, 3 years late which led to the assumption you were a Beta. Oh, how wrong they all were.

He deftly hooked his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and shimmied them down enough to hook into your panties as well. Quietly instructing you to lift your hips as much as you could, he slid your leggings down to bunch around your knees. The scent of your slick grabbed the attention of everyone around, not just the Alphas, drawing in Betas, too. The power of a freshly presented Omega surely was a dangerous one.

“Fuck, princess… You’re drawing everyone’s attention..” Your stepdad growled out in a sort of prideful possessiveness like he was glad that everyone was not only watching but desperately wishing they could take his place, “They can all smell your slick..” He smirked as he bit his lip when he dragged his fingers through your lower lips. The feeling on your oversensitive cunt had you throwing your head back and letting out a loud keen.

“D-daddy..!” You moaned loudly when he dipped two fingers in, both going in easily with extra space left over. Taking advantage of that, he slid a third finger in to join them, adding to your pleasure, finally feeling a stretch.

“Fuck…” You heard one of the bystanders moan lowly, making you look around and notice all the people watching with varying mixtures of lust, jealousy, and fluster.

“Ahh.. Daddy.. They’re.. they’re watching..” You got out with a moan, though you were far from dissuaded by the audience.

“They are, ‘Mega. They’re all watching you. You’re so fucking gorgeous they can’t take their eyes off you..” Your stepdad told you, spreading his fingers and giving you an even more delicious stretch.

“Please! Alpha! Please! Need you.. Need your knot!” You begged loudly, purposely glancing around and watching the reactions of all the other Alphas around you. All their eyes were firmly on you, some of them had even pulled their own cocks out and began stroking them.

“Of course, princess..” Your Alpha promised, leaning in once again and pressed his lips to yours, “Whatever my Omega wants..” He let out a husky growl into your open and panting mouth as he reached to lift your legs to align with his torso in parallel.

Then, finally, you felt what you had been needing for what felt like forever. You felt his cock pressing against your awaiting hole, trying to press in, to fully breach you.

One gutsy Alpha from the crowd decided he’d had enough watching and wanted to shove his knot inside of you if your stepfather was going to take so long. He stepped forward and let out arrogant and dominating pheromones to hopefully make the black-haired man step aside and simply allow him to dominate you instead.

The moment your Alpha smelt the other Alpha approaching and sensed his intent, he did 2 things simultaneously that made you tense up in an immediate orgasm.

He whipped his head around and let out a growl so possessive and protective and downright threatening. The other Alpha not only backed off but immediately submitted and bowed his head, his arrogance having entirely evaporated.

At the same time, he slammed his hips forward and bottomed out in one thrust. You felt the tip of his cock immediately make contact with your cervix and it only confirmed what your instincts had been latently screaming. He is the perfect Alpha, he fills you perfectly and it’s as if he was always meant to be there, situated inside you, filling you wholly.

The growl he let out shook through his entire body and in turn, it reverberated inside you as well. You felt the vibrations against your clenching walls and you even felt it where his pelvis was pressed flush against the backs of your thighs. The neatly trimmed hair at the base of his dick pressed right against your clit.

“F-fuuucckk-!” You nearly screamed at the instant feeling of fullness. Your stepfather’s hands gripped tightly against your legs, still up and flush to his chest, forcing himself to keep his hips still to let you adjust to the size. He hadn’t given you time to accommodate him as he went in so he worried he would only harm you if he started right away.

“P-please!! D-Daddy-! Move! Move! Please!” You could only beg for what wholly occupied your hazy mind, only knowing your need to be thoroughly filled and bred. That was all he needed to hear as he leaned forward, just slightly, enough to let your knees fold over his shoulder.

Giving you a silent warning with his eyes, he started moving his hips, pulling out until only the tip was left. From there, he immediately began a rough pace. The table he had lifted you into, which you vaguely noted at some point was bolted to the floor, began to shake with the force of his thrusts. His left forearm wrapped tighter around both of your thighs as his other hand snapped to grip your waist in a way that felt like it was divined.

“Fuck, Omega.. Fuck, princess.. You feel so fucking good,” his stubble scratched pleasantly at the flesh of your thigh as he spoke, nipping them every once in a while, “so fucking perfect, ‘Mega..” His words began to slur as he lost himself to the feeling of your cunt gripping down on him like a vice.

“Alpha.. Alpha!! Need.. need your cum, please! Fuck, Alpha, please!!!” You simply shouted out what your Omega was telling you, not even knowing if you were getting any coherent words out at all, though that didn’t matter to you. Not to you, not to the raven-haired Alpha plowing into you, not to any of the bystanders enjoying the show.

With your head thrown back in pleasure from the delicious scrape of your stepdad’s cock against your walls, you could faintly gather that a couple of Alphas had paired with the watching Betas. They plowed into them at the same rhythm you felt your hips clashing with your stepdad’s. It seemed at least one had even already knotted and was simply humping in tandem.

Many other cocks were visible as well, being fucked into fists or simply teased, some were buried in the throats of Betas and the few other Omegas alike. You almost felt envious of the Omegas getting to choke on a cock, your mouth feeling empty for a split second before a loud cry of pleasure was ripped from your throat.

Your stepdad had used his Alpha Claws to shred your leggings right down the middle and, almost simultaneously, pressed your knees to your chest. He leaned forward even more, adding a slight burn to the backs of your thighs, though you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your knees were now thrown over both shoulders as he relentlessly pounded into you, hitting all new spots from the new angle.

You could feel his cock head drag over your g-spot before it rammed into your cervix, again and again, as if it were demanding entry for itself. Your lewd moans and the wet slapping of skin against skin, along with the loud squelch of your cunt, still gushing slick were reverberating around the entire dining area. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sounds reach all the way back to the Cell Phone Shop.

Soon enough, you felt the beginning of his knot forming and catching on your hole the more it inflated. The feeling of it pushing its way into your sopping hole, again and again, was going to drive you insane. After a few more thrusts and the recognition that his knot was nearing full, your Alpha stepfather shallowed his thrusts just enough to only leave his knot out until he reached full capacity.

His thrusts stayed fast but eased up on their force, making you let out an instinctive whine. You needed to be filled. Filled to the brim! No shallow thrusts! No soft thrusts! You needed a knot!

Luckily, it seemed your prayers were answered almost immediately as his knot reached full inflation and after only a couple more thrusts, he rocketed his hips into yours and shoved his knot inside you. The stretch of his large knot made you cry out in ecstasy from the sting of it forcing its way inside you. Finally. Finally! You had the knot inside you that you so desperately needed.

Mere moments after his knot was fully settled inside you, you felt his hot cum shoot out inside you and fill you to the brim. It was only then that you had been able to notice that his cock alone had managed to cause a bulge in your belly from how deep it reached and the bulge only seemed to grow with how much seed he was implanting in you. In your womb.

Faintly, as if from far away, you heard most of the audience you had wracked up reach their own ends, some inside of someone, others into their hands.

“Alpha..” You breathed contently, letting out a sigh of relief at finally being filled with both knot and seed, and at the ache being released from your legs as he moved to let them rest comfortably beside his hips. You looked down and gently placed a hand, aching from how hard you had been gripping the edges of the table,(though you don’t remember doing so) over the swell of your stomach, smiling weakly at the warmth it emanated.

“Princess…” Your Alpha responded, lifting his hand to place it over yours, “Do you feel that, ‘Mega? That’s where you’ll be carrying our pups. I’ll keep you full with my cum for your entire heat and make sure… Make sure that you’re carrying my pups.” You looked up and met his onyx eyes, his hair loose from his low bun and falling in his face, making him look like a being of pure beauty and sex sculpted by the Gods themselves. He had a lazy yet confident grin on his lips, a mixture of yours and his saliva making them glisten, the faintest hint of his Alpha Fangs showing.

He looked like the perfect vision of an Alpha. The perfect vision of Your Alpha. He may not be able to claim you, but you wouldn’t let that stop you from declaring yourself as his. You would proudly carry his pups and submit to his every desire like the perfect little Omega for him.

Your Alpha leaned down and kissed you again, though this time it was slow and sensual and loving rather than the fast and wet, fiery passion it had been before.

“Love you, princess. So fucking much..” He panted against your lips, pressing another chaste peck before resting his forearms beside my head to keep himself up.

“Love you, too.. Daddy..” Your voice was slurred with fatigue, both from the exertion of being perfectly bred and from the pure exhaustion your first heat had shot through you.

You didn’t know when, but you slightly stirred awake from when you had, apparently, passed out, at the sound of a low growl. You were still mostly asleep so you couldn’t comprehend much, but you could tell you were now being held against your stepdad’s chest as he sat in what seemed to be a booth. You vaguely recognized that he had growled at an Alpha who had gotten just barely too close to you both.

The protectiveness lulled you back into a comfortable sleep against his chest, happily breathing in his pheromones. You hadn’t been able to even realize if you could smell his pheromones earlier, your mind too occupied by the physical sensations you were receiving.

When you awoke again, you were situated in his truck, buckled up as he pulled out of the parking lot. You realized you were in his shirt and some new pants that seemed to have been bought just earlier. You felt an ache in your hips and between your legs, one you knew you wouldn’t trade for the world. Tiredly, you dragged your hand to rest over your lower belly once again.

“You finally awake, princess?” Your stepfather’s husky voice asked, seeming more than content. Looking over you found him shirtless and smiling at you as he waited for the light to change. You gave a nod with a matching grin, singing contently.

“Yea.. I’m finally awake..” You spoke, voice hoarse from your loud moans and cries, though you couldn’t be happier.

“I’m awake..” Your Omega purred happily, the sound emanating from you, too, filling the truck with the sound of a happy, filled, and bred Omega.

You could feel the heat calming in your body, leaving you with an exhausted form feeling aches all over and a feeling inside you that you couldn’t pinpoint. All you knew was that your Omega was completely and wholly content and happy. You felt inexplicable giddiness and ecstatics, like everything had gone according to some grand plan.

You couldn’t seem to bring your hand away from your belly, feeling like you were meant to hold it. To cradle it.

‘Who knows? I’ll just have to figure out these instincts as I go.. Maybe it’s an Omega thing.’

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

@frosch-thefrog

[redflagshipwriter]

Young Lovers shot by Cupid ch 3

(Damian/Danny dpxdc fic, Damian and Stephanie buddy cop fic)

Masterpost

Brown was a somewhat agreeable partner to travel with when she was not aiming to irritate him. She made no side trips, unexpected stops, and she certainly did not feel the need to show off world-class acrobatics when they were aiming for speed.

Begrudgingly, Damian admitted to himself that she was not entirely terrible. The revelation that she felt some competitive spirit in regards to Drake was good information. That could improve their working relationship considerably. Perhaps he would allow her more grace.

They arrived at the mall in short order.

They looked up the blueprint from outside and quietly conferred on a plan. The large building was closed, dark, and quiet. There was a single security office, and it seemed that the mall did not employ anyone overnight. Damian pried open a vent on the roof and slipped inside silently. Brown was at his heels a moment later. She hit the ground with a soft tap of her boots.

Imperfect, but excusable, Damian generously allowed.

The office itself was a damp little nest of filing cabinets with a lingering and unpleasant aroma of popcorn butter and coffee. Damian wrinkled his nose through the task of sorting their security tapes.

The food court tapes from yesterday had already been removed, labeled, and put away.

Unfortunately, they were literal tapes. Damian huffed in disbelief at the bulky VHS units.

“Holy moly,” Brown muttered. “I thought the old man was the only person who still used these.”

Indeed.

Damian suppressed a sigh. “I think it unwise to linger here and watch all the footage,” he said, but he hesitated to take them. It would have been much better if they could simply make a copy. But these? Impossible. Wasn’t it?

…Batman would know. Damian crossed his arms unhappily. The oldest members of the family would hold this knowledge. “You are too young to know these devices?” he confirmed.

Brown huffed a little laugh. “Yeah, but how hard can it be?” She tapped at the likeliest tape with a gloved finger. “There has to be a way to make copies. We can look it up. But we could just watch here. You know what time the incident was, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Damian admitted begrudgingly. “But it would be optimal to watch the entire day’s footage to ensure that nothing else happened.”

Brown blew out air between her lips. “Alrighty then.” She dug out her nightphone and apparently started searching for tutorials.

Between the two of them, they managed it. They slipped away with two recorded tapes. They made a detour to deposit them in Spoiler’s bike storage before returning to their patrol. In between normal activities, they quietly debate their next challenge: watching the tapes. Obviously, Batman was the only person in the world paranoid enough to retain such ancient technology. They needed to use his equipment. But how to do it without being seen? It was kept in the entertainment room closest to Father’s bedroom, so that he could watch his childhood favorites if the nostalgic urge struck. He occasionally did so as background noise for filling out paperwork.

“The easiest time would be when he’s at work,” Brown recapped thoughtfully. “But there isn’t much of a window between when we get free from school and when he could come home from work. It would take weeks to watch it all that way even once, and by then Valentine’s Day would have passed.”

Damian made a tsk of disgust. It was true. Unfortunately, the fastest way to draw attention to their operation would be to forgo school. That would invite scrutiny from Pennyworth.

“Oh look, a carjacking.” Brown threw herself off the building and screeched like a bat as she fell. The sound rang out and echoed across the cold, dark streets.

It was a bloodcurdling sound. The guilty man looked up with amusingly wide eyes and a pale face. Damian suppressed an amused snort and came down in silence at a different angle.

After they had apprehended the fool and left him with a stern warning to follow the law or else face the pain of losing a hand, the two returned to the skies.

“That was pretty metal,” Brown said, in a tone of ardent admiration.

Damian cast a look back at the building they had been passing. He hadn't noticed anything in particular. To what was she referring? The window grates? Something inside the windows? He chose not to respond other than with a grunt.

Brown laughed again.

He ignored her harder and channeled his tenseness into an unnecessary flip before landing. He stood and put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the city. “Your Mother is frequently at work while you are imprisoned in school.”

“...Yes.” Brown cocked her head to the side.

He nodded briskly. “You will give me a disease,” Damian instructed. “Of course you may not malaise without supervision. You must come to the manor.”

“Oh, fake a sick day or two,” Brown breathed. She clasped her hands together. “You're becoming such a real boy, d’you know that?”

“Tt.” Damian turned away with disgust so that he did not have to see Spoiler bouncing on her heels.

“Alright, symptoms. Can't argue with diarrhea!”

He cringed hard.

“There's a good reason for no one else to see it,” Spoiler justified. “We can't fake a fever. We could maybe manage clamminess, red eyes, etc.” She paused. “But honestly, the two of us being sick at the same time would go a long way to convince, since we have a history of antagonism.” He could see her make a face under her mask. “Tonight could work against us for that.”

Damian nodded. “We will have to invent a conflict,” he said. He immediately started picking through their patrol for a premise.

She blew a raspberry. “Nah, adding details gives them something to unpick,” she said.

He was struck by the unwelcome realization that she was not wholly unintelligent. His mouth felt glued shut.

“I'll just go back in a bad mood, make a couple faces and sigh loudly once,” Spoiler said airily. “You put on your little thundercloud face and storm away, give crisp answers to anyone who asks if there's something wrong.”

“...And in the morning, I will sleep in,” Damian said. “Past my alarm. Pennyworth will note it as a matter of concern. I will get ready for school.”

“I'll call and ask if I can malaise at the Manor, since my mom is at work and she's worried,” Brown continued easily. “Alfred will put two and two together and tell you to stay home.”

Damian hesitated. “I think that if you had given me some low-class disease,” he started.

She cut him off with a lifted hand. “You get that illness isn't a class related thing, right?” She huffed. “Maybe you got me sick with your elementary school germs. Little kids are disgusting.”

…His peers were upsettingly unhygienic. He gritted his jaw.

Still, he had his self respect to maintain.

“I would never pass a contagious disease,” Damian vowed. He had too much self discipline for that. “The origin must be you.”

She hummed.

“Robin and Spoiler, you two are closest to Red Hood. Care to lend a hand?”

The two straightened into professional posture that Damian didn't remember leaving. “What's the situation?” Brown asked.

“He shook a bush and a lot of creepy crawlies flew out,” Oracle drawled. “Danger is minimal, but containment is impossible with one. Dropping coordinates.”

The next hour was spent dragging dregs of a gang from Bloodhaven out of dumpsters and other such crannies in order to escort them to city limits. They were aurally assaulted by Todd’s idea of a motivational speech and his puerile territorialism. “Stay out or I'll cut your hands off and sew them onto your ankles, blah blah.”

Damian tuned it out. Mother had truly wasted her time on him. He was so dramatic.

The rest of the night went as planned. He and Brown returned to the cave in a pointed silence, wrote professional reports, and stalked to their respective showers without exchanging a word.

He went to his room and picked up his alarm clock. Perhaps he ought to adjust the time?

‘No. If Pennyworth is passing and does not hear it at the usual time, he will note the irregularity.’

Damian willed himself to sleep. When the alarm did go off, it took his finely honed discipline to turn the machine off and then lie back down in bed. It was… uncomfortable. he laid there stiffly, looking at the ceiling.

He forced his eyes to shut. He matched his breathing to a pattern for sleep. And he waited to see how long it would take for someone to notice that he had slept in.

His punishment for childhood began at 8 am and released the prisoners at 3 pm. Therefore, he habitually awoke at 6:30 am. After an agonizing wait Damian peeled open an eye to see that the time was 7:12.

…It was past the time that he would normally have arrived at the breakfast table. He weighed if he wished to hurry downstairs or let Pennyworth come to check on him.

Something felt like a rock in his stomach. Damian sat up and put a hand to it, frowning at the sensation. What was this? When he had thought about his actions causing Pennyworth to abandon his post and trek up a flight of stairs the odd feeling had emerged.

There was a knock on his door. Damian's head shot up as it opened. Pennyworth peered in and his eyebrows went up slightly at the sight of Damian still abed. “Good morning, Master Damian,” he greeted.

“I apologize.” Damian took the hand off of his stomach and all but leapt to his feet. “I have- overslept. I will be but a moment.” He paused, genuinely flustered. “Good morning, Pennyworth.”

“Your breakfast is ready,” Pennyworth said mildly. “Excuse me.” He closed the door.

Damian raced through the bare minimum of his routine and pulled on a school uniform. He made it to the kitchen at 7:20. He faintly heard a phone ring in the other room. His heart gave just one undisciplined leap. Was it Brown, telling their story?

Drake was slouched halfway over the table, cradling a hard-boiled egg in his hands. An otherwise empty plate had been pushed into the center of the table. He had kicked his chair out quite far and was leaning directly forward, his entire upper body on the wood. He contemplated the depths of the egg with a wrinkled brow and eyes halfway hidden under bangs.

Damian edged around Drake to his seat, careful to avoid physical contact.

“You're late,” Drake said to the egg.

Perhaps it was his egg, Damian thought snidely. He was an oversized duck, was he not? Perhaps he had laid that egg and that was why it was so fascinating to him.

“Oy,” Drake drawled. He sniffled as he turned to look at Damian. “What's wrong with you? Forget a project?”

“Do not be foolish,” Damian forbade. He picked up his silverware and set it on his breakfast.

Drake regarded him for a long time. “Are you sick?”

…Why did he think so?

“No, I am not,” Damian snapped back, before he could think better of it. Perhaps he ought to have let Drake establish his alibi.

“I don't know, you look kinda off,” Drake said. He let the hand cradling his egg hit the table and he squinted.

“Master Timothy,” Pennyworth said.

Damian did not jump.

“Ms. Brown has just called to say that she's quite under the weather. I will be retrieving her shortly. How is your condition?”

Drake sat up. “I'm fine, Alfred,” he said formally. Then he blinked. “I think Damian is sick.”

He bristled. “You will bite your tongue,” Damian snapped back. “I am- I am no such thing.”

He could see the moment they both decided that he was, in fact, too ill for school. That was the goal: but he could not accept it calmly. They would assume he was on death’s welcome mat. Therefore he hissed and protested and derided Brown’s name with only a distant smidgeon of guilt.

But eventually, Damian was ushered to a quiet and dark room to wait while Pennyworth informed the day prison that Damian would be absent from Geology, Geometry, and all manner of vile variations on how one might ensure misery for a lone intellectual in a flood of brainless oafs.

Success.

Brown was delivered and managed to appear in the same room that Damian had been consigned to. She had managed to contrive an unusually poor condition of her normally lustrous hair. That, combined with shapeless clothes and smudged eye makeup, served to make her appear quite terrible indeed.

“You look terrible,” Damian told her, because she had done a good job.

A muscle twitched visibly under her eye.

“Is Bruce gone yet?” She asked.

Damian shook his head. “He will leave at 9:30.”

Brown sucked on her lower lip for a moment and wiggled into the crack of the sofa cushions. “I think we should go to his VHS room before he leaves, so when he notices someone was in there he doesn't see a reason to investigate.”

Damian shook his head minutely. “No. He will take the opportunity to spend the day with his ailing children and watch his favorite childhood show. We will have no opportunity to watch the security footage.”

“Not his kid,” Brown muttered. “But you're right. The chance is too high.” She let her head hit the back of the sofa. “That would be a good way to spend a real sick day, I think.”

Was she wistful?

Damian eyed her in bewilderment. Was she aching for bonding time with Father?

“I shall inform him that you want to watch his detective show at a later date,” he decided generously.

[gen4grl]

timeskip zero crew + written bios below !

with the sv cycle coming to an end, i’d thought i’d share my timeskip zero crew designs! friendship and the impact it can have on an individual has always been a key feature of pokemon - with sv easily executing that theme the best. zero crew has an extremely special place in my heart and think i speak for everyone when i say i'm gonna miss this group a lot ♥︎

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

JULIANA

♡ Originally from a small island in the North Paldean Sea. Homeschooled until her family moved to mainland Paldea where she started her public education at Uva Academy.

♡ Socially awkward, clumsy and struggles with organisation. Not the best with words but a fantasic listener. Booksmart and tends to be a people pleaser to a fault.

♡ Despite her awkwardness, is obliviously confident. Confessed her feelings and asked Arven to be her boyfriend after Area Zero, believing it was just a one way crush. Definitely was not and have been dating since.

♡ Was extremely overwhelmed starting school with no clue what direction she wanted her live to go in. After the events of Area Zero and collecting Herba Mystica, realised she wanted to become a pharmaceutical scientist with the goal of making Herba Mystica more wildly available in a medicinal format for people and their pokémon. Cites Director Clavell and Jacq as her biggest inspirations.

♡ Still considers Carmine, Kieran and the former BB League members some of her closest friends. The groups enjoy traveling together between Paldea, Kitakami and Unova together.

♡ Enjoys beers, fried food, karaoke & visiting the night markets in Porto Marinada.

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NEMONA

♡ Graduated with distinctions in all classes but dreams of making a name for herself outside her wealthy family. Currently works fulltime at Uva Acadmeny as a battle studies teacher with the end goal of becoming Champion.

♡ Lives in a high rise apartment in the center of Mesagoza overlooking the battle court. Absolutely loves the lively and fast paced energy of the city.

♡ Despite being extremely outgoing, struggles with making and maintaining friendships. Holds Juliana extremely close to her heart as she believes she was the first person to ever really 'get her'. First came out to Juliana after the groups adventure to Area Zero. Currently crushing on Carmine.

♡ Often mistaken for being a 'tomboy' but has quite alot of interest in typically 'feminine' things but has trouble connecting and expressing this part of her. Particularly likes plushies, collecting perfume and playing piano in which she is extremely gifted.

♡ Detail oriented and enjoys organisation. Wakes up at 5:30 every morning and runs from Mesagoza to Levincia no matter what she did the previous night.

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ARVEN

♡ Only child of the late Professor Turo. Originally withdrawn and standoffish; after learning of his fathers passing, became extremely family & friend focused. Would love to have his own family in the future. Considers Clavell a second father.

♡ Originally specialised in traditional savoury Paldean dishes but developed a love for baking after making Juliana macarons for their first Valentines Day together.

♡ After graduation, worked as a dish hand in a small bar in Porto Marinada. Worked his way up to line cook while occasionally doing pokémon walking and sitting on the side. Currently the manager of the new Mesagoza Patisserie Soapberry location. Spends his income on renovating the lighthouse where he lives with Juliana, Mabosstiff and Miraidon.

♡ Prized possessions include his fathers old lab coat and journals recovered from the Zero Lab. Gifted an oddly familar version of the presumably lost Violet Book by Juliana after her return from stuyding at Blueberry Academy which he keeps in his nightstand.

♡ Due to his unique upbringing and feelings of isolation; is very protective and easily jealous in both platonic and romantic relationships.

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PENNY

♡ Originally from Hulbury, Galar. Daughter of former Galar champion, Peony. Currently lives in an old industrial loft with Atticus and Giacamo in downtown Mesagoza. Loves city life but misses the small beachtown vibes of her hometown. While developing a closer relationship with her dad after gradution, has no intentions of moving back home to Galar.

♡ Prefers to keep her circle small but cares deeply for her friends to a point of getting herself in bad situations to help them. Still learning how to put herself first in certain sitations with help and advice from Arven.

♡ Works full time for the Pokémon League doing admin work. Does occasional hairdressing on the side mostly for friends and mutuals. Specialises in bleaching and alternative cuts and colours. Originally a brunette - wouldn’t be caught dead with grown out roots.

♡ Has a terrible diet consisting mostly of cup ramen, sushi and whatever the cheapest energy drink is. Sleeps around 4 hours each night after spending her after work hours gaming online with Kieran; excluding Wednesdays where she plays Magic the Gathering with Team Star.

♡ Homebody who loves reading + collecting manga and crafts; particularly sewing and knitting after being taught by Attitcus.

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[hoony2k]

BLOSSOM WITH YOU

"WILL YOU PLEASE GET DOWN FROM THERE?"

SUMMARY: Curiosity gifts you with more than what you bargained for and it's up to your knight to change his scout boy ways to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart and place them back together.

PAIRING- Knight! lee heeseung x reader

GENRE- fluff, angst with comfort, period drama!, royalty au!, friends to lovers au!

WARNINGS- tears, heeseung is love sick, mentions of familial neglect.

WORD COUNT- 2193 words

NOTE- hi i'm still unsure whether or not I like the current formatting and I doubt I will ever settle. (formally) my first oneshot let's go!!

masterlist

Being the youngest out of three prominent siblings was all you had been ever since birth. The eldest two sons fought for the throne and the third would busy herself with matters of the court. All your efforts to be like them, to be seen, to be regarded as important were discouraged, for you were "too young" and "naïve" to comprehend the cruelty of the real world that your family tried to shield you from.

Sometimes you would wonder how their life would be had your mother died before birthing you. Would there be a drastic change? However, unfortunately, the queen gave birth and then retired from all her royal and motherly duties of love and nurture, leaving you to the care of ladies in waiting while she pursued her true dream to travel the world. Sometimes you hated her for leaving you alone with no hesitance. Sometimes you hated yourself for disliking the woman for doing what gave her joy. Sometimes you wish you found what gave you joy.

Lee Heeseung.

A knight assigned to protect you and quite literally a knight in shining armour because he salvaged you from your dark past. Heeseung was your closest friend, even if he complained about blurring the lines between duty and friendship, you did not care because Heeseung saw you. He saw you, unlike your true blood relatives.

"Will you please get down from there?", the young man questioned once more.

You granted him silence from where you sat, perched between two branches of a willow tree in the lavish royal garden. The hems of your dress were drenched in mud water, your shoes ragged and your pristine white leggings were stained brown. The branch was not at all comfortable like your cushioned bed but it had to do. Ever since you met Heeseung, this was the first time you truly wanted to be alone.

Though, he could not allow that because he was ordered to be with you at all times. Stationed outside your bedroom door at night and morning, checking the temperature of your bath and waiting outside the bathroom while trusted women bathed you, then he would be taste-testing your food when you visited the city- all of these things were listed in his job description as your knight.

But as your friend, there was no way he could leave you in this feral condition. His heart clenched when he observed the small scratches on your hands, a product of your past actions of poorly, yet succeeding, in climbing the tree. A thin sheen of water laced your pretty eyes and clung to your lashes whenever you blinked. The urge to wipe your tears away with his thumb and cradle your face made Heeseung swallow cotton because, no, there was no way he could do that. Threading the line of duty and friendship was already nerve-wracking enough, he could never allow himself to imagine himself with you.

"If it is to your comfort…may I join you?" Heeseung finally spoke.

Like a heartbroken child, you kicked your feet in the air and stomped in anger.

"I want to be left alone," your response was harsh but your tone was softer than a petal. The last thing you wanted was to let your impulse hurt the one person who truly adored you. Fortunately, it did nothing to steer Heeseung's ambition.

"I am here for you, as a friend".

The sincerity in his voice made you pause your actions. You leaned to see his face. He gazed up at you like you were a twinkling star far out of reach.

You nodded slowly.

He understood you and as humiliating as it was, Heeseung climbed the tree within minutes. It had taken you a massive amount of time during which you struggled and slipped and scratched yourself.

He was warm by your side, his pristine uniform was wrinkled yet spotless, unlike your attire.

The anger fuelled inside your heart slowly dimmed and all you were left with was stuck in a puddle of shame.

You sniffed and wiped a tear that escaped without permission.

"Did you overhear them as well?"

Despite your efforts, your voice wavered. Heeseung's heart shattered into tiny fragments. He wanted to ease your burden but he could not bear lying to you.

It was his turn to be ashamed. Neither of the two could face one another so he mimicked you and hardened his gaze on his hands, slack in his lap.

"Yes."

You let out a tiny whimper and he wanted to fling himself off the tree and fall on his head so all the memories thirty minutes prior would be forgotten but refrained from doing so. He sat quietly and waited for you to process everything.

Heeseung had never experienced the heartbreak you had currently undergone. His family life was simple and plain. Born to farmers who had great expectations for their son who was chosen by the royal knights to safeguard you after he completed his courses and missions successfully, came first in everything.

You, on the other hand, had a more nuanced life that only weighed on your soul. An hour or so ago, he saw you enter the kitchen halls for a bite but you had hesitated at the entrance, enamoured by the discussion taking place inside. He peeked between the large ajar doors and eavesdropped with you- then he regretted it.

Heeseung had tried to pull you away but you had inherited your stubborn qualities from Her Highness. You had paid no heed to his gentle grip on your sleeve and continuous tugging.

The domestic workers spoke of your birth as if it were a mere campfire story meant to entertain the new staff. It made him sick. It made you realise you knew nothing of your family. They were strangers to you.

"The queen was willing to give it up for adoption, but the court said it would tarnish the royal's reputation," the head of staff retold, " I think they wanted another son."

An elder chef scoffed, "They didn't want any child at all! The doctor was my uncle and he said the queen never wanted a child. She was going to…get rid of it. That's why she's now travelling. She doesn't want anything to do with that stupid brat-"

Your ears felt a sudden cradle of warmth that muffled her voice. Gently, someone pulled you away from the doors with small baby steps. You turned to the culprit and were met with Heeseung's wide eyes that had pools of worry and anxiety in them.

You choose to drown in those feelings. So you ran and ran until the staff and their conversation felt aeons away. Until the pain from rose bush thorns and low branches distracted you from the emotional agony. You ran until you reached a clearing and your lungs gave out, your forehead shone with sweat, your legs filthy with mud and grime, vision blurred. Until your exterior mirrored how you felt inside.

You ran until Heeseung caught up with you and begged you to stop.

You rubbed your nose harshly. With gentle hands, Heeseung grasped onto yours and slid his slender fingers to fit yours as if you two were crafted to complement each other.

"Do you think it's all true?"

You were grasping onto any silver lining. Any spark of hope that you were wanted, needed and loved. Oh, how much Heeseung desired and loved you- you had no idea. He had to keep his mouth shut, so he calculated his words as always.

"I have never been in Her Highness' presence long enough to acquaint myself with her, but I doubt there exists a mother who does not think about her child when she is away."

Your grip tightened.

"I don't believe every woman is meant to be a mother, Hee."

His heart clenched. You continued," I feel awful for her, but I desperately want a mother. I deserve a mother. Don't you think so?"

You turned your body to face him. An expression full of hope stared at him and Heeseung held the string of a guillotine over you. He swallowed thickly.

"I think every child deserves a mother who loves them. I also believe that…even if you are starved of motherly love…"

He trailed off, unable to meet your eyes, gaze trailed onto the grassy land and fields of tulips. You softly shook his hand to bring him back to the conversation, high off his words. Anything that could ground you from floating away with your sensibility, you needed it.

Heeseung pinched his eyes close and inhaled through his nose.

"I would ensure you are never starved of love if you let me into your heart. I will never be able to give you the love you desire because it is not in my ability to do so, but let me fulfil my duty to devote myself to you. Please accept the feelings I offer- as a man and a lover."

Heeseung was too afraid to view your reaction. Despite his trusted correct predictions of all your past reactions, for first Heeseung was unaware of what you might say or do. He knew his job was not threatened but your friendship was at stake.

His scattered thoughts were shunned away when he felt rough fingers paint his cheeks with their warmth. You held his face in his hands as if you were holding the most precious items, fear of breaking it was too much.

Your voice fluttered into his ears," Heeseung, please open your eyes."

A slave to your words, he followed yet he stared at the horizon where the sun descended to kiss the ground. In slow moments, you turned his head to look at you. Eye contact was inevitable.

Heeseung fell deep into your eyes and saw your soul bare and unstitched. He noticed the tremble in your lips and the minuscule furrow in your brows.

"Do you mean it?" Your voice was laced with poorly hidden desperation and hope.

Your hands moved along with his head as he nodded firmly. He placed his hand on top of yours, engulfing them in his larger palms.

"Always," he replied, voice firm as stone.

You refused to let go of him but a fit of giggles tumbled out of your mouth. Shoulders danced to the rhythm of your laughter until your eyes and brows crinkled in despair and your sudden wails filled the air.

Your grasp loosened so he placed both of his hands on yours and brought them to his lips for a sweet chaste kiss. His small kisses on your fingertips did not falter even as you cried and cried, basked in the golden rays of the sun.

Your head bowed forward to meet his chest, he wrapped his arms around your shaking shoulders like a shawl on a winter night.

"Oh, Heeseung!" You managed to cry out through the snot and tears. It must have been a rotten sight to someone else but Heeseung felt at ease now that you were finally vulnerable with him. Now that he was honest with you.

"I don't know what love truly is but I know for a certainty that my heart beats wildly when you are with me and my mind races in fear when you are not."

Although you weren't finished, Heeseung pulled you closer than ever and began littering your crown with kisses. Had anyone else seen, they'd faint in shock. Your bodies were moulded together, your entire frame was hugged by the knight, his slender fingers twirled your messy hair, and plucked a stray leaf out.

You heaved a heavy breath that burdened you for ages, shivering hands held the collars of his shirt like an anchor.

"You have changed my life and I want to bloom with you by my side."

It was Heeseung's turn to giggle. His hand was not enveloped in your locks and returned to caress your cheeks once more. Your eyes blinked the tears away but Heeseung's lovesick expression never changed. His touch was the fresh dew on grass in the early morning. His nose nudged your own, faces far too close to be inappropriate. You felt your face heat up at the thought. Heeseung ignored all rational thought and his heart threatened to break out of his ribcage from immense joy. He would make sure you were loved, he'd ensure you never had a single moment where you felt unwanted. He'd want you to relax from royal duties and come home to your bedroom where you were acknowledged and heard. He would do it all.

As Heeseung leaned upwards to place a sweet kiss on your forehead, you allowed your body to relax. It was a fact that once Heeseung had set his mind on something, he'd do anything to achieve it. Having the boy as your protector, companion and beloved, he was the perfect pillar of fortitude to support you and all your endeavours.

You gazed at your new lover and whispered," Thank you."

At your change in demeanour, gratitude and overall success of his new status, Heeseung smiled like he had never done before.

thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoyed.

please do not translate/copy/edit.

[yxami]

Nut or not November day 4!!

description: yandere damsel x gn knight reader, no nsfw, sort of a continuation, more seriousness rather than fluff, happy no nut November day 4

A knight’s duties is to protect and serve, something you’ve heard time and time again, and it always came from the lips of people with power. An authority you could never achieve, not unless you marry into it, and even that seemed more unattainable.

But if someone were to ask you what’s the closest you’ve ever been to getting influence over others then you’d talk about your prince.

The prince that would give you just about anything, all your needs and wants were satisfied by him. If you were to just utter the words of something you’ve been looking at then he’d buy it, no questions asked.

As his knight, you were supposed to make sure he was safe, of course, with no payment other than the one you got from the king and queen, but he always insisted in treating you to something.

“Why can’t you come and dance?” He huffs, already getting flared up to start a small tantrum, he’d kill anyone who witnessed the whines and complaints he only intended you to hear so he could get what he wanted.

A prince begging for a knight’s attention? How embarrassing. But he could also care less if it meant he would get your eyes on him, the pair he finds more addicting than any of the riches he has obtained. He loves basking in any affection you’d give, to him it’s the most valuable thing he’s ever gotten.

“Well this is a dance for you to find someone to court, not one for us to dance together at” You smile bashfully, wondering if his question was a joke, he certainly didn’t mean that right?

You knew he was more affectionate than he should be with you, his personal knight, but was he really supposed to be this clingy?

“My parents always set these up, they know I won’t get with anyone” He waves his hand as if to dismiss their unneeded opinions and worries of him being married to someone.

They’re aware of his little hobby.. The one that has him doting over you and providing you with anything he believed you wanted, so they’ve been setting up more dances than usual.

“But don’t you think it’d be nice to meet someone?” You ran your eyes across the ballroom, hoping nobody was questioning why the prince was chatting with you rather than the royalty attending the ball for this special opportunity.

“Well, I already have my eyes on someone, anyways, can we just dance?” He huffs, holding onto your arm as he awaits your answer but won’t take no for an answer so you essentially had no choice.

“Alright..”

Yandere damsel that dances with hearts in his eyes, not one drop of shame either as he makes it clear he only has his love set out for you. Jealous stares are piercing your skin, coming from all ends of the room, the hair standing on your neck only extenuated how uncomfortable you were.

You wished he’d be more mindful of other peoples opinions but you sighed, knowing he wouldn’t.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” His adoring eyes turn into a wave of worry as he observes your expression, hoping he didn’t upset you somehow.

“No no, it’s just.. it’s nothing” You smile, trying to change the subject by bringing up the table covered in plates of food and how hungry you were.

“Tell me, you know I don’t like it when you keep things to yourself” His lips formed into a frown, insistent on knowing why you sighed, even if it was something minor. He pulls you away into a guest bedroom as to not let others snoop. “Was it because you didn’t want to dance? I’m sorry I should’ve listened” He whispers after closing the door, walking up to you after he does.

“It’s not that.. I just want you to pay attention to other people, not just me. Your parents pay a lot of money for the party, shouldn’t you at least try to have fun with others? You don’t want to miss your chance at getting a future partner do you?” You sit down on the guest bedroom’s bed, wondering which hallway the two of you were in after leaving the ball room.

“I have my eyes on you, don’t you get that?” He groans, in disbelief that you have yet to get that he’s infatuated with you. “I’ve been yearning for your attention ever since I first saw you. I didn’t need help with my sword skills or with my education, I just wanted to spend time with you. I’m not even scared of thunderstorms either” He rants on, explaining all the tactics he’d do for you to stay close by him even when it’s not required.

Making you his personal knight, having you stay in his bedroom the entire week when it stormed, or all the times he pretended to fall so you would carry him back to his room and act as like his personal doctor for the entire day.

You sat there in silence, contemplating all of what he’s done, you knew he was more dependent on you than a normal prince should be but was all of this really to keep you attentive?

You weren’t sure what to say or what to do, so you fiddled with the cold bedsheets under your hands until you could muster up the words to speak.

“What? Don’t just stare, you’re making me nervous” He anxiously laughs, coming up to you with his arms extended, wanting comfort even though your silence was causing his discomfort.

“I don’t know.. well, um..” You reciprocate the hug he initiated but still leave him in a state uneasiness, how can you make him feel so safe yet dangle his heart over spikes like nothing?

He’s so inlove that he’ll still forgive you even if you break him into a million pieces.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to accept it now, how about you respond to me when you’ve made your choice? When I finally make you fall in love with me then you can tell me” He smiled weakly, half heartedly believing in his plan as he hugs you tightly.

You nod, glad that he’s given you the chance to leave this whole situation unanswered.

“I’ll try my best okay? And when you do fall in love then you’ll have to accept my marriage proposal”

[ursaspecter]

growing up as a 00s kid watching cartoons of older kids and teenagers going out doing things without adult supervision. going to the mall and it being a fun place for teenagers. and then actually becoming a teenager in the 10s and oops we killed malls. and the few still standing aren't really optimal for a group of friends to just hang out.

like the closest mall to me has a fucking gucci and versace. theres a tesla dealership inside. the only teenagers going there are probably ones spending their parents money trying to become influencers

the few times my friends and i actually tried a mall hangout there wasn't even a place for us to sit around as a group or anything aside from the food court so we just sat in a corner on the floor tucked away where security couldnt find us playing cards against humanity.

idk where im going with this. they tore down the roller rink in my neighborhood a while ago. the 7eleven closest to my house looks like a wholefoods. the beloved hole in the wall texmex restaurant that my family were regulars at closed down because rent was too high. a huge thrift store that was probably older than I was got torn down.

suburban melancholy i guess.