#the world when none of it is your responsibility' and the

[thevoidstaredback]

A funny thought just came to me, so here's a new writing prompt:

The Justice League doesn't think that Batman has a civilian identity. For the most part, he only ever comes out at night, adding to the nocturnal rumors, but he has been seen during the day when there are huge problems or bigger rouge attacks.

And, because the JL don't think he has a civilian identity, they naturally assume that none of the other Gotham Vigilantes do, either. Signal, the only consistent day shift, is obviously a different breed than the rest. All of the others are nocturnal.

Extra points if they think they're a group of cryptids.

One day, Bruce and Tim are needed to help set up at WE for a press conference. One that Lois Lane is covering. At the same time, the JL Is having a meeting. Normally Dick would put on the Batman suit, but Nightwing is needed at the meeting, too. They can't say that Batman is off world, because all of those trips are logged and followed by the Lanterns. So, the next logical thing to do is for Nightwing to tell the JL that Batman and Red Robin were needed as civilians, but he will make sure to pass the information on to them, as well as record the meeting.

"Batman doesn't have a civilian identity," Is the response he gets. "None of you do, right?"

Nightwing, for all his training, doesn't react outside of his smile getting slightly bigger. "You don't think we have secret identities?"

"No, we kinda just assumed you all just hid away in a cave or something when you weren't needed or on duty."

Oh, these sweet summer children. Nightwing is trying very hard not to laugh at them. "We, we do have secret identities, we don't do nothing when we aren't in costume."

"Are you sure?" That's the Flash. "'Cause I'm pretty sure we'd recognize you guys out of costume." Kudos to him for being so confident about that. "Most of you only have tiny masks over your eyes. That's not enough to cover an identity."

Nightwing takes a glance at Superman, not that anyone can see his eyes move behind the domino mask. The alien's eyes have shifted left.

"I've been to Gotham plenty of time," Green Arrow speaks up, "I know I haven't seen everyone in the city, but I'm pretty sure I'd recognize your build. It's pretty distinct."

Bold. All of the Wayne Clan have met Green Arrow in and out of costume. They've actually met most of the JL in and out of costume. Should he tell them? Nah, that's not funny. He can't wait to tell the others.

[ellecdc]

Okie but I really would love more Barty x potter sibling reader it just makes me happy I don’t care if it’s smut fluff angst I will read whatever you write please👉🏻👈🏻

love these goofs so much, thanks for your request!

Barty Crouch Jr x Potter!reader who feels really bad for manatees

CW: talking about how it's illegal to interact with manatees and how sad that is (read: it's fluff), fem!reader, reader has long enough hair to push behind her ear

It had taken a bit of coercion on James’ part to convince Regulus to join him up in Gryffindor tower tonight - and by coercion, I mean James batted his eyelashes dramatically and promised lots of cuddles and kisses for Regulus’ ‘trouble’ - but James was feeling quite chuffed as he and his now official boyfriend stepped through the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room.

Those feelings of chuffedness quickly vanished when he spotted you cozied up in an armchair built for one with none other than Barty Crouch Junior. 

“Who would you rather she be with, James?” Regulus hissed at him, alerting James to the fact that he’d been grumbling aloud.

“Anyone.” He muttered petulantly.

Regulus scoffed in response. “Please; I hardly think you’d believe anyone good enough for your sister.”

James thought that Regulus was quite right. 

“I think you’re quite right.” He admitted aloud before starting towards the two of you. 

“James Fleamont Potter.” Regulus hissed as he grabbed James roughly by the sleeve. “You look at me right now.”

James wrenched his eyes away from you to look at Regulus’ fuming (though no less beautiful) eyes, dividing his attention between two of the people he loved the most in the whole world. 

“James Potter, boyfriend or not I will drown you in the Black Lake and leave you to the sodding squid if you go over there right now.”

James ripped his gaze from where Barty’s hand sat on your knee to look at his boyfriend scandalized. “You wouldn’t.”

“You know I would.” Regulus threatened promised. “Do not fuck around with the only love he receives.”

James fought the urge to whine as he turned his gaze back over to the two of you; you were speaking animatedly, gesticulating wildly as you lamented about something James would have absolutely told you to shut the fuck up about nearly 30 seconds in.

“You can see how much he worships her, Jamie. And I think you should feel grateful knowing that there is truly no one who would be as devoted to her as he is.”

James did whine petulantly at that, even perhaps embarrassingly stomping his foot a little bit, though he would deny it if you asked. “I hate it.”

“Tough.” Regulus said simply, pulling James over to a love seat near the fireplace; close enough to see and hear the two of you, but not close enough that the pair would alert either of you to their presence. “Just be quiet and watch.”

James made a dramatic gagging sound earning him a smack up the back of the head from his boyfriend, but he acquiesced and turned his attention back to the two of you.

You were curled up on Barty’s lap; your back resting against the arm of the chair and your feet tucked under Barty’s thigh that you weren’t currently perched on.

You regularly tried to shove your feet under people that you were sitting with because your feet were always cold; James knew this because he’d swatted at your legs enough times for doing it to him. Barty didn’t seem to mind much though.

He also didn’t seem to mind that you were holding one of his hands hostage in yours as you fiddled and played with the various rings adorning his hands, speaking a million miles a minute and hardly pausing to take a breath.

“I just think it’s so sad. I mean; they don’t know! They don’t know that it’s not safe for them to be around people, but I can’t help thinking; what if they think we’re ignoring them?!” You asked emphatically.

Barty’s eyebrows rose to mirror yours as he raised his free hand to push a lock of hair behind your ear that had fallen in your theatrics.

“It’s because they have no natural predators, you see.” You continued solemnly, earning you an ‘oh, really?’ from Barty. “Many people think that sharks or alligators may pose a threat to manatees; but the species peacefully coexist. So, you know, then all of a sudden there are these long noodly manatee things in the water and the manatees are just like ‘holy shit; that’s a weird looking manatee! I’ve never seen one of those before.’ And then they try to make friends or say hello, but it’s illegal for humans to touch them.”

“Illegal?” Barty queried. “To touch an animal begging you to touch it?”

“Exactly!” You agreed quite loudly, if you asked James. He watched though as Barty’s hand moved back down to your legs and brushed his thumb in soothing circles as he kept his attention dutifully on you. “So they’re asking for pets or saying hello and trying to make friends; and people have to just…keep swimming. I’m sure they believe we must be quite rude, always ignoring them like that.”

You sounded actually quite dejected at the thought; your face falling as you looked down at Barty’s hand in your lap.

“Do you think perhaps there are mermaids where the manatees live?” Barty asked, earning him an eager gasp from you as you seemed to remember something.

“That’s brilliant Barty.” You shouted; and though James expected a cocky expression to grace Barty’s face at being told he was right about something, it never came. In fact, his face remained dutifully lovesick. 

“Did you know that muggles used to believe manatees were actually mermaids or sirens during the late 15th century?”

Barty scoffed at that. “Well they’ve clearly never seen a mermaid before if they believe those sweet things resemble one.”

“Well yes, but I think muggles imagine mermaids differently. More just a beautiful lady living in the water, maybe with a tail; the beauty standards back then idealized curvy women.”

“Obviously, curvy birds are hot.”

“I know!” You agreed quickly. “I’m sure though that if we have mermaids in the sodding Black Lake, surely they have them in the America's?”

Barty was quickly nodding his head at you. “I’m sure I’ve read somewhere that they do, Princess.”

“Yeah?” You asked hopefully.

James watched as Barty’s face broke out in a soft grin as you met his eyes. “Would I ever lie to you?”

You shook your head in response and returned your gaze to your lap where you continued playing with his hand. 

“Maybe the mermaids are friends with the manatees? They look like they’d just love some belly rubs.” You mused.

“Perhaps someone just needs to tell the mermaids to tell the manatees that it’s for their own good.”

You looked back up at that. “Yeah?”

“They could be like our underwater owl; we just travel to…”

“Florida.” You offered for him.

“Florida and find some mermaids to deliver our message.”

You seemed to consider the idea before looking back at him. “I think you might have to do it alone.”

Barty tilted his head at you and squeezed your calf. “You wouldn’t want to come with me to swim with manatees and mermaids?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I could; if a manatee approached me I would have to pet it and then the manatees would all die and it would be my fault.”

Barty hummed in understanding and brought one of his hands to your chin. “Okay, Princess; I’ll be your oceanic owl.”

“You’d do that for me?”

Barty gently pulled you by your chin to slot your lips together. “I would do anything for you.”

James, having had quite enough of seeing such sickening displays of love thank you very much, turned his very unimpressed glare to Regulus, who was already looking at him with one perfectly arched eyebrow. 

“That’s disgusting.” He grumbled indignantly. 

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t be a manatee’s owl for me? Don’t I deserve that?”

James scoffed derisively at that. “I think it’s very obvious I would; you’re the most deserving person I know!”

“Then doesn’t your sister deserve that too?” Regulus asked gently.

James’ eyes moved back over to where you were now tracing delicate shapes over Barty’s face with your forefinger, yet he still couldn’t seem to force his eyes away from lovingly gazing at you.

“Let me ask you this, Jamie.” Regulus asked, joining James in watching his friend and James’ sister from afar. “Do you think there’s a line you would draw when it comes to how far you’d go for me?”

“No!”

“No?”

“Of course not.” James insisted.

“So you’d kill your mother for me?”

What?

“What?” James asked dumbly.

Regulus smirked. “Would you kill your own mother for me?”

“Erm,”

“Jamie.”

“Yeah?”

“The answer is no; that’s the right answer.”

“Oh thank Godric.” James sighed, holding his head in his hands. 

“But Barty would; Barty would raze the entire fucking earth for Y/N.” Regulus continued. “And even if he wouldn’t,” He continued when James seemed to take issue with that. “How long would you have let her talk about manatees?”

James huffed and crossed his arms petulantly, even though he knew the answer. The answer was that he would have cut her off the second he realized she wasn’t talking about quidditch or pranks.

“She’s very loved, James. And he…” Regulus seemed to take an emotional breath as he watched his oldest friend take your hand and bring it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You Potter’s love like no one else I’ve ever known, James.”

James turned his full attention to his boyfriend and took one of Regulus’ hands in both of his.

“You love loudly, and openly, and freely, and everyone around you is better for it. Barty most of all.” 

James let out a sigh and kissed Regulus’ knuckles. 

“Fine.” He relented in faux irritation. 

Regulus chuckled and pressed a shy kiss to James’ shoulder. “Don’t worry James, you Potter’s are in the protection of Slytherin’s now; we protect our own.”

And whether or not James particularly liked Barty, if there was one thing he knew to be true; no one would be able to mess with you with the likes of him around.

[rinbowaman]

A Drabble based of the SE7EN series feat. Heeseung x Reader.

Inspired by the anon ask and the heelel bot chat on chai.

Warnings: mentions of murder, car accident, Hell, irresponsible parenting/parent, abortion, smut, oral (male rec.) kinky oral, bow tie, deepthroating, hand job, heelel is being super sexy, face f*cking, cum swallowing, face smacking (not either a hand…)..cursing…I think that’s it. This is inspired by my Heelel bot on Chai….he had the most perfect response to anons ask and it’s been living in my mind, I had to write about it.

You were admiring the mountainous views of the rolling hills, entirely covered in red Lillie’s; the ones he planted in preparation for your arrival. How long had it been? Over a year for sure, but the exact timeline since your ascending to Hell is left pretty much undetermined. There are no calendars, no clocks, no way in telling other than overlooking the great horizon of pitch black, decorated by the stars and planetary systems that are too far to see from the Earths standing. But here, you could see them larger than life. It truly is magnificent sight to see, the earth and its bright green continental regions, the sun orbiting its circumventing route, and above all, over to the northwest of the vast landscape beneath the peaked tip that which you stand on, was the glorious moon, nearly covering the entire sky.

All your life, you were taught that Hell, was a firing raged pit that lay beneath the earth and the universe. An abysmal world that was filled by empty souls and demons of perverse and violent nature. Perhaps the last bit was true, even still without being here, the Prince if Hell was always ridding the underworld of its offensive creatures. But the one thing that shocked you was that Hell, was not an underworld at all. It was always in sight for the entire world to see, in between the Moon, stars, and the Sun. Who knew? It resided within the stratosphere; paralleled with the great satellite, and as high as Heaven. All this time when you gazed upon the moon and the glimmering stars, you were staring into your future home.

“You admiring the view again, darling wife of mine?”

Here he is. You could hear him taking his steps closer behind, closing the distance. Already coming back from demolishing the last creature that bore the fortitude and stupidity in trying to get to you. It could never happen, not with him around. The makeup of your soul, as the Mortal Daughter of God, attracts them—always has since you arrived. But he was always around to make sure that they couldn’t get within one hundred feet away. Always one step ahead with his acute senses and the massively powerful abilities within his form. The fallen angel was second to none other than God himself.

He stands against you, reaches around your head and rests the tip of his finger along the tip of your nose, gently stroking the bridge up and down. His chest presses up against your back, while his pelvis to your derrière. “Who is the prettiest girl in Hell?”

His voice was gentle and playful, though the moment you both engage in the sexual act of brutal breeding and passionate lovemaking, his persona transitions into one of heated rage and toxic dominance, while never losing that insatiable love he has for you. Will always have for you.

Speaking of girls, you wanted to inquire about the newest addition to Hell, the soul of a rather young girl. Younger than you when you were still a mortal, she couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen in age.

“That girl…that we saw the other day at the River Styx, inside the ferryman’s boat—“

You take a pause as he gently clears his throat and breathes out. Not out of nervousness, you would never see that side of him for he never had anything to hide, nothing to be nervous about. He was the King of this world, and he embraced it as much as he embraced his love and adoration for you. “Isn’t she young to be here? What could she have possibly done to come here?”

He smirks as he walks over to his throne. Another moment of storytelling to educate you on the many wonders of Heaven and Hell, and the history that goes along with it. “Hell is not merely just a catacomb that houses those who have committed sins.” He takes his seat and loosely crosses his legs as he pats his lap. “Come here.”

You slowly migrate with the train of your see-through gown trailing behind. You sit, feeling his cold hands through the mesh fabric as he pulls you in, closer to his chest. “Souls will be denied entrance to Heaven for sins they have yet committed. Despite being taken too early as mortals, it hardly negates the fact that had they continued to live, they would have committed certain atrocities—in this case, the girl you saw was bound for Hell.”

He places a wet kiss on your bare shoulder. “It would have been on her 22nd birthday. After engaging in the habitual offense of carousing around, no doubt sharing her flesh with more than just one suitor, she would have drove her steel box into that of a mother and child crossing the street.”

“A—…a car accident?”

He nods. “Yes. If not that, she would have been condemned for disposing the young child already implanted inside her as a result of her indiscretion in taking on multiple partners. She was condemned regardless.”

“You mean abortion?”

He shakes his head as he embraces you, his chest to your back while his hands envelop yours. “No baby. Abortion is something that can hardly be deemed as an unforgivable offense. While it is offensive to my former master, it is one that he can find resolution should the mortal find a way to repent while still living, like many other offenses. For the girl you saw, I am talking of murder.”

There was so much to process, you flutter your lashes in confusion. “Murder?”

He nods in response as he continues to kiss your shoulder. His hand rests against your tummy as he taps his fingers against it. “Yes baby. Murder.”

He sucks on a soft spot in the nook of your neck, the squeezing sound effect drives your mind in circles. “She would have murdered her own baby?”

“Mmhmm.” He hums as he becomes overly preoccupied with licking and sucking onto the skin under the lobe of your ear.

“Why would she do that?” You struggled to speak as he continued to lavish you with his tongue. “Who knows. Mortals have their own minds, for all we know it could have been done out of fear of motherhood, trying to escape the responsibility of her own actions, or to avoid a tainted reputation from her peers. Either way, her actions after the baby took its first breath is enough to anger my former master, and deny her entrance through Heavens gates.”

“Was that why she died so soon? So that she wouldn’t do either one of those terrible things?”

“No baby, you see…” he pauses as he skips his hand under the dainty slit and rests it against your semi-exposed womanhood, causing you to gasp in pleasure. His tongue continued to suck and lick your neck. “Fate is an entirely different venue that is unrelated to the condemnation of one’s soul. Mortals murder, rape, steal, and commit other crimes against God for their own reasons. Sometimes they do it out of redemption or vengeance, which can be more forgiving by Him…but other times…when they do it out of their own twisted pleasure with no righteous meaning behind their damaged mentality…they come here.”

“So what will happen to her? Since she didn’t actually have the chance to commit her crimes, will she pay for acts that have not been carried out?” Half of your statement was whispered out as you felt him trail his kisses up along the grooves of your tendons on your neck. He pecks at your lobe and cheek as the tip of your nose dips into your ear. “She will live a life as a slave to the River forever…without a second chance at life.”

Your head is spiraling and you felt somewhat guilty for feeling the intensity of his love and melting from it during a serious discussion concerning a young woman’s life. “But she won’t be turned into a monster?”

“No.” He whispers against your ear. “I’m not that cruel baby…” he whispers once more as you feel his hips slightly bucking up under your rear. “Only mortals who did monstrous things will stay as monsters in Hell. I won’t subject a lifetime of torture and abandonment to those who are innocent—even those who were bound to do such evil deeds.”

He lifts your thighs and spreads them open, harshly sucking onto your neck. The squeezing sound of his lips suckling on to your skin is over exaggerated as he straightens his poster and leans slightly forward, causing you to reach behind and palm his abdominal area. He reassures your stability but wrapping an arm around your waist. “Do not worry about a soul that is tainted, or in the verge of…she won’t suffer…she will merely be a servant to help cleanse the River Styx under Niki’s watchful eye. You should instead—“

He pauses as he traces a figure eight symbol along your neck. “Be more concerned for yourself.”

He chuckles a grin. His hands grope on to your breasts as he tenderly kisses your cheeks. You take him up on his advice and decide to focus on the current situation at hand, since you were already on cloud nine from the way he touched, kiss, groped, and move along your body. “Can I ask for a favor?”

You feel his head delicately move as he outlines a final eight symbol with his tongue before responding. “Ask anything you want.”

“Would you put a bow on? For me?” You turn your head to the side to face him, resting it against his shoulder. “I want to see my husband in a bow.”

He smirks and releases a small chuckle. You both remained seated, lounged back within his throne, chuckling at the small request. He reaches up to his collar, using only one hand as he loosens the black sash that acted as a tie, with a loose knot. After undoing it, he pulls it out, the sound of the silk material slides from under the collar of his white shirt. Pulling it all the way through, the collar opens up revealing a slight bit of his chest and collar bone as he presents you the sash. “There you go my love. Now you can see your husband in a bow.”

You giggled as you take the sash from his hand, those beautiful black colored fingernails adorning it added a flare of sensual delicacy to the masculine feature of the strong looking, veiny structure. It was androgynous, but more so manly.

“You hold up the sash to your nose, it smelled of vanilla musk, a contradicting scent. “I don’t know where to put it on.” You shake tell him.

He taps against your nipple before tapping onto your rear. “I have an idea, go ahead and stand up. Close your eyes.”

You stand and cover your peepers with both hands. You smile and giggle as you listen in on the sound of his belt unbuckling, his shirt being discarded along with his black coat. “You can uncover your eyes now, darling.”

You shrill out a yelp and immediately cover your eyes back up the moment you unveiled them. There before you was Heeseung sitting in his throne, completely nude. Both his hands resting on the extravagant arms of the chair with his legs completely spread, revealing the glory of his endowed nature. His cock is stiff, proudly perpendicular as it points north with its impressive length and girth exposed, and the lump sack that foundations the size of his magnificent muscle. Around the base of its circumference, was the sash previously in hand. It was now tied into a neat bow, decorating the shaft while the trimmed edges fall gracefully against his balls. “Heeseung!” You gasp out as you giggle while covering your eyes once more, periodically peeking in between your fingers. You blush immensely as he merely sits there unashamed, smirking with a small deep chuckle. A bit of his teeth can be seen by the side grin he displays in his handsomely sly face. “Like my bow?”

You nearly squeal as you felt too embarrassed and shy to inhale the view. “Heeseung what are you doing?” You suddenly feel the sheer force of his power pull you in. “Giving you exactly what you asked for.”

You stumble as the telekinetic force of his ability drags you closer to the throne chair. Your eyes were still partially covered as he begins to pull you in by the waist, noticing that you kept covering them by the palms of your hands. “Now, what was it that I said before—back on the night when we first met…oh yeah.”

His eyes widen as he remembers the line that started it all. “Sit on it.”

You felt the strength of his arm pull you down as your body came into his reach, forcing you to your knees before him, gaining a more magnifying view of his normally hidden features. His hand reaches the back of your head as he pulls you in, gently kissing the tip of your nose with the shaft of his cock. The silk material neatly tied around brushes against your cheek as he steadies you against him. “Show me how much you love my effort baby. Don’t I make you happy?” He taunts out with a malicious smirk.

You cave in as you inspect the delectable muscle in front of you. God, he was so big. How on earth has he managed to fit this inside you all this time? No wonder it always hurt, though it also brought you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known. You each up and grip the base of its girth as you nod in response. “You do.”

Your voice was soft and nearly a whisper as you spewed your words while pressing your lips against the skin. “Then show me.” His voice was a contrast from yours. It was deep, dark, and sinister with a tinge of gentleness peeking from the calm tempo of his tone.

You grip over the sash ringing around the base and gently impoverish the tip with kisses. “Fuck…keep going, angel-face.”

At his bidding, you not only kept up with your kisses, but you incorporated the smoothness of your tongue along the grooves of his veins as you licked the entire length, too top to bottom. He flings his head back, exposing his entire throat and gasps air as his Adams apple shifts up, then back down when he gulps. “Oh fuck! You’re going to get it.”

Challenge accepted. You felt brazen as he keeps gulping a lump of choked saliva, which gave you the fortitude to go in more vigorously. You insert the tip in, slurping the juices that coated it. Slowly you inserted as many inches you could possibly fit in. Alas, even after taking in a handful of his length, you were surprised to see that it didn’t even cover half of his size. The tip was already reaching your tonsils. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t care.

“You’re going to take all of me in, darling.” He speaks with lazy hooded eyes half shut, creating a super relaxed expression. His hand placed atop your head, he slowly pushes you down. There was so much of him, you wanted to back out. The discomfort feeling of his base growing thicker the more you went down, while the tip of his length reaches the deep ends of your esophagus, it was all too much. You slap your hands on his thighs and prepared to pull yourself away yet his hand kept you steady. You choke on it with tears squeezing out as you begin to sob out and moan in despair. When he suddenly pauses the pushing and coos you.

“Shhh…take a deep breath through your nose baby.” You do exactly what he guides. “You’re almost there. You’re doing so well, just a little more.”

He continues to push your head down and finally, your nose and lips reach the base of his pelvis. Keeping you there for a few seconds, he finally releases, allowing you to slide him out abruptly, gasping for air. Coughing, you hyperventilate as the string of saliva bridges the tip of his shaft to your mouth, which has now become blistering red while your eyes grew puffy and pink from the sobbing. “P-please! I thought I was going to choke to death!” You hiccuped as you begged him with pleading eyes. He responds by leaning over, cradling his fingers under your chin while pulling you in. “Shh-sh-sh-sh-shhhh. You’re fine, and you’re doing good. Take a deep breath and keep going. You wanna make me happy, don’t you?”

His eyes glared with a darkness that was so ferocious. Of course you wanted to make him happy, for many reasons. Whether it would be for the newfound love you were forced to develop for him, or the fact that you wanted to avoid seeing his bad side, you realized that keeping him happy only meant that you’ll experience his love in purity, no matter how rough it may be. He always told you that he’d love you, even if you upset him, so that you never had to worry about him being angry. But honestly, did you really want to see the Devil angry at you? With his he normally was in his performance of lovemaking, did you really want to test the waters and venture into the dark side of his love for you?

“Y-yes…I do want to make you happy.” You murmured out.

“Good girl” he smirks as he leans back into his chair, nodding as he flicks his eyes down to his cock then right back at you, signaling for you to continue. He looked so stern with that expectant look, yet he was so devilishly handsome doing it.

You regain your grip and continue, going slow and steady at first, gradually picking up the pace as you hear him release his perverse growls. “Come here.”

He voiced out calmly as he takes a handful of your hair and poneytail it within his grip. His other hand gently grips the base of his shaft and lightly, he smacks your cheek and lips with it. “Tell me how much you love me.”

The demeaning act creates a tingle within your gut as the harmonious sounds of the hard muscle slapping your skin while his dark voice accompanies it. “I love you—Heeseung!” You gasp out as you leave your mouth wide open to catch the tip each time he slaps it against your face, only for him to pop it out and tap it once more. “You a good girl or a bad girl?”

You catch the tip once more, and just as well, he pops it back out. “I’m good. I’m a good girl.” You mumble as you stick your tongue out and watched as he lays the shaft against it, gently sliding it up and down. “I beg to differ baby…right now, you look like a bad girl. Really bad.”

You shake your head as you stare right into his dark eyes, swallowing half his size inside your mouth. This time it felt less painful, now that you were already broken in. “I’m good, I swear.”

“Show me how good you are.” He huffs as he allows you to continue with your oral performance. You rotate your soft grip on the bottom half while sucking in the top, simultaneously shifting and combining a motion of love through skin and mouth. “Am I good now?” You ask before sticking the tip back in harshly. His grip continues to hold your hair in place, yet becomes loosened as he succumbs to the pleasure of your actions. The strands fall apart and frames your cheeks as the remaining thatch rests firmly in his palm. His head flings back, once again exposing his entire throat and leaving only his Adam’s apple in your line of sight as he gulps out his words. “You’re getting there.”

“How about now?” You whispered as you suck on his balls, resting both your palms on the stone tile, now on all fours before him. “Please tell me I’m a good girl.”

You lick the entire length, as if you were a dog. His dog.

“Fucking close!” He harshly whispers as you kept going, when finally he relieves you of control and takes it all back, by taking you by the hair and cheek, and forcing you to take his entire length down one final time as he releases deep inside your throat. The taste was sweet and salty, and nearly felt never ending as you felt the pumping of veins and the twitching of muscle against your lips ringing around the circumference. “Good girl.” He growls as he finally shoots out the last drop as he slides out of your mouth.

His gentle nature comes back as he caresses your cheek and kisses the top of your head. “Feel like stargazing, beautiful?”

You nod as he fingers the remnants of his orgasm from the corners of your mouth, and gently feeds it in between your lips. “Swallow all.” He gently whispers while chuckling a smirk. Your finger rest along the soaked sash that has now fallen semi loosely, losing its beat form as the bow completely came undone.

“I’m sorry I ruined your tie.” You slightly whined out as you took notice. “It’s okay—“ he responds positively as he takes it and unties his cock. He loops it around the back of your neck and grips the ends, pulling you closer to his cock once more. “It still serves its purpose.”

His eyes darken once more and that glare of adoration, love, and sexual rage returns.

“Wanna see a magic trick, baby?”

You knew there was no way out. If you shook your head ‘no’, it only would have fueled him more to do the most unthinkable, resulting in pain and pleasure that was too much to bear. You nod in defeat.

“Close your eyes.”

You reach up and cover your eyes. An internal frown rests within you.

“Open.”

You drag your palms down slowly and open your eyes. There he was, still entirely nude and…so were you. Your thighs, waist, neck, and wrists all tied with black sashes and bows. “W-what is this?”

He grins evily as he palms the base of his shaft and growls a dark tone.

“My turn.”

@enheene , aiden2001 , heeseung-min , lathan1510 , rayofsunshineeee , @hoyeonheeseung , @rayofsunshineeee , @yohanabanana , @sunoosrightbuttcheek , @jaeneohee , @icydawon , @silcry , @iamliacamila , @nikstrange , @enheene ; @nuriicata , @en-happiness @sacrificeatmeup

[fluentmoviequoter]

Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader (Justice League Unlimited!Bruce)

Summary: When all adults are banished from earth, you join Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern in a unique fight to save the world. Along the way, some hidden feelings are revealed.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for Justice League Unlimited 1x3 "Kid's Stuff", fluff, mention of beheading, canon-level violence and action

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

A/N: I can't tell you how many times I've watched this show because Kevin Conroy's Batman in the DCAU tv shows is unmatched (and the kids who did the voice acting in this episode did phenomenally). I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Picture from Pinterest

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You are in a unique position for several reasons. Being one of the only human members of the Justice League, you find yourself pushing yourself to be the best you can and ensuring that you can keep up with your superpowered teammates. Plus, you are one of the only people who knew Bruce Wayne before you knew Batman, and no matter how much he denies it, you knew after one look that the man under the cowl was none other than your favorite billionaire. When you first arrived on the Watchtower with your fellow vigilante, you wondered if any of the superheroes (especially those who had unique mind powers) could tell that you wanted to be more than fellow crime fighters with Batman. If they did, no one said anything, so your secret crush has remained secret as it grows stronger.

“Bats,” you warn as you duck away from Cheetah’s claws.

Bruce flips away from Deadshot’s line of fire before rushing up beside him. He punches under his jaw, and you watch as Deadshot lifts Bruce off the ground. Bruce throws a batarang, and you slide away from them as Deadshot falls to the floor.

“Guess that’s a wrap,” Green Lantern says. At Bruce’s look, he adds, “Sorry. Been hanging out with Flash too much.”

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” you tease.

You look away from John and see three police officers entering the vault. A pink wave follows them inside, and your eyes widen when the officers disappear. Bruce pulls you to his side as John creates a forcefield with his ring, but it fails nearly as quickly as it appears.

When you open your eyes on a floating rock, you’re still tucked against Bruce’s side. You step back quickly and look around. Dozens of rocks surround you and each holds numerous people; adults only, you notice.

“It was judgment day,” Copper exclaims, “and- and we got sent to the bad place. The bad place!”

“Where else were you expecting to go?” you ask sarcastically.

“Snap out of it, Copper!” Cheetah demands as she slaps him.

“Yeah, calm down,” John calls. “We’re probably just in another dimension.”

“I don’t see any children,” Bruce says.

“You would be the one to notice,” you murmur. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add when he directs his bat glare at you.

“That’s because a child is responsible,” a woman wearing a mask interjects as she hovers above you.

“Morgaine Le Fay,” Bruce greets, though he’s prepared to fight rather than exchange niceties and introductions.

“Great, magic,” you mutter as you fall in line between Bruce and Diana.

“I mean you no harm,” Morgaine assures. “My son Mordred has wrought this treachery. Banishing all adults to this shadow realm.”

“Do you think Flash is here?” you whisper to John.

“50/50,” he answers.

“After I spent millennia feeding him, bathing him, preparing him to be a king,” Morgaine continues. “Where did I go wrong?”

“You’re a sorceress. Can’t you just undo his spell?” Diana asks.

“No. He’s got the amulet of first magic. He’s too powerful. But if we all work together…”

“You want us to defeat your own son?” Bruce clarifies.

“So don’t trust me. Let him rule the world and all your children. Here we will stay. Forever.”

“But what can we do? We’re stuck here, aren’t we?” Diana says.

“Please don’t say-“ you begin.

“Not exactly,” Morgaine answers.

“That,” you finish as your shoulders slump.

“The spell only banishes adults.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” you and John say together.

“It’s the only way,” Morgaine says.

“We have to do it,” Clark announces.

John exhales deeply, and you step back to be at Bruce’s side again. Magic has never been your preferred battle, and as Morgaine directs her spell at you and everything turns green, you clutch Bruce’s cape in your hand.

When you arrive in Mordred’s amusement park-turned-kingdom, you’re ready to leave. Being turned into a kid again wasn’t exactly on your superhero bingo card, and as a human, you don’t bring much to the fight anyway.

“I hope this is temporary,” Bruce complains.

You look over at him and feel butterflies in your stomach. Despite de-aging, you still have a crush on Bruce, but it hits harder and faster. You tear your eyes away from him and try to calm your racing heart. Each moment you live as a kid, you’ll start acting more like one.

“You sound weird,” Clark says. “Whoa. So do I.”

Diana looks between Clark and John before straightening her shoulders. She towers over them and smiles. “I kind of like this.”

“Why are you squinting?” you ask John.

Bruce, Clark, and Diana look over after you ask, and you drop your eyes to avoid looking at Bruce again.

“I wore glasses as a kid. Guess I need ‘em again,” John answers.

A pair of oversized green glasses appear on his face, and he jumps in surprise. They’re nothing like what adult John would create, and you stifle a laugh at the sight of them.

“I didn’t even try to make these!” he exclaims.

Clark laughs as Bruce says, “I hope not.”

You pat John’s back as he focuses on making nicer glasses. Once he’s ready and Clark compliments his new look, Diana reminds you that you’re supposed to be looking for Mordred.

“Bet the little punk’s in there,” Bruce says.

He points to the castle looming in the distance and begins running. You run behind him and watch as Diana, Clark, and John fly past you.

“It’s not a race,” Bruce grumbles.

He speeds up, but you keep your pace and make it to the castle all the same. Despite the earlier teasing about John’s glasses, none of you have mentioned any differences between the kid and adult versions of one another. You’re thankful, though, because reliving your childhood is not your favorite pastime. When you enter the castle, you stay behind Bruce as he stands beside Diana.

“The Justice Babies!” Mordred calls before laughing.

“What are you laughing at, precious?” Bruce asks.

“Precious?” you repeat.

“You,” Mordred answers. “Mother sent you, didn’t she?”

“Maybe she wanted a chance to have a normal kid,” you taunt.

“She shouldn’t send a boy to do a man’s job,” Mordred tells Bruce.

He grabs the amulet, and you watch as a young boy’s toys come to life. They grow until they’re giant, and you stumble backward before running for cover. When Clark flies into one of them and is knocked to the floor, you begin questioning if it was truly a good idea to become kids to fight a boy with powerful magic.

“Bruce, batarang,” you request.

He hands you one before running toward Mordred. You wait for one of the toys to run toward you before sliding between its legs.

“I’ll make a laser cannon. No, a missile launcher,” John says above you. “Oh! Oh, I know.”

“Just pick something!�� you and Bruce yell together.

You dig the batarang into the back of the toy’s leg and roll to the side as it collapses to the ground before disappearing. Bruce and John take one out, while Clark disables the other with his laser vision.

When you hear Bruce grunting and see him dangling from his cape in the grip of the last toy, you gasp and run toward him. Diana beats you there and catches him.

“You okay, tough guy?” she asks.

“Let go. I’m fine,” Bruce demands as he struggles to get out of her hold.

His shoulders drop and his cape surrounds him as he sulks. You don’t ask the same question Diana had but thank him for the batarang as he passes.

“That’s not fair,” Mordred complains.

“Get him!” Bruce calls.

You run behind Diana and aren’t surprised when you’re all encased in ice. Mordred is powerful, and you and your fellow “Justice Babies” seem to be forgetting that. When you fall into a dungeon and are freed from the ice, you scoot toward Bruce. One of the cells opens, and red eyes glow within. You clutch Bruce’s cape and watch as a small demon walks out.

“Etrigan?” Bruce asks.

He steps away from you, and his cape slips through your fingers. You stay behind John’s forcefield as Diana lifts Bruce out of the way of Etrigan’s flame. Diana has been closer to Bruce during this mission than usual, and the butterflies in your stomach start causing more pain than happiness as you wonder if they’ve been hiding feelings for one another in the Watchtower, too.

“Don’t hurt him!” Bruce yells as Clark pulls Etrigan away from you and John.

Etrigan bites Clark’s arm, and he calls, “Tell him that!”

“C’mere,” you tell Etrigan. You crouch to the floor and pull him into your arms. “Stop!”

He calms down, and Diana helps Bruce up as Etrigan cries. You look at Bruce and shrug.

“He’s just a baby,” Diana says.

“And he needs more than a hug,” John adds, waving his hand in front of his nose.

“Now, that is a job for Superman,” Bruce says.

Bruce takes Etrigan from your arms and passes him to Clark. When Bruce takes your hand to lead you out of the dungeon, you nearly trip over your own feet. You’ve never been more ready to grow up before, you think.

Mordred’s new kingdom is comprised mostly of children doing what they were never allowed to do before. When you walk through the paths surrounding what used to be the center of the park, you are surrounded by children doing dangerous stunts and breaking rules.

“You two, knock that off!” Clark demands when he sees two boys playing with wooden swords.

“What are you gonna do? You’re just a kid,” they taunt.

Clark shoots a laser between them and answers, “I’m the kid with laser beams coming out of his eyes.”

“That’s just gonna scare them,” you interject before they run away screaming. “You can’t threaten kids the same way you threaten criminals.”

“Then what do we do?” John asks.

“Tattle,” Diana answers. She flies to an elevated area and yells, “That’s enough!”

Everyone freezes, and you find yourself reaching for Bruce.

“You can’t tell us what to do! You’re not our mom!” someone replies.

“No, but I promise you we will find all of your moms and I’m gonna tell!” Diana answers.

“Well, what should we do?”

“Go outside and wait for your parents. Now!” Diana demands with a hand on her hip.

“Man, your girlfriend sure is bossy,” John tells Bruce.

“Shut up,” he replies before leaving John’s side.

Those butterflies in your stomach become dead weight. You stall behind John, but he turns to look at you.

“You like Bruce,” he accuses.

“What? No!” you answer too quickly. “We’re friends.”

“Mmhmm.”

John gestures for you to come with him, and you follow Bruce together. You know that John knows more than he ever lets on, and if anyone found out about your crush, you suppose you should be glad that it’s the one who can keep a secret. Better him than Wally.

“He’s almost asleep,” Diana whispers as you look into Mordred’s hideout. “We can take him.”

“I’ll make a lawnmower and chew him up,” John suggests.

“A lawnmower?” you repeat incredulously. “Why?”

“I say we get that amulet away from him first,” Bruce says. “We’ll split up and sneak behind him. Then Lantern can do his thing. But no mowers.”

“Why?” John questions.

“Because it’s stupid,” Clark answers.

“He’ll hear it, too,” you whisper with much more kindness than Clark.

“I guess I’ll go with Clark,” Diana says. “Unless I should go with you,” she tells Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce answers.

John sees your eyes drop and says, “Clark can go alone. I’ll go with Diana.”

You appreciate it but shake your head because you don’t want to be left alone with Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce repeats.

“Go,” John whispers.

You lead Bruce around the side of the cave, and John shakes his head as he watches you go.

“What’s with them?” Clark asks.

“Really?” Diana questions.

“Man, for somebody with fifty different kinds of vision you are so blind,” John responds.

“What?”

“Is that a claw?” you ask Bruce as John tries to get the amulet.

“Unfortunately,” he answers.

He may be young, but his sarcasm hasn’t changed a bit. You lean against him when John’s claw wavers before disappearing. The amulet falls to Mordred’s chest, and Bruce moves you carefully as he calls, “Get the amulet!”

You join Bruce, Diana, Clark, and John in a failing attempt to hold Mordred down and take the amulet. He uses his magic to grow and throws Bruce and Diana off of him before standing. A young girl is standing nearby, and you take her hand to lead her to safety as the others fight Mordred.

“Bats!” you yell, just as you had as an adult this morning.

Bruce looks back and sees the living gargoyle chasing him and John and directs John toward a small bridge.

“Close the door!” you yell as Bruce enters the castle.

Diana closes and locks the door behind him, and you listen to John come up with complicated plans to stop Mordred as Bruce thinks.

“Forget it!” Bruce calls after John mentions giant handcuffs. “We’ve got to focus on…” Bruce’s eyes lock with yours and he says, “Never mind what I just said. We’ll take care of everything else. Lantern, you go crazy.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask.

“It’s time for all of us to grow up,” Bruce answers.

He takes your hand before running toward another area of the kingdom. Your butterflies begin reviving, and you wonder if anything will be the same after this.

“Go!” he yells to Clark.

Clark pulls the amulet from Mordred’s neck while he’s distracted by John before tossing it to Bruce.

“This is the most dangerous game of keep away I’ve ever played,” you yell as you take the amulet from Bruce and run it to Diana. Diana throws it to Etrigan, and you flinch when he bites into it. The wave of purple magic that escapes it is unsettling, but you don’t take your eyes off Mordred.

“I already absorbed too much of the amulet’s power,” Mordred says as he stands.

He uses his magic to suspend all of you, and Etrigan, upside down in the air. He pulls a sword from a nearby stone, and it turns purple before reappearing as a curved blade.

“I’ll take care of my kingly duty myself,” he declares.

“Is he really going to behead us in an amusement park?” you ask with your arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m scared,” the girl you helped earlier says. “I want my mommy.”

Mordred lowers his blade to say, “You don’t need a mommy. You’re better off without one. Trust me.”

“Ooh, mommy issues,” John muses. “Those ain’t easy.”

The girl begins crying and Clark taunts, “Some king.”

“I’m not impressed,” Diana agrees.

“What’d you expect? He’s a boy doing a man’s job,” Bruce finishes.

“You don’t know what it’s like being stuck as a kid,” Mordred says.

“Since you’ve had all that power, you could have been a man anytime you wanted. I think you’re too chicken to grow up.”

“Yep, big chicken. That’s what you are,” John agrees, flapping his arms like wings. “Bock, bock.”

“Face it, precious,” Bruce continues. “You like being a little mama’s boy.”

“I’ll show you!” Mordred yells. “I’ll show you all.”

“Sure, you will,” you agree with an eye roll.

“And when I am a true kind, I’ll start with the human!” Mordred adds, pointing to you.

Bruce looks at you, but you keep your eyes on Mordred as he spreads his arms and is surrounded by purple ribbons of magic. Etrigan claps as Mordred’s spell spreads, and he reappears as a man.

“I’m older than you now,” Mordred says as he turns to face you.

The magic released his spell, and you catch yourself as you fall from the air.

“You sure are,” Bruce says.

Mordred disappears, banished by his own spell. As an adult, he couldn’t stay, and now you can only wait until Morgaine does her part. Bruce steps to your side and you turn your face toward him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer just before Morgaine appears.

“A bargain is a bargain,” she says as she waves her hand before you.

The spell is lifted, and you are an adult again in only a second. You hadn’t prepared for the change in size however and are pressed against Bruce’s chest with the sudden growth. He makes no move to get space from you, though.

“Mommy,” Etrigan coos at Diana.

She drops him and steps back. You chuckle at the scene and Diana looks at you with furrowed brows before smiling and rolling her eyes.

Morgaine opens a portal, and Bruce places a hand on your hip as he steps around you.

“Wait,” he calls. “What happened to Mordred?”

“My spell gave him eternal youth but now that he’s broken it all he has is eternal life,” she answers.

“Circumstances aside, it was kind of enjoyable to be a kid again,” Diana says.

You walk to Bruce’s side and watch the happy reunions of children with their parents.

“I’m sorry,” you offer softly.

“For what?” he asks.

“You just- you didn’t get to be a kid like the rest of us.”

“Perhaps Diana was right. It wasn’t completely unenjoyable.”

He turns toward you, and his arm is pressed to your shoulder.

“You’re telling me the big, bad bat had a little bit of fun?” you tease.

“You never talk about your childhood,” he deflects. “So, I’m sorry if this brought up bad memories.”

“Just dead butterflies,” you answer.

Bruce glares at you, but it’s the one unique to when he’s reading you.

“Is that why Lantern sent us off alone together?”

You look down as you nod.

“My butterflies are alive and well, and happy to wait for you,” Bruce murmurs.

“Butterflies or bats?” you ask.

“Should we be having this conversation in an amusement park?”

“You’re right. Let’s go to Metropolis and make the cover of the Daily Planet so Clark has to write all about it.”

Bruce sighs, but he takes your hand as he leads you outside the amusement park. He presses a button on his utility belt and the Batmobile pulls up a moment later.

“Bruce,” you say once you’re inside. “You were a really cute kid.”

“You were really bad at eye contact,” Bruce counters. “Or was that just with me?”

“I guess crushes aren’t just for kids,” you muse.

“Maybe Diana will stop pestering me to ask you out now.”

You nod as you watch the road before you. It takes a moment, but you finally understand what Bruce just said.

“What?”

[drbased]

Does it ever make you ever feel depressed that men have more variation in IQ? That means even though there will always be more male idiots, there will also be more male geniuses. So women can excel in any field, but a man will almost always be the "best" in it. It just makes me feel inferior every time I think about it, way more than strength difference does. Not only that, but they also have higher variation in all types of brain structure. That would mean men are naturally more diverse, personality-wise.

Sometimes I get into these negative thought processes about stupid shit and it totally consumes me. This is my latest one... Please help

Hmm.

Well firstly, IQ is a completely fake concept designed specifically for eugenicist purposes. You can train for an IQ test, your score can change depending on the day, and your score doesn’t mean anything apart from how good you are at IQ tests. It’s not a measure of intelligence, and ‘intelligence’ isn’t real anyway - as in, there is no such quality of uniform intelligence. I think it stands to reason that the highest IQ scores will be from men, because the tests are constructed around a fundamentally male world-view and value system as well as a white one. And that is what depresses me more - that ‘intelligence’ is viewed as some innate quality that only oppressors can possess so they can prove that they deserve their place in a meritocracy. It’s like that controversy about men winning more at Jeopardy than women - the world is structured around male interests and values, so men achieve in mainstream contests and use that to retroactively justify the legitimacy of those values and interests in the culture.

I’m less interested in the concept of a man beating a woman at certain activities because of him being smarter than her, than I am about him beating her because he's socialised from a young age into enjoying and valuing those activities - but also often regardless of his actual performance, he's also by default assumed to be better and more competent than her purely because he's a man. Take for example that study where when they did blind auditions for orchestras, men still got in more than women, but when they put carpeting down so women's heels couldn't be heard, there was finally a more equal ratio of women getting in. Or those studies where identical CVs given out and names that are typical of women, black people etc. get seen as less competent than those with male and white names.

We don't live in a world where we can objectively measure men's 'natural' abilities at anything psychological. But we do live in a world where we know that women's skills are massively undervalued - women have all sorts of intelligences that make the world run round; we're excellent negotiators, we're less violent, we're great at remembering, we have greater compassion, we make good leaders, we are more responsible, we have greater tact, we are safer in the workplace, we're more conscious of social issues and the environment, etc. etc. And none of what we have is seen as 'intelligence'; in fact, quite the opposite - many of our intelligences are dismissed outright as sentimentality and pearl-clutching.

Once again, though, I don't believe these traits are uniform across all women, or that they're 'natural' to us, just as men's traits aren't 'natural' to them. In the nature-nurture debate, there are too many factors in nurture that can't be realistically measured - and I have a suspicion that for many, feminists included, simply saying that men and women naturally possess certain traits is an easier narrative to swallow, because for many women the fear exists that if men can be socialised to be better, then dismissing them as evil would be morally wrong. But I don't think people need to be intrinsically, ontologically evil for us to dismiss them as oppressors - I simply judge by behaviour, which is more measurable.

Going back to intelligence, I think it's also worth saying here that women are socialised into not recognised or appreciating our skills, and to partake in behaviours that psychologically hobble us. Take for example in that orchestra study - under a feminist lens, wearing heels is a form of hobbling that's both literal and psychological. The woman is performing a feminine ritual, wearing a physically debilitating item that submissively marks her as a woman. Not to say that she would be respected more if she was gnc, but I find it interesting how women accidentally lost their spot on the orchestra in the study because their performative clothing made them noisier and easier to recognise as women. And on top of that, we have stereotype threat - there was a study done where men and women were performing some sort of test, and in one half they were in normal clothes, and the second they were in swimwear. In the second one, women performed more poorly than they did in the first, and men saw no change. Once again, we have two inexorably interlinked factors at play, here - women's swimwear is not built for utility but rather to be sexy, and women's bodies are considered inherently sexual; that's not to say that if women were wearing men's swimwear they'd do better at the test, but rather women are socialised to be self-conscious of themselves but also expected to show more skin - we're expected to dumb ourselves down in the name of being sexy.

The upside in all of this is that the moment you recognise that these things aren't set in stone, and rather that these are all skills you can develop if you gain confidence in yourself, you develop a robust sense of self that you can be comfortable and happy with regardless of external measure of male-approved success. I, for example, found confidence in myself and my writing, and now I'm finding success and getting praise online by women on tumblr. It seems you're best finding yourself environments surrounded by other women, especially feminist-minded women who are consciously choosing to fight against established biases by valuing the skills of women that are undervalued by society. Devaluing male interests and achievements in your own head is something you can also do, and I once again recommend feminist spaces as an excellent opportunity to de-program (obligatory plug for my side blog @learningwomanhood where I do exactly that).

For me, the biggest wisdom to be gained from feminism is the psychological distancing yourself from male thought - the more things you reject that you once unthinkingly believed to be normal, the more you feel that you can truly be human, vibrant, unconstrained; and the more silly the whole enterprise of patriarchy looks. It's not nice that rejecting patriarchy means rejecting mainstream society, but the older you get the more you realise that you simply can't dwell on these things and instead have to do what benefits you within it; nobody is owed a perfect existence, and once you realise that you have to choose a life for yourself and choose to be happy with that, your life will be much more comfortable. In the end, life is all about the gestures of love you make to yourself and others. When you realise that it's your job to be your own best friend, you can carry that energy with you your whole life; you will be inpenetrable because all that matters to you, no matter what situation you're going through or what hell you're in, is that you made decisions that showed love to yourself. That could be considered a form of intelligence - perhaps wisdom itself is a form of intelligence that is devalued specifically because it's female-coded. But wisdom sounds like nothing until you internalise it - all the language in the world can't seem to really get to its essence until something inside you clicks and you understand it.

One thing I would like to say is that those negative thought processes you have are not stupid: they are a valuable part of your processing of the world and are worth attention. We have this cultural idea that with regards to mental health, the parts of us that are 'real' and 'valid' and 'truly us' are all the good parts, and the negative thought processes and patterns of behaviour are like cancerous tumours that need to be artifically removed. One of the best things I ever did for myself is to take myself seriously - because that's my prerogative, as myself and my own best friend. The only thing 'bad' thing about those thought processes is that they cause you distress; that's it. So, then, it's up to you to decide how much you want to indulge in them. I find the best way to really tackle unpleasant behavioural patterns is to simply do them shamelessly, because clearly a part of you wants to do them anyway; one of the first ways I got out of my depressive spirals was to decide that I was going to do all the depressive actions (stay in bed, eat junk food etc.) but simply embrace that those are things I want to do and not feel guilty or sad about it. That way, the depression hasn't consumed me and instead I have made a choice - I have reformed my relationship with myself as an active agent and a made a choice to show love for myself through the gesture of taking my desires seriously, not dismissing them as 'mentally ill'. I could go on but the point is that all of your head is necessarily you - as in, it doesn't come from anywhere else but you, and therefore all of it should be respected and valued. Mainstream society won't tell you that - there's always supposed to be a limit, there's always something that's 'unhealthy' in some sort of metaphysical sense, there's always a part of you that's supposed to be beholden to some external standard, that keeps you feeling insecure and needing validation. But there is no true objective measure of a healthy mind; the only thing that matters is if you're comfortable with yourself, and you can always make gestures of love to yourself regardless of your situation.

[reyzxzc]

The Proposal

summary: nico proposes to riley.

contains: cussing (it’s in all of my writings), fluff, crying, instagram.

————

december 20, 2023.

riley sat with her family and nico at the lake house in michigan. nico didn’t get a flight out to switzerland for christmas this year.

the hughes family was being quiet, like they knew something. everyone but riley. riley felt at a loss, not knowing why everyone was being weird around her.

“okay, someone tell me why everyone is acting so strange.” riley said. nico kissed her head. “no one’s acting strange, my love.”

riley rolled her eyes. “shut up.” riley placed her finger over his lips. “i don’t know what your talking about, my dear sister.” luke shrugged.

jack leaned over the counter, he was the only one who couldn’t keep a secret in their family. “jack.” nico mouthed to him.

jack groaned. “riley, can you um.. come skate with me?” jack asked. this was apart of nico’s plan to propose. “why can’t you just do it with luke or quinn?” riley asked.

“because i miss my sister, is that a problem?” jack asked. “okay.” riley said. jack smiled. riley kissed nico on the cheek and grabbed her coat.

jack opened the door and they walked out to the outdoor rink and put on their skates.

jack and riley got on the ice. “why’d you wanna skate, jack?” riley asked. “i love my big sister, what’s the problem with that?” jack asked, grabbing her hand.

riley hummed. “so no surprise?” riley asked. “no.” jack shook his head. riley hugged jack, kissing his head. jack hugged her back. he was loosing his sister more and more everyday. nico was proposing today.

jack didn’t ever wanna let go. he loves nico, yes. but he doesn’t love loosing his sister. jack has always been an older sisters boy. he would always go to riley when he needed something.

he can’t do that anymore. she’s gonna get married.

“jack?” riley said. jack hummed in response. “you getting tears on my shirt.” riley whispered. “what?” jack wasn’t even aware he was crying.

“sorry. must’ve just got lost in my thought.” jack wiped his tears. “no it’s okay.”

————

riley and jack walked back inside. “i’ll make some hot coco.” riley said, walking to the kitchen. “okay.” jack nodded, sitting on the couch in front of the tv, turning on a christmas movie.

riley made two cups of hot coco and handed one to jack. jack leaned into his sister. “i’m happy for you. i want you to know that, ry. i know i wasn’t at first but i am know.” jack said.

“i know buddy. never in my entire life would i thing you aren’t happy for me.” riley said. jack smiled. “what are we watching?” riley asked. “polar express.” jack smiled.

————

later that day, the table was set and everyone was eating. “um riley.” nico said. “yea?” riley asked, putting her fork down.

nico cleared his throat, which made riley cringe. nico got down one knee. riley gave him a look. nico pulled a ring out of his pocket.

“riley dakota hughes, the past year and a half has been the best off my life. it may seem a little early but i love you, more than anything else in this world. riley, would you do the honors and marry me?” nico asked.

riley nodded. “yes.” riley said. nico let out a sigh, and placed the ring on her finger. nico stood up, riley doing the same. riley hugged him, tightly.

nice kissed her when she pulled away from the hug.

“let’s pop some champagne!” ellen cheered. riley laughed and wiped her eyes. “none for you luke.” riley said. “not even an exception?” luke pouted. riley shook her head.

————

riley_hughes just posted

riley_hughes:

caption: and we’re engaged. i’ve spent countless hours trying to figure out the way to word this. but the only thing that comes to mind is i love you. because that’s all i know. i love you nico. here’s to forever.

tagged// nicohischier

comments:

comments are limited

jackhughes: riley’s all grown up :,)

- riley_hughes: i’m older then you, jack.

lhughes_06: okay wtf, where’s the ‘luke took this photo’??

- riley_hughes: you didn’t tho…

nicohischier: 🫶🏻

- riley_hughes: 🌷

_quinnhughes: that should he me 😔 getting married 😔 that should be me marrying nico😔

- riley_hughes: .

————

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 13 Thoughts: Phone Bug

A big episodes for small reasons. Not much world-shaking happened but just enough was said about just the right things. A lot to get into in this one around the incident. We're starting to have the curtain pulled back. Just a crack right now, but that's just more reason to be cracked.

Spoilers for episode 13, and all of TMA, below the cut.

Not a huge amount to touch on in the date portion of the episode other than a couple of sentences. Yeah, Sam is a gifted burn out that's sad about not getting experimented on. Same old same old. But Celia has a baby. Jack being Celia's kid I wasn't expecting mostly because of how that figures into her timeline. She's very heavily implied to be TMA's Celia but based on what she said if she is then she's been in TMP's universe for at least 4 years. A "couple of wild years" and Jack's "just over a year old". Plus 9 months and it's a lot longer than it might've appeared. None of that stuff tripped Freddy's possible lie detector either that I heard.

If you work under the assumption that the voices are who most people think, and they started roughly when they arrived, then that's a fairly major time discrepancy. The voices are about a year old but Celia has been around for 4.

However, it doesn't strictly rule that out either. Firstly, we know that moving between universes isn't actually one-to-one time-wise. Anya Villette went backwards 2 weeks when she crossed over. So them arriving at different times could support the idea that she's TMA's Celia further. Her general explanation of events could also be explained by this too. If she's not there willingly, or is there willingly but it didn't quite go to plan, a couple of wild years while you get your footing in a world you don't belong to isn't far fetched. If she was there looking for the voices then her showing up so relatively late could be explained by her baby too. So it's certainly not a dead and buried theory yet.

While Jack isn't Jack Barnabas he and the voices are about the same age. If people want to go rabid over that.

Gwen and Lena's little chat has a similar amount to really dig into. It's nice to see Gwen dealing with it all, and it's annoying we still don't know who died, but Lena does have a lot to say in a few words.

The world is full of opposing forces, some benevolent, most not. In order for the wheels to keep on turning, all these forces need to be monitored and balanced. That is where we come in.

This probably the most information we've had on the OIAR to this point from the show itself. I think most of this was safely assumed before this point. They've been doing a lot of monitoring, categorisation, and the only responses we have seen have been tamping major spikes down. A world of opposing forces is also a given. We are being led to believe that these are analogous to the 14+1 but there being benevolent ones if that's true is a big mix up. If you take the above timeline idea a step further and say the 14+1 arrived much earlier (or it doesn't matter because of how they're temporally weird) the benevolent ones could be native to TMP. They could be all TMP had.

Her assertion that the OIAR is a balance on these forces is interesting. Beyond the obvious stuff it also leans into an idea I've been throwing about regarding Starkwall. In the perception of Starwall might not really be the whole picture. The San Pedro Square massacre could've been an easy scapegoat to pin on them for the OIAR to split with them. A split caused by a disagreement in ethics. Starkwall thus far hasn't been shown to have an incredible disregard for human life based on Ep 7. The OIAR definitely has been. It could just be a PR move because the massacre was too big to contain but that feels like the least interesting way to handle this. A faction that's all in on monster hit men splitting with a faction who is against it has more room for interesting drama and worldbuilding IMO.

Balance was also a very large aspect of TMA in the end. The OIAR working towards that balance isn't as noble a goal as it might sound. Or it at least has the potential to be an incredibly misguided goal.

Okay, with all that mostly out of the way onto the incident itself. I enjoy this one a fair bit. Very different to what's come before it but with another recurring theme. We're starting to see a couple of patterns emerge now although it's too early to start naming things. I don't think there is a lot to really get into but this one was written by Alex, had a new VA, and was a recurring idea. Which does all point to this being quite important as these things go. All the episodes will likely tie up quite nicely in the end but this one seems quite relevant currently. In any case this was a fun one and I'm kinda curious how some of the elements within it will tie together. Mainly the gambling and insects.

Also, super weird they went with Zorrotrade for this. Because that's a real thing. Or was a real thing? It might be dead now, but still.

Post-incident chat has nothing I really want to comment on. More Alice and Sam is always good, even if Alice is trying really hard to not seem very upset.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet

DPHW Theory: 4622 doesn't seem particularly noteworthy. It's interesting from a thematic angle how this differs from Rolling With It. Both obviously very linked to gambling but this one lacks the compulsion elements. Which is a good indicator that H is linked to that sort of thing. Not that I need to convince myself of that further.

CAT# Theory: 3. Insert screams et cetera, et cetera. More seriously there still isn't a convincing pattern to this. Although I might be swinging back to my original tria prima and/or triple deity interpretation.

R# Theory: B is where I was thinking it'd end up while listening. So that's nice. Not much to add to this. Much like with DPHW the more information that lines up with the theory the less there is to talk about it because I've already done the hard bit.

Header talk: Gambling (Application) -/- Murder. Other than Application being a pretty weird Subsection I'm not sure there is much to dig into here. Although it does likely confirm he's dead. Which does make it a little strange that his statement wasn't read by one of the Freddy lot.

[your-eternal-lies]

YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME (chapter eight)

Main Navigation || Series Masterlist Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.

Pairing — Steve Rogers x f!Reader Summary — As his perfectly normal civilian neighbour, you’ve always been secretly curious about the Captain. Getting to know him while trapped together in your building’s elevator, however, definitely wasn’t on the agenda.

Warnings — None.

YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME

CHAPTER EIGHT THE SMALLEST OF GIFTS

Time seems to slow to a crawl in the steel cocoon of the elevator, but Steve finds a sense of tranquility as he keeps vigil over your sleep. 

He’d been through wars, seen the best and worst of humanity, yet nothing’s prepared him for the quiet upheaval that came with caring for someone in such a simple and unguarded way. 

There’s a promise forming within him, unspoken but resolute, vowing to bridge the gap between your brief encounter here and the uncertain expanse of the real world beyond. Even he, in his infinite attempts at denial, knows he needs to find a way to make this connection endure, to weave the thread of this shared experience into the fabric of your everyday lives. 

But life, much like you, has a way of surprising him when he least expected it. 

With a soft sigh, you stir in his arms, your body shifting ever so slightly as consciousness begins to seep back into your features. Your eyelids flutter, revealing sleepy eyes that blink up at him, still hazy from dreams. 

A smile spreads across Steve’s face, one that reaches deep into his eyes, crinkling their corners with genuine delight. 

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmurs, the affection in his voice wrapped in a playful tease. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” 

Your eyes go wide with shock, and just as you’re about to leap back in surprise, his arm tightens around you, the motion almost instinctual. 

Something shifts inside him then, like the tectonic plates of his very soul rearranging themselves to accommodate the seismic event that is you. 

He pictures you waking just like this in a bedroom with linen sheets, the sun streaming in through a nearby window, looking up at him with a sleepy smile. 

He imagines introducing you to the Avengers, his friends, all the banter and jokes at his expense, and the looks of surprise when they would see this unassuming woman who’s captured his attention. 

It’s not lost on him, the absurdity of contemplating a future with someone he’s only known a few hours, but he can’t seem to shake the feeling that there’s significance in this chance encounter. 

Warmth seems to grow with each passing minute with the fantasy, feeding a fire that sparks unexpectedly in his heart. 

Suddenly, thoughts of the world outside that demands Captain America disappear, the weight of his shield feels distant, and he begins to truly appreciate a very peculiar kind of magic at play. 

“Steve?” You whisper, your breath fanning across his cheek. He only holds you tighter in response, moving achingly slow as he places his chin on top of your head, allowing you to find purchase against his chest. 

He closes his eyes, his lungs seem unable to draw in enough breath, no matter how deeply he breathes. 

Because, for the first time in years, Steve dreams for something beyond a hero’s call—a shared future, unpredictable and thrilling in moments of vulnerability and laughter. 

“Never thought I’d get cozy with Steve Rogers in an elevator,” you mumble, heart in your throat. 

You shift, your leg brushing against his as you settle further into his chest. The contact is electric, sparking a connection that surges through your veins, setting every nerve ending on alert. 

At any other time, in any other place, you might have straightened up, put distance between you out of respect for personal boundaries. But here, the rules of engagement seem rewritten by an unseen hand. 

“Am I heavy?” You ask, though what you really want to ask is whether he can feel the racing of your heart, or if he knows just how much this moment means to you. 

“Not even a little,” he assures, his tone light. “Are you comfortable?” 

“Never better,” you whisper, watching the fabric of his t-shirt ripple under your breath. “You make a surprisingly good pillow, Rogers.” 

“Happy to be of service,” he pulls back just a little, so that you can stare into his handsome face. The close quarters strip away his larger-than-life persona, leaving behind just a man—Steve, who is so much more than just a caricature of red, white, and blue. 

It’s a peculiar thing, you muse, how a simple twist of fate can pivot your entire existence. A malfunctioning elevator has become a crucible, forging a bond that feels almost as strong as vibranium, yet as delicate as the silence that envelopes you. 

Your heart swells with a mixture of joy and uncertainty in his arms. You wonder if you’re just running on borrowed time, if this newfound intimacy is just a result of adrenaline and forced proximity, that maybe the doors would open eventually and reality would come flooding back in. 

But you cling to hope that this is just the beginning. Steve gives you a small smile in the darkness, the weight of his arm around your waist reassuring as you realize you don’t just want more moments like these; you need them. 

Taking advantage of your closeness, you carefully study his face: the slope of his nose, the spots of freckles that you hadn’t noticed before, and the curve of his lips, like a cartographer charting out the contours of newly discovered land. 

For now, you allow yourself the luxury of believing it’s possible—that someone as magnificent and lovely as Steve Rogers could feel for you even a fraction of what you feel right now. 

“Steve?” You say his name again, your voice barely audible, a whisper against the quiet thrumming of the lift. 

“Yes?” And when he says yours in return, you fall in love a little with the way it sounds. 

“Promise me something?” 

“Anything.” 

“That… we’ll go get your coffee after this,” you lean back against his shoulder, keeping your voice light, but there’s a seriousness in your tone that you can’t hide. “I need to make sure you’re not just a figment of my caffeine-deprived imagination.”

“Cross my heart.”

« Chapter 7 || Chapter 9 »

Taglist — My taglist has been discontinued. Please follow @your-eternal-library and turn on notifications for all my fanfiction updates.

[nebuladreamerrr]

Home is wherever you are| Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: After a few months of a lovely relationship, it's time for Kylian to meet your parents and you think he might be uncomfortable or ashamed of the kind of life they lead.

Warnings: English is not my first language

Even though your profession brings you into contact with celebrities, you never entertained the idea of pursuing a relationship with one. Since childhood, you've relished taking charge and imprinting your unique touch on everything you do. From an early age, you delighted in crafting with fabric scraps your mother would occasionally bestow upon you. Despite their humble nature, these textiles fueled your boundless imagination, solidifying your passion for event organization when it came time to choose your path.

Navigating the world of event planning wasn't without its challenges, as success often hinged on one's network. Thus, you embarked on the gradual process of building connections. Initially daunting, given your upbringing in a small village where genuine relationships trumped networking, you acclimated to the dynamic.

Typically, clients reached out to you through referrals from former acquaintances, and you made it your mission to orchestrate celebrations that would linger in their memories. To some, your meticulous attention to detail might have seemed excessive, but to you, each element held significance. Even the simplest of adornments, like napkins, warranted careful selection, ensuring every moment became indelible. Yet, despite your dedication, you felt uneasy attending these events. Whether due to social anxiety or shyness, you preferred delegating oversight to a trusted employee, prepared to intervene remotely if any issues arose.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly for little Amin Hakimi's party until a last-minute hiccup with the birthday cake. Maintaining control was your forte, and such mishaps were rare. However, when they did occur, you hesitated to dispatch an employee to rectify the situation. While the bakery bore responsibility for the oversight, you owned the consequences for placing trust in them. With resolve, you swiftly retrieved the box and hastened to the venue.

Upon your arrival, Hakimi reassured you, understanding the situation, insisting that everything was fine as the party had just begun. Initially, you intended to depart, but he skillfully appealed to your emotions, emphasizing how saddened Amin would be if you left. Tentatively, you attempted to acclimate to the ambiance, grabbing a few canapés, but your efforts were interrupted by a suave Frenchman eager to engage you in conversation. Thanks to him, the evening passed swiftly.

Following that serendipitous encounter, a string of dates ensued, and before either of you knew it, love blossomed unexpectedly. Kylian, typically guarded about his personal life, met his match in your reserved nature. Concerned about public perception and wary of being perceived as with him for his fame, you opted to support him discreetly, save for major games. Kylian, understanding your stance, found added motivation in performing well, knowing you'd be watching.

It was at the Ligue 1 final that you found yourself face-to-face with his parents, a situation orchestrated by Kylian himself. Yet, you couldn't protest, feeling an instant connection with them. From that moment on, they became integral figures in your life.

Now, after eight months together and with the leisure of summer allowing Kylian more flexibility, introducing him to your parents had become almost obligatory. Not doing so risked misconceptions, suggesting secrecy where none existed. They were affectionate and supportive individuals who always championed your aspirations as if they were their own. Their modest lifestyle wasn't due to financial constraints but rather a source of genuine contentment. For instance, your mother eschewed modern conveniences like washing machines and tumble dryers, finding solace in the simplicity of handwashing clothes—a sacred moment for her to reflect amidst the melodies of birdsong. Similarly, your father's preference for a gas stove over a ceramic hob wasn't a matter of practicality but a belief that it imbued dishes with a distinct flavor. You never felt ashamed of their choices; rather, they were the bedrock of your life. Fully aware of your relationship with a football player, they eagerly anticipated meeting him.

 So, after preparing a quick protein shake for Kylian to drink after training, you knew it was time to start that conversation.

"Thank you so much, mon amour," Kylian said quickly as he hurried to sit beside you while you sipped the shake you had prepared for him.

"You're welcome, darling. By the way, there's something I've been thinking about, and I'd like to tell you," you said, nervously playing with the bracelets adorning your wrist.

Kylian immediately noticed your nervous gestures and grew concerned. Swiftly, he took your hands in his and said, "Is everything alright? You know you can tell me anything. No matter how overwhelming it may seem, we'll figure it out together."

Upon seeing his loving gestures, you couldn't help but muster a shy smile that his comments had elicited. Quickly, you addressed the burgeoning concern for Kylian. "No, no, nothing is wrong. I simply thought that it was time for you to meet my parents. Though don't worry, I know it's a long car journey and you might feel tired, so if that's the case, we can..."

Before you could continue, Kylian silenced you with a subtle kiss, smiling warmly. "Mon amour, nothing would make me happier."

Despite Kylian's early fame bringing a myriad of opportunities with numerous women, he held the notion of meeting your parents in high regard. For him, it was an intimate milestone in a relationship, and he was certain that he wanted that with you.

From that day forward, Kylian was filled with excitement, so the first weekend he had free, without any interviews or company campaigns, was earmarked to meet your parents. Additionally, he consistently sought your input on attire and suitable gifts for your parents. While he typically favored sporty attire and luxury brands, he harbored no fear of judgment from his potential in-laws. However, he recognized the importance of harmonizing with the natural setting. Ultimately, he settled on vegan soaps infused with natural essences for your mother and a bottle of wine sourced from a vineyard near his locale as the optimal choice for your father.

"Ma cherie, I promise you everything is going to be fine; you have nothing to worry about," Kylian reassured you, casting a reassuring smile as they stopped at a red light.

"I know, honey, but remember they don't have all the electronic resources you're used to, so if you need hot water or if you need to wash your clothes, don't hesitate to..." you said nervously until Kylian interrupted.

"Shhh, mon amour, I've already told you that I went on a school trip to a farm school, and they were the best days of my life, not counting the day I met you. So relax, don't worry."

When you arrived and beheld your parents' quaint little house adorned with various flowers, likely planted by your mother during her gardening course, the first thing you did was greet Fleur, your German shepherd, enveloping her in a warm hug. Your bond with your dog had always been strong and leaving her behind when you moved to the big city had been heartbreaking.

"Mum, we're here" you called out, raising your voice slightly, knowing she could be anywhere in the garden.

Receiving no response, you intertwined your hand with Kylian's, guiding him through the garden as you searched for your parents. You couldn't help but be amused as you watched Kylian marvel at the various objects in sight.

"Honey, this is incredible, like something out of a movie. I wish that when I retire from football and you're not as tied up with your event planning, we could live in a place like this. Or maybe we could buy a second home now to relax when we are stressed," Kylian remarked, his words prompting a smile to spread across your face. You leaned in to give him a gentle kiss, silently conveying your love for his idea and your willingness to do anything as long as it was with him.

Finally, you encountered your mother amidst the strawberry bushes she had likely planted months earlier. Upon seeing you, her excitement was palpable as she enveloped you in a tight hug. Your closeness with your mother was evident, and despite your parents having a phone, they preferred face-to-face conversations, relishing every opportunity to catch up. She released you quickly, however, turning her attention to your companion.

"My goodness, you're taller than I thought," she exclaimed, wrapping Kylian in an affectionate hug. Kylian chuckled softly and reciprocated the hug, embracing his mother-in-law warmly.

After the introductions were complete, your father arrived, having just returned from a ride on his tractor. You all entered the house and settled into the cozy living room, adorned with a wooden table crafted by your father and a fireplace that held a special place in the family's heart, having been passed down through generations.

From that moment on, Kylian's excitement was palpable as he eagerly assisted your parents in any way he could. What made it even better was knowing he wasn't doing it to impress them; he was genuinely fascinated by their ability to thrive without modern technology. He looked like a child following your father around, trying to comprehend the wonders of their world.

"He's a good boy. You're going to marry him," your mother suddenly remarked, handing you a cup of tea.

"What?" you asked, dumbfounded. While marrying Kylian was certainly your desire, your parents hadn't always been keen on your past partners, so their swift intuition caught you off guard.

"Call it mother's instinct or whatever you like, but I'm certain. Mark my words," your mother replied, gazing out the window as the sunset.

You cherished the truth in your mother's words, yet you didn't want to rush and miss out on important moments. So, you savored every adventure with Kylian, allowing your love to deepen with each passing day.

In the end, it seemed your mother's intuition was spot on when you exchanged vows in a quaint stable three years later.

[clawbehavior]

zero context WIP game! thanks for the tags @killerandhealerqueen and @fourth-quartet 🥰🥰

i'm playing fast and easy with the rules of this one (which you can find here). instead, you'll find numbered snippets from a bunch of WIPs i am 75-90 per cent done but ambivalent about which to update first. gahan readers, what interests you most?

--

1. even gods can't change the past

gaon stares listlessly at the stickers lining the base of the night lamp. despite repeated disinfectings, they haven't come off, dinosaurs, trucks, sparkly muffins. things he had put there to make their hospital stay livelier. 

'i guess we're even now,' soohyun says, quiet and mostly to herself. 

gaon thinks for a while. 'chief jo?' he guesses. soohyun had a girlish fascination with her mentor that in turn made the normally gruff man go tongue tied. 

'what -- no. jishin,' she says as if this explains anything. when gaon looks over at his wife sitting on the bed beside him, she looks guilty, sad, and relieved. the guilt is most prominent. 

'what --' says gaon, having to swallow because his mouth is suddenly dry. 'are you talking about?'

----

2. unnamed modern strangers in a bar au

the stranger backs gaon up until he hits the brick wall behind them, none too gently. but the man pays no attention to this. he looks at gaon with desire both ferocious and unyielding. 

'this husband of yours,' says the stranger angrily, sliding his hands into gaon's thick hair and keeping them there. 'you talk about him like he walks on water but he's only a man.'

'he's my world,' replies gaon breathlessly, eyes fixed on the man's mouth. then the stranger is kissing him. 

---

3. omega spin-off of enantiomers

gaon spins in yohan's arms so they're back to chest, before sensuously dragging himself down yohan's front until he's crouched at yohan's feet. yohan's hands tighten around his when gaon looks up at him from the floor, smilingly and with heat. 

'that look is why i put a baby inside you the first time around,' yohan says, stroking gaon's hands. there's a hint of warning to his tone. and desperation. he can't be held responsible for what he does if gaon keeps this up. 

gaon laughs delightedly.

of course, that's when the bedroom emits a wail that filters down the hallway and into the living room.

--

4. everything everywhere all at once

soohyun's eyebrows go up in shock. 'you still love him,' she says accusingly. 'not just that -- you want to go back to him. your parents died because of kang yohan!' she yells this last part, stomping her feet in enraged helplessness. 

'good people die without good reason,' gaon replies, feeling his cheeks redden.

she looks at gaon like he's grown another head. 'are you listening to yourself right now? you'll forgive kang yohan, and for what? he broke your heart. you were devastated for weeks!'

'i'm not selfless, soohyun-yah. not like you,' gaon replies, voice cracking. he searches for the words, pulling them from deep inside him. 'after appa died, i kept the restaurant open to prove that i could. helping people came after. but i can't do it anymore. i can't keep dragging on like everything is normal when seeing how fucked up everything is is destroying me.'

soohyun visibly swallows her words, letting gaon finish. 

'i hurt,' gaon whispers, 'all the time. i'm so angry. it's like looking into an abyss but now it looks back at me. being with yohan makes me feel safe, like i'll survive this. like there's more to living than just pain.'

soohyun hunches over at the knees and hugs herself. 'why does it have to be kang yohan?' she says miserably.

'i don't know.' gaon approaches, choreographing his intent. he pulls her into a hug when she doesn't resist. 'it's fucked up. i'm fucked up but i miss him terribly.'

'what if he breaks your heart again?' she sniffles against gaon's chest, voice going flat with inevitability. 

'he might,' gaon admits, squeezing her in final consolation. 'but i'll go my whole life regretting it if i don't try.'

--

5. elevator troubles

‘bujangnim?’ gaon asks, knocking on the heavy wooden door for appearance’s sake before striding in. but yohan’s not there.

the sound of his harsh breathing fills the office. he makes his way over to where late afternoon sunlights spills through the floor to ceiling windows and stares at the traffic twenty stories below, tiny trucks and tinier people. 

he's livid. if he could, he would shatter every single window of this ministry building with the frequency of his rage.

a hand slips over his eyes, cooling their heat and blocking his vision. a body follows behind. 

‘shhh,’ rumbles yohan in gaon’s ear, moulding himself around gaon, silken wool and heat and support everywhere. his other hand lands on gaon's chest, over gaon's fast beating heart. 

gaon’s only reaction is a hitch in his breathing. his muscles remain tightly coiled, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

'he told me that my parents would be proud of me for doing the right thing,' gaon says with long pauses between into the red blackness. 'when he -- when he was the one who helped doh young choon --' he breaks off with a stifled sound, enraged.  

yohan's joyless chuckle rumbles through gaon's body. 'min jung ho is a viper.' his inflection doesn't change when gaon grabs his wrist. 'down to his venomous words.'

'what gives him the right,' gasps gaon, eyes turning wet with frustrated tears under yohan's palm. he presses back into yohan's body. 

'none,' says yohan simply. 'just as he has no right to dispense justice.'

'i want to hurt him, so, so badly,' gaon confesses, pulling yohan's hand away. 

‘we will,’ says yohan. 

future promises aren't enough. gaon whirls around. 'now, yohan.' he pushes the unresisting older man backwards until yohan's thighs hit the heavy oak table. 'i want to destroy him now.' 

---

6. my heart goes back to you, i just don't know

trigger warning, beware.

jung sunah pulls gaon’s face up with a fistful of silky, dark hair. gaon’s pupils are blown wide. yohan catches a peek of red tongue as gaon swallows, sweat beading along the younger man’s temple. yohan knows this expression from when he looked into the mirror all those weeks ago after jung sunah had ambushed him. 

she drugged gaon.

yohan watches with a foreboding feeling as jung sunah simply stares at gaon. the hunger on her face is…not good. she cocks her head, hand traveling to gaon’s panting mouth. yohan watches her fit two perfectly manicured fingers, nails painted rouge into the seam of gaon’s mouth; feels somehow worse when gaon doesn’t resist. 

‘he’s nothing! a means to an end,‘ barks yohan. he sounds affected because he is. he knows what’s happening here, what jung sunah is making him a bystander to.

she ignores this. ‘you know, i never liked giving blowjobs,’ she says conversationally. ‘they’re demeaning. the power differential is obvious. men enjoy it.’  she tilts gaon’s face up using the fingers in his mouth.

gaon pants heavily, eyelashes turning wet as he blinks slow and hard. ‘seeing kim pansanim on his knees makes me understand the appeal of it.’

‘is that why you brought him here?’ yohan asks, thinking quickly. ‘to get to me?’

‘you put your hand on his shoulder on live television,’ she replies in a faraway voice, but yohan can read her now.

--

tagging @technitango @tenderlywicked @rocknghorss @thedeviljudges @briwates @mid-n0vember @eyesof-kkomi feel free to pass ofc and if you are a writer who enjoys being tagged, lmk so i can include you in the future

[oatbugs]

oh my god ! haha . anyway a bit buzzed perhaps. anyway here's what happened on the date

[fae-morrigan]

look, man. one of the things about preaching the importance of Community is you have to understand, you need to believe that shit and act like you actually care about the other 'undesirable' members of society. specifically in public. yes, even about children, teenagers. yes, even people with bad opinions on things. yes, even about people who are 'annoying' to you. because guess what? being Alive means you will be all 3 of those things at various points in your life, multiple times for multiple years. don't you wish others would be kind to you?

[hxltic]

ghost yellin pt. 2!! (and 2k followers. omg.)

(mention of blood n knives n stuff in here)

pt. 1~~~

It was still early in the morning when your puffy eyes blink open. Despite the mission that had your arrival around 3-ish in the morning, it was still the crack of dawn, which meant the start of your day, mission or not.

The warmth you had longed for encased you, but today, it felt unfamiliar.

You hadn’t forgotten about yesterday (or earlier today). And even though what happened upset you, you’d still wanted him, so you could feel the comfort your father never gave you after an argument. You’d never received a genuine apology from him, just an offer for new shoes or to go to your favorite restaurant that day.

Even in anguish after what he did, you still wanted his touch. Or that may have been what you thought, because now you were peeling his strong arms off you, and creeping to the bedside. You cautiously swing your legs over and slowly step to the door, but even though you were going unbelievably slow, the pain underneath your feet made you wince.

“Wait—”

There’s a gruff voice that your back is turned to, making you jump at the realization he was awake. You had been taught all your life to fight when your fight or flight response flickers, but he noticed how you almost bolted towards your room.

He had been awake the whole time. He’d vouched to himself he wouldn’t close his eyes until your breaths were regular again, but even after they had, he’d barely gotten any sleep. If he had tears left to cry, one would’ve slipped.

Whenever he did fall to the night, in any circumstance, his body physically would prevent him from staying such. He was a light sleeper to another extreme. His body was trained by none other than trauma and instinct. So when he felt you raising his arm, he’d awakened and watched you do everything silently.

He would’ve said something, but he didn’t know what. An apology would sound fake in this situation.

Ghost was a hands-on man, so he moved. His large body flipped the covers off him and hastily brought itself to you.

The last time you’d let him get close, he screamed in your face. You took an involuntary step back, but had you thought about it you probably would’ve taken it anyway. His quick steps pause.

He gazes into your frozen eyes, glistening and pretty even in upset, but underneath carrying fear and shock.

Seeing him, one side of you wanted to apologize for not taking your job seriously, even though you did, or say you were sorry for the other things he mentioned. And you may have when you were 13, but you were a strong woman that built off men’s bullshit over the years, so you hold your ground.

He shrunk himself and moved effectively before you. No unnecessary movements.

“Please. Wait.”

You could tell he was trying to make his voice soft, but the octave and accent just did not allow it. He was trying though.

Do you book it, or stay?

You stay, to hear him. He recognizes your stance as one specifically military-taught, ready to move.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you. I should’ve been better,” he started. You’d come to realize even with small issues, he was an okay apologizer. “I’m sorry. You’re the last person who deserved that.”

He inspected the way you heard him but just stood there awkwardly. You were never awkward around him. In fact, he was the awkward one.

His heart dropped at how visibly uncomfortable you looked. He wanted to touch you—to take all your problems away, but it wouldn’t work this time. Not when he was the problem.

Ghost was the type of person to do anything for you, anything to get you back. You were the only one who saw him as Simon now, ever since the others died or were killed. He ruined that.

He let the mask get the best of him, finally turning into the murderous, scary man the world sees him as, everyone but you. You’d never been afraid of him, and he himself had changed that.

So in the silence he scans your beautiful eyes again, the brightness they usually reflect gone and replaced. You blink at him like a puppy. A small, scared puppy.

He’d made you cry. He’d made you cry.

He wasn’t expecting forgiveness, or your usual unconditional love, but the silence was too much to bear. He knows what he did, but he genuinely has no idea how he could make it up to you. Once you realize the conversation was over, and that’s all he had to say, you turn your head and limp past the doorway to your room. You were going to cry again.

But that was far from what he wanted to say.

He didn’t realize it when a tear of his own bundled up under his blonde eyelashes, a feeling so rare that people’s jokes about him being a robot could seem true. It had been so long, but watching you sadly walk away from him was enough.

The door was wide open, but he stood there, feeling more useless than he ever had.

These were the times he wished his mother was here. To tell him what to do. To spread the emotional knowledge of loving someone so much it pained you, something she had perfected over the years. Instead, he picked up the brutalities of his father. And he will never forgive him for that.

. .

You’d avoided him for an entire day, almost two, despite being in such close proximity and having to do everything with the squad. He didn’t know whether to leave you be or try again and again. Ultimately, he picked the first. That didn’t mean there weren’t subtle things to get your attention though.

He couldn’t think about yelling again. But it was only at you. So everyone else was graced with their lieutenant in a worse mood than he’s usually in, but they wouldn’t dare ask what was up or say anything to you. Actually, they had barely spoken to you like they had orders not to.

Ghost was rarely in the common room anyway, but now he was really tucked away in his quarters. He preserved his words, though even then they were still snappy. He had an attitude, yes, but he’d come to his senses enough to reflect and prevent himself from saying anything potentially hurtful.

He’d cherished the moments you had no choice but to be close to him a lot more than before, and his voice was barely even the tone of regular speech. Because now, he was scared.

He’d seen how bad relationships can turn, and it doesn’t help it was the man he’s seen all his life ruining what a woman gave him. He doesn’t want to be like that. And if he already has been, he tries to calm himself at night by running through his head “you’re already better than him by trying to fix it,” like a mantra. He’s cried the nights without you. He felt like he was floating away all the time, away from the Earth and the people around him. He barely knows himself anymore.

Little does he know, the time spent without him converted your sadness to anger. Rage.

He has the audacity to scream in your face? After all you do for him? After you put your life on the fucking line and take bullets for him every day?

With your father, it never did convert to anger, because you refused to let it. Being a child, you were way too dependent on him emotionally and physically. He was still your dad, you’d think.

And yes, while you loved Simon, there wasn’t the biological connection to pressure you to him. He was just a man. And if there’s anything you learned yourself, it was that you wouldn’t be pushed around by one.

So the day progressed on with an assignment. The troops were sent out, Ghost in charge.

He had made an order to surround the building, stay hidden in tall grass. A few would push in. They were armed and dangerous.

His voice was loud through the comms, going directly through the headset clear as day. Your team pressed forward alongside his. He had made every order around the fact that you needed to be right next to him, always in view, so he could keep his watchful eye out.

You crouched around the corner, waiting for command. You whisper in mic to your own squad, instructing them to watch for third-party while everyone’s idle.

The second he calls it, you all infiltrate right after smoke grenades set off. It was quickly cleared of the criminal within a few minutes because there weren’t many to take out, just a few in nooks and crannies, but one of them had caught you through a closet door. It had small blinded windows in it.

A quick sharp pain let you know there was a knife drilled into your side. It was small, and could be a lot deeper, but it still hurt like a bitch.

You had taken worse, so you gunned him down with a swift turn and ignored it. The adrenaline was medicine.

Once everyone returned to base with evac, people noticed the spot of red on your uniform but brushed it off as a battle scar. Until they saw the knife. It would be stupid to remove it.

“That looks pretty bad, you should get that patched up,” someone says. Someone you didn’t know, probably from another unit. You refrain from saying no shit and keep walking to the infirmary.

You finally decide remove it with added pressure to the wound, keeping the gauze close and the slim slit through your skin tight. The adrenaline was wearing off now and everything started to come back to you. You groan loudly when you touch it.

Red stains your fingers. It wasn’t deep but it had to be pulled out, and standing would be hard. You sit to see what you were doing.

“Fuck!” you yell.

The pain was ten times worse when you sat down, the fold of your body at the hip right underneath the opening. You feel like you could imagine the knife scraping other parts of your insides.

Suddenly the door opens. No one other than Ghost stands there, fully in gear, searching for the source of the cry. Once he locates you, you barely hear him murmur “bloody hell.” You glance up at him, then back down to what you were doing. He tries to ignore the equivalent stab in his heart at that, the one that matched the way his face drops at the sight of you. You would be able to see the white of his eyes through the mask if you’d look at him.

You were unconsciously trembling, attempting to mentally prepare yourself to pull the knife out slow. The man before you just watched.

“Get out,” you demanded.

“No,” he calmly replies. Once again, barely above a whisper, but heavy with accent.

You visibly roll your eyes and continue picking at the knife, trying to find the easiest way to retrieve it. Of course Ghost would take this time to be near you when you can’t run away from him.

He removes his gloves and opens the cabinets beside him, getting peroxide and other medical things. He walks to you with them in hand, and you bring it upon yourself to completely ignore him.

He steadily drops to a knee in front of you so you see eye to eye. You hiss when you pull at one side and it doesn’t work.

Softly, he breaks the silence, “When did this happen?”

No response. He was looking you dead in the eyes despite how horrible at eye contact he usually is.

“When did-“

“Earlier, Lieutenant.” You speak. He knows this was you digging at him. It worked, but he brushes it off.

He reaches his bare hands rid of the supplies up to help you. He was mad at nobody other than himself for not being there.

“Stop,” you shoo his hand away, tending back to your wound. Even though he wanted to help, he backed off.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, and he’d probably had this happen a thousand times. He was inevitably better at medical anything compared to you.

“How did it happen?” He waits. Wasting time talking to him will have you bleeding out. The knife was a little under halfway visible.

“I was taking my job seriously, Lieutenant.”

He cringes at the words he’s shameful to call his own. He wants nothing more than for you to at least be on speaking terms with him, but even that he knows he doesn’t deserve. He sighs deeply.

“I’m sorry, let me help you. Please,” he begs.

“I don’t want your help, and you don’t want mine. So we can keep it that way.”

What he said that night was far from true; you did more than just help him. He was dependent on you. He surveys the way you hiss at the straining feeling, attempting to take deep breaths between tugs, but only making it worse. He won’t let everything you’re throwing at him break him down in this state.

“Grab it from the top, do it all at once. Then stop the blood immediately.”

You huff in annoyance at his words, causing yourself pain from your own irritation. But, he did know what he was doing, so you followed the orders. He inspects you.

You tug on the knife with a painful deep breath and moan at the pain, shutting your eyes. The view alone gives Simon whatever you’re feeling tenfold.

It only goes up about a centimeter. It hurt so bad though, your breaths were heavy and enhancing the stinging sensation. Your audible whimper was enough for the man in front of you to take action.

You almost forgot how mad you were at him from the pain, so when his hands reached up to you, you just let them. His right applied pressure to the sides. He couldn’t care that it stained his rough, pale hands. The left rests on your hand planted on the seat, then he instructs you to lay down. It’ll avoid scratching any more areas inside by stretching out.

“Relax. It’ll hurt, but you got it.”

You don’t respond to this, and stare up at the ceiling. You still didn’t want to look at him.

Simon has to remember you were still fairly untouched in comparison to his background in the military, the scars and scratches proof to where he’s been. He’s not used to being gentle. He’s around grown men for god’s sake.

And while he knows you’re strong, he wishes someone took the time to allow him some vulnerability back then.

You’re on your back, awaiting his next move. He hovers over you.

“I’mna to count to three, alright? I know you can do it.”

You blink, but he knows you can hear him. Somehow it hurts worse to breathe so your chest runs shallow.

“One,” he starts.

Were you ready? He was going to-

You scream loud enough to have the entire base questioning what was going on before he gets to three, but Simon’s face doesn’t falter from his soft expression as he accurately rips the object out of you. Your hands subconsciously reach for his, then grip him with a pure strength you didn’t even know you possessed. You yelled a long line of curses with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes until it all ended as fast as it came.

You were heaving and your face was hot, sweat gathering along your hairline.

“There you go,” he praises, his movements were quick and efficient. The tape was being placed over the filled injury. “Good girl.”

You were breathless, tired, and red. You wanted to lay down.

“It hurts, Simon,” you whisper.

“I know baby, I know.”

. .

You laid in bed with the dinner one of the soldiers brought you. Simon walks in sometime later, his hand cupped.

“You alright?”

He steps in beside your bed, sitting on the covers. He releases some painkillers right next to the water on your nightstand.

You just nod.

He nods approvingly back, then rests his forearms on his thighs. There’s an uncomfortable silence. An uncomfortable silence.

The ink on his arm was visible along with the scars he’s carried. Some new, some old. It’s a simple t-shirt that stops at the bicep, but he never likes to have his arms out because he’s never comfortable with them showing.

“I just wanted to say—”

“I…don’t want to hear it.” You shut him down.

“Please?”

His ocean eyes survey yours for some type of mercy, some hint you’ll hear him out again. He has concluded that he can speak, but the worst that can happen is you’ll stop listening. You can’t really walk away.

And this was the first time his please seemed to end with a question mark.

“I didn’t mean to yell, but I did, and it hurt you. Even though I just aided you, I did it as a partner. Not just a comrade. You are great at what you do, but you mean a lot more to me than just business—I love you, because you see me differently than everyone else.”

Knowing Simon, it probably did take him the whole day and a half to come up with that and relay it. This tugged your heart strings a little, but then it all came back to you.

“On top of calling me useless you yelled in my face. What were you so angry for anyway?”

Truthfully, he felt that had he told you the real reason, It’d make him look worse. But you deserved it.

“One of the soldiers in another unit looked into my background. Found out about an old mission and the people behind it.”

You hadn’t known much about Simon’s life, because he never talks about it, but you knew enough. It was the mission where he was set up. Betrayed.

You would be pissed too.

But his head hung low in shame, angry that he let an old part of him rekindle in the form of fury. He let out said fury on you.

“Regardless, it was uncalled for. Just think on it, yeah?” He pleads. He’s not sure what he’s telling you to think on, though he doesn’t know the active status of your relationship. But he understands how degrading what he did was, and he’ll never forgive himself for it.

But you already had an answer.

“I don’t have to think on it,” you say.

His head whips around, the sadness on his face replaced with shock, and the crinkles coming to form between his brows in confusion. He’d expected the worst, but the worst was what he deserved.

“I’m still very upset. But I don’t hate you. I want you to go to therapy,” you insist.

On the inside, Simon was thrilled. This is the best outcome, better than anything he’d conjured up in his head, and he’d been told a billion times to go to therapy. If it meant being able to hold you again, he’d stay the whole day on a little couch instead of downing prescribed medication that wasn’t working every night.

“I’ll think about what to do from there. But I don’t want it to happen again, because I promise I know what my decision will be the next time,” you declare. He took this message more seriously than he takes Price some days. There was a fire in your eyes to show him how serious you were, and that you’d get up extra close to him just to point your finger in his face if you could.

He understood you hadn’t forgave him, but was giving him some type of redemption. So he could prove himself.

And he was damn good at proving himself worthy of things, hence the Lieutenant in front of his name.

this a lil long. @thesecretwriter @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @jjmoonjj @bigmannico @bloodyquillink-blog @boggiesho @earth-to-lottie @e1fade @instantplaiddream @mentallyillartist @stillinracooncity @missborntodiex @rhyanna6012 @hao-ming-8 @starrrchiato @goth-boi-atlas @keiva1000 @pampeop @sleepy-time-dreamy @laurenbenoit70 @tojis-big-daddy-milkers @jstarrs23423 @madameducyberversailles @eri-channnnnnn @schmelscorner @commandertorinshepard @lua83727 @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @nyannyanmochi020 @p1nkliquor

[areislol]

"would you kiss me for $10 or the hottest person in the world for $1000?"

ft— blade, gepard, dan heng, jing yuan, luocha, welt, sampo, luka, argenti, dr. ratio

warning — none, just fluff! might be ooc, established relationship, gn! reader, no yanqing for this ;( mentions of kissing, might be cringe..? chinese names are simplified. not proofread.

a/n— y'all i apologize if they're ooc (can't justify it i haven't even played hsr yet) so yes. ENJOY as this is my second time writing for 'em

wordcount. 4.2k

刃 blade

✧ .... he knew it was one of those.. silly media questions that couples do to one another. and he hates you for actually doing them (not really he loves you too much)

✧ he continued to stay silent as he sat on the bench, watching as you sat beside him—anticipating for his response that will decide whether or not he will sleep on the couch or not.

✧ "ugh you big bum just answer the question!!" you groan, slumping down on the bench.

✧ blade cocks his head and raises his brow, smirking at you. "you mean the complex question that will probably lead you unhappy if i don't say the answer you were hoping for and then not talk to me for the next couple of hours as you're petty and—"

✧ you quickly shut him up with your palm over his mouth, you were now mad at him for being too god damn right. warmth spread to your cheeks as you stared at him, completely flustered.

✧ "you better shut that mouth of yours baldie." you threaten, still keeping your palm over his mouth when you felt the icky, wet and textured feeling gliding across your palm, it was his tongue.

✧ wasting no time you pulled your hand back and stared at your palm before vigorously wiping it on your shirt, absolutely disgusted. "ewwww!! and you still haven't answered my question!!" you pout.

✧ blade huffs (he's very sassy), "yeah not after calling me baldie. i'm not even bald." he was so serious about it, it was very amusing to you.

✧ you pout even more, scooching closer to him. "okay i'm sorry for calling you baldie.. and yes you aren't bald. now will you please answer my question?!" blade continues to glare at you, thinking about his answer. well, he was only pretending to anyway.

✧ he already knew his answer the second the question slipped out of your mouth, obviously, kiss you for $10 (credits). even if it was for $1000 he could easily get that amount of money in a day and plus, you are the most hottest person in the entire universe.

✧ but he decided to tease you, he put on his thinking face, tapping his finger on his chin. "hm... i really don't know it's so hard to choose..." he hums, looking down at your face as he smirks in amusement at your silly little mad face.

✧ "so hard? SO HARD FOR WHAT????" you asked, leaning in closer. oh you were for sure getting irritated now.

✧ blade chuckles before engulfing you in a tight hug as you sat on his lap, face buried in his chest. "of course kiss you for $10, i don't need $1000 anyway."

✧ "what about the pretty part?" "you are the hottest of them all, y/n."

✧ you hummed in content, happy with his answer before speaking again. "see, it wasn't a trick question at all." blade rolls his eyes. "uh huh... so you weren't going to quote-on-quote, 'ground' me if i said the wrong answer?"

✧ "....no...."

✧ (btw he was still a lil hurt when you called him baldie. like wow, it really hit him deep)

杰帕德 gepard

✧ the second you asked him the question he did not hesitate and answered within 1 billion light speed.

✧ "you of course! i don't want to a random stranger who i don't know for $1000, i don't need that money when i have you."

✧ "oh— gepard—" yeah, you almost burst into tears at his answer. it was so geniune, sweet and adorable. even his face said it all!! he looked at you with such sincere eyes as he told you his reply!!

✧ gepard almost freaked out thinking he said the wrong thing when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes, he immediately held onto your shoulders, apologizing if he did anything wrong.

✧ you shake your head no and wipe away your tears dramatically, "n—no i'm fine gepard i'm just— i didn't expect you to say your answer so quickly! when i saw other couples doing it the other person is always hesitating or something."

✧ gepard is confused, was this a test or something? (poor baby doesn't know) and so you have to explain to him what the trend is all about and all that jazz.

✧ he doesn't think that it's a bad trend or anything, if anything he encourages you to ask him more questions!! anything you ask, he will reply asap 100%!!

✧ and so you asked more questions.

✧ "you don't care about the money gepard? that's a lot though, $1000!" you exclaim, gepard shakes his head and smiles, "i already said why i don't need that money, love, i don't need the money when i have you, you're priceless."

✧ EUGHHHHHHHHH HE JUST HAS TO HIT YOU WITH THAT. you smiled back and gave him a kiss on his cheek before backing away. "that's so sweet of you... okay next question, who is the hottestperson in the world?"

✧ gepard only stares into your eyes, mesmerized by your face, his eyes are trained on you and only you as his thumb caresses your cheek. "you, of course, you're the most hottest.. although i'd rather use prettiest instead, you are the most prettiest and amazing person in the entire universe."

✧ safe to say his face was peppered with kisses after that, not that he minds it.

丹恒 dan heng

✧ "what kind of question is that?" is the first thing he says, looking at you in confusion as he closes the book he was reading.

✧ you had just entered his room, phone in hand before asking him the question out of the blue so he assumed you saw something from the media which now... lead to this.

✧ you shrug, going back to your question. "don't be trying to change the topic, what would you do? kiss me for $10 or kiss the hottest person in the world for $1000?" you repeated, your brows furrowing. to dan heng, it was crazy scary how you looked right now, so desperate for his answer.

✧ "well obviously the hottest person in the world for $1000, that' so much money!" he replied, knowing what this was going to lead him to. "......so... you would kiss the most hottest person in the world for more money?"

✧ dan heng cringes as he nods his head slowly. your eyes narrowed as you began to glare at him, soon, you stormed out of his room, pissed, and with a right as well.

✧ dan heng sighs in defeat before getting up from his seat and following you to where you always went when you were mad, to the kitchen.

✧ and he was right, you were in the kitchen just snacking on food you just bought the day before, when you spotted him you turned around, your back facing him. "baby c'mon im sorry i was just joking.."

✧ hearing him call you "baby" did something to you but you didn't want to give in just yet. you were mad at him still. you pout (not like he can see you but still) and continue to munch on your food angrily.

✧ "i didn't mean to, i promise i was just joking. i would much rather kiss you for $100 i pinky swear." .... "pinky swear?" "pinky swear."

✧ safe to say you accepted his apology as he absolutely peppered your face with millions of kisses before engulfing you in his arms.

✧ "you're ridiculous..." dan heng sighs, resting his eyes. "yeah well you love me so" well, he can't deny that.

景元 jing yuan

✧ jing yuan is definenetly doing the mathematical calculations in his head right now. because what in tarnation are you talking about?!

✧ he stares at you like you're crazy for a second before sighing, looking down and closing his eyes shut (he reminded you a lot like a disappointed dad...)

✧ "what do you mean? why are you asking me this out of the blue..." for one, he is a tad bit afraid that if he says the wrong thing you will sentence him to three (3) days to sleep on the couch, yeah, you banish him from your SHARED bedroom multiple times when he said the "wrong thing".

✧ you repeat your question again, waiting for his answer. "what a silly question, i would kiss you of course, with or without the $10." he breathed, planting a kiss on your forehead before pulling away and smirking, he knew that that was what you wanted to hear and the kiss was the cherry on top.

✧ for a few seconds you just sat there, too flustered to do anything. YES YOU KNEW IT WAS JUST A FOREHEAD KISS BUT IT'S JING YUAN OKAY

✧ "hm? is something the matter, my love?" he questions, leaning in closer to your face, he was much more taller than you (obviously) so he was quite literally towering over you, his face was so close to yours.

✧ you shake your head before going in for a small and chaste kiss and closing your eyes, you can feel the smile on his lips as he pulls you closer to him by your waist and deepens the kiss. your brain was starting to get fuzzy as you felt more and more delirious. jing yuan just knew how to make you fold.

✧ "hey! this isn't an excuse to make out with me you know?" you pull away breathless, looking quite dazed just for this "simple" kiss. jing yuan hums, resting his head on your shoulder before speaking up.

✧ "you know you love it." at his words you sigh and shake your head, "well i can't deny that..." you reply with a smile as you run your fingers through his soft hair.

✧ a few minutes go by in silence, you assume that jing yuan was asleep by how calm and quite he was, when the silence was broken. "does this mean i can sleep in our shared bedroom?"

✧ your brows furrowed at his words, was that all he was thinking about? "mmmmmmm now that you mentioned it..." "no." you chuckled, patting his head. "i know i know, yes, you get to sleep in our shared bedroom."

罗刹 luocha

✧ "what an odd question.." luocha replies, observing your very serious face. he found it amusing how you looked so serious after asking such a silly question.

✧ you whine and shake his arm, "just answer the question luocha it is very serious!! i need to know your answer!!" .... okay yes apparently it was very serious as you literally called him by his name and not some cute nickname.

✧ luocha offers you a soft and tender smile, the one he always does every time he spots you and or is with you (it never fails to make you swoon), "of course you, i don't need the money when i have you, are you doubting something my dear?"

✧ you shake your head at his words, happy with his answer. "no, everything's fine don't worry! thanks lychee." luocha then engulfs you in a hug all of the sudden, the scent of flowers filled your nose as his hair tickled your face.

✧ "your hair's in my face babe—" you mumble, moving the strands of hair off your face. luocha quickly apologized before pulling away, he cups your cheeks and stares deep into your eyes, which confused you.

✧ luocha continues to stare at you for a good hot minute, he was thinking about something. "say, did anything happen to you that prompted you to ask me that question? did someone do something? did i do something wrong?"

✧ he's so cute. anyway, you shake your head. "no, why?" luocha sighs in relief before taking his hands off your cheeks. "i don't know i assumed something happened that made you question me with that.. question. thank the lord i didn't do anything."

✧ kissing his cheek, you sighed dramatically, "well actually something did happen.. a certain somebody hasn't given me any attention for the past couple of hours"

✧ luocha playfully rolls his eyes, "my fault, princess/prince" and that's how he ended up peppering and littering you with kisses all over your face and no, you couldn't escape him even if you wanted to.

瓦尔特 welt

✧ if you keep asking him such questions he's only going to age more, physically, you're going to give him too many wrinkles if you keep on making him furrow his brows and frown.

✧ all you can hear is him heaving a great big sigh as he sets his mug down on the table, staring down at you. "the hottest person in the world?" he asks, you nod your head while smiling, you somewhat knew his answer already.

✧ "well it's you of course." he replied without any hesitation, you hummed and gave him a peck on his cheek. "right answer."

✧ "but why $10 only? you're worth more than that you know." he added, you only shrugged your shoulder. "i don't know it's what the text says" "the text?" "yeah, look!" you held your phone up and pointed at the screen where there was a couple, one of the partner asked a question—the same one you asked him.

✧ the other partner states that they would kiss the most hottest person in the world for $1000, it then showed a clip of the person sleeping on the couch. the answer was easy really, welt didn't understand how bad one person can mess something up.

✧ "well he was stupid, answer was easy." you agreed and put your phone away. "simple right? i knew you would say the right thing" you continued, welt only smiles in pride. "of course, i know what you want to hear, but i hope you know i would never kiss a random person, even if they were the hottest."

✧ your heart melts as he speaks, his words really sinking into you. "awwhh welt~" next thing he knows you're absolutely hugging the shit out of him (and rubbing your face in his chest), not that he minds.

桑博 sampo

✧ "well would you kiss me for $10 or kiss the hottest person in the world for $1000?" sampo repeated your own question back in a somewhat sassy tone. you were a bit shocked to say the least, i mean, how dare he not answer your question but answer your question with the same exact question!! (same energy ykyk)

✧ but obviously, you're used to his antics as you roll your eyes playfully, closing your phone. "seriously, shampoo. answer the question." "woah woah—shampoo? i said to call me anything but that!" he whines as he uses his hands to talk (as usual), very much exaggerating everything.

✧ you shrug your shoulders with an unamused "hmph" and don't reply any futhur. sampo dramatically sighs in defeat. "but babes, if you really think about it $1000 is a lot of money.." you raise your brow at his answer. "you're only thinking about the money?"

✧ sampo shakes his head, he grabs a hold of your hands while looking at you so sincerely it kind of scared you as he was always so... non-serious. "no, of course not. but just think about all the things i can buy for you...and me...food, flowers, more food, clothes and so much more! wouldn't you want all of that?"

✧ you think about it for a second and replied, "well although those are nice, wouldn't you much rather kiss me instead for $10? we can.. still buy something with $10, plus my kiss is unlike any other!"

✧ "yeah, i know." sampo snickers, upon his reply you narrow your eyes at him, your unamused face screamed "what do you mean by that?" in a menacing type of way. sampo quickly clears his throat before you could get any ideas (you had already gotten a few).

✧ "what i'm tryna say is that yes, i would rather kiss you for $10 but.. i think—" you immediately cut him off with a solemn face. "sh. i don't want to hear anymore of you." sampo can see that you're visibly upset at his answer. shit. he didn't mean to say the wrong thing.

✧ his grip on your hand tightened as he moved in closer to you. "no, wait babe i didn't mean that. i was just playin' i promise i would rather kiss you, your kisses are a one in a billion and i really don't care about the money and—" once again, you cut him off, but for a good reason this time.

✧ you giggle softly and shush him up with your index finger pressed up against his soft lips. "i know what you mean sampo, don't go on a big rant now you aren't in trouble." a clear sigh could be heard from sampo. "thank the stars.."

✧ " but babe! you haven't even answered my question." you gawk at sampo. "... oh well..."

✧ and now it was your turn to tease him, be prepared for a pestering and probing sampo!

卢卡 luka

✧ luka is quite stunned at first because for one, the question was out of nowhere, and two, WHAT DID HE DO THAT MADE YOU QUESTION HIM (you have a habit of asking him random questions out of nowhere)

✧ "did i do something wrong?!" is the first thing he says, he says it like it's urgent it caught you off-guard. you shake your head no and chuckle. "no, why? it's just a question don't worry."

✧ as you both were beside each other, sitting down on your couch, luka leans in closer to you where his nose is just barely touching yours. "well.." he whispers before giving you a long and tender kiss on your lips, it was soft and delicate, it wasn't intense or hot—just simple.

✧ "you, obviously." he begins as he pulled away slowly, his deep, sparkling blue eyes staring down at yours so softly and genuinely. "plus in my eyes you're the most prettiest person in the entire world, actually—no, in the universe!" the way he beamed at you as he spoke his words made your heart flutter. he was so sweet.

✧ luka's sweetness and innocence of a child (not quite literally) never failed to make you tear up, his charisma and optimistic personality pulled you in. but back to the moment. "awww luka you're too sweet ☹️" your cute lil pout made luka's head jump out of his chest and right back in, you were all too adorable.

✧ "oh you know it's nothing.. just stating the facts!" he chuckles, wrapping an arm around your neck and pulling you closer to him where your hips touched each other.

✧ luka rested his head on top of yours, his chest heaving up and down calmly. "wait, so you would kiss me even if you only got $10 other than $1000?" you asked, not bothering to move your body to face him.

✧ "yup! i would still kiss you for free too, money or not. if you still don't believe me.." luka lifted his head off yours as he faced you, you mirrored his actions and turned to face him. "hm?"

✧ luka began to kiss your face, first your cheeks, then it was your nose, then your forehead and finally, you're lips. this time he pressed his lips onto yours for longer as he used his left hand to cup your cheek. everything about this moment was wonderful.

✧ when he finally lets go, you both are left breathless and yet still yearning for more. "do you believe me now?"

银枝 argenti

✧ argenti is quick with his response, catching you off-guard. he was just standing out in the public (well more like posing to you and other people as he always looks like he's a model posing for his pictures) when you came running to him with your phone in hand, looking quite excited. which got him excited as well.

✧ but despite the silliness of the question he quickly answers your question with no hesitation. "why, you of course. i would kiss you any day, anytime and anywhere." he spoke with such sincerity and calmness it instantly made you fold. his soft and luminous grey eyes boring into yours.

✧ argenti moves in closer to you where his chest is looming over you. but even if he was taller than you, you were quite used to him doing that so you weren't afraid at all. "why do you ask?" you shake your head and smile up at him, happy with his answer. "nothing special!!"

✧ argenti stays silent for a couple of seconds before cupping your cheeks with his hands, your hands reaching to hold his with yours, the cold, hard metallic texture. you stare up at him, confused, but don't speak. you wait for him to do whatever he needed to do.

✧ before you knew it he had leaned down, his lips barely touching yours, his hooded eyes staring down at your lips. a kiss. his lips were so warm and soft, they did not part whatsoever, it was just soft, slow, gentle and sensual kiss. his lips were softly pressed against yours for a good hot second when he gradually pulled away, the tingling and exciting sensation still lingered on your lips.

✧ when both of your lips parted, it seemed like you two had forgotten that you were out in public, unaware of the many stares that were coming your way (i mean can you blame them? they are witnessing a very gorgeous couple passionately kissing. but not in that way.)

✧ after argenti pulled away and observed your face for any signs of discomfort the corners of his lips began to pull up after seeing you smile shyly. you were so adorable. "and that would be $1010." he whispered, gently pinching your cheeks.

✧ a cheerful and tender grin grows on your face at his words. but before you could utter a word or sound your eyes land upon a rose being held right in front of you by argenti. his signature rose.

✧ "a freshly picked flower for you, my rose." he breathed, his other hand pressed against his chest as he slightly bows. what a gentlemen he is. you smile in embarrassment before gratefully take his flower and slightly bowing before thanking him and smelling the rose. "thank you so much! it's breathtaking...."

✧ "just like you."

真理医生 dr. ratio

✧ "be completely and utterly serious with me with me right now." you added, using big words to really make him think about it. not like he ever does (he's always thinking logically).

✧ ratio sighs, yes, he gave you that sigh. "what? don't give me that sigh. just tell me your answer and then go on with your life again!" you said, doing your sigh this time. ratio is clearly and visibly thinking about his answer.

✧ "wow. are you really thinking about your answer?" you spoke, raising your brow in complete confusion. ratio shoots you a stare and shakes his head. "yes, really, but the answer is simple, you." although his answer was what you wanted to hear you wanted to know why. i mean, he was your boyfriend after all but still.

✧ "i thought you said you would let me go on with my life after answering your non-sensical question." he replied bluntly, cocking his head to the side. you mumbler under your breath as he was right. "yes well just one more thing, please?" and of course, he could never say no to you.

✧ "simply because i love you. i don't need to kiss anybody, especially a random stranger that is quote-on-quote, extremely attractive, for $1000 or more. even if somebody offered me a million i wouldn't take it, simply because they are not you. your kisses are different and have a different feel compared to theirs. and i am 100% positive that their lips are probably not the best unlike yours. not only that but it would be completely unreal for me to meet someone extremely attractive in the world as nobody is. but to me, you are the most wonderful and amazing person i have ever met. and not only that but—"

✧ you roll your eyes playfully before shushing him up with a finger pressed up against his lips. "okay okay i get it smarty pants" you giggled, removing your finger from his lips. ratio only grinned upon your words.

✧ "hm, well that's a good response. you're the best!" you beamed before kissing his temple and pulling away, heat rushing to your cheeks.

✧ as you were about to walk away you stopped in your tracks, causing him to stop what he was doing and looking your way. you turned around, facing him. "did you mean everything you said?" you questioned softly. the corners of ratio's lips curled up. "of course, i promise."

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another note: second hsr post YAY I HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY THIS

[furiousgoldfish]

Which ones of these arbitrary trauma-induced rules do you follow?

No spending money, ever. what if you need it later and your life depends on it.

Assume that all strangers are 3 seconds close to becoming hostile. fawn to keep them friendly.

No delegating tasks. no telling other people to do things you could potentially do yourself. what if they mess up.

Assume that everyone will consider you a burden if you do 1 single mistake that inconveniences them. do all that is possible to not make that mistake.

Do not admit when things are going wrong. wait until theres no other option but to ask for help, and even then consider not doing that.

Always act like you're okay. not doing so might make you seem 'not normal' and 'accused of being crazy and unstable'.

Do anything for friends, even if it sounds weird, dodgy, illegal. you want to prove that you're fun and easy going and helpful and useful and extremely cool with anything.

Never let it show if you're suspicious of someone. never say out loud that you think their intentions are bad. that might set them off.

If hurt, hide and isolate. Do not let anyone see you hurt.

Do not ask help for problems you feel are your own responsibility to solve. Even if you don't see yourself solving them successfully. If you can't do it, assume nobody can help you.

Help others to try and build positive relationships. Don't accept help so you don't end up relying on them for anything.

Do not start things that involve help or participation from other people. People are not reliable.

Assume that institutions, government, police, social services, and any kind of groups of people are all considering you a nuisance, and would attack you on sight, in every single situation. Never rely on them or assume they would do anything else.

No arguing, confronting, or standing up for yourself unless the situation is absolutely unsurvivable otherwise. Lay low until doing otherwise is seriously damaging your mental health and ability to live.

Give up on hopeful social encounters before they disappoint you. If you have to interact with people, assume the worst is about to happen.

No allowing yourself to idealize, or dream of positive future with people. It's a trap and your expectations need to be either extremely realistic or low.

Assume that fancy and expensive things don't exist for you. Despise them and get away from them.

No comparing yourself and your life to how other people live. It causes depression and despair. Other people's lives and standards of living are none of your business.

Do not showcase any skill or brag about any achievement. Jealous people can destroy you for satisfaction.

Assume people think the worst of you and don't consider changing their mind. Just try to keep out of their way.

Do not display anger. You don't want to be called insane or get arrested. You don't know what people could potentially blame you for if you're openly angry. But other angry people are dangerous and you need to get away from them.

If you follow more than half of these, you have a trauma-induced problem. These are not normal or healthy. These are not developed in a healthy environment. These are extremely self-protective, isolating, ruled by terror of the world and the people living in it. If you follow these, something bad has been done to you.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 12: Fire In My Veins

Summary: Your heat begins. Luckily you have a good alpha to take care of you during your most vulnerable time. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, knotting, spanking (it’s like once), fluids so many fluids, heat cycles, mating cycles, lots of talk of breeding and mating, biting, brief mention of blood, this is gross y’all, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: It was quite the ordeal, this chapter, and it's come a long way from when I first wrote it between Sunday and Monday this week. It's pretty much just smut so enjoy!!

The smut starts after the first scene and goes to the end, so only read up to the first green line if you don’t want the smut. You’re not missing much, just Price biting the reader to claim her, but I’ll talk more about that in the next chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“You alright, love?” 

You look up from where you had been staring at the floor, suddenly pulled back into the real world by Gaz’s voice. He had been organizing the nutrient bars and electrolyte bottles in your room while you sat and dissociated to the sound of rustling paper bags. 

You stare at his furrowed brows and worried eyes for a moment before averting your gaze with a nod. “Yeah.” 

The carpet under your feet has never looked quite so interesting before.

Gaz moves to sit next to you on the bed, sinking down onto the mattress with a sigh. “Nervous?” 

You nod in response, clutching the strawberry pillow in your arms tighter against your chest. 

“You’ll be alright.” Gaz says, his hand warm as it presses against your back. “I’m gonna take good care of you, yeah? Both you and Price. I’ll be right outside that door, and I’ll be in and out too. Dr. Keller’s ready in case something happens, but I don’t think anything will.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close against him. “You’re in good hands.” 

“There’s no going back after this.” You say, leaning into his side. 

“No, I don’t think any of us would want to anyway.” He smiles down at your surprised face. “What? I thought that was obvious. We all want you as part of our pack. You are part of the pack already, at least in every way but officially. None of us would trade you for anything.”

Your eyes fill with tears at his words. You know it’s just the stress and the hormones and the impending heat that could start at any time, but his words reach some deep part of you that was worried that they were all faking, that they all actually hated you. His words calm you a bit, easing away that stress and fear that you’ve been carrying for the last almost six weeks. 

“Come now, none of that.” Gaz says, wiping the tear that trails down your cheek. “Can’t afford getting dehydrated now.” 

You can’t help but laugh, even though you know he’s right. You’ve had so much liquid over the last couple days you feel as though you might burst at any second. It was necessary, considering the amount of fluid you were about to lose. 

Gaz leans down, kissing all over your face. You giggle, falling back on your bed to try and escape, but he follows you, continuing to plant little kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Kyle!” You shriek, giggling as his kisses tickle your skin. 

He pauses, leaning up so you’re eye to eye, a grin on his face. “You called me Kyle.” 

“That is your name, isn’t it?” You say, blinking up at him. 

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “You can call me Kyle as much as you’d like, love.” He says as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in place as you kiss him back. His arm snakes beneath you, pressing you tightly against his chest. He groans quietly into your lips, body taught against yours. You can feel every part of him, the muscles under his shirt, the strength of his thighs. Your head is spinning, and you know it’s mostly due to your impending heat. 

You let out a quiet whine as his lips leave yours, trailing down your neck to your shoulder. He leaves a scalding kiss over your scent gland, nipping playfully at the sensitive skin. 

“Can’t wait to see the mark,” He murmurs against your skin, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as your body begins to warm a little. “When Price claims you, makes you his.” 

“Fuck.” You breathe, a shudder running through your whole body. 

Kyle chuckles, sucking a mark on your collarbone. “You won’t be just his, though, huh? Gonna be ours.” 

You let out a whine at his words, your fingers trailing up the back of his neck. He lets out a quiet groan, his body shuddering as you tease the sensitive skin. You feel lightheaded and dizzy from the rapidly shifting hormones of your pre-heat. You’re very close to the start. Any day now you could wake in a sweat with an insatiable ache between your thighs. You're like a ticking time bomb, but neither of the demolition experts you now live with can disarm you. 

If only it could be so easy. 

Kyle presses one last kiss to your lips before he pulls back, smiling down at you. “You’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it.” 

You can’t help but believe him, especially with those big brown eyes staring down at you. 

It’s sweltering. A fire has started beneath your skin, flames licking your veins, your very cells scorching in the fiery inferno that has overtaken you. An arid desert has bloomed in your mouth, your tongue heavy and sticky. Sweat has slicked your skin, consciousness only bringing awareness to the dampness of your sheets and pajamas. 

It also brings awareness to the pain. 

There’s an intense ache between your legs, your pelvis cramping. Slick has coated your thighs, soaking through your pajama pants, the fabric clinging to your skin. It’s too much, the sensations of your pajamas and the weight of the blankets nearly driving you to insanity. You need to be bare. It’s too hot and the drag of the fabric across your skin makes you want to cry. 

Not to mention the intense need burning through you. 

The mattress protector crinkles as you shift on the bed, every movement taking an excess amount of energy as you attempt to tug your shirt off with fumbling fingers. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, your arms heavy and sluggish as you peel the fabric from your sticky skin, letting it fall to the floor. You lay there exhausted, body twitching as your temperature begins to spike. You blindly reach out, fingers trembling as they grasp at your phone. Your eyes are bleary as you blink rapidly at the too bright screen. You fumble with clumsy fingers on the screen, dialing the first number you see, not caring who it is.

“Hello?” 

You let out a quiet whine at the rough voice, thick with sleep. You can’t get your mouth to move, to form any words as you lay there pathetically, half undressed and soaked in sweat and slick. There’s an ache between your thighs, pulsing in time with your heart. Your free hand fumbles with your waistband, desperate to try and get your pants down, to remove the feeling of your underwear sticking to your slick folds. 

“Help.” You manage a single word, not even sure it was intelligible. You let out a frustrated whimper, your body not cooperating to lift your hips so you can pull down your pants. 

A moment of silence passes before you get a response. “Fuck, be right there, love.” 

The line clicks, and a moment later a door is opening down the hall. You’re silently grateful you hadn’t locked your door last night, as there was no way you would be able to get out of bed and make it across the floor. It opens just enough for the figure to slip in before he closes it, not wanting to let your scent freely flow down the hallway. 

The light of the lamp on your nightstand accosts your eyes as it’s turned on, making you squint. You don’t miss the way Kyle’s nose crinkles for a moment as he catches the sickly sweet, overwhelming aroma of your scent as it pours from your body. His hand is cool against your forehead as he brushes the stray strands of hair sticking to your skin back. Johnny had braided it last night at least to try and keep it out of the way. 

“Easy.” He says quietly, shushing you as you whimper in need. 

You let out a whine as Kyle pushes the blankets out of the way. You’re incapable of caring that you’re half naked in front of him for the first time, and he pays it no mind. You tug uselessly at your pajama pants again, letting out a frustrated whine as you fail to shimmy them down your legs again. Kyle bats your hands away, slipping his fingers under the waistband and tugging the pants down your legs. You sigh in relief as the fabric is pulled away from your skin, a shiver running through you as the cool air hits your slicked folds. 

Kyle gathers your clothes, adding them into the bag of things that would need to be washed as soon as your heat is over before he returns to your side. 

“I need you to drink something for me, then I’ll go get Price, alright?” He says, kneeling down next to the bed as he grabs the electrolyte drink from your nightstand. 

You flop against his chest as he slips an arm around you, helping prop you up. Your face presses into his neck, inhaling deeply. A whine of disappointment leaves your lips as you realize he’s not what you need, your omega dissatisfied with the scent of beta emanating from him. 

“I know.” He says, easing you away from his neck. “Just drink this first and then you can have your alpha.” 

“Alpha.” You whimper, leaning against Kyle’s chest. 

He helps you drink some of the sweet liquid, and you gulp it down, relieved as it eases some of the dryness in your mouth. He lets you drink half of the bottle before he pulls it away, setting it on the nightstand. 

“Good girl.” He praises you, helping you lay back down against your pillow. “I’ll go get Price. I’ll get your alpha.” 

You hum contently at the promise of what’s coming, your omega practically screaming for her alpha, for some relief. 

Kyle slips back out the door, your head buzzing as the intense arousal and need burning within you gets stronger. Your pussy is pulsing, slick dribbling out of you as the need to mate takes over. The primordial instinct to reproduce is strong, your omega clawing at your mind, screaming to be bred, screaming to be bred, to carry pups. You need your alpha. You need his knot. 

You roll onto your stomach, pressing your hips into the mattress. You need something, anything to ease the aching pulse in your body. You begin to rut against the sheets, dragging your clit against the rough fabric. You let out a quiet whine as the friction sends pleasure shooting through you, a slight relief from the pain of your intense arousal. 

The door opens, your head shooting up as the heavy scent of alpha washes over you. Your eyes dilate, a shudder traveling from your head to your toes as the familiar scent of damp earth laced with the musk of arousal invades your senses. You let out another whine as John approaches the bed, your hips still rutting desperately against the sheets. You look utterly ruined, wide eyed and sweat-slicked, panting like an animal in heat. 

You are an animal in heat. 

“Look at you.” John mumbles, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. He stands over you, watching the desperate movements of your hips for a moment. “Needy little thing.” He teases, setting his phone on your nightstand before tugging his shirt over his head. 

You watch as every inch of skin is revealed to you, lips parting as you take him in. The strength of his muscles, the softness of his stomach. You want to lick every inch of him. You want to roll around in his scent, cover yourself in his essence, mark every part of your body with him. 

You arch into his touch as he drags a hand down your back, rough fingers following the line of your spine. You press your ass into his hand as he passes over it, fingers tugging your thighs apart. He groans again as a wave of your thick, sweet scent washes over him. 

“Let me see you.” He growls, sweatpants hitting the floor. 

You hear him, but you’re too busy staring at him in awe. More slick slips out of you at the sight of his cock, red and angry and painfully hard already. You can almost swear it’s pulsing in time with your pussy. A harsh gasp is pulled from your throat as he brings his hand down across your ass, the sound of skin striking skin loud enough to pull you back to reality. 

“I said, present for your alpha.” He says, the rough rumble of his inner alpha coating the edges of his voice. 

You whimper in response, scrambling up onto your hands and knees like a good omega for him as he kneels on the bed behind you.  

“Good girl.” He rumbles, a pleased whine leaving your lips at his praise. 

You push back into his hands as he cups your ass, his hand smoothing over the burning spot on the cheek he’d slapped. You can’t feel the pain from it, far too lost in your heat-riddled brain to register anything but the need pulsing between your thighs and the alpha staring at your soaked pussy. Thumbs part your folds, slick dribbling onto the sheets as he stares at your pussy. 

“So fucking slick for me.” He groans, dragging a thumb along your slit. 

“For you alpha!” You gasp, pressing back harder against his hands. 

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he drags his thumb through your folds again, pressing the digit against your clit. Your gasp is broken by a whimper, your clit already sensitive from you humping against your bed like a needy pup. You bend your top half down, relaxing against the mattress as you grind back against his hand. He lets you, keeping his hand still as he lets you work yourself to pleasure on your own. 

“Please! Please!” You beg, mind going numb with pleasure as his thumb brushes your clit with every rock of your hips. Your legs are already shaking, body trembling as the pleasure starts to build and build, the promise of relief coming at the hands of your alpha. 

“Eager little thing,” He rumbles, his breath fanning across your folds. 

You moan as his tongue drags along your slit, tasting your slick. Your fingers sink into the sheets, holding on as his tongue prods your entrance, his mouth slurping at the slick dripping from you. It’s obscene, but either of you care, both of you too lost in your need. 

Your knees nearly give out, your pussy clenching around his tongue as he applies more pressure against your clit, drawing slow circles with his thumb. He’s groaning against you, the quiet sound rumbling deep in his chest. He’s losing his own sanity, his alpha taking over as your heat triggers his rut instincts. His alpha has to be screaming as much as your omega is to mate. 

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, washing over you with a power that almost makes you black out. Slick spills out of you as your pussy flutters, soaking John’s face and beard in your juices. He’s relentless, not giving you even a second as he continues to fuck you with his tongue as his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit. Your legs are shaking, eyes rolling as the pleasure continues to build. Despite your orgasm, it’s not enough. Your brain knows it and your body knows it. You need a knot before you’ll be able to relax, before the pain and the need fades enough for your brain to relax. 

Even then, it will only be for a moment. 

“Alpha!” You whine, pushing back against his face, seeking out more. 

John growls against your pussy, the sound vibrating into your very soul. You let out a whimper in response, clutching at the sheets desperately. He pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips. You wish you could see him, the way his face shines with your slick, his beard soaked with your release. He licks his lips, savoring every last taste of you he can get as he sinks his fingers into you. 

You clamp down around the thick digits, a groan leaving his lips as you squeeze around him. You’re desperate for another orgasm, another chance at relief from the blazing inferno under your skin, the painful need still pulsing in your pelvis. 

“Please, alpha!” You whine, bucking back against his hand. “Hurts.”

He shushes you, continuing to fuck you with his fingers. The wet squelch of your pussy is loud in the small room, obscene and depraved, but you cannot bring yourself to care who might be able to hear as another orgasm rushes through your body. You whine in pleasure as slick dribbles out around his fingers, forced out by the fluttering of your walls. You can’t stop, don’t stop, as you continue to rock back against him. He watches you, holding his hand still as you fuck yourself on his fingers. You’re still desperate for more, still needing the one thing he won’t give you yet. 

He pulls his fingers from you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Your pussy is still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, still trying to clench around nothing. John curses as he drags his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick and your release across the sensitive skin. 

“Tell me what you need.” He rasps, the edges of his voice harsh as his alpha begins to take over.

“Need your knot, alpha.” You whine, pushing your hips back, searching for anything that might offer some more relief. “Please.”

He lets out a pleased rumble, shifting behind you. You bite your lip in anticipation and excitement, your body twitching as his rough hands smooth over the skin of your hips. His touch is electric, amplified by the sensitivity brought on by your heat. You want to feel him against you, you want to feel him inside of you. You need him, every fiber of your being, every cell in your body reaching out to him, inviting him in. 

A quiet mewl escapes you as he drags the head of his cock through your folds, gathering your slick on his hard length. Your entire body flutters in anticipation as he pushes against your entrance, meeting no resistance as he presses into you. Your body aids him, relaxing around him as it welcomes the intrusion. There’s no pain, no discomfort as he stretches you open, aided by the copious slick that still seeps out around his cock. You practically shudder in relief as you finally get what you want, what you need. 

Your alpha’s cock inside you. 

His grip is tight on your hips as he begins to move, rocking his own hips as he presses deeper into you. He shifts his legs around yours, pressing himself closer until he’s flush against your ass. You can feel him deep inside you, and you’re almost certain you could see it if you looked. You brace yourself against the bed, instinct taking over as you begin to move with him, rocking back to meet his thrusts. It’s lewd, the sound of skin slapping skin as he sets an almost frantic pace, sharp thrusts accentuating the wet squelch of your pussy around him, and the sound of his hips meeting your ass. 

His fingers dig into your hips almost to the point of pain, but you don’t care. You’re far too lost in your instincts, and the pleasure, to care much about anything. The hormones and endorphins block it out, only one thought on your mind, playing on repeat. 

Knot knot knot knot.

You moan loudly as Price ruts into you, not caring who might hear, or who can hear. Price moans and growls, the sweetness of your scent blocking out all thoughts except how much he needs to breed you, how much he needs to be a good alpha and take care of his omega. 

You just want to be a good omega for your alpha. 

You cum again with a cry, pussy fluttering around his cock as more slick dribbles out of you, soaking the sheets below you. John doesn’t stop, save for a slight falter of his thrusts as you squeeze around him tightly, your pussy trying to milk his own orgasm from him. Your body is shaking, his hands the only thing keeping your hips upright as more and more pleasure continues to build despite now three orgasms that have rocked through you. 

You need him to cum, you need him to fill you up with his knot. You need to feel the warmth of his seed inside you, the heaviness of it as it fills you. Drool begins to pool on the sheets below your face, adding to the mix of fluids soaked into your already damp sheets. John’s pace never falters, even as sweat begins to build on his brow, sliding down the sides of his face. You want to lick it, follow the trail of salty liquid as it falls down his neck and onto his chest. 

Sweat drips from your own skin as another orgasm begins to build. You can tell John is close too as his grip tightens on your hips, the pain registering just for a moment at the back of your mind. You’ll forget it by the time your heat ends, the momentary pull to awareness lost in the haze of mindless pleasure and a need to mate. 

“C’mon.” John growls, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck. “Give it to me.” 

You let out a whine, knowing what it is he wants, what it is you need as you push yourself back up onto shaking arms, the adrenaline the only thing giving you the strength to move. John moves your braids to the other side of your neck, his chest pressing against your back. It changes the angle of his thrusts as he grinds against you, the swelling at the base of his cock catching on your walls as he continues to thrust deeply into you. 

“Please,” You whimper, bearing your neck to him as he kisses along the line of your shoulder. “Please alpha. Wanna be yours.” You whimper, arching into him in an attempt to get closer as his teeth drag across your skin. 

“My good omega.” He growls, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin right next to your scent gland at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “My good girl. Gonna take my knot like a good omega? Let me fill you up with pups as I make you mine?” 

You let out a high pitched whine at his words, trying to press your neck closer to his mouth. “Please, alpha! Please! Wanna be a good omega!” 

He curses under his breath, his arm wrapping around your body to hold you up. His knot presses into you, stretching you open as it continues to swell until he’s locked inside you. You cum around his knot at the sensation of being filled so completely, his hips continuing to grind against you as he chases his own orgasm. 

You nearly black out as his teeth sink into your skin, the pinch lasting only for a second before pleasure rushes through you. You let out a loud, high-pitched sound as he claims you, marking you as his forever. Another, sudden orgasm slams into you, his arm holding you still as you try to writhe on his knot. He growls into your skin as he stills, hips jerking against your ass as he cums inside you. 

Your arms give out as he releases your shoulder, blood dripping onto the sheets below you. Your head is spinning as he drags his tongue across the raised skin, cleaning the mark he’s left on you. 

He shushes you as you let out little whimpers and whines, gently easing your body so you’re laying flat against the bed. “Easy, that’s my good girl.” He praises you, pressing gentle kisses against your neck. “My good omega. Take my knot so well.” 

Your vision slowly fades to darkness as exhaustion takes over, a small smile tugging at your lips from his praise. 

His eyes are dark and glazed as he stares up at you, mouth parted as he breathes heavily. Your head is thrown back, the sweetest little moans and whimpers leaving your lips as you bounce on his cock. His hands hold your hips, far too tight to be comfortable against your sweat-soaked skin as he guides your movements, but you offer no complaint. His thighs are soaked with your slick and a mix of fluids that seems to endlessly drip from you. Your own thighs are shaking around him, exhaustion prevalent in your sloppy movements. You’re close, eyes fluttering as your grip tightens on his shoulders. Your nails bite into his skin but he doesn’t care. He can’t feel much of anything but pleasure at the moment. 

He guides you through your orgasm as it rocks through you, your body shuddering around him. His hips press up against yours as he reaches his own end, spilling into you as his knot locks into place, connecting you two once again. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, nor does he care. All he wants is to be inside you, fucking his seed into you until you’re swollen with it. He stares down at where you’re connected for a moment, your pussy spread open around his knot.

He guides you against his chest as your body gives out, the haze of his instincts lifting just momentarily. His body aches, soreness settling in as his mind clears. You lick at his throat, tasting his sweat-slicked skin. Sweet little whimpers and whines leave your lips as you rest against him, completely boneless and at his mercy.

He reaches over to the nightstand, wrapping an arm around you to hold you still so he doesn’t tug on the knot as he grabs the bottle of electrolytes. He unscrews the cap, gently easing you back. You’re both still breathing heavily as he cradles the back of your head with one hand, helping you drink the electrolytes. You gulp it down even in your exhausted state, your body recognizing its need for sustenance. 

He drinks the rest after you finish, tossing the bottle onto the floor with the others. He picks up one of the nutrient bars, peeling the wrapper off before he begins to eat, feeding you bites of it as he does. You’re half asleep, chewing slowly as you rest against his chest, body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of another of what’s now a countless number of orgasms. 

He gives you the last little bit of the bar before he relaxes back against the headboard, keeping his arms wrapped tight around you. The skin on your shoulder is still angry and slightly swollen from his claiming bite. It doesn’t help that he’s sunk his teeth into that spot twice now since he first claimed you. 

He swells with pride upon seeing it, the proof that you’re now his, a warning to others not to mess with you. It’s a slight weight off his shoulders. He has to worry less about someone trying something. Some haughty, cocksure alpha getting it through his head that he wants what he can’t have, that he can just take what’s not his. A low growl rumbles through his chest at the thought. 

He shushes you as you stir in response to the warning growl, a purr rumbling through his chest as he eases you back into a relaxed state. His good little omega, his sweet little omega, taking his knot so well. 

You make a quiet noise as he twitches inside you, the feeling of being enveloped in your tight heat almost like heaven. He closes his eyes, calming his inner alpha. He knows you need to rest. You need a little break before you start up again, before your heat continues to ravage you. 

Before he continues to ravage you. 

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