#upcoming SHOP skin unfortunately

[odessastone]

oh my god. oh my god 00s Hot Topic emo Illari. oh my god

[melonpiemelon]

STARB⟡Y

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

summary: After a sweet little coffee date, Miguel takes reader back to their place to bang it out

warnings: 18+, smut, afab reader, no use of y/n, p in v, breeding kink, biting, kinda rough sex, horny Miguel

Pls correct me if the Spanish is dumb

Read on ao3

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A slow wave of cool air breezes through the city, pushing past the crowds of people and strangers lingering on the sidewalk. You feel a chill run through your neck as the wind brushes your shoulders and seeps into your skin. The shadow underneath your feet fades away and blends into the steps outside the courthouse that you were standing on.

Your neck bends as you roll your shoulders back, looking up at the sky to notice gray clouds gathering together in the sky when you stretch out your back.

For the last three hours you’ve been sitting on a stale plastic chair listening but not really listening in on the mock trial you were asked to oversee when the representative defense attorney couldn’t show up.

It was a really simple ass case but you’ll never get those three hours of your life back. It started out as a quick trip to the office to send in the terms and conditions or whatever the fuck they’re called that lays out the details and consent forms of the next deal you’ll be doing with your client, to a mind numbingly long sit through of a liability case due to another fucking avenger absolutely demolishing some property. Fuck doing favors and fuck the avengers.

Maybe you should’ve taken Miguel up on his proposal of just dropping that shit off in the mail and skipping that meeting with your superior. Now you were drained of energy for the rest of the day and had the worst case of the munchies. Pregnancy wrecked your palate but at least you don’t crave weird shit like peanut butter on cucumbers.

You moaned to yourself after coming to terms with the fact you’ll have to drive again. Driving also took energy. That you don’t have. If you didn’t have to at least try looking like a normal human you would use your webs to swing through these streets and plop your ass down on someone’s comfy rooftop couch, but unfortunately for you, there was still the issue of keeping up public appearances.

Pretty ironic how you were a lawyer who broke the law everyday because of your work as a vigilante but honestly you weren’t one to care about the law unless it was able to be used to protect other people.

Walking out into the streets was always nerve wracking. You clutched the leather satchel at your side and put on your best “don’t fuck with me” face that always made strangers stay in their lane. It’s not that you were worried about someone mugging you or something (you could easily handle it), you just didn’t want to waste any more time. And New York often seemed to have at least one of those mother fuckers throughout the day that tried some bullshit.

Luckily for you, when you reached your car nothing was amiss and no one almost got robbed. It’s like the universe was rewarding you for the hard work it just put you through.

You opened the door to your green Mercedes Benz and sat down with a little shake. You felt like you could finally breathe for a second. All your work was done and after today you had two more free days to yourself. It was amazing. The thought of your upcoming date with Miguel sent butterflies to your stomach and you had to physically restrain yourself from squealing.

You checked the watch on your wrist that every person from the spider society also has, and went to see if you had any messages from your lover.

From: Miguel

Meet you at the coffee shop you like?

Whenever you’re done of course.

Your cheeks burned from the stretch of how hard you were smiling. He could read you like a book, and that coffee shop, your favorite coffee shop, had exactly the things you were craving and you jumped at the chance to eat there every time.

From: You

Yeah just got done!

See you there in 20? :))

From: Miguel

On My Way!

From: You

;D

Miguel’s autocorrect made you chuckle a little after he sent his text. You checked your mirror and blind spots to make sure there wasn’t anyone around before you backed out of the parking spot.

It was a nice drive to the coffee shop that was located not too far away from your home. Definitely not walking distance but spiderwoman doesn’t need to walk anyways. It was perfect. It was vegan friendly, lgbtq owned, and poc owned. Pretty much couldn’t ask for more.

Oh wait you can.

This quaint shop also had cats. Fucking cats. It was a goddamn cat cafe. Customers were allowed to pet the lil kitties when they came to them and sometimes able to feed them. Yeah they were a bit fat but these cats were adorable as all hell. And Miguel loves cats. Whether he’ll admit it or not. They are similar in some ways.

At home it’s always funny to see him interacting with your black sphinx cause they have a love-hate relationship with one another. Sometimes they’ll cuddle but then Vader will give Miguel the hardest death glare when he steals all the attention from you. Miguel is no different though. He pouts when you ignore him to love up on your cat.

The cafe is also a fond reminder of the bond you two share as well. The first time an anomaly entered your world it made a mess of the block and the cafe got turned upside down due to the glitches. But the overwhelming amount of pressure that was on your shoulders got lifted by his appearance. He came barreling through his unknown portal and instantly got to work repressing the threat and fixing the timeline of what you soon would come to learn as “canon”. Upon seeing another person just like you, the connection was immediate. He looked at you through his dark blue and red mask and didn’t even have to ask the question. You were going with him, high on your admiration and enthusiasm for a new adventure. The two of you stood in front of the cafe and didn’t look back.

When you walked in you were greeted by a familiar face. You were a regular so the person at the register was elated to see you and welcomed you back with a smile then winked and pointed in the direction of the nearest window seat. There you saw Miguel, lost in thought while peering into the outside, looking magnificent as fuck in the style of your world. He had on a loose black button down with sleeves coming to his elbows and a collar that hung low and exposed the fine expanse of his chest. His pants were some pale blue denim jeans with a black belt that fit snug but wrapped around his waist perfectly and made you drool dreaming about what his ass looked like from behind. Fuck you’d have to praise Lyla later for equipping him in this slutty ass outfit.

Someone behind you coughed accusingly and you got pulled out of the mythical sight of your lover and went back to ordering a quick raspberry ice tea. Honestly you weren’t phased from being called out for your gawking, it just pissed you off that no one else seemed to care about his absolute beauty. Like, if you weren’t already dating him you are certain that you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes off him. But it’s not surprising that no one else seemed to care, considering the people who frequent this shop, and not gonna lie, the only ones who can afford it, are stuck up arrogant motherfuckers who probably visit their plastic surgeons more often than their mothers.

After you got your large drink you beelined to where he was sitting, thank god he chose a booth, and slid right up beside him, basically leaving no space between you two. It was weird how he didn’t notice you yet and the look of surprise on his face when you wrapped your arm around his and leaned on him, had you giggling.

“Hola, no te vi entrar. When did you get here?” He takes his arms from your hold and places it on your waist, pulling you in closer so he can kiss your forehead.

“Not too long ago.” You lay your weight on his chest, molding softly against his hard body. “How long were you waiting for me?” His fingers fidget with the belt loops around your waist, abstimindely keeping you within his touch. His other hand sat atop the table, holding a warm coffee cup.

“Only for a couple of minutes.”

“You seemed like you were in your own world when I walked in. What were you thinking about?” Your eyes meet his brown ones, the same eyes that looked at you with so much love last night, right now are shining with an even stronger passion.

“Us.”

“Oh yeah? Was Lyla too much for you today? Aww did you miss me?”

“No eres mejor que ella, pero…sí. I did miss you.” He turns and looks away to hide the faint blush that was growing on his face. You laugh and put your hands on his cheek, moving him back so you can make eye contact with him.

“Hey it’s alright, between the two of us, I think we both had a pretty exhausting day.” You softly pressed your lips to the side of his mouth and the faint scent of coffee made its way into your nostrils. He grabs a hold on one of your hands and squeezes it. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He takes a shortened breath in when you kiss him and before you could break the moment, he’s using his large hand to hold your neck and tilt your chin up to fully embrace his mouth over yours. You easily melt against him and he further entices you to keep moving against him, his lips pushing all the way against yours and his tongue prodding gently at the entrance into your mouth. You accept him instantly and the taste of the sweetener he used in his coffee dances on your taste buds when your tongues meet and tangle with each other. He was consuming you with his fervor and you disregarded the fact you couldn’t breathe. The feeling of affection that coursed through your veins heightened when he pulled away and traced your swollen and plump lips with his thumb. He looked down at you with hooded eyes and ran his tongue over his fangs that were retracted. You felt a rush of excitement at the sight and pulled him in for another kiss to drown in. He didn’t hesitate to engulf you once again but you noticed he was holding himself back to not knick you with the sharpness of his fangs. This made you smirk into the kiss and gently take his bottom lip with your teeth and wrap your hands around his neck and trail your fingers at the base of his hairline. He groaned into your mouth and pulled back to let you get some air.

“Mierda, you make me lose control so easily.” He whispered into your mouth and gave you another kiss on your lips. Finalizing the moment when he pulled away and ran his finger down the side of your face and he pressed his forehead against yours. His shoulders raised as he inhaled your scent, grounding himself in the present moment. His eyes closed, trying to take in all that he could sense, especially the part of your signature that had the same flowery essence of your guys daughter.

“Did you eat anything yet?” You ask him when his eyes open back up to regard you with adoration.

He shakes his head. And you smile and take out your wallet.

“Imma go get a sandwich or something. Want anything?”

He glances over to the menu for a moment, then returns to you with a nod. “Mm I’ll try the chickpea Buddha bowl.”

“Kay, I’ll be back in a bit. Te amo!” You give his thigh a squeeze and slip out the booth with a warm smile to get back in line.

He watches intensely at you from behind while you walk away, looking at your full hips and legs as they move gracefully from one place to the next. Testing himself to see how long he can stare at your ass before getting called a creep. It all makes his hands clench into fists. The flavor of your tea still sat in his mouth after your kisses, and he shamefully thought of something else that would taste sweet on his tongue right now.

He needed you so bad and it was taking all of his willpower to hold back from popping a semi. He was so focused in the process of directing his blood anywhere else that he forgot about how that would look to others. So when you returned with the food and an eyebrow raised he was speechless.

“The fuck you looking like that for?” You laugh and sit right next to him again. On the tray you had a blt avocado melt with some chips, and the bowl right next to it. You handed his food over with the silverware and he shoved a bite into his mouth pretty quickly to avoid saying anything. “Lookin like you're about to shit yourself.”

He narrows his eyes at you and takes another bite. You just smirk and hit your elbow with his and dig in to your own meal. “Mmm fuck” you say inbetween bites. Moaning at the deliciousness of the food. Lost in your own world of sensation.

He stares at you agape, not believing the sounds he’s hearing coming from your mouth over food. He feels his dick twitch in his pants but ignores it to put all his attention on his own food, drowning out your noises and focusing solely on the motions of eating. He was robotic at this point. Nodding his head and saying a few “mhms” whenever you would give a quip about something.

“Miguel, did you even hear me?” You’ve stopped eating and are starting right at him. Face serious and waiting for his reply.

He can’t make eye contact with you and goes to take a drink of his coffee but his escape was stopped by the emptiness of the cup and the bowl.

He turns his head slowly and meets your eyes, praying he doesn’t look too guilty.

Wrong.

You roll your eyes and sigh heavily. Eyes piercing into his. “As I was saying, I think you should add this shops macaroons to the spider society cause they’re fucking delicious. Honestly it would be super cute or whatever, like think about it. Spiderman flavored macaroons!” You beam at him and he sits there confused on how your mood changed so quickly. He thought he was a dead man earlier for sure. But when he realizes what you were talking about he laughs out loud.

“Spiderman flavored macaroons?” He looks at you with disbelief.

“Yeah! I mean it’s not unreasonable considering we have Miguel burgers already.” You shrug.

“Hold on, what?” He stops in his tracks.

“Oh shit you didn’t know?” You place a hand on your mouth and chuckle into it. He looks at you beyond confused and tries to make sense of what you just said.

“Sooo there’s these burgers in the cafeteria. Annnd they have your design on them. Not my idea by the way. But they’re actually really good.” You explain.

“I can’t believe no one ever informed me about this.” He shakes his head.

“Well you do sit alone in that lab religiously.”

“Okay but how do you expect them to make spiderman flavored macaroons? It sounds so ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, have them be strawberry flavored or something. And red?”

“You’re insane.”

“You love me.”

He sighs and kisses your hand. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good because I might have already started a petition and got the chefs in on it.”

He looks at you in awe and laughs to himself. “Should’ve expected that from the start.”

He brings you closer to his side again and watches as you finish your food. The sun was starting to set over the city and the sky crowned a beautiful red dome over them. The neon signs from the surrounding buildings were beginning to glow and the low jazz music of the cafe played smoothly throughout the shop.

“Gods I’m full.” You lean your head back and pat your stomach. “You get enough to eat?” You ask him. He was built like a fridge so you thought a simple bowl probably wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

“Mhm. Vegan bowls provide a lot of healthy protein.”

“Ah I see. Well good. Cause you’ll need your stamina for later. Let’s go.” You give him a wink and stand up, your keys jingling and begin to walk out to the car. His eyes go wide and his legs scramble up to follow you.

His body hums in anticipation, knowing exactly what you meant. And he wishes his pants weren’t so god damn tight because sooner than later he will be uncomfortably straining against them.

“Gracias.” He says when you hold the door for him. Intentionality staying back a few paces to stare at his phat ass.

“Where are you parked?” He looks over his shoulder to you, placing a hand on his small waist. You bite your lip and look up at him, delighting in the way his adams apple bob.

“Around the corner. Here, you drive.” Tossing him the keys, they fly in the air for a couple seconds and easily fall into the palm of his hand. You catch up to him and walk in place at his side, interlocking your fingers and leaning on the large muscles of his arms.

“Right here.” You point at the area you parked in and take off to get into the passenger's seat and plug in your aux. You started playing “moments in love” when Miguel entered and adjusted the seat and mirror.

When you guys got onto the street he was focused on driving and the sight of his profile glowing from the sun illuminated him and you were so enraptured by his beauty that you missed the moment when he moved his arm from the shift, to your thigh.

You looked down at the hand that had sneakily found its way onto you and started gently rubbing your muscles through your pants. Your face got hot and a chill shot down your spine. You resisted looking at his smug face to not feed his ego as he teased you.

The people lingering on the streets outside started becoming very interesting to you, when a bump in the road caused his hand to ride up higher on your thigh, explicitly close to your clothed heat. And he showed no signs of moving it back.

“Seven more minutes.” He said plainly and tapped the steering wheel. Your thighs clenched together unintentionally and it made your breath hitch. You two would be home soon. But his teasing made it feel like those seven minutes would be an eternity.

You tried sitting patiently but he kept squeezing your thigh, even through your efforts of keeping his hand still. Your breathing was becoming ragged and music in the background pounded in your ears and the bass thrummed in your chest as it got louder.

The car pulled into the complex’s parking garage and when Miguel shut the engine down, you got out as quickly as possible, loudly shutting the door behind you, but he was quicker. Already on your side and slamming you into the side of the car, it shook with the impact of your bodies and you moaned loudly when he pressed himself into your ass and grabbed your hips, clawing at their sides to untuck your shirt and feel the soft mound of your plush stomach.

“Fuck-” You exhaled and felt his hot tongue against the side of your neck. Sucking harshly on the skin.

He pulled down at the collar of your shirt, exposing your shoulder to the cool air and biting down, breaking the skin in the process. He let out a throaty groan and you could feel him straining against his jeans behind you. His fangs dripped with their venom but you could care less because his bite was harmless to you and only further served as a building factor of your lust.

“Mig-Miguel, inside.” You said through gasps. As needy as you are right now, you don’t want to traumatize your neighbors or random pedestrians.

He licked your shoulder where he bit and lapped up the small amount of blood that leaked out. He then used his force to turn you around and kiss you ravishingly.

He sucked your face like candy and it left you panting. Desperate for more of his touch as you stood in place and saw the bloodshot color of his eyes.

“Come on.” He takes you by the wrist and drags you to your door, pinning you again at the door, mouth on you once more and hands full of your ass. You in return had a fist full of his hair and dug your nails into his back.

He almost broke the door while unlocking it and turned to close it, not wasting any time to get back to you. In his rush he picked you up and set you on the counter.

“You are so gorgeous today my love.” Miguel said and tossed the keys and threw the blazer off your shoulders, immediately pressing his face into your chest and kissing down your stomach.

“Me? Fuck, do you even realize how insanely hot you look in those clothes.” You breathed hard as he undid the buttons to your shirt and moved his hand underneath the clothing, cupping your breast and kissing your neck, marking more hickies to bloom and admire later.

You moaned when he licked at a particular sensitive spot and released your boobs from their constraints. Your nipples pebbled hard at the exposure to the air and Miguel dived back down into your chest to take one into his mouth. A wave of pleasure shot straight to your core as he alternated between both nipples, sucking hard and biting gently, making sure he didn’t puncture your breasts with his fangs.

You squeezed his waist that was slotted in between your legs to signal that you wanted more. Needed more. He wasn’t going fast enough for you after you spent all day waiting in anticipation for this.

“Hurry the fuck up.” You whined and slid your hand down his chest to his waist. Pulling him up to kiss you.

“Patience mi amor.” He entered your mouth hastily and pushed against your tongue but before you could make it deeper he left you with a trail of spit and pushed you farther back onto the counter.

He grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled hard. The black pants you were wearing slid right down off your ankles easily and he hurriedly placed himself back in between your thighs and kissed the sensitive area within your thighs that made you shake, but he gripped you tightly, claws retracted and poking at your smooth skin to make sure you don’t move.

“Oh shit.” You breathe out when you feel him getting closer to your core. He throbs in his pants when he notices the dark spot on your panties, showing how wet you are for him already. He breathes hotly over your cunt and before you can predict it, he puts his mouth over you, licking into the lace and salivating over the slight taste of you he can get from that.

He pushes them to the side and licks expectantly up your pussy, swallowing the juices and moaning at the flavor. He makes sure to avoid your clit for now and uses his tongue to enter you. The foreign prod of his appendage makes you jolt and whimper loudly. He looks up to see you watching with lust as he eats you out. His mouth glistened with your essence and he looked like a man dying of thirst as he drank from your pussy. Moving his tongue back and forth against your tight walls and adding a thick finger into the mix. He had to use his other hand to push down on your stomach to keep your hips from bucking up into him and the more you moaned and cried, the further it stirred him on. He lifts his head for a second, tongue darting against his lips, chin wet with your slick, and smiles to himself when he rips your panties apart. Eager to see your lower half in its entirety. You were too blown out with pleasure to care, and when he finally put his tongue on your sensitive bud, you screamed, calling out his name and pulling on his hair roughly.

He groaned at the feel of your nails digging into his scalp, urging him to swallow you harder. The sweet sounds of ecstasy coming from you rang in his ears like his favorite song. He kept flicking his tongue against your clit and shoved two fingers inside, fucking you with his hand at a pace that made you see stars. Your walls stretched at the intrusion of his large fingers and fluttered against him. He was breaking you at the seams and your voice raised an octave at the incoming threat of your climax.

You tried to say something but could only squeeze his head with your thighs and stutter “I-I-I…” before crashing into oblivion and shaking intensely with the strong wave of pleasure.

“That’s it, good.” He praises and removes his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and licking the juices clean. You breathe hard and watch as he makes eye contact with you while tasting your come off his fingers. Your pussy clenched around nothing and craved to be filled again. Miguel leaned down and put his hand on the counter to kiss your face and force open your mouth to make you taste yourself on him, salty with a sweet tang to it.

“Can you come for me again sweetheart?” He says into your ear and drags you back down the counter to flip you around onto your stomach. You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling before you could nod your head in response. “Fuck, you’re magnificent.” He breathily says when you perk your ass up for him and reach underneath to spread yourself open.

“Please Miguel. Now.” You look back over your shoulder and watch as he grunts and grabs your ass, lining himself up against you while coating his hard long dick in your wetness spreading himself against your folds.

He moaned loudly as he pressed against you and slowly entered. Stretching you thin and making you wail as you take the tip of his thick cock.

He bottoms out and leans over your back to kiss in between your shoulder blades, rubbing the sides of your hips gently before beginning to thrust. He breathes in through his teeth at how tight your cunt is clenching against him. “Fuck- you take me so well.” He moans.

Your hips hit the counter and the fat on your ass jiggles with the recoil of his heavy and powerful thrusts that pick up in speed. Your nails scratch against the counter top and your mouth is open from the constant moaning he is causing. The sounds of skin slapping each other fill the room as he continues pounding into you from behind, whispering praises of how good you are through grunts.

His grip on your waist is deadly and you’re sure it’s gonna bruise in the morning but his dick is too divine with the way it’s moving inside you, molding your insides to the shape of him and hitting your g-spot every now and then. He fucked you ruthlessly, using both his hands to pile drive into you and slap your ass.

“Such a needy fucking cunt.” He increased the pace of his thrusts and you tried to sloppily keep up with the pace by pushing your hips back into him but he ignored that and kept a hold on your hips, forcing you onto his dick like his own personal cocksleeve. “Begging me to fill it up with my come. Is that what you want, querida?”

“Yes.” You say softly, eyes closed and exhausted from how hard he was fucking you.

“Say it.” He slaps your ass hard, leaving a red palm mark and soothing it with his hand immediately afterwards.

“Fuck- yes! I want it.” He grabbed your chin and turned your neck to make you look him in the eye, cracking it in the process, the joints popping loudly at the rough movements.

“Want what?” He didn’t stop thrusting inside you and you whimpered at the intensity of his gaze. Moaning at the feel of veins dragging against you.

“Want you to- to come inside.” He smirks and releases your face, throwing his head back as he focuses on the feeling of your wet pussy enveloping him from all around.

“That’s right mami. You've been so good for me. So so good.” He moans and moves a hand down to rub at your clit, your reaction was evident in the spike in your voice and the way you clenched so hard you almost shoved him out. “Fuck.”

You bite your hand to keep from screaming as his hips slap roughly against your ass and his fingers swirl around your sensitive clit.

“Gonna fuck another baby into you-shit!” He grunts out and his thrusts become erratic as he gets closer to finishing, the heat of your walls clouds his mind as the stutter of your folds against him edge him and he increases the speed of his hand to make you come first.

“Yesyesyesyes!” You say in between moans and roll your eyes back. “Miguel, I'm so close!”

He pants heavily behind you and you become undone when he thrusts particularly hard against that one spot deep inside you, sliding against it and hitting your womb. His cock twitched inside you as you came and squeezed him tightly. The rush he felt made him increase his thrusts and he pounded hard against you, voice choking up in between moans as you came down from your high and milked his dick with your pussy.

He presses his chest against your back and buries himself deeply. “m-me estoy viniendo” he releases inside you and you feel the wet warmth spill within you as he coats your walls and breathes heavily against your ear.

He kisses the side of your face sweetly, pushing some loose strands of your hair behind your ear and whimpers when you clench around him again.

He leans on his arm to put some of his weight off of you as the both of you catch your breath.

Your limbs are weak and muscles sore when he pulls out of you. The counter being the only thing holding you upright until he takes you into his arms, carrying you to the bed and setting you down gently. His seed trickles out of you onto the sheets and he moves into the bathroom to bring back a cloth and clean you up. Wiping off the sweat on your body and the mess in between your legs carefully to not overstimulate you.

You lean back on the pillow and reach over for him. He smiles and pulls the blankets over your bodies then wraps an arm around you, closing his eyes and kissing your cheek and resting his head on your shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too mi corazòn”

[ladytauria]

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: Explicit (and please mind the tags) Chapter Wordcount: 4.9k

Jason tries to sell off his first heat to make ends meet for the upcoming winter. When he’s taken by traffickers instead, he’s sure that’s the end of him—until he’s rescued by a mysterious alpha. That “rescue” comes with a price: Jason’s heat hits shortly after, and… one thing leads to another, and now Jason and Tim are bound together by a fledgling mate bond. It’s not the first time Jason’s had to make the best of things, but… he finds it a little bit easier this time, especially as he grows to genuinely like Tim. Unfortunately, just as Jason is starting to settle into mated life, Tim’s ex-pack starts getting involved, and they don’t exactly approve of Tim’s choice in mate...

i was going to wait longer to post this, but... i've been dying to share it, lmao, so i'm doing so as a birthday gift to myself <3

under the cut is a preview of the first chapter, as well as chapter content warnings. i hope you enjoy <3

CWs: underage prostitution, kidnapping, non-consensual touching, non-consensual medical exam, non-consensual pelvic exam, antiquated sexual education, degrading comments, humiliation, dehumanization, non-consensual photography, hurt no comfort, (it's coming, i promise)

tumblr is being rude and not letting me upload my divider image so take this purple text instead

Jason hasn’t stood on a street corner in over a year. He'd hoped, deep down, that he never would again. But...

Here he is, dolled up in a pair of tight shorts and a t-shirt, the combo doing nothing to protect him from the chill. Even mild as it is, the cold cuts straight through his skin.

A cigarette, unlit, dangles from his lips. He turns a lighter around and around in his palm, but doesn't light it yet.

Luckily for him—or maybe unluckily, not even an hour passes before a car sidles up to the curb. Jason's no expert, despite his brief stint at a chop shop, but he knows enough to know this one is nice. Not top of the line, exactly, but good. Shiny. Sleek. All black chrome and tinted windows, the engine purring like a content house cat before it cuts, the car rolling to a stop.

The tires would fetch a decent price. Too bad his guy is laying low, with the rest of the shop.

The man who steps out is tall, with broad shoulders and thick arms emphasized further by a leather jacket. He's bald. Despite the darkness of the hour, there are sunglasses perched on top of his head.

Jason’s grip gets a little tighter around the lighter. He forces it to loosen as he lights his cigarette. The flicker of warmth at his fingertips makes the rest of him feel folder in comparison. He takes a long, slow drag before letting the smoke pour from his nose. It dissipates in the night; the wispy cloud getting lost in Gotham's smog.

He envies it, a little.

The man's gait isn't quite a swagger. His steps are slow. Confident. The size of him is intimidating. His scent, when Jason catches it, doesn't help matters. It's thick with alpha musk, both natural and artificial. Under that is the sharp scent of burning wood. The part of Jason that's purely omega, that cares only about the safety of pack and getting fat with pups and milk, perks up. There's a low, steady heat in his blood, something that's been building for weeks now, that grows a little warmer.

Jason keeps his scent tucked tight.

The alpha leans against the wall next to him, pulling out his own smoke.

“Got a light?” he asks, casual as you please. Like they’re just two work buddies on break together.

“Yeah,” Jason says quietly.

The man doesn’t do much more than bend his head down, forcing Jason to rise onto the balls of his feet to light it. The alpha’s hand rests on his waist, above his hip, steadying him. Under his shirt, Jason’s skin crawls. He hates being touched almost as much as he craves it, these days.

The alpha blows the smoke out, into the night, and says, “Thanks,” thumb rubbing circles into Jason’s hip.

Jason lets himself shiver. Knows it’ll be interpreted as desire; not a reaction to the dread settling in his belly.

Last chance to back out, Todd, he tells himself.

He thinks about his squat. About his nest, if you can call it that; assembled from old paper and cardboard, and things he found in the very bottom of lost and found bins. About the thin blankets, the creeping cold.

About the way the absence of his pack bonds grows harder and harder to bear with each passing day; the empty spaces aching like phantom limbs.

He won’t survive a heat on his own. Even assuming no one finds him, or that the difficult-to-reach location keeps him safe… He just. He won’t. Not with what he has.

Some of the men who have picked Jason up like to make small talk. Even flirt a little, like… Like it’s something real, and not a sick perversion. This guy doesn’t. “How much’re ya askin’, kid?” He’s still rubbing Jason’s hip.

“Depends on what you want,” Jason says back. He licks his lips, and then looks up at the man through his lashes as he takes another puff, hoping the move comes off as sensual, and not stupid. “My mouth…” Jason shrugs, exhaling smoke. “Fifty. But…” He leans back, tipping his head back, exposing a little of his throat.

The alpha watches with interest; greed in his gaze.

Jason keeps tight control of his scent—but he loosens it now. The milky scent of his puphood is an undertone now; slowly being overpowered by a more adult, omega scent. It’s thick and sweet, with just a hint of spice. The lure of impending heat floats between them.

The alpha’s grip tightens on his hip. His breath has caught in his chest.

Jason stubs the cigarette out on the wall and lets it fall from his fingers. It pains him to waste one like that—but it was only ever a prop to start with. He presses against the alpha’s side, wrapping his arms around the barrel of his chest, head tipped back. “If you want to make a proper omega outta me… I think a thousand is fair. Don’t you?”

God. He wants to ask for more. Heats are usually around three days. Alphas… Alphas may not be able to match an omega’s stamina in that time, but there are no shortage of other ways for them to touch him. To violate him. But he’s pushing it already, asking for a thousand. He’s a crime alley street whore, not a pretty little O with a silver spoon in his mouth and gold on his throat.

The alpha’s hand slips to Jason’s lower back, just above the swell of his ass. It— It’s a fight not to let revulsion sour his scent, his expression. His skin crawls. His stomach rolls.

“A thousand,” the man repeats, rolling the words in his mouth. Then his lips quirk up at one corner. “Yeah, kid. I think a thousand’s fair.” He stubs out his own cig before pulling out his wallet; a beat-up leather trifold.

Jason’s teeth catch on his lip. He watches him count one, two, three—five hundred dollar bills, folding them in half and offering them between two fingers.

“Half up front.”

He’s sure the alpha must be able to hear the way his heart thunders. If he does, though, he gives no indication. Jason takes the money, pushing it into the pocket of his shorts.

Then he lets himself be guided to the car. Just before Jason steps off the curb, the alpha grabs him, yanking him against his chest. His arm locks around Jason’s chest like a vice. Jason claws futilely at the arm around him. Though the alpha growls, scent sharp with pain, he doesn’t let go.

Jason twists. Kicks. “Let me go—“ He’s lost all control of his scent now; his terror is thick and sour in the night air.

The alpha covers his mouth—Jason takes his chance. He sinks his teeth into the meat of the alpha’s palm, clamping his jaw down as tightly as he can. Blood floods his mouth.

“Fucking bitch—“ The alpha snarls, dropping Jason.

Jason doesn’t think—he just runs, stumbling before righting himself.

Unfortunately, the universe has never been kind to Jason Todd, and she’s not about to start now. He’s not even sure what he trips on, only that one minute, he’s running, and the next—

He plummets.

He manages to avoid face planting, catching himself on his hands. Before he can push himself back up, though, the alpha reaches him—his boot slams into Jason’s side, knocking the breath from him.

The alpha kneels beside him, hand closing roughly around the back of Jason’s neck. He scruffs him roughly; thumb and middle finger pressing down on his scent glands, palm pushing at the back of his neck. Submission floods Jason’s veins. Unwillingly, he slumps into the concrete, all the fight leaving him.

He lets out a pup’s call—not for pack but for anyone. It’s small and helpless and immediately cut short by the alpha hauling him up and over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Tears pool in his eyes.

He’s not strong enough to resist it. Not strong enough to do anything but twitch as the alpha carries him into the car. He drops him in the trunk, securing his limbs with zip-ties, rendering Jason utterly immobile.

Baldie slams the trunk shut, trapping Jason in the dark.

[deancaspinefest]

Whatever Makes You Happy

Author: Rex_Writes | Artist: Kit Shay

Posting on Sunday March 24

An aspiring songwriter, Dean Winchester spends his days in the local coffee shop, which just happens to be run by the most gorgeous man he has ever seen, Castiel Novak. This gorgeous man becomes his muse, songs flow out of Dean’s pen with the speed of a rushing river. Unfortunately, just like getting his songs heard, Castiel is just another thing Dean can’t have. He’s had his heart broken by a straight guy before and he can’t go through that again. Thankfully, Dean meets Lee Webb who is an amazing singer, AND he’s actually /interested/ in Dean. Will Dean stay with the man who’s a sure thing or will he risk everything for whatever makes him happy?

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and steady his shaking fingers.

"Hey. You're gonna be great. They're gonna love you," Charlie said as she placed a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder.

"It's not them I'm worried about. It's him. What if he just thinks I'm some sort of…creep." Dean huffed softly and dropped his head to his chin. "This was a stupid idea, Charlie, I can't do this." Dean stood up from the stool he had been sitting on. "Charlie?" Charlie had disappeared, but Dean saw the curtains flutter close as he heard her voice over the speaker.

"Guys, gals, and non-binary pals, welcome to open mic night, or as I like to call it, Artist Validation Night. Our first performer is a little shy, so let's give a warm round of applause for Dean Winchester!"

The curtains on the mock stage in the coffee shop swooshed open and Dean was suddenly faced with too many familiar faces. He couldn't do this. This was too much, he didn't sing in front of people. Hell, Charlie wouldn't even know he could sing if she hadn't come home early one day and heard him while he was taking a shower.

But here he was. There was only one person he was singing to, but he forced himself not to look, instead focusing on finding the right chords.

You were here before Couldn't look you in the eye You look like an angel Your skin makes me cry

Dean closed his eyes as he sang. Piercing blue eyes flashed through his mind.

But I'm a creep I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Dean knew that he missed notes, and his tone wasn’t perfect, but that's what happened when you put all your emotion into a song. His fingers deftly slid over the frets, playing the chords he knew by heart. Dean took a deep breath and finally lifted his eyes from his guitar during the next section, easily finding those blue eyes at the back of the room. He stared into those gorgeous blue eyes singing the next lines without looking away.

I want you to notice When I'm not around So fuckin' special I wish I was special

Dean broke the connection first by double checking he had the right finger placement for the upcoming bridge. He took a grounding breath and launched into the bridge.

Whatever makes you happy Whatever you want You're so fuckin' special I wish I was special

Dean looked back up to meet the icy blue stare yet again, but he was gone. Fuck. He knew this was a shit idea. He knew Cas was straight. He was gonna kill Charlie.

Dean finished the song, finding a cruel truth in the last chorus.

But I'm a creep I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

(continue reading on Ao3 on Sunday March 24)

[m0ckest]

Vatore Low-CC Makeover

The Vatore siblings moved into Forgotten Hollow a few years ago and have made it their home. Unfortunately, they are on bad terms with their neighbor, Vladislaus Straud--perhaps due to bad blood. Regardless, Lilith focuses on making the neighborhood welcoming to newcomers as well as working on her art from home, while Caleb enjoys his late-night barista gig as he plans an upcoming novel.

No-cc version available on the gallery @m0ckest 🖤 See my other low-cc makeovers here

Lilith and Caleb have a dark history with Vladislaus Straud. Though they were once close, the animosity between the Vatores and Straud has been going on for decades.

After her apprenticeship with Straud had ended, Lilith swore to be a different kind of vampire--a good vampire--and protect others, whether they were vampire or human. Hoping to maybe one day make up for the harm she has done, she is the first to welcome new neighbors, as well as travelers and tourists. Anyone is her circle is safe under her wing.

Caleb was the first fledgling vampire she took in after Straud had left him on the street to transform alone. As gratitude, Caleb helps with a multitude of Lilith's daily tasks on her busy schedule. Though the caffeine has no effect on him, he loves the aroma and taste of coffee. He recently started a late-night barista position. The often-near-empty shop leaves him plenty of time for his writing.

No-CC except for my defaults and a couple skin details. I’ve added some relevant relationship levels, preferences, skills, degrees, and more.

Unedited, no-cc:

[moral-terpitude]

Misadventures - Part 3

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1,688

A/N: i went for a portfolio review for an apprenticeship the other day, and got to watch a tattoo get done while I was there! I had this wrote first, but the part about forehead wrinkles is no joke! I wasn’t even doing anything and I was tired by the time I left! This took me so long to write and it is so short 😭

so what's left to do · what’s left to say · stop making friends, just us · I'll decompose with you

By the time 7 hours had passed, Quinn was satisfied with the progress they had made. All the outlining was done, and with the wrinkle between her brows now permanently etched there from the face she made when she focused, amongst all the other ways her body was protesting, despite them taking a break every hour or so, the color would have to wait for another day.

“Okay,” she wiped down the irritated skin as gently as she could, which unfortunately was far from gentle, “the saniderm needs to stay on for three days. Any fluid pooling underneath is normal, but if the seal breaks it needs to be removed. Instead of removing it like a bandaid,” she continued giving the memorized speech as she applied the clear film carefully, “stretch the film to break the adhesive so it doesn’t remove any of the ink. Everything else is carefully articulated on those papers, because anything I seem to tell people that goes beyond three days of aftercare, they seem to forget, so, it’s on the paper.”

She heard him chuckle as she finished pressing all the air out of the clear film. Quinn hadn’t noticed until then as he stood there with his head hung, letting her go about her business as she absentmindedly let her eyes wander along the curve of his neck, that he smelled so good. Something warm, woodsy, a hint of vanilla maybe, too.

The music had stopped long ago, which meant the disgruntled grumble her stomach let out, was heard by them both.

Discarding the gloves and all the other tainted supplies into the hazmat bin, Quinn sprayed down and wiped all the surfaces that could possibly be sanitized, before turning off the big light over her workstation.

She stretched, checking her phone before heading back to the closet to retrieve the sweater.

“Here, I should probably return this to its owner.”

“Thanks.” Now with clothes readjusted and redressed, the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth could have knocked the wind out of her.

Tommy followed her to the front of the shop, settling the last thing hanging over their heads for the day: money. Quinn counted the bills, nails clacking against the counter before tucking it away in the safe under the counter.

“So, technically, we could have started on color and shading today, but, that would have been a lot,” she tapped through her phone calendar, not wanting to boot the computer back up to go into the shop planner, “healing time, is about two to three weeks, but I think a little longer would be better,” Quinn looked up to see him nodding intently, “I think six to eight weeks would probably be best.”

“Can we go nine? I know I’m not going to be available at the tail end of that timeframe.”

“Hmm,” she scrolled further through the calendar and the haunting reminder of her sisters upcoming marriage stared at her, nine weeks away, “I’ll have to push it out to ten. Or we can go seven.”

“Ten is good.” Tommy agreed, trying to focus and ignore the way her hips were pressed into the lower part of the counter in a familiar fashion, as they deliberated a date and time before coming to a decision they could agree upon.

“Listen,” she stretched, arms above her head, shirt lifting as she did so for just a moment, “do you want to go get food? Cooking for one person sucks, and I’m starving. My treat. I’ve just got to clean a few things up yet.”

Her eyes were wide with something akin to innocence, maybe just obliviousness, but Tommy wasn’t going to turn her down.

“Sure. I’ve different clothes in the car. I’ll change while you clean, yeah?”

***

They walked in silence for the last of the block as Quinn tried her best to stay two steps ahead of him, leading the way.

She couldn’t have been too much taller than Charlie, Tommy wagered, at 13 he was a little over 5 foot and she looked to be somewhere close to the same.

“December or January Capricorn?” She asked, slowing her pace as she pulled the lip balm for her bag, brushing it over her lips before tossing it back inside.

“What?”

She smiled, taking in the baffled expression he wore, one brow quirked as his eyes met hers.

Raindrops spattered on the concrete around them, enough to color the gray a bit darker but not so much to soak through their clothes.

She held on to her purse strap with both hands, nails drumming along the strap. “The way the major arcana of the tarot deck correlates with astrology, the card of The Devil is the one equivalent to Capricorn, and, I just saw it and figured…”

She trailed off, wondering if she should have kept her mouth shut as they continued to weave in and out through the crowd of people.

“December.”

“Hmm.”

Quinn scooted as close as comfortable to the person in front of them, barely making it under the awning of the carryout only restaurant. Smooshed in the midst of the moving crowd there wasn’t much of a way to be cold, even with the temperature dropping from the rain.

“Fuck,” Tommy sounded exasperated before he even had his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, which was when Quinn noticed it was ringing, “Sorry, I’ve to take this.”

He was already three steps away before she called after him, “Wait, what do you want!”

He shook his head, answering the phone before speaking, “Hold on John,” turning the mouthpiece away, and pausing in stride, “whatever’s good, yeah?”

When Tommy returned Quinn was perched in the center of the bench, tapping on her phone, carefully holding two cans between her legs.

“Lemon or orange?” She hadn’t looked up yet, strands of hair falling in her face as she finished answering an email.

Tommy could see where she had started to peel back the foil lid to the orange can, must have thought better of it, and decided to wait to give him a choice.

“Lemon.”

Quinn relinquished the can, dropping her phone rather unceremoniously back into her bag, “You just look like someone who would drink San Pelligrino.”

“I think that’s supposed to be an insult, innit?”

“I didn’t say that. Saying you look like someone who drinks La Croix would be an insult.” Quinn shrugged, a small shake of her head betrayed by a smile as she offered out two separate items wrapped in foil. “Chicken or Beef?”

“Either.”

“Suit yourself.”

***

“Where the fuck have you been?” Hannah called out as Quinn shut the fridge. She took the stairs one at a time down into the living room, the worst part about living in a split level apartment in her opinion. Her eyes struggled to focus on Hannah in the flashing light from the tv, the only thing that illuminated the living room, until she finally saw her sprawled out under the blanket on the couch.

Gesturing to the two towels she cracked open the bottle of water, taking a long drink before speaking, “I’ve been in the shower.”

“No shit, I could hear your vibrator all the way out here.” Hannah sat up, the small pony tail on top of her head bobbing about as she reached for the remote to mute the TV, “You just never usually get home this late.”

Quinn shifted with a shrug, leaning against the bannister, “Yeah I’ve got more time to kill now since I got that laser hair removal, so I have to do something while I’m in there.”

She took another long swig of the water, glancing up to the microwave to check the time, “It’s not even that late.”

“What, you fuck him in that blacked out Range Rover and find out it wasn’t all that great?”

“No.” She chewed her lip, realizing the answer was a tad too quick, despite being the truth. “We went to Mamoun’s and got food and then he dropped me back off at the studio.”

“Like a date? You usually go to Mamoun’s by yourself.” It had been one of the first places Quinn had ventured alone when she went to New York, not realizing until the second or third time she went that there was one closer than Greenwich Village.

“No, like two people who hadn’t ate all day just being normal people and getting food.” She sighed, rubbing her eye less than gently before retreating back up the steps, “I’m going to bed, wasn’t expecting the Spanish Inquisition when I got home.”

“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, Quinn!”

Quinn closed the door to her room without another word, knowing she had set Hannah up for that without even realizing it.

After finding adequate pajamas in the form of an oversized shirt and underwear, she thought she would crawl in bed and immediately fall asleep, but a half hour later and she was still staring at the ceiling.

It always seemed like she met people twice in her life. A brief encounter, barely really knowing them, before she got to actually know them.

The Hannah she knew from at the MoMA and then at the shop, and now as her roommate, were almost three different people.

Dalton, her best friend from back home who she missed dearly, had first pushed her down on the playground before they became friends in high school.

She sighed, rolling to her stomach and stretching.

She had met Gerard at a party she never should have been at. As if that didn’t set the tone for the whole relationship. Wrong place, wrong time, she pondered.

As she tried to fall asleep she ran through her conversations with Tommy through the day. Clearly, as long as he didn’t bail, she would get to see him at least one more time, but would she ever see him after that?

It wasn’t that she didn’t have a returning client or two, but something about the easiness of being around him made her want to see him more than one more time.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

TwstOBer Day 31: Enchanted

[TwstOBer 2022 prompts]

WAHAHAH 🎃 HAPPY HALLOWEENIES 🎃

adhsbbaisdiba I wanted to write something on the thoughtful and reflective side. Less dialogue and events, and more letting the imagery illustrate the character’s inner thoughts and feelings, you know? Unfortunately, I was a bit short on time... I hope this ficlet doesn’t feel too rushed 😅

The fire cast a magic spell on him.

***NOTE: Please be warned that this piece is being released prior to the full event in which he appears, so Rollo may be characterized differently in this writing than in canon.***

Trick or Treat.

Rollo had a fondness for fire--but perhaps it was just as accurate to say that fire, too, had a fondness for him.

The moment he entered his office, he was flooded with the warmth emulating from the fireplace at the far wall. His face and fingers were still chilled from the brisk autumn air, cheeks left ruddy from the whirlwind of planning and preparations for the upcoming symposium. The fire welcomed him home like an old friend, running its heat along his coldly neutral expression, melting away his exhaustion as he swept in.

He was flanked by his vice president and the student council’s aide, both up to their necks in documents. They alternated with one another perfectly, Rollo nodding along as each rattled off their respective report.

“The tailor shop has made significant progress on the designs for the guests’ outfits,” began the vice president.

“The caterer called earlier to confirm the menu and the headcount,” the aide chimed in.

 “They will be completed in a few weeks, just in time for our event. I’ll arrange for someone to fetch our order in that time. Or would you feel better if we personally picked them up?”

“They’ve approved our request for vegetarian and gluten-free options to be served, at an additional fee. What do you think? Do we have the funds to cover it, or should we contact the caterer to renegotiate?”

Rollo lifted a hand, immediately silencing the duo.

His vice president and aide exchanged knowing glances.

“Of course, sir. We’ll leave you to it,” they said in unison, bowing their heads in deference before retreating.

The door slammed shut behind them, caging Rollo in with the roaring blaze of the kindling. A familiar scene, and an even more familiar feeling.

The sanctity of his hour of prayer.

He expelled a deep breath as he approached the fireplace, slowly lacing his fingers together as the leaping embers reached for him. Rollo whispered the words of an ancient language, casting them into the waiting inferno as an offering.

“Of my virtue, I am justly proud.”

Shadows lengthened across his face as he peered, transfixed, into the gleefully rising flames.

They were wild and free and alive, lashing the air with quick and graceful movements, the space around it warping into a hot blur. It was almost as though the fire was dancing, its sparks erasing everything irrelevant in its path.

He did not shudder or sidle away.

Like a moth to a flame, he was hypnotized and drawn to it. The fire, a secret spell, and its sparks, the traces of its magic.

The gentle, lethal beauty of it...

Enticing, entrancing, enchanting.

The warmth happily embraced him, and he sighed, leaning into its molten touch.

A weight in Rollo’s chest receded as he let himself fall.

Deeper, deeper, and yet deeper still, the fire washing over him and rendering his skin to ash, scattered to the world by the slightest breeze. Bathed in the fires of rebirth, submerged in his own fantasy, it was his one moment of solace, his salvation, from the demands of the world.

His weary soul, cleansed. His resolve, forged again in the raging blaze.

Rollo’s expression was the same, but his dark eyes had ignited, now smoldering.

A flower set aflame.

The Bell tolled in the distance, its mellow ring reverberating through the building, through Rollo’s body and to his core. In the quiet that followed, his resolution was deafening.

“Just you wait... Malleus Draconia!”

[storiesofsvu]

Under Over Ch 6

Joe Velasco x reader Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, talks of angst type situations, talks of smutty situations.

The week following Joe’s check in with the squad was one full of no parties, which made things slightly unfortunate for him. He could do little bits and pieces of snooping during the week, which was nice, especially when the penthouse was empty when he was dropping things off, but he’d wanted to talk to you specifically. And he figured that a solo night in the house would be the optimal time for that, that you’d probably let your guard down. Hell he’d even whip out an old family recipe and cook from scratch if it meant finally discovering the real you. He was even more bummed when a text pinged from Amanda.

‘Hate to burst your bubble but that dinner really was just her out with friends. They didn’t seem the sex work type so either they’re really good at hiding it, or these were literally college friends who don’t know what she’s doing now. Better luck next time pretty boy.’

He scowled at the addition of her taunting the nick name you’d created for him, knowing that he’d likely never live it down with the squad now.

You on the other hand had been spending your week with Carly, and an actual week, not a week chaperoning poor ruby. You knew she was pretty green to the party circuit, but you knew that with the right training and guidance, after time, she could easily replace you. You didn’t have a good back up as of right now, a second in chain as it were, and you knew she trusted you, and was loyal to you. So you told Kayra to shove it and that she was going to get her own private room, that sapphire could be the third add on in another room since he hated her so much. You spent a day with Carly at the penthouse, deep cleaning out what would be her new bedroom, a couple of the boys helping with moving furniture. Then you went through her entire wardrobe, making her try on some of it before you tossed it into a keep or get rid of pile.

The next day was girl’s day, you headed out to shop and there was no holding back. You guided her through Sephora, suggesting make up and skin care that would help, certain body sprays or glitter that wouldn’t rub off on party guests or linger on their clothes for them to go home and get caught. There were a few stops at clothing stores as you pieced together the best kind of outerwear for parties, reminding her that layers were always her best friend, so she could be as covered or exposed as she wanted to. The last stop were a few lingerie boutiques where you picked out a large handful of sets for the both of you to gear up for the upcoming parties.

You spent the entire day gossiping, pumping her up and making sure that she felt welcomed and accepted into the house. You stopped in a cute bistro for lunch and the final stop was the classic girl’s day to get your nails done. Your conversation rerouted back to one of more appropriate one while you did this, simply talking about your pasts, your childhoods, the (now censored) experiences that brought you to where you were today.

You found out Carly was born and raised in Connecticut, having gone to college for fashion and design. Like many others, she moved out to the big apple to try and pursue a career in it, only to end up waitressing at two different bars and working in a coffee shop to just try and make ends meet. She barely had time to try and pursue the career she wanted and couldn’t afford an agent to get her designs out there without being known. A few industry folk said to just start going to go sees and open calls or modelling and try to get in that way, but she was practically laughed away because she was a solid three inches shorter than the runway required. You were quick to cut in it was clearly just a height thing cause she was one of the most stunning friends you had (and you didn’t miss the way she beamed at you calling her your friend). A bartender at one of her jobs mentioned that they knew a couple of strip clubs were looking for waitresses, and the tips would be much higher there. And that’s when Kayra found her and made her the promises that she’d been dying to hear for years. Whether he would actually be able to follow through on any of them was still up in the air.

*

Joe was in the kitchen of the penthouse, currently putting away what seemed like too big of a grocery order, but it was exactly what Kayra had asked for. The house had been relatively quiet all week, and today he was wondering if anyone was even staying here right now. On the off chance, he’d picked up a couple of extra things, on a separate bill, just in case he would set his plan into motion with you. Some were smaller spices, little pantry additions that no one would notice, and the rest he could easily sneak out of there if you happened to be out of town or something. He had honestly figured it was fine if he used the kitchen even for himself, doing a bit of the prep work for the meal even if he took it home. It could get a head start while he finished a couple of other tasks around the house.

He heard the elevator ping sounded by the sound of laughter, one that perked his ears right up as he realized it was you. He tried to blame the fact that his heart rate picked up on his work related plan, but he couldn’t really deny the truth at this point. He always looked forward to seeing you. He heard a bit of muffled conversation and the rustle of shopping bags before it disappeared down the hallway. A playlist began to echo through down the hall as you and Carly sorted through your things, after a few minutes the playlist slowly got louder as you were moving the speaker down the hall, laughter still apparent in your voices.

“I’m telling you!” You urged, “all it takes is one or two tricks to have them drooling their asses off.”

“I’m not sure…” Carly replied with a timid laugh.

“Oh come on! You’ve been wanting to learn pole for months now, I’ll take you to a class next week.”

“Okay, okay.” She surrendered with a laugh as the two of you rounded the bend into the kitchen, noticing the oven on and the smell of food wafting through the room, “who else is home?”

“Dunno.” You replied, crossing to the fridge and grabbing two seltzers from it, tossing one to her.

“Sorry!” Jose suddenly popped up around the corner, “figured I may as well multitask.” He stepped back into the room, tossing a screwdriver back into the tool box on one of the stools.

“You finished yet?” You asked

“Yeah.”

“Good.” You tossed him the seltzer in your hand, opening the fridge again, “then maybe you can help me convince Carly that there’s nothing wrong with a bit of drool during a blow job.”

“Y/n!” Carly nearly shrieked, her cheeks turning pink at your brashness, “it’s gross.”

“I…uh…” Jose stammered, distracting himself by cracking open the drink and taking a sip as you laughed, swinging the door shut.

“More drool means more deepthroating, and despite their pristine reputations, these sleazebags like mess.”

“Okay well what’s a good start with them then?” Carly asked, “maybe something not so gross.” You turned to Jose and raised a brow and gestured to one of the stools.

“Take a seat.”

“Uh, I’m not really sure that’s the best idea… professionally…” His eyes darted off to the side as he busied himself with a sip of his drink and you barked out a laugh.

“I’m not gonna suck you off pretty boy! You know we don’t work for free.” Shaking your head you gestured again, “sit.”

“Alright.” A small smile on his cheeks he slipped onto the stool, making himself comfortable.

“Carly, here’s the thing. The guys that come to these parties, they’re not the same as the shitty low life parties where they want some cheap whore to throw around.” You turned to Jose, a grin on your cheeks as you placed your drink down on the island, “these guys…they’re men in power all day long, they come here to get a release from that.” You stepped toward Jose, your hands landing on his knees, slowly sliding up his thighs, “some of them want to be challenged, some of them want you to take control.” You settled yourself between his legs, your hands continuing to slide up his torso, “tease ‘em a little bit…” your finger curled under his chin, tilting his head up and he swallowed hard. “Remind them who actually holds the power,” you weren’t entirely sure how you were managing this, being this close to him and keeping composed, you simply thanked your line of work as your nose nudged at his and his lips instinctively parted and you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, “once you get the hook in, they’re not going anywhere…” Your lips were hovering above his and honestly, it was only Carly’s presence that was stopping you from closing the gap.

A sudden blare from her phone made everyone in the room jump, she was just as transfixed watching you as Jose was being your experiment. You stepped back from Jose, his arm falling from around your waist and you instantly missed the sensation, your cheeks heated, eyes darting anywhere but his as he quickly cleared his throat and adjusted, turning toward the island to pick up his drink, accidentally grabbing yours in a moment of flustered confusion. He muttered a quick sorry, passing you the drink and grabbing his own to take a large swig.

“That’s my ride.” Carly gestured with her phone toward the elevator.

“I’ll walk you out.” You nearly cut her off at your eagerness to escape the room for a moment.

Joe let out a soft sigh of relief, running his hands over his face before taking another swig of his drink. He was thankful for the break, but his ears still picked up on the hushed conversation between the two of you as you waited for the elevator.

“You really just went for it didn’t you?” Carly asked, pulling a soft chuckle from you.

“I was just showing you the best way to get customer satisfaction.”

“Yeah right, you’ve been talking about Jose all day!” She hissed back, “and he didn’t exactly shy away from that…you did say he was hot at lunch!”

“I said he was easier on the eyes than Quinn!” You shot back.

“You think he’s cute!”

“So what?”

“Have fun tonight.” He could hear the playfulness in Carly’s voice, the mock offended scoff from you as the elevator pinged.

“You know we don’t mix business and pleasure!”

“Whatever you say.” Another ding as she pressed the ground floor button and the elevator doors swooshed shut. He heard you let out a sigh before padding back down the hall.

A timer went off behind him and he was thankful for another distraction, pulling the pan of chicken out from the oven. Right before he’d ducked off to fix that leaky pipe he’d started on the second part of dinner and it was nearly finished too.

“So what are you making?” You asked, swiping your can of seltzer from the island as you sat on one of the stools facing him.

“So far just chicken and chile peppers. Was planning on assembling later.”

“Hmm.” You replied, resting your chin in your hand, elbow propped up on the island. “Smells delicious.”

“You want some?” He offered.

“I don’t want to steal your food.”

“You’re not.” He laughed softly, the smile reaching his eyes, “there’s more than enough to go around.”

“Shall I just sit here and watch you cook?”

“C’mere.” He gestured with a nod of his head and you felt your heart rate pick up, hand clutching around the can as you stood from the stool, moving around the island, “I can trust you to mince garlic, right?” He handed you the knife and a couple of cloves and you laughed.

“Yeah. I have been told I’m a whiz in the kitchen.”

“Good.” He smiled, “you guys have a blender?”

“Yeah.” You replied, crushing the cloves under the knife, “right hand cupboard.”

He followed your direction, pulling the appliance down and dumping the peppers that had been on the stove into it, along with a few other spices as you chopped up the garlic. You watched as he pulled out a frying pan, pouring a few inches of oil into it and placing it on the stove, there was no doubt in your mind that he knew his way around the kitchen. He started the blender, asking you to keep an eye on the pan as he pulled out some tortillas.

“Please tell me you have a cheese grater?”

“Yeah, in this one.” You replied, nodding your head to the cupboard you were in front of as you flipped over a tortilla. To your surprise instead of waiting for you to move Jose stepped closer to your back, caging you into the counter and you felt your breath catch in your throat, the scent of his cologne invading your senses as he dug through the cupboard before finding it.

You found it oddly comfortable being in the kitchen with him, little comments and laughs here and there as you relaxed, continuing to cook. Jose certainly did know more than you when it came to specialty dishes, showing you the proper, more authentic way to make enchiladas and you knew in that moment dinner was going to be amazing. You cleaned as you went as to not leave a mess, and constantly found yourselves reaching around each other to get what you needed and each time, there was a heating of cheeks, a wave of passion, and a slightly awkward laugh as you did so.  When dinner was plated you settled on the couch with a movie and drinks, eager to have a relaxing evening together instead of one glammed up and in work mode.

“Oh my god this is delicious!” You exclaimed over your first mouthful.

“Did you really doubt me that much?” He asked with a smirk on his lips and your free hand smacked his arm.

“No, I just didn’t expect it to be this good. I outta keep you around. How’d you feel about moving in and being the house’s personal chef?” You teased and he laughed, his attention returning to the television with a shake of the head. He certainly wasn’t going to touch on that quite yet.

Empty plates ended up on the coffee table as drinks got replenished, the mood in the room was much more of a personal one, if the circumstances were any different, it nearly felt like a second or third date. The first movie auto played into its sequel and your focus began to waver, paying more attention to each other, little comments about the movie morphing into actual conversation as you started to unravel the truths about who you both were.

“Where’d you learn to cook like that?” You asked, settling back into the couch with your drink.

“My mom. She did her best to hand down traditions.”

“Is she here?” You asked softly, “or back home?”

“I’m honestly not sure.” He sighed, “I just hope she’s safe wherever she is.” You reached out and squeezed at his arm.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Whatever kinda tragic backstory you come from.”

“What’d’you mean?” He raised a brow in your direction and you huffed a laugh, shifting so you were cross legged on the couch facing him.

“I’ve only ever heard about you talk about your mom when you talk about Mexico. And you’ve never mentioned how you came here. So I’m going out on a limb and say that it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park getting across the border, or that you were getting away from something. Then you get here and end up choosing to do a variety of security work, mainly with people. You feel the urge to protect people…either cause it’s what you do best or you feel like you couldn’t protect yourself back home?” You waited for a moment, glancing out the window to not pressure Jose into answering right away.

“What are you, a psychic?” Jose ducked his gaze from yours as he downed his drink. He wasn’t sure how you managed to figure him out so quickly, but you were right, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. He suddenly wanted to tell you everything, he trusted you, and wanted that to continue.

“It’s in my line of work,” you shrugged, “the faster I read someone’s words and body language, the faster I know what they want, and the more money I get.”

“I guess.” He replied with a small laugh and you reached out, squeezing at his arm. After taking another swig he spoke again, “so we’ve done me...” He turned to you with a smile, “what about you? Why are you so watchful over Carly?” He was slightly surprised when you let out a weary sigh, playing with your drink before you spoke.

“She reminds me of my sister…”

“What happened?” He asked softly.

“We…we were always super close. I had just graduated college; she was halfway done when my mom got sick. We spent every moment and dime we had trying to save her. After she passed, neither of us were making enough money. I know it’s weird to think of it like this, but we started working the same clubs, dancing, serving, whatever they would accept. Then I got picked up by a ring..”

“Kayra?” he asked softly, his hand squeezing at your arm and you shook your head.

“No, long before that. It was one of those low level party houses, my sister got in too, on my recommendation. Problem being the fucking cops busted the party…”

“She get arrested?”

“I wish.” You let out a little laugh, downing your drink, “when the cops broke in she was on a john’s lap. No one knew he was armed but the thought of going to jail freaked him out way too much. He threatened to slit her throat, some rookie took the shot and she was used as the shield…”

“Oh god… I’m so sorry…” his hand shifted to grip yours, giving it a squeeze as you finally glanced up, tears rimming your eyes,

“Thanks.” You let out a breath, “so… just keep Carly safe, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a tight smile, then let out a small laugh, “wow…way for me to bring the mood down.”

“Nah, I asked.” He smiled, his hand gently dropping yours and you were surprised when his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tear that managed to escape. Your eyes shot up to his and your heart jumped in your chest as you simply held his gaze for a moment. For the second time tonight you were both completely mesmerized with one another, though this time had a completely different feeling than earlier.

Joe was honestly a little surprised with just how vulnerable and open you’d been with him, how drastically different this soft side of you was to the mask you put on during parties. Tonight felt the complete opposite than most of your previous interactions, it brought him back to that day in the park, the first time he’d caught a glimpse of the real you. He craved more, wanting to know absolutely everything about you, but more importantly, he didn’t want his hand to ever leave your skin. Your phone buzzed on the coffee table and you very reluctantly pulled away after a moment longer, shifting to pick it up before immediately tossing it back down with a small huff.

“Anything important?”

“No. Phone bill’s due.” You let out a little laugh, turning back to him as you picked up your drink, “alright, pineapple on pizza, yah or nah?”

“You seriously didn’t just ask me that.” He laughed, settling back into the couch with his arm across the back of it.

“Oh come on! It is not that bad!”

“You like Hawaiian pizza? Really?”

“Okay, so, truth time. I don’t actually like Hawaiian, but I’ll add pineapple instead of onions on a veggie pizza.”

“You’re a menace.” He teased with a grin and you laughed, “summer or winter?”

“Can I cheat and go fall?”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Winter’s a bitch, and mid July in the middle of New York? It’s a fucking sauna. Fall is like, calming. It’s just a little bit chillier, but still warm, still lots of sun, kids go back to school, the city calms down as it comes more alive, if that makes sense.”

“I’ll accept that answer.”

“What about you?”

“I’m partial to winter.”

“Why?”

“I think it’s cause it’s so different from when I was growing up. Reminds me that I got here in one piece.”

“When was the first time you saw snow?”

“I was twenty-one.” He laughed and you let out a little gasp, “what?”

“Were you robbed of the incredible experience of making snowmen and snow angels? Have you ever had a snowball fight?”

“I guess it’s a no to all of the above.”

“Okay well I am adding that to the winter bucket list.” You grinned and he felt his chest swell at the idea of you thinking so far down the road, of spending some holiday time with you. “Morning person or night owl?”

“Bit of both?” His brow furrowed, “depends on my schedule… I assume you’re a night owl?”

“It depends…” you replied with a small smile, “I mean, work keeps me up all hours of the night, but there’s something so serene about the mornings. A nice quiet jog with no one else around while the city hasn’t even woken up? Chef’s kiss. And it doesn’t hit the same when you’ve been up all night.” Jose laughed at that,

“No…first glimpse of sunlight and birds chirping just makes you feel guilty.”

“Exactly.” You laughed, your hand coming to tap at his arm.

“Dogs or cats?” He raised a brow.

“Dogs. No question.” You took a sip of your drink, “like, I’m fine if a friend has a cat, but there’s just something so comforting about dogs.”

“Agreed. If I had the money, space and time I would just adopt an entire shelter’s worth of animals.” He looked up to see you with a smirk on your cheeks, “what?”

“Nothing. You just really wanna make the world a better, safer place, and that’s… endearing…” He felt his cheeks heat, letting out a small chuckle and occupying himself with his drink, “you really are a great guy Jose…” he tried to unscramble the flustered panic going on in his brain as you let out a content sigh, placing your drink down on the coffee table and sinking back into the couch. Your head lightly hit his arm, but you didn’t shift to avoid it and he felt his heart continue to hammer in his chest.  “I forgot there was a third one of these.” You murmured and he glanced toward the television.

“Oh…yeah…”

He shifted slightly, turning his focus back towards the movie as you let out another little sigh, relaxing into the couch as you both got comfortable. He knew that there was a lot more ground to cover when it came to getting you to flip, especially since he was sure you wouldn’t trust him as much once you knew he was a cop. But for right now, you had unearthed a whole new level of confidence in each other and he was more than happy with that, knowing that you would probably trust him with one hell of a lot.

He found himself half paying attention to the movie, this one having undertones of romance, the other half of his brain imagining such a relationship with you. Your comments about the holiday season, the way your eyes lit up at the thought of it, there was no denying he wanted to experience that in real time, watch the way the lights glimmered in your eyes, the way the snow would catch on your eyelashes. He was so far deep into his fantasies he barely noticed the movie ending, letting out a little laugh and saying something to you about it. When you didn’t respond he glanced down, realizing you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. He smiled at the intimacy and trust of the action, gently nudging you,

“Hey…sleeping beauty…” you grumbled, wincing as you pushed yourself up to sitting while rubbing at your eyes.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

“No, hey, you had a long day.”

“I guess.” You laughed softly.

“I should get going.” He pushed up off the couch, collecting both your empty drinks to deposit in the kitchen. With a little groan as you stretched out your body, you collected your phone, following him.

“Thanks for dinner.” You smiled, leaning against the doorway and he turned to you with a smile.

“Anytime. I’ll leave the leftovers?”

“Awe, now you’re just spoiling.”

“Only for the best.”

He swiped his phone from the island, pocketing it along with his keys and the two of you made your way down the hallway, Jose pausing to press the elevator button as you moved past it.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you Friday?”

“Course.” He shot you a grin that you did your best not to blush at as you continued into your room, flicking on the light, turning back suddenly when he called out to you. “And y/n?”

“Yeah?” Your hand rested on the door frame, head leaning against it as you glanced towards him.

“To answer the first question you asked me today… yes.. more drool is better.” He winked as you barked out a laugh, your hands coming up to cover your mouth and you knew your cheeks were heated at the callback. He simply gave you a wave as the elevator doors slid open and he stepped into it, leaving you with a million scenarios swirling in your brain as you started to get ready for bed.

____________________________________________

@witches-unruly-heart @fandom-princess-forevermore @cycat4077 @xoxabs88xox @alwaysachorusgirl @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @wandas-wife @katieslotherford @momlifebehard @dondivajade

[cecebateman]

An Awkward Proposal

@peter-donnelly​

The only thing Cece was looking forward to about her upcoming trip was the destination itself. Hawaii was gorgeous. She had been a handful of times with her family, but all of those visits were before law school. She was overdue. Unfortunately, the reason would likely make the company unbearable-- unless she was excited to have her parents nagging in her ear constantly about settling down and ‘finding the right one.’ Her sister was always bringing her newest flame around the family, but Cece had fully kept focused on her career. Something that seemed important even to her parents; at least until recent years. She was going to show up solo to her cousin’s destination wedding and never live it down. The berating and annoying attempts at setting her up with their successful friends’ sons that attended made her skin crawl just thinking about it. At least it was an excuse to buy some new sundresses and beachwear. If nothing else; she’d come back with a nice tan.

The two giant shopping bags at her sides were beginning to weigh Cece’s arms down. She tried to walk briskly back to her firm’s building for respite, regardless of the fact that she still had plenty of her lunch break left. She veered around a corner sidewalk and careened right into Peter. Sigh. Cece had been trying to avoid him ever since that damn New Year’s Eve party because she didn’t like the jealousy that seeing him with someone else had inflicted. It meant there was something real bubbling up, and she didn’t want to deal with that. She couldn’t. They were merely friends. At the most. Former enemies. Hazel eyes gazed up into his as she let out a huff of laughter. “Sorry, Mr. Donnelly. Guess I should slow down in these heels.” Please don’t say anything about our awkward avoidance, please... She begged mentally as she tried not to focus on how much she’d missed his handsome face around.

[lemony-snickers]

chapter three.  >> part two here.

Title: Helping Hands (part 3 of ?)  (AO3 Link Here) Chapter Summary:  The Lord and Caretaker settle into their new arrangement, but the shadows of the past remain always in their periphery. Chapter Word Count: 5,867 Chapter Warnings:  alcohol use, implied sexual content, NON-CONSENSUAL VOEYEURISM, character death (canonical), implied violence, fem!MC .

Iruka Umino grew up in a loving household; his father and mother were hardworking, diligent, and precise in everything they did.

And everything included doting on their only child, a boy born with tan skin, dark, unruly hair, and the most beautiful smile either of them had ever seen.  Iruka had been a troublemaker as a young child, pulling pranks on his parents at every opportunity.  He soon grew out of it, though, when he was old enough to begin following his father out on deliveries.  The work they did was vital—delivering food to the many great houses that existed beyond the village limits was important work, and those who performed such duties well-regarded.

Iruka realized he was lucky to know he would one day take over his father’s business; one day be the person responsible for feedings his friends and neighbors and their families.

When he first began delivering to the Hatake Estate, Iruka hated it.  The climb was steep, his horse irritable and frothing by the time they made it to the top of the drive.  Lord Sakumo Hatake was kind, but strange, and Iruka was never quite sure how to interact with the man.

But the pretty face of the woman who was most often in the kitchen when he made his deliveries helped a little.  His ears turned pink when she smiled at him, patted his shoulder.  She was kind and easy, not stodgy or easily irritated like so many of the other Housekeepers and Maids he usually dealt with.

He would duck his head and scratch his nose, a nervous habit he developed when he first received the scar there—an unfortunate incident of a horse bucking as he attempted to saddle it when he was a teenager.  He’d picked the scab over it so many times that he continued doing so long after it finally healed and the itch abated.

Iruka’s parents could not have known that sending their son to make deliveries on his own would one day have such a profound impact on his life.  They noticed, of course, as parents were keen to do, that his deliveries on Wednesdays began to take more and more time, that he would return flushed and happy from his stop at the Hatake Estate.

At first, they worried a little, unsure about who might be there taking up his attentions; after the man who owned the house had died, they heard no rumors of an heir come to take ownership of it.

But then one week a young woman came into their shop in the village, cheeks rosy and hair whipped into a frenzy from her ride, to ask if it would be possible to make some last minute alterations to her upcoming grocery delivery.  And as they spoke with her, they noted how easy her smile was, how gentle her laugh, how polite and kind she seemed.

They no longer worried for Iruka, even if perhaps they should have.  Of course, what parents could be blamed for not seeing what might be in the heart of the person their child loves?  They were blinded by Iruka’s naked affection, and it induced in them a belief that those same feelings must be returned.

For who could not love a man as sweet as Iruka?

Mrs. Umino knew she shouldn’t fall prey to gossip, but she found herself unable to hold her curiosity at bay forever.  As she took the strangely robust order for delivery the following day, Mrs. Umino asked quietly, “Is someone expected at the house?”

The woman’s mouth curled up at each end.  “Lord Kakashi has already arrived—unannounced—in the middle of the evening,” she whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially.

The older woman could see immediately why her son was spending so much time atop the steep hill where the Hatake Estate was nestled, and she could not blame him.

If she were a young man, she imagined she would be just as stricken with admiration for the woman in charge of the house as her son appeared to be.

Iruka’s mother said nothing to him of Lord Kakashi’s appearance, choosing to allow him to stumble upon the information himself when he made his usual ride up to the Manor. Even when he knit his brows in confusion at the large order and asked about its provenance, Mrs. Umino and her husband—whom she had made privy to the information the preceding evening—only shared a conspiratorial glance and shrugged.

Young love, of course, is a fickle thing.  But that was a lesson Iruka would have to learn in time and on his own; his parents were powerless to prevent his heart from being handled carelessly.  And the woman he gave his to was incapable of returning that love to him in a way that meant anything—even if she perhaps wished that were not the case.

Still, they continued to meet in the stables after that first time, Iruka and his parents oblivious to the impending disaster.

Every Wednesday, as always, Iruka would complete his other deliveries, leaving the Hatake residence for last.  Once he brought the groceries in, he would sneak away to the stables either to wait for the Caretaker, or to find her there already waiting for him.

Her skin smelled like the dry hay they laid on, her mouth tasted like apples when they ripened in the fall, like strawberries in the summer.  She felt soft and beautiful in his hands, the way her body arched against his made his mind reel, his heart race.

And he knew he was in love.

Unbeknownst to either Iruka or his lover, the Lord of the mansion the stables belonged to continued to watch them through the cracks in the wood.

Lord Kakashi knew he should be ashamed of spying, but the exhilaration was too great to deny.  And though he tried to tell himself he did not seek them out, he knew there was no other reason to account for his newly-divined habit of taking an afternoon walk following his tea, which somehow always managed to bring him close by the stables on Wednesday afternoons.

Sometimes, he only listened—the soft rustling of the hay and the Caretaker’s skirts, the gentle plucking sound of their kisses, the high whine held in her throat as Iruka touched her and the soft grunt when he finished.

Upon one such occasion, Lord Kakashi did not leave quickly enough.  Not expecting the Caretaker to jump up almost as soon as Iruka had finished, apologizing for her abrupt departure, but telling him she was quite behind schedule with her chores for the day as she fixed her hair and adjusted her dress.

Iruka, though he was a bit confused, smiled and told her not to worry.  She leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead in thanks and Kakashi realized that where he was standing would be directly in her path back to the house.

He scrambled to appear as if he were only just now walking by the stables, but she was quicker than he expected, and only a moment later, they were face-to-face.

“Oh!  Lord Kakashi,” she said, stepping back.  Kakashi watched as she swallowed, and though he heard Iruka scrambling out of the hay, he had the decency not to react, even when her panicked eyes flicked toward the stables in response.  “Did you need something?”

Lord Kakashi cleared his throat, striving for normalcy out of respect for her dignity as well as deference to his own.  “I thought I might… go for a ride,” he said, rather unconvincingly.

Her eyes widened, concerned he might find his way to the stables before Iruka had time enough to leave himself.

She stalled, “I did not think you normally rode in the afternoons.”

Lord Kakashi, aware of her tactics, smiled and took another step closer.  “That’s correct, though as Lord of Hatake Manor, I imagine I am allowed to alter my schedule if I should so choose.”

“Yes!” she said, a little too loudly, hoping to camouflage the sound of Iruka climbing into his saddle. “Of course!  I just did not think you usually had occasion to be near the stables at this time of day.”

Lord Kakashi grinned, feeling emboldened for reasons he could not pinpoint.  Perhaps it was the way her hair was still a little lopsided and obviously tousled from her activities, or the fact that he could clearly hear the pounding of the horse’s hooves as Iruka departed, which left her grimacing.

Whatever the reason, he leaned forward and said, “I find many occasions to be many places, some of them far more intriguing than others.”

With that, Lord Kakashi turned back toward the house, leaving the Caretaker to stare after him in shock. Because suddenly there was no doubt in her mind that Lord Kakashi knew about her encounters with Iruka in the stable—knew them to be of an indecent nature.  The smirk he had sported as he spoke said so plainly.

But what startled her most was that while she knew she should feel violated at having been discovered—and perhaps even watched—in an intimate position by the man who owned the house for which she worked, she did not.

Instead, she found all she felt was… exhilarated by the prospect.

Lord Kakashi felt much the same as he retreated into the house, heart still racing from his bold confession.

It had been a very long time since Lord Kakashi found himself in any intimate company and the noise of the young lovers tangled together in the afternoons had always tugged at something in his gut.  He missed the feel of another in his bed; wished, perhaps, there was someone he could call to the stables with him.

Not the Caretaker, certainly, but someone.

There were no such companions to be found, however—neither in this land nor the one he left behind. And so he satisfied himself with spying on others’ romance.  Satiated his desire to enjoy another’s flesh by reading dirty romance books in his bed at night and calling forth the memories he stole from the stables to satisfy his errant urges.

To live through others must suffice, he told himself.  He was not cruel enough to expect anyone to tether their life—their destiny and happiness—to a man still broken by his past, still anchored in the losses he had suffered.

Sometimes, he thought of Rin Nohara and he wondered if they could have built a happy existence together. He wondered if one day their shared grief would no longer have sliced between them, keeping them apart, but wound around them like a blanket against the chill of winter.

He wondered, but it mattered not how often he thought of her.

Rin Nohara was dead, as was her fiancé Obito Uchiha.  Both killed by Kakashi’s own inadequacy.  Each remained a bloody, broken specter in his dreams, dark red stains on his pale hands.

Kakashi Hatake, at the moment he came to visit his father’s Estate for the first time, was incapable of being the sort of man who could love or marry.  His heart had been torn into too many small pieces by the agony of his losses, the precious people who had fled his side into the afterlife.

When Obito Uchiha was washed out to sea, foot caught in a line that should have been secured under his Commander’s watchful eyes, he had taken much of Lord Kakashi with him.  His superior officer, his friend, had let him down, sent him to his death.  Lord Kakashi watched as Obito’s body flung over the side of their ship, as it rattled and bounced against the wood.  Obito’s body was pulverized beyond recognition before it plunged into the sea, beyond Lord Kakashi’s grasp.  The wounds the commanding officer had received in return—rope burns over his hands and a searing slice over his eye that nearly blinded him from the line as he attempted in futility to grasp it, to reel Obito back to safety—seemed hardly severe enough admonishment for the misfortune.  It was in the wake of that loss that Lord Kakashi took leave from his command to deliver the news to Obito’s intended himself.  A beautiful girl with dark brown hair and lovely, warm doe eyes named Rin Nohara.

The last words Obito had ever uttered, as he spilled over the rail of the ship to be broken apart and plummeted below into the dark, inescapable depths, had been, “Take care of Rin.”

(At least, these were the words Lord Kakashi heard.  It is impossible, however, to know for certain whether Obito said anything of the kind.  The roar of the waves and the storm, the sharp crack of splintering wood, were so loud that not a single curse could have been truly understood over the whole of it.  In truth, it is more likely Lord Kakashi simply made up the exclamation as a way to punish himself—one final wish of a dead man to anchor himself to.  The problem was that such an anchor may not always be a matter of safety, but sometimes decimation.)

But either way, with those words carved into this heart, Lord Kakashi had endeavored to honor his friend’s last wish. His salary went almost exclusively to Rin’s care—securing her a future and a home as she grieved in agonizing solitude for the man who was meant to be her husband.  Once medically and honorably discharged because of the damage to his eye, Lord Kakashi returned home and brought Rin with him, promised himself to her in Obito’s stead—as if he could ever truly be a replacement for the man who had so loved her and whom she had given her heart to willingly rather than from necessity and obligation.

When they were married, Rin cried and Lord Kakashi knew it was not from the happiness of their arrangement.

They had stayed in separate rooms, at his suggestion, and Rin seemed in no haste to be his wife in any way but name.  Lord Kakashi, perhaps foolishly, but undoubtedly in desperation, sought other companionship in her place.  He spent many long nights drinking and gambling with his tawdrier naval acquaintances, often deciding to hire companionship for an evening or two to satisfy the persistent, lonely ache created by the empty space in his bed.

If he had known what a delicate thing Rin had become in the wake of Obito’s untimely demise, perhaps he would have been more careful.  But he was angry, bitter; the loss of his father and his best friend, the marriage undertaken out of sense of duty and not of love, all took their toll.  And he made mistakes.

When hadn’t he made mistakes?

Lord Kakashi had not grown up with firearms, but had come to know them in the course of his naval service. He was naturally good with both pistol and rifle, though he preferred the first given the option.  He had never discharged his weapon during his time at sea, except to shoot at birds occasionally as the ship he commanded listed on the water waiting for a better wind.

After he left his post in the Navy behind, though, with his left eye half-blind and his mind no longer as clear or precise as it had once been, Lord Kakashi struggled to hit targets—living or clay.

He would often, in those days after his doomed marriage, invite friends to shoot in the afternoons before they undertook their evening plans of gambling and drinking.

He was never drunk when he shot—refused to be because of the danger.  Especially with his eye, Lord Kakashi had to concentrate for his aim to be even within range of the clay pigeons or straw men they used for practice.

His discharge revealed itself to be a mercy; Lord Kakashi’s subordinates and peers would laugh at his calamitous attempts to fire his weapon if they could see him try his hand at target practice with his damaged eye.

And then, one afternoon just like all the others, he and his friends had undertaken a few hours of shooting as they often did.  They’d been at it for quite some time and the sun was beginning to bow behind the horizon.

"Should we go, Kakashi?" someone asked.  He didn’t even remember who the voice belonged to, even as it rang out clear and loud between his ears.  The lack of a title meant it must be one of his less dignified acquaintances, though that might have been true of any man on the lawn that day.

Before he could agree it was time to take their leave, something caught Lord Kakashi’s attention, moving just beyond the tree line, and so he shook his head.  “Just one more, I think,” he said, lowering his weapon toward the bird flitting between the branches.

He shot, cursing when he missed.  But he had at least been close enough to send the creature flying from the branches along with a thousand others—a flock of silent birds once hidden in the shadows revealed in an instant, loud and frenetic as they took to the sky.  Lord Kakashi followed the great flock’s movements, gun trained on the massive, synchronized group of birds as it raced away into the deepening sunset.  Their screams were high-pitched, panicked.

He would never forget the sound.

“My Lord?”

Bang.

He fired, but the shot rang wide because of his damaged eyesight.  He lowered his weapon, gritting his teeth at his inadequacy as not a single bird fell to the ground.  The flock soared off into the distance, undeterred by his firing, a thousand pairs of fluttering wings beating through the air.  And still, he did not realize the magnitude of what he’d done.

It was not the sound of Rin’s body hitting the grass, but the noise of her choking, gasping breath as the blood pooled in her lungs, that finally dragged his attention away from the stupid birds.

Rin Nohara, coming out onto the lawn to ask if he and his friends would like to stay for dinner at the house, had been pierced by his errant bullet.

His own eyes could not have possibly discerned the way she leaned to the side in order to effectively intercept his aim.  Lord Kakashi had no way of knowing that Rin had plodded back and forth along the hall of their shared house for long hours, watching the men in the yard, looking for one she knew could not possibly be among them.

Rin had no way to tell her husband what darkness truly laid in her heart, nor would he have been capable of hearing it if she had made the attempt.  So lost were they in their individual grieving, swept away in their regrets and misfortunes, they never could have found their way to one another.

That his wife took a bullet from his own weapon was indeed a great tragedy, but Kakashi Hatake would have lost his wife one way or another eventually, no matter the means.  This truth did nothing to ease the pain of the moment, however, nor to assuage the dark shadows of the deed as they followed Lord Kakashi into the future.

Rin Nohara’s heart stopped as she lay in her husband’s arms, coating his hands and his clothes with blood he would never be able to wash away, no matter how often he cleaned them. It took him two days to scrub the sticky red residue of her final moments from beneath his fingernails, the buttons of his jacket; three more than that to bury her and return her belongings to her angry, grieving parents.

And only a week longer for him to flee in his father’s wake, carrying himself and his dogs an ocean away to a house on a hill in the rain, running from every mistake he’d made as if the ghosts he created could be slowed by the ascent of the hill, by the crashing of the waves against the hull of his ship.

If destiny were a thread, Lord Kakashi’s was frayed, tiny fibers stripping off, reaching out toward unattainable destinations.  Perhaps his thread was twined with others, where they fell away, he picked up in their stead, tracing their path with unsteady footsteps until the end of the fiber.

He followed that thread into the Navy, followed his father’s path as far as he could before he was afraid he might plummet over the edge of the earth.

He followed Obito’s thread after he drowned, then his father’s again after he killed Rin.

The threads were so braided and knotted, now, it had become entirely unclear to him whose destiny he might yet be tracing.

The Caretaker did not believe in destiny—she hardly believed in thinking to the next day unless it was for work.  She woke each morning, completed her duties, fell asleep, and did it again. That was enough. It had to be.

Iruka believed destiny was a person.  And in his heart, he came to believe that person was the woman who laid with him in the hay, let him tangle his fingers through her hair after they had tired themselves with their love making.  He loved settling his ear against her chest, listening to her heart’s slow, melodic rhythm.

He wondered, sometimes, if she felt even half the same.  She seemed more than willing to hold him, to whisper loving words against his ear—even if none of them was ever love itself—but she was always keen enough to remind him when it was time to leave, to send him away with a wave and a smile instead of a tender touch or kiss on the cheek.

Even before Lord Kakashi had arrived, a certain distance remained.  A distance which yawned wider in the wake of the young Lord’s removal to the Hatake Estate.  Iruka did not miss the fleeting glances between the two and often, perhaps erroneously, wondered where the Caretaker’s attentions might fall on afternoons that were not Wednesday.

It was this fear that might have pushed him toward his decision with greater force than necessary. And Iruka’s parents spurred him to make his intentions fully clear, to tell the women who held his heart to what extent she did; to ask her the only question that mattered.  But Iruka was afraid he already knew the answer, afraid it was clasped tightly within the silver locket around her neck, which she had never opened or spoken of in his presence; or that it might be hidden in the strange tilt of Lord Kakashi’s mouth whenever he watched the two of them exchange orders in the kitchen.

Though Iruka was correct in thinking her heart belonged elsewhere, he could not have known to what extent—and never would.  Only those who have suffered losses of the heart can fully comprehend them in another.

As Lord Kakashi settled into his new home, so also did it settle around him.  The floors that once protested against the thundering paws of his dogs eventually adjusted, the chair he favored for reading quickly took an indent that molded to his form, holding him firmly in place when he relaxed against the cushion, which he did often.

Kakashi Hatake was a voracious reader, happy to fold himself into the chair at any time of day when he did not have other duties to attend to and peruse his late father’s library. He left his more lascivious reading—the tawdry romance novels he coveted so—for his bedroom, where no prying eyes might accidentally rove across the pages.

The Caretaker offered to clean his room, change his bedclothes, but the young Lord declined, too embarrassed of what she might find if he was not careful to keep it secreted away.

She thought the arrangement very strange indeed; she had never worked for anyone who stripped their own bed and left the sheets outside the closed door for her to pick up and launder. Nor did she ever meet a man until Lord Hatake himself so willing to get his hands dirty and calloused in his own home.

Lord Kakashi hammered and sanded, he rehung the crooked shutters and greased the door hinges.

“We should really hire a proper staff now that you’re living here,” she said again.  But as happened every time she mentioned doing so, Lord Kakashi waved away her complaints.

“Unless you are planning to leave, we don’t need anyone else.”

She huffed, but accepted his response until the next time she brought it up and he gave her the same answer.

Things continued like this for long weeks.  Lord Kakashi rode his horse in the mornings, after taking his breakfast.  Where he went, the Caretaker did not know, but he returned always appearing rather irritable and she prepared his afternoon tea without any polite chatter, serving it to him in his study where he sat with his dogs between her cleaning duties for the day.

And the house, in all its strangeness, formed around them, the rugs wearing in the hallway where Lord Kakashi paced in the evenings.  His dreams often woke him, peeling open his eyelids with an urgency he could not ignore. And the Caretaker frequently heard him scream or shout in his sleep.  Sometimes, she would wake when his door opened and she heard him wandering the house, muttering to himself quietly.

On more than one occasion, she found him asleep in the parlor the following morning, sprawled in his favorite chair with the smallest of his dogs—a pug she now knew to be named Pakkun—curled against his chest, a book on the floor where his grip had loosened on it.

On such mornings, the Caretaker simply created a little more noise as she made her way to the kitchen to prepare their food, allowing Lord Kakashi the dignity of rousing himself and returning to his bedroom to change before they officially greeted one another for the day.

Often, she would ask, “How did you sleep?”

And without fail, he would always reply, “Very well, thank you.”

Though she knew it to be a lie, she would never dare to ask any further, even as she knew she would soon hear him traversing the halls in the dead of evening again, almost like a ghost pacing through the rooms; as unable to leave as he was incapable of resting.

And just as she never mentioned that she at times heard him shout in the night—that his voice would crack like a whip through her dreams to rouse her—Lord Kakashi never mentioned that he sometimes found her standing outside on the grounds, fingers playing delicately with the locket balanced against her collarbone while she stared down the hill, over the rolling green grass toward something he could not see.

It was upon one night such as this, however, that their paths intersected.

Kakashi startled awake from a nightmare.  It was a merciful thing.  He dreamt that Obito pulled him beneath the dark water with him, limbs tangled together in a deadly embrace, like a nure-onna come to claim him for the depths.

When he finally broke free and kicked his way to the surface, he swam long leagues to the shore and climbed up on the sand, belly scraping over the beach as he dragged himself to land. And as he turned to sit up and looked out at the horizon, it was to discover Rin’s body, brown hair fanned as her corpse bobbed languidly in the waves, blood spiraling into the water around her, soaking the sand where the sea met the beach.

So waking had been a mercy. He streaked his hands over his face, wiping the sweat from his brow and his nose, rubbing his eyes until his vision half-cleared enough for him to make out the snoozing dogs around him, to see the outline of the wardrobe and the posters of his bed; the still-covered mirror.

He wandered the halls, as he always did.  Aimlessly, without purpose.

When he made his way to the parlor, just as he was about to collapse into his favorite chair to steal a few hours of fitful sleep only to wake with his back and neck aching from the awkward position, something beyond the windows caught his eye.

The Caretaker stood in the yard, wind whipping at her night dress as she stared out over the unseeable grounds.

Lord Kakashi should have left well enough alone—he knew that.  Knew it would be prudent to climb into his chair and pretend he’d never seen her just as she pretended she did not hear him wandering the halls or find him sleeping in the parlor.

But the way her skirt and her hair fluttered in the breeze reminded him too much of how Rin’s had undulated in the waves of his nightmare and he shivered.  He needed to make sure she was okay.

The Caretaker noticed his approach long before he met her in the grass.  Rather than acknowledge him, she chose to tuck her locket away beneath her night clothes and pinch her robe together at her throat, to protect both privacy and modesty.

“A little late for a stroll, isn’t it?” Lord Kakashi asked as he came up next to her.  He maintained a safe distance, almost enough for two other people to stand between them if they wanted.  She welcomed the jibe with a self-aware smile, a breathy chuckle almost lost to the breeze.

“I suppose you would know, my Lord, given you are walking also.”

He hummed, throat tightening at the address. Though he understood it to be his proper title, he had disliked it ever since that fateful day on the lawn.

Hearing Rin Nohara’s last words repeated endlessly as a formal and polite address felt like a cruel punishment of the gods.

Realizing he had lost himself in his thoughts and left her response unanswered, Lord Kakashi cleared his throat to shake the grief from his vocal cords.  “Not by choice,” he said.

She knew as much. Though she did not expect him to elaborate, she felt that curiosity pulling at her same as it had on nights when she heard him scream down the hall.

“Trouble sleeping?” she prodded gently, but all she received in response was another hum and so she left it.

“What about you?” Lord Kakashi asked after another long silence stretched between them.  And then he revealed, “I’ve seen you out here on other evenings, though none quite so late, I think.”

She ducked her head, smiling. Of course the Lord of the Manor had noticed her late night walks; the man spent more evenings awake than not. Still, she found herself embarrassed to have been caught out.

Instinctively, her fingers went to the small lump beneath her clothes, the locket nestled safely against her sternum.  “Coming out here reminds me of someone.  Someone I like very much to remember.”

Lord Kakashi’s sight was damaged and the darkness of the late evening did not help, but even he could discern the movement of her fingers and know that whoever she was referring to likely resided in that locket and nowhere else.

Not on the living plane, anyway.

Whoever she was thinking of lingered somewhere in the afterlife.  Perhaps with Sakumo or Obito or Rin.

They stood there together for a long time, until both of their toes were frozen through.

“Can I escort you back?” Lord Kakashi asked, cordially offering her his arm.

Her eyebrows flew upward, eyes widening.  He realized in that moment the move was strange—that someone of his stature was not supposed to offer her his arm.

But when had the social conventions of this strange place—or any other—ever stopped him from doing what he felt was right?  Never, and this evening would be no different.  Kakashi Hatake was precisely himself every place he’d ever been and in every company he had ever kept—for better and far worse.

“There’s no need, my Lord,” she said, but her companion did not lower his arm.

Rather, he smiled wickedly, knowing she was in no position to refuse him if he pressed the issue.  “I insist,” he said, bowing his head.

The Caretaker grit her teeth, recognizing his tenacity for the teasing it was, as she reached out and looped her arm around his.  She inclined her head and thanked him politely, and he led her back to the house.

Looking back so much time later, they each would realize that perhaps this small gesture, this innocuous evening was what might have precipitated all that came after, even if none of that would be clear for many moons, yet.

Once they entered the house, the Caretaker removed her arm from Lord Kakashi’s and was about to make her excuses to leave when he offered her a drink.

“A brandy, if you will? I’d hate to drink it alone.”  She swallowed, about to decline.  “Nothing will chase away the chill like a warm brandy,” he assured her.

Though her excuse weighed heavily on the tip of her tongue, she also knew he was right.  Her fingers and toes felt like they’d been carved of ice and the thought of stoking a small fire and warming herself with a brandy before returning to bed was quite welcome.

Seeing her desire to say yes, LordKakashi took the option from her by saying, “Start a fire, if you please, I’ll get the glasses.”

And so it was the two of them sat in comfortable silence, sipping a snifter each of warm brandy while they thawed their feet by the gentle flames of the parlor fireplace, sitting opposite each other in the comfortable armchairs they each preferred for reading.

Though that night was the first they passed in such a way, it was hardly the last.  Following that event, the Lord and Caretaker of the house on the hill grew strangely closer.  Not in any noticeable way to those who might see them by chance when calling at the Manor on business.

Iruka did not notice any change in the air when he arrived that Wednesday, when she kissed him in the stables.  The man who delivered the post, carrying with him weather-beaten letters from Lord Kakashi’s home, did not detect any variation in the man’s demeanor from other days when he had called at the house.

But late at night, the two would often find their way to the parlor to enjoy a finger of brandy or gin in companionable silence—one or both of them might read a book by firelight—before the Caretaker retired to her room for the evening.

Sometimes Lord Kakashi followed soon after, climbing into his bed in search of sleep.  More often, though, he whistled sharply and Pakkun ran down the stairs to join him on the chair where he would rest his eyes until the sounds of breakfast being prepared roused him in the morning and he dressed for a new day.

[gumjuly18]

The 5-Minute Rule for Everescents Organic Shampoo and Conditioner

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I take pleasure in the product thus considerably that I have purchased others in the selection as presents - the blonde hair shampoo/hair conditioner and the surge/hair shampoo and co. Read morenditioner.com Ranked 5 out of 5 through Maryb from Fantastic FOR ALL CIRCLES! I had a married couple of of items on my desk, primarily to look at, and I needed to have this things in the downpour. I am astonishingly irritated with the packaging in the much smaller sizes which do not possess a pump; the container is challenging and stringent. What I am attempting to carry out is produce certain there is actually no area for a vacuum cleaner and the container is not in this size of bottle. I am working on an sky hair conditioner which I intend to put up in the basement of the house to switch out the suction tube which was current on the outside of the carton in scenario they needed extra amount of money. Both I and my present receiver locate it impossible to press the product out, compeling one to screw off the top and make an effort to scoop the item coming from the container, leading in an inappropriate product rubbish - directly down the gurgler. I've bought numerous brand new containers from Target and this one is much better than the others. I presume the shipping was likewise far better than others from a much smaller company. It's a very small order. The package deal arrived quickly after the voucher and shown up in my mailbox. I possess much better points to carry out with a Friday night than attempting to compel hair products through a funnel right into a a lot more adaptable bottle so the present recepient can use them - as I have done this evening. I am pleased to possess the possibility to send this after I receive the present (that is, after my final one of these was purchased and it was at the end of the day) and am happy it isn't a gift that brings too a lot difficulty. Truly, when I am sustaining your business, please do not provide me issues to resolve. I will definitely take these issues seriously and go discover a means that deals with the issues in my life so I can easily increase, develop and transform. You cannot inform when your issue might not resolve anything. Why should I care? All you perform is do what works for an business person. Don't permit one customer destroy the rest of your organization. I understand that Everescents have produced their product packaging eco friendly; I say thanks to them for it, but it still has to offer the consumer's reason. A good instance of their recycling and recyclability technique is that if your household comes by, you're asked to pay for the recyclers to take in their goods, as properly as the plastic pellets, but the purchaser pays the recyclers to wash up the bin.

[nini-ships]

My Self Inserts

Due to some very unfortunate art block, I have used these three picrews for my self inserts for now :’D

Disclaimer: The skin tones are inaccurate as I am a bit darker than the picrews make it out to be, but the options were limited so it was the closest option I could choose lol

Nini (Insert any of my Main F/Os’ last name here)

Just me :D

So to sum it up, I’m a very introverted individual with an addiction to video games & romance.

-

Cassie (Pokemon)

A well known photographer who is currently traveling the world. Due to her endless curiosity, she is constantly being thrown right in the middle of chaotic situations.

Pokemon: Alolan Vulpix, Gardevoir, Staraptor, Flareon, Diancie

-

Selene Mori (YTTD)

A famous writer who lives in the same area as a certain professional boxer. She keeps to herself and spends her free time updating her drafts at the local park, which is where she first met him.

-

Nora (Genshin Impact)

An adeptus who is both Guizhong & Morax’s closest companion. When roaming around in her mortal form, she frequently travels between Mondstadt and Liyue. She is affiliated with the Knights of Favonius, has an Anemo vision and she wields a polearm. (This image was slightly edited to fit the ideal design)

Ella “Luna” Ferdinand (Genshin Impact)

Mini Backstory: A former Treasure Hoarder who was brought back on the right path. Works as Sara’s assistant at Good Hunter’s (and occasional bartender/waitress at Angel’s Share). (This image was slightly edited to fit the ideal design)

-

Hikari Kurata (D4DJ)

Worker at the Record Shop. Met Tsubaki & Hiiro by chance during a shift and was convinced by Hiiro to watch their upcoming show at their club. Now Hikari makes it quite clear she is into Tsubaki.

-

Rei Nazuka [Hero name: KANON] (My Hero Academia/Boku No Hero Academia)

Pro Hero and staff member of UA. She served as a substitute teacher and assistant but ultimately took over Nemuri’s duties.

-

Tori Asari (Persona 5)

She works at the diner in Shibuya and even serves the protagonist on days when she works. She will repay anyone that helps her out with something with a free meal.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

so, SO, Hear me out. This has been stuck in my head for DAYS. Can i request a Sapnap x reader smut, BUT Incubus!Sapnap. My brain is mush. Perhaps reader doesn't believe in demons etc, so they're trying to prove to themselves that these things indeed don't exist by trying to summon a demon, what type of demon? they don't know. Unfortunately(fortunately) for them, the ritual works and Sapnap is summoned. Afab reader with any pronouns, and Dom or switch Sapnap.

i literally love this idea sm. thank you for trusting me with it. [thank you to a friend of mine who helped me w some of the plot elements.] I hope you enjoy and happy reading! xx

𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (18+)

pairing: incubus!sapnap x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (minors dni), mentions of an Ouija board, blood, oral (fm. receiving), smut, domination, choking

Your fishnets clung to your legs, yet provided little protection against the nipping breeze dragging icy fingers across your skin. You rubbed the arms of your jacket, attempting to generate more warmth as your breath fogged around you. Your friends giggled and kicked at each other, hanging around their shoulders and acting drunker than they actually were. It felt like icicles picked your heart each time you faintly felt like you were enjoying yourself, all because of Him.

His words echoed in your head each time a man approached you, finding yourself nearly too suspicious to believe they wouldn’t end up like He did: cold, distant, and arrogant.

The club had been too loud, in your opinion, but you’d be damned to let one of your friends know. They were focused on finding you a squeeze to preoccupy you while you got over Him. You didn’t need a distraction, you just needed to get rid of the thought of him.

One of your friends grabbed your arm, dragging you down a portion of concrete steps and into a lower-level shop. You briefly caught sight of the neon sign above the door, LOCAL PSYCHIC blinking in bright pink piping to welcome in tourists. You scoffed to yourself as you shrugged through the beaded curtain over the door.

The shop smelled of incense and a potpourri of unfamiliar herbs. A slender woman with long black hair looked up from a magazine, gold eyeliner sparkling in the dim lighting of the store. She watched the group of you carefully as your friends went straight for the Ouija boards in the corner. As you looked over her various shelves of exotic species of crystals, you could feel her eyes burning into your shoulder.

You sighed quietly, grabbing a green hued crystal and approaching her in lieu of your group. “So, this will get rid of my bad juju if I stick it in my bra, right?” You quipped jokingly, making her smuggly grin.

She straightened up, revealing a metal band t-shirt that you couldn’t pronounce the name of, let alone knew. “Gorgeous, you’ll need a fist full of moldavite to cleanse what you’ve got going on,” she jested, voice raspy and surveying. “Give me your hand,” she stated, more than asked. You reluctantly reached for her, her boney ringers cupped your hand, rings catching the candle light beside the cash register.

“Does it say I’ll disappear mysteriously after a boating accident?” You leered, making her bite her lip.

You could practically feel her breath on your skin. She studied your palm closely, wetting her lips. “I think I have something better than moldavite, though,” she quirked before digging her nail into the center, making you hiss. She drew a bit of blood from the wound, placing a business card against the spot. The center of the card oozed the crimson color seeping from the cut. “Call this number when you get home and all your bad juju will clear, my love. Him included,” she whispered. “You don’t believe in demons do you?”

“Of course not,” you answered, your eyes locked on hers as she smiled darkly at you, almost forebodingly. You flipped the card in your hand, a number plastered on one side and “REVERSE YOUR REGRETS,” printed boldly on the other. Your eyebrow perked at her. “What, is this a demon calling card?” You quizzed almost sarcastically.

Her dark, full lips twisted up. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

Your mouth ran dry as she smirked, fingers brushing against your own as your hand slipped from hers. You found it hard to speak on the bus ride home, or even form sentences while you were crammed between two of your friends as they all sparked chatter about their upcoming finals. One of the main reasons they bought the Ouija board was to ask a ghost to write their history and philosophy theses.

Your apartment was dark and alluringly quiet compared to the night of bright lights and ridiculous EDM you had endured for most of the night. You let your jacket slip to the floor as you switched on a lamp, washing your hands as your mind relayed what the woman from the shop had said. As you dried your hands, your eyes traveled towards the living room, the dark fabric of one of His hoodies peeking out from between the couch and the wall. You bit your tongue, anger flashing into your veins. “Even Him…” you thought, remembering what she had told you.

You grabbed your phone, slinking over to where your jacket was and fishing the card from your pocket. The red smudge of blood almost perfectly split the phone number in half. “You don’t believe in demons do you?”

“No, what kind of respectable adult believes in demons,” you grumbled to yourself, dialing the number. You turned the card over again, eyeing the words as you waited for the call to connect. Instead of ringing normally, three long dial tones sounded over your receiver, sending a shiver down your spine. Dogs of your apartment complex began to bark, sending feral noises of discomfort into the air.

An automated voice began to speak, startling you slightly. “Thank you for your call. Your sacrifice is pure and has been accepted. Congratulations.”

Sacrifice? The line went dead, your power fizzling out as well. You froze, your feet feeling as if your shoes were filled with cement. In an instant, your array of candles sparked to life, brightening the room. Your heart thundered in your chest, unsure of what was happening. Sacrifice?

You held your breath, waiting for what was to come. It seemed as if your apartment had been removed from the city outside, instead an eerie silence settled in the room, making it almost suffocating to be alone.

“Hello, dove,” a dark voice called from behind you, making you jump a foot in the air, chest wheezing from the jump scare. A man smirked at you, resting his chin in his hand as he looked at you. He dominated one of your chairs, his other hand drumming his fingers against the leather. His suit was well tailored, but he wore it rather lazily with his crisp white shirt unbuttoned. He wore dark nail polish, making his fingers appear longer.

His eyes trailed your body, pressing his lips together as you realized how tightly you were clutching your phone and the card. “How did you get in here?” You asked, your voice barely audible.

He stood, straightening the sleeves of his suit jacket. He walked over to you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Your breath was measured, your body drawn to him as if you were an animal in heat. “You summoned me, puppy,” he answered, voice dipping an octave before dragging the card from your fingers. Your skin burned and sparked at his touch. His smell was intoxicatingly enticing, making your mouth water.

He held the card between two fingers, his eyes locking to yours indefinitely. “You even bound yourself to me,” he noted, letting his finger pad draw across the blood stain on the card. “Little minx,” he mumbled.

You swallowed. “What are you?” You managed, words uneven and almost jumbled.

He turned slightly on his heel, circling around you slowly, fingers dragging against the fabric of your shirt before snaking around the back of your throat. His thumb teased against your skin almost as if he was restraining himself from ripping you in half. “They call me Sapnap. Some might categorize me as a demon, but that seems rather exaggerated, don’t you think?” He responded. “I’m here to help you reverse your regrets.”

You inhaled sharply. “What does that mean?”

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Baby, I’m here to make you feel good again,” he divulged, the heat of his breath skimming against your neck, urging you to submit to him. "I'm here to make you forget all about Him."

In an instant you found yourself pinned beneath him, the sheets on your bed cast aside along with most of your clothes. He watched you sternly as he slipped his jacket off his shoulders, unbuttoning his collared shirt, pupils blown with lust at your hungry appearance.

Sapnap ground his hips against yours, tugging on your thighs to bring you closer to him. Your back arched slightly, fingers digging into the sheets as his lips traveled from your neck to your chest, one of his large hands palming your breast. You stifled a moan, hips bucking against him. He pressed his tongue against your navel, licking a strip against your skin before he was in your ear again. His fingers curled around your waistband. "Uh uh, dove. I wanna hear you."

He leaned back on his knees, teeth nipping at the inside of your thighs as he trailed towards your core. His eyes danced up to yours, briefly gauging your reaction before slipping his finger between the skin of your hips and your lacy undergarments, tugging them down your legs. He pressed open mouth kisses to your thighs once more, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh with a restraint you had half a mind to egg on.

He hooked his arms around your thighs, burying his face where you needed him the most. Your body reacted to the pleasure of his tongue almost instantly, fighting to clamp your legs around his head as your toes curled. Sapnap was taking his time with you, eating you out as if you were his last meal, humming slightly to send vibrations against your nerve endings.

You threaded your fingers through his dark hair, rolling your hips against his mouth and muttering his name. He moved, teeth sinking into your thigh as he pressed his finger into you, making you moan incoherently. You tugged at his hair, earning a groan in pleasure as you noticed him grinding against the mattress. His lips were back on your heat as his finger curled inside of you.

He added another finger, finding your sweet spot almost as if your body had been made for him specifically. With each swirl of his tongue and his moans at the sight of you enjoying the chase of your orgasm, the more the tension began to build within you. He quickened his pace as he watched you pant, coaxing you closer to the edge.

Sapnap moved his head from side to side, flattening his tongue for more friction, pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Cum for me, baby," he commanded, breath hot against your core. You relinquished control of your body, letting your climax rip through your body, leaving you breathless and stunned.

He wore the devil's smile as kissed the inside of your knee, praising you heavily for heeding to his demands. "Good girl," he cooed, voice dark and drawn with lust as he moved to press his lips against your shoulder. "Such a good girl."

His lips traveled beneath your ear, nipping at the skin before pressing his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands holding your chin.

He discarded his pants, spitting in his hand and stroking himself a few times as his eyes burned into yours. He dragged you towards him, gripping onto your hips before driving himself into you. You groaned at the pressure, grinding against his hips and earning a smirk from him. "So needy. Have I not been good to you thus far?" His words dripped with a god complex you had yet to taste.

You whimpered slightly before he rolled his hips against yours. He retracted himself before slowly thrusting into you, watching with pride as you writhed for more of him. "I could kill you, you know?" He stated, thrusting into you harshly, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of your head.

You chuckled breathlessly, your fingers wrapping around one of his wrists. "You won't," you moaned as he set a pace, digging his hips into yours.

Sapnap's other arm moved, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing slightly, as if showing you he could do worse. "Says who?" He provoked, pressing his lips against yours, teeth dragging against your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from deep in your throat.

His thrusts were becoming sloppier, deeper as he buried himself into you. "Me," you answered. He grinned deviously, pinning your knee to your chest and pounding into you, basking in your moans like they were personalized ego boasts. "I can take it," you groaned quietly, enticing him. He tightened his hold on your neck, causing your vision to blur in pleasure as heat rushed through your body, his roughness a perfect catalyst to your cardinal hunger.

"That's right, sweetheart," he grunted, eyes seeming to burn brighter with your submission. "Take it," he mirrored, his pace relentless against you as if testing your limits. He pressed his thumb in your mouth, moaning as your teeth rested against it, tongue darting out against it. You focused on his eyes, trying not to roll your own as your body ached to climax.

You could see the veins in his neck becoming more prominent and he removed his thumb only to grip your jaw in his hand, shoving his tongue into your mouth to lap at your whimpers. His hands moved to pin your forearms to the mattress beside you, his lips melding against yours as the two of you pushed each other to orgasms. You could feel his pleasure coming undone within you, finally acting as the jumping-off point for your second climax.

You panted, hurriedly attempting to catch your breath as he pulled out of you, sighing in pleasure.

He moved to begin dressing, holding your card between his teeth as he buckled his belt around his waist. Your mind blurred in bliss, still riding your high. It didn't really bother you if he left or stayed.

He finished buttoning his shirt as you sat up on your elbows, watching him straighten his appearance. "I'll call on you soon," he stated, tucking the card with your blood on it into his breast pocket.

You quipped an eyebrow at him. "This is a normal thing now?" You questioned, the situation seeming different.

He patted his pocket to gesture to the card. "You're mine, dove. I get you whenever I want," he smirked. He rested his knee on the edge of your bed, leaning down to press his lips against yours possessively.

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Grocery List

Dwayne x Reader

Word Count: 1,100

Summary: Reader takes Dwayne to a late night run to the store. 

While grocery shopping was technically a chore, you found that you didn’t mind it too much. Not compared to other things on your to-do list.

That particular trip to the store wasn’t a huge haul either; you just needed ingredients to make something for an upcoming potluck and decided to pick up some other treats since you were already there.

Sure, sometimes people would try to make uncomfortable conversation with you, but getting food was worth it. 

Besides, now that you had Dwayne to accompany you, he kept most of the real weirdos away from you. And there were plenty of weirdos at the grocery mart after dark.

You heard a tearing sound and saw Dwayne reaching into an opened box of cereal.

Weirdos which evidently included him.

He grunted in betrayal when you gave him a well place jab to the ribs. “Don’t open things, you goob. Now I have to buy it.”

“Oh.” Rolling up the bag, he pushed it down into the cereal box and set it back on the shelf.

You sighed and put it in your cart. “Unfortunately, that’s not how it works.”

Knowing Dwayne, he was probably about to critique the system. Something like ‘the capitalist system that the grocery chain operated in was already stealing from you, profits won’t miss one box of cereal.’

Sure enough, he cracked his neck, a tell that he was about to get on his soap box. “You know, the system already steals—”

“Sounds great, big guy, but I’m still paying for it.”  He watched the box with a pout as you made your way down the aisle.

You tried to give him something to do to keep him occupied. “Here.” You scribbled a few things on the back of a coupon. “Can you go get these for me? It’ll go faster if we team up.”

Taking the list from you, he scanned it and gave you a single finger gun. 

Laughing under your breath as he wandered off, you went back to scanning the shelves, hoping they had the brand you wanted in stock.

In a flash, you had your part of the shopping finished. Perks to expertly knowing where everything in the store was located as a long-time shopper. But you hadn’t seen Dwayne in a while started making the rounds to find him.

One of the wheels on the cart was super squeaky and out of rhythm compared to the rest, which you noticed a lot more when you weren’t focused on groceries. You tried every trick you knew to keep it quiet but the wheel just would not be silenced.

In the end, it was him who found you. “I heard the cart from a few aisles over.”

It made no sense to be embarrassed for the poor cart, but you were. “Sorry. Guess I chose the problematic one today.”

“Not a big deal,” he shrugged. The he dumped all of the stuff he had been carrying in his arms into the cart, making a loud racket.

Confused as to why he had so much stuff, you looked everything over. “Hot Pockets, Twinkies, squeeze cheese…” you muttered. And that was just the start—there was tons of box and packages that weren’t on his list.

He tried to defend himself. “We ran out of Twinkies yesterday at the cave and this flavor of Hot Pockets sounds good. I think they boys will love ‘em.”

“…” Did he really miss the instructions on the back of the box? “But you don’t even have a microwave to cook them in.”

He blinked, like he was just now realizing it. “Umm… I guess we could roast them over the barrels?”

“Huh. That might actually—hey wait, no. I’m getting off track here. Dwayne. I didn’t tell you to get most of this.”

“No,” he agreed, “It all sounds tasty though.”

You patted his shoulder in consolation. “Sorry, big guy. You have to put them back.”

But Dwayne knew you well, meaning that he knew how best to convince you. 

He placed his hands on your hips, thumbs reaching under your shirt just enough to rub tiny circles on your bare skin. His forehead rested against yours, so that you almost went crossed eyed staring into his big, brown eyes.

“Please,” he petitioned, giving you a little kiss.

You were wavering for sure and when he noticed, he amped it up a notch.

He managed to roll his shoulders in such a way that his jacket slid off one of them, exposing his toned arm in addition to the skin that was already showing on his chest. The muscles on display, his low voice, the big eyes…you were a goner.

“Fine. But you can only keep five of them! The rest have to stay for next time.”

Smiling victoriously, he kissed you again. Then he was rummaging through the cart, choosing what would go and what would stay.

Squeeze cheese didn’t make the cut, but the Twinkies and Hot Pockets were still there, along with a tray of baked cinnamon rolls and a canister of Flintstone’s gummies. The last one made you raise a brow.

“For Laddie. He likes the taste and vitamins are good for a growing boy.”

You were a little iffy on whether Laddie was still growing, being half-vampire and all, but didn’t bring it up. The fact that he was so close with the boy always made you soft.

“To the register,” you pointed dramatically. Dwayne saluted and got a running start with the shopping cart, jumping up to ride it once it was going fast enough.

Luckily, the cashier didn’t make a big deal out of the silliness. “Did you find everything okay?”

“Yep,” you said. Digging for the twenty you stashed in your wallet before coming to the grocery mart, you felt Dwayne glue himself to your back.

You were too busy with the cashier though.

“Do you want a receipt?” they asked with a smile.

“Sure.” The last syllable came out as a squeak. Dwayne had nuzzled your ear.

“I can’t believe you did that in front of the poor cashier,” you admonished while putting the groceries in the trunk of your car.

“They were checking you out.”

“It’s their job.” Really, why would that set him off?

He stared meaningfully. “No, checking you out.” Oh. “But don’t worry—between hugging you and swiping some licorice, I feel a little more forgiving.” 

Indeed, he pulled out a pack of black licorice that you hadn’t even seen him grab, and started munching happily.

You sighed. What a goob.

_______________

Today was a Dwayne kind of day. I haven’t written him in so long, I missed him! Hope all the fellow Dwayne lovers out there enjoyed. Happy October! 

[juminly]

Ruminations of a Dreamer Part VII - (Viktor x F!Reader)

Title: The Ball. Summary: When you and Viktor attend Mel Medarda’s ball together. (Totally not a date. Totally.) Series Masterlist –♥– On the day of Councillor’s Medarda’s ball, Viktor made it. How? He wasn’t even sure but only temporarily, he had abandoned all his research for the sake of his current project. Your gift. Unfortunately, he couldn't give it to you with his own hands. By the time he was done with the final touches, testing how well it worked, you had already begun your preparations so he trusted one of your maids with it, attaching a small note from him. 'Dearest Y/N, please accept this as a token of our friendship. I believe that this will compliment your natural beauty perfectly. I hope to see you wearing them tonight. Your friend, Viktor.' Now that was done, Viktor had to hurry to the tailor's shop, where Councillor Talis had already requested a suit designed just for his research associate. A small detail that Jayce knew Viktor would forget he would have to prepare before the ball, but had taken care for him, especially considering how engrossed he was on your gift. Only a few hours later, Viktor, handsomely dressed in a black suit and tie, comfortably found his place as a wallflower at the Medarda's ball. While he awaited your arrival, he distracted himself by sifting through his mental notes of his upcoming experiments, idly chatting with any Academy member who happened to come across him. "Viktor!" Jayce called him out from afar, catching his attention while he gestured with a tilt of his head to the entrance to the vast ballroom of the Medrada mansion. There you were, standing and looking around you like a lost child, his legs moved on their own. A smile unconsciously drawn on his thin lips as he took in the sight of you: wrapped in a beautiful form fitting royal blue dress, the red tainting your lips enhancing their delicate shape. "Y/N." He called out to you, the moment your eyes met, the trepidation dissipated from your expression, replaced with a bright smile which only made Viktor's gifts to you shine in return. "Oh!" You gasped, looking down at your neck in surprised, eyes wide as you peered up to Viktor the moment he stood before you. "What.. What is this? Also, hello and thank you." You giggled. A necklace and a hair piece handcrafted with hextech stones in the shape of bruneras, devised specifically to react to the bearer's emotions. The blue stones appeared as precious gemstones, shining bright whenever you felt joy and dimming to a dark blue shade the more neutral and calmer you felt. "One thing at a time, Y/N. Hello to you and it was my utmost pleasure." He smiled, brushing around a stray strand that fell upon your bare shoulders, the tip of his cold fingers barely grazing your soft skin. "Would you like to know why I chose bruneras?" With a shy nod from you, Viktor smiled, reaching for your hand and giving you a quick twirl so he could see the way the hairclip held back the waves of your tresses across your back. "In that dream, the one I recounted to you, I was surrounded by bruneras. And whenever I am with you, I am reminded of that dream." As your hand touched the glimmering stones adorning your chest, you offered him a shaky smile as he continued to explain how they worked. Keeping your hand in his, he gave it a light squeeze as he confessed. "I am appeased and flattered to know that you are happy with your gift." "Of course, I am. I can't even begin to describe how beautiful this is. No one has ever given me a gift as thoughtful as this. I'm speechless." "And so is everyone else gazing upon you." Viktor tried so hard to ignore the tightening in his chest, a strange pang in his heart erupting at the thought of what his statement could entail. Guiding you to one of the nearest pillars, he leaned on the solid column while both of your eyes scoured your surroundings, you filling him in on town gossip that he had no idea would be as interesting as when you told him of it. He found himself snickering too many times for him to be able to count. He felt

so... light. That was the only word he could use to describe what joined the simple happiness of sharing good company. A luxury he was lucky to have this evening. When a certain tune began playing, he noticed the way you stiffened ever so slightly, your eyes lingering longingly over the pairs that found each other on the dancefloor, swaying to the adagio of the music. "Would you like to dance, Y/N?" In moments like these, he wished he had the grace that he never was fated to possess. The limp in his leg was a clear obstruction to that, there was no point for him to combat it, but just find ways to deal with it. "Yes... Yes, I do." You hesitated as you took the hand that he offered you, while he rested his cane on the wall behind him, walking closer to you. "Y/N, I must confess something to you. I'm not a skilled dancer so I cannot guarantee that this will be an enjoyable experience for you." "Viktor, I really couldn't care any less about the dancing." You stated sincerely, shrugging with a carefree attitude you only wore when you were comfortable and confident. "What matters to me is that it's with you. So, Mister." You grinned at him, yet the shyness that riddled you tainted your cheeks in a deep flush of pink, an adorable sight that ensued a ghostly sensation within his chest, an urge to press his lips upon, what he knew would be, the warmth of your skin. That natural flush almost became the same color of the tint on your lips, both of which made you seem even more... becoming. He was not accustomed to such interactions yet he did whatever felt right. Pulling you closer to his body, he placed a firm hand on the small of your back while yours rested upon his shoulder, your other hands linked together tightly. His eyes furrowed in concentration, doing as much as he could to maintain his equilibrium without putting too much pressure on his weak leg, without getting distracted by the loud thumping of his heart against his chest, not realizing that he seemed like he was frowning down at you in the process. "Lean on me, Viktor." You whispered, lifting your chin up to look into his eyes, the melody of the music harmoniously flowing around you, carrying your feet, shifting from one side to another. Just simple enough for him to manage without tripping. You knew what he was going through and this was your way of telling him. "Let me be there for you like you are here for me." You giggled, your voice carrying a beautiful tune on it's own. If only he could tune out all other sounds, an odd certainty came upon him that you would still be able to dance on the sound of your voice alone. "Then hold me tight, Y/N." He leaned down to whisper in your ear, low and smooth, just to make sure you could hear him well. "I cannot fathom the thought of tripping on your beautiful dress." "Do you trust me, Viktor?" The softness of your cheek brushed against his as you angled your face to speak into his other ear. "Yes, I do." He replied without giving it a thought. "Then let us dance until our legs give out." Your jovial giggle marked the beginning of what was an evening the two of you would always remember. The meaning of the comfort you felt in each other's arms was unbeknowst to either of you, yet it was crystal clear. You simply had to truly open your eyes, despite only having each for one another. –♥– Taglist: @theweebrises