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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 days

Note

Omg I love all your Donna x reader fanfics, they are so good. ✨🤌🏼

If possible, ever since your last story I've been wondering how I'd be if reader went down on Donna and her being all shy (bj basically) or if Donna would try another position 🙈👀

I need some SPICY content 😍

And thanks! 🤭

Yesss!!! Here it is!! I hope you like it!!! Thank you for your nice words :))) Sorry about the language mistakes

Movie night

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, G!P Donna, oral sex, fluff...

Word count: 3,392

Summary: You don't want to keep watching that movie...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes, requests are open!! I love you all :))))

“Are you bored, tesoro?” Donna asked, gently running her hand over your cheek.

It was an ordinary night, like all the nights you had spent in that house, with her.

Taking such an important step as leaving your home and going to live in the dark and gloomy Beneviento estate may have been a bit hasty, but it was worth it from the first moment.

Your relationship was better than ever. Despite Donna's problems, her absurd and almost ridiculous shyness when it came to turning off the light and joining your bodies, everything simply got better with time, like good wine does.

“Oh, no, I’m not” you lied blatantly, shaking your head and with a deeply suspicious smile.

The dim light of an old lamp and the white screen on which you watched movies became a kind of lullaby that forced your eyelids to close without wanting to.

“Honey, you're falling asleep,” your girlfriend said, amused, with a sympathetic look on her face.

The fear that the woman you loved generated in the people of the village didn't matter; the only thing you could feel towards her was love.

“No, that's a lie,” you said indignantly, putting your legs up on the old couch. “I'm watching the movie.”

“The last time you said that, you took care of putting it’s soundtrack on your own, with your snoring,” she said, in a mocking tone, but one that betrayed a certain annoyance. “Tell me the truth, are you bored with me?”

You huffed, sitting up and rolling your eyes. You were already used to her doubts and infinite insecurity.

“No, Donna. I always have a great time with you,” you said, cupping her face in your hands, perhaps too roughly. “It's just that…”

“It’s just that?” She interrupted nervously before you continued the sentence.

“It's just that I like to do other things at night,” you said, diverting the conversation to your territory with the seductive tone that made her hands start to tremble.

As you suspected, Donna laughed nervously, looking away so your mischievous eyes wouldn't exert their bad influence on her.

“You're always thinking about the same thing, tesoro,” she whispered amused, leaning down to give you a quick kiss on the lips.

“With a woman like you by my side, I can't think about anything else,” you purred, deepening the kiss and pressing her chest to gently lay her down on the couch.

“Wait, wait, (Y/N)... If, if you want we can go to the bedroom and…” she said nervously, grabbing your wrists before they started to undo the buttons on her dress.

“You know what?” You said, freeing yourself from her grip and returning to your previous position, stretching exaggeratedly. “We better finish watching the movie. It’s interesting.”

Her expression was just what you were looking for: complete bewilderment. You always tried to remind yourself not to play too much with poor Donna. She rarely understood the fact that you were joking, or that you were saying something without the intention of hurting or offending her in some way.

“What? You're not watching it,” the doll maker protested, her expression hardening, with a childish rage on her face.

“Yes, I'm,” you said cockily, resting a hand on your chin, pretending to look carefully at the white screen.

“Oh, are you? What's the name of the main character?” She asked defiantly getting a bit closer to you, arms crossed.

“I don't know,” you said without relaxing your cocky expression. “If you don't stop talking, I can't hear it.”

“(Y/N), it's a silent movie,” she whispered, changing her serious and offended expression to an amused one as she gently pushed your shoulder.

You, embarrassed by your mistake, hid the blush on your cheeks by placing a finger on your lips.

“Shh…”

“I can't stand you, really,” the lady in black sighed, shaking her head.

“Oh, come on, don't be mad, Donna,” you said, laughing, grabbing her unsuspecting hand as you lay on her lap, looking at her.

She looked back at you with her relaxed face, playing with your hand in hers, tangling your fingers.

“I can't be mad at you, tesoro. You always have that advantage over me,” she said almost in a whisper, running her other hand over your face as your smile grew wider and wider. “Come on, let's finish watching the movie and then... Well, I'm sure you have something on your mind.”

After kissing you lovingly again, her gaze shifted to the screen.

I'm sure you have something on your mind.

That phrase, which served as the end to that small interruption in your movie nights, was decisive for the dark side of your lust to think in your place, sending endless naughty possibilities to your mind.

With a fake sigh, you sat up again, resting your head on her shoulder as she continued to tease you with her caresses. A tickling between your legs finally gave you the courage to put your lascivious thoughts into practice.

Your head moved slightly, enough to make the exposed skin of Donna's neck tingle involuntarily as she felt your breath on it. You loved how easy was for her body to react to your touch.

Your lips kissed her skin carefully, with slow and fast kisses, pulling away just as her body began to tremble due to the contact.

You directed your gaze towards hers. She seemed to be very focused on the movie, but one of her hands betrayed her incipient nervousness, gripping the fabric of her dress tightly.

You laughed gutturally, increasing the intensity of your kisses on her neck while your hand traveled slowly, but without the intention of stopping, towards her legs.

“(Y/N)...” Donna whispered, turning her head towards you, looking at you strangely. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh...” You whispered just as your hand began to go down to insert itself inside her dress, caressing her knee, moving a finger in circles over it. “Keep watching the movie.”

“No, I can't if you're... Ah! (Y/N)!” She said excitedly when your naughty hand continued to rise, gently caressing the bulge between her legs.

“Relax, I'm just playing,” you said amused, biting her earlobe mercilessly.

“Can't we play in the bedroom? At least let me turn this thing off...” She said, nervous about how that lump began to grow in your hand, making your legs tighten together with desire.

“No, leave it on. Don't move, Donna,” you said seductively, caressing her incipient erection while your kisses continued along her jawline until they made contact with her lips.

“(Y/N)...” The woman in black gasped, moving her hips discreetly, preventing the friction that your hand exerted on her most intimate area from disappearing.

In a matter of seconds, the kisses became wild, eager. A simple caress was more than enough for Donna to give in to her own desire.

Your body moved next to his, making your hips dance together, intensifying the subtle contact. You smiled triumphantly at the small moans that your movements caused her.

With a mischievous, hungry gasp, you pulled away from her, your hand gripping her hardness through her clothes as she moaned at the loss of your hot body on hers.

“You're playing with me? You know I hate that…” Donna said in her hoarse voice, with that strong accent that only appeared when she wasn't fully in control of herself.

“Be patient, Beneviento...” You purred removing your hand from her erection and launching yourself at her neck again, kissing her softly, lightly marking your teeth on her pale, shiny skin. “I have something for you…”

“For me?” She asked curiously, blinking profusely with her eye.

“Uh-huh,” you said simply, running your hand over her chest, sneaking under her clothes. You didn't know when some of the buttons on her dress had been undone. Surely it was you in your unbridled lust.

Not wanting to give any more explanations and enjoying her sudden impatience, you slowly got off the couch until you were on your knees in front of her. As it could not be otherwise, Donna looked at you with a frown.

“What are you going to do?” Donna asked as your hands returned to her legs, separating them.

“You don't like surprises, do you?” You asked back, biting your lower lip, anticipating in your mind what was going to happen. “You are always so good to me, Donna… You always make me enjoy so much… I just want to return the favor.”

“Oh, no. There's no need,” she said, looking away from her abruptly, embarrassed. I could probably guess what you were referring to.

“Lie down, my love...” You said, ignoring her obvious discomfort and slowly lifting her dress.

“Wait, wait,”-she interrupted you, disobeying your request and grabbing your hands before the entire bottom of her body was exposed.

“What's wrong, my pretty Donna? Come on, let yourself go. You'll like it, I promise,” you said, resting your head on her knees, running a finger along her bare leg.

“It's humiliating for you, I don't want you to do something like that just for me,” she said, not daring to look you in the eyes.

“Nonsense, I want to do it. I want to do it because I love you, Donna, and because I want to give back to you a small part of what you give to me,” you said, insisting, knowing that as much as it embarrassed her, the fabric of her dress gave away the fact that she was actually wanting you to do it.

“I...” She murmured, unable to contain the trembling of her legs.

You stood up, putting a hand on her half-exposed chest, pushing her back against the couch and kissing her softly again.

“Do you really not want to? I'm not going to insist, Donna,” you said in a more relaxed tone, your instincts curbed by her confused look.

“Well, I... It's just... It's embarrassing,” she murmured, holding your chin.

“But you want me to do it, right?” You asked, determined that her answer would make the decision.

“I... Yes...” Donna said, in a tone so low that you had a hard time hearing it, while she nodded slowly and her face took on a reddish tone.

You nodded too, kissing her one last time before going down again, lifting her dress completely and revealing the quivering erection that her underwear could no longer contain.

“I wanted to do this so badly...” You purred, pushing the fabric out of your way, pulling it down over her ankles as you stared in shock at her erect penis.

“Please, please... Don’t, don't say those things,” Donna protested, bringing a hand to her mouth and biting her knuckle at the sensation of having you so intimately close to her.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized falsely, inching closer, reaching out with one hand to keep her length right where you wanted it.

Your hand remained firm, carefully hugging her dick as your lips brushed against the tip, kissing it slowly, causing the trembling of her legs to become accentuated with a surprised moan.

Leaning on your knees, you brought your mouth even closer, introducing part of her erection into it, sucking slowly, enjoying the caresses that your lips made on her skin and the reactions they provoked in Donna.

“(Y/N), that's...” She moaned, writhing on the couch.

You smiled discreetly, going down further, covering her entire length with your mouth, savoring every inch with soft, rhythmic movements of your hand.

“You're delicious, Donna...” You murmured before running your tongue over her skin, stopping right at the tip, making her moans increase in volume and intensity. “You like it that way?”

Donna simply nodded, her eye closed, squeezed tightly to avoid the temptation to open it and take in the scene in front of her, the way you kissed, sucked and licked the part of her body that embarrassed her the most.

You laughed again, resuming your movements, making them slower, more careful, wrapping your lips around the tip, holding it between them before sucking.

You opened your eyes for a moment, curious to know what the woman in black was doing. Just as you thought, she was nervous, trembling from the pleasure you were giving her, but embarrassed by it.

Her hands were limited to grabbing her dress. She couldn't stop her hips from shaking every time your mouth moved down her penis, every time you stopped to caress it up and down with your tongue. Her shyness was even adorable.

Your free hand left her knee to go up to one of hers, gently grabbing bringing it to the back of your head, causing it to tangle in your hair.

“I... I like it, (Y/N)... You are... Your mouth is... Perfect,” she murmured embarrassed, blinded by desire, by the movement that her hand involuntarily exerted on your head, raising and lowering it to the rhythm of her hips.

You moaned as you felt how she moved you herself, how the pleasure overcame her embarrassment. The vibration you caused on her skin bounced right between your legs, making the burning desire you felt unbearable.

Your hand played with your own underwear, while the rhythm of your mouth stabilized to match her moans. Although you were paying attention to studying each of your movements and Donna's response to them, you began to caress yourself, running your folds through the fabric, playing with your own wetness.

“It's so hard,” you whispered sensually, eliciting an embarrassing laugh from her lips, a laugh that she drowned out when you continued moving. “You drive me crazy, Donna.”

“(Y/N),” she whispered, with difficulty, adapting to your increase in speed and the small jerks that your body made when you began to touch yourself. “Slower, do it slower…”

The taste of her arousal was present in your mouth as you managed to stabilize yourself and maintain a steady rhythm. If you combined it with your own caresses, the sensation was overwhelming.

“I love having you in my mouth,” you whispered with a smile, keeping your mouth on the tip, noticing how it trembled, how embarrassingly close it was to completely succumbing to that new sensation.

“Don't say those... Oh, tesoro... Wait, wait,” she said panting, trying in vain to move away from you.

“What's wrong?” You asked, raising your head, continuing to move your hand up and down, carefully squeezing her dick, right where you knew it drove her crazy.

“Yes, if you keep doing it I’m going to...” Donna murmured, tightening her grip on your hair.

“Well, that's what I want, darling... Don't hold back...” you said amused, removing your hand from your wetness and releasing her grip on your head.

“No, no, wait... This isn't... Oh, please...” She gasped again between moans when your mouth went down her length again, with more intensity.

The wet sound of your actions was only overshadowed by her nervous breathing, by the erratic movements of her hips. She was so close and you were so excited by it...

“Wait, wait, wait, stop,” the lady in black said suddenly, moving your head away from between her legs.

“What's wrong now?” You asked, disappointed at missing the spectacle of seeing how she released herself right where you wanted.

“Come, come here,” she said hurriedly, placing herself on the couch while she tried to move your body. “I want, I want to do it inside of you, tesoro. Please…”

“Oh,” you said, letting yourself be dragged on top of her hips with a sigh. “You don’t like it?”

“Yes, I like it,” she responded instantly, placing her erection at your entrance, but not inserting it. “I'm afraid I like it too much,” she said amused. “Please… I need… I need…”

“Shhh, calm down, my dear Donna...” You whispered, lowering yourself little by little, making your slippery moisture find no difficulty in adapting to her dick.

Donna moaned at the contact, feeling a strange kind of relief. There was nothing in the world that could compare to the feeling of her tightening your walls and moving inside you. At least for Donna.

Once your body fully adjusted, you began to move slowly, enjoying the overwhelming feeling of her penis inside you trembling, on the verge of losing control.

“Oh, Donna... You're so... Good,” you said, with labored breathing.

She moaned in response, running her hands along your back, helping you move with that slow pace that you sensed was so the fun wouldn't end prematurely.

Unexpectedly, she came out with a nervous gasp. You looked at her strangely, but you didn't want to protest, since, with a quick movement, Donna turned your body, making you lie face down on the couch.

“Well, well... We're naughty...” You said in a mocking tone, raising your hips towards her, who moved slowly until she was standing behind you.

“Don't talk anymore, (Y/N). I always wanted to do this,” Donna said in your ear, grabbing your legs to keep them in place, approaching her slowly, playing with her length at your entrance.

You didn't want to say anything and besides, you couldn't do it. Donna entered you immediately, causing your walls to tighten in a different way due to this new position.

“Oh, keep going,” you managed to say as your body began to bounce against the couch due to her more erratic than usual thrusts.

The creak of the old furniture was the only distinguishable sound in that tangle of hurried gasps and moans. Donna took you intensely, but the way she caressed you served as a reminder that she loved you, that she was never going to let you stop feeling that way.

“It hugs me so well, (Y/N)... You're so wet,” she murmured, slowing her hips so you could hear her. “I can't wait any longer, I need to fill you...”

It wasn't normal for Donna to use those kinds of words with you. She only did it when her arousal completely overcame her, when she was about to release herself.

Those lustful whispers were more than enough to make your body tense in surprise. You were so busy making her enjoy your actions that you had forgotten how embarrassingly close you were to your own release.

A muffled moan was what gave away your orgasm, making your body arch between jolts of pleasure.

Donna took advantage of that to pull you back, holding you in a way where she could continue her thrusts, being gentler this time.

“Have you cum, darling? How anxious...” She said amusedly, running a hand over your chest to hold it while her own rhythm destabilized.

“Aren't you supposed to be shy?” You asked teasingly, moving your hips in a way that you knew would make her melt instantly.

Donna simply laughed before her hips moved faster and faster until finally, with one last thrust, she released herself inside of you, filling you with her heat as her body trembled.

When you caught your breath, she laid you down lovingly on the couch and climbed on top of you to kiss your lips slowly, caressing you with trembling hands.

“I love you,” you said with a smile, which she returned.

“I love you, (Y/N),” she said softly, resting her head on your chest.

“Look, it looks like the movie is over,” you said, amused.

“(Y/N),” she said, now with a slightly more serious tone. “What you have done to me…”

“What? Did you like it?” You asked, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear.

She nodded embarrassedly, not being able to maintain eye contact with you.

“Well, I'm glad because it was the first time I did it,” you said with a smile, grabbing her chin so she wouldn't avoid your gaze.

“We should... You know... Clean us up,” Donna said shyly, with that familiar blush on her cheeks.

“Would you like a bath?”

“Sure”

“Maybe if you feel like it... We can repeat...” You whispered, running a hand over her chest.

“(Y/N), I need to rest, Donna said, amused, shaking her head.

“We'll see about that,” you challenged, getting up from the couch and grabbing her hand to drag her next to you.

“I'm going to activate Angie,” the woman in black threatened, stumbling due to your haste.

“No, you're not going to do it,” you said, walking through the dark hallways of the basement.

“(Y/N)...”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #oneshot #re8 donna #re8 village #requests

52 notes · View notes

fizzywashere87 · 3 days

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Hello!! If it's alright with you can i please request rottmnt with a mom like yor from " spy x family "? Platonic, funny one-shot, hc or anything you want.

Like she's sweet and would go up and beyond for her babies but she's secretly an assassin and that's the one thing she WON'T tell anyone at all.

notes: OMGIE YESESES!!! (we don't talk about the fact this is over a month past due but :D) I'm going to do them altogether- and I'm making reader's personality like what you described to me so I'm sorry if i misunderstood anything!! Hope you enjoy and tysm for requesting!!

We Love You Anyways, Ma (HC's)

Toitlez

I think it's a trend for the rise!turtles to have dumbass parents

Look at Splinter from even before he was mutated

Barry.

yeah, you're a little naive but isn't everyone?

Now we know where your boys get it from! :D

April is apart of the family btw and she's your daughter

I reckon Mikey does all of the cooking anyways because you...

cannot.

The few times you tried ended with Raph, Leo, and Mikey screaming in the background, while Donnie extinguishes the fire

You guys lost a very important member of the family that day,

Speck.

You burned 'im at your failed attempt at cooking

That poor speck of cooking residue that was immune to cleaning supplies :(

Not even you, the mama of this carnival was able to remove

Maybe had a 'lil funeral as everyone cried but Donnie wasn't phased his ass was waiting for it to happen-

The lair is literally spotless

Nobody ever questioned why you were so good at cleaning

Actually, Leo did, I lied damn intuition i swear he has it

The boys get away with a lot, I'm sorry

"Where have you boys been?" You stand with your arms crossed scowling at the boys, they just got back to the lair and they do not look like they were anywhere you would condone as their mother.

Leo steps up, flashing you a smile, a bright one at that, "Sorry we're late Ma, we wanted to stop and eat pizza! We're sorry for not letting you know, we promise we'll let you know next time." He says, sounding oh-so genuine, how could you not believe that? Raph, Donnie, and Mikey are standing in the background nodding along to everything Leo is saying and you look at all of them carefully.

"Alright, be more careful next time! You had me worried!" You'd smile, and that would be the end of the conversation as your boys scurry away as a person right in the head would deem; suspicious.

You're not right in the head btw.

Overall, you guys are a family and you love each other tons

They do appreciate everything you do for them

You love them unconditionally and would do anything for them Please give Donnie validation and praise- boy needs it

You'd also do anything to protect them

Did I mention you're crazy strong?

Yes, you trained the boys so they have your agility

At some points you're overly gentle but you'll never tell anyone it's because you can't handle your own strength

Your excuse is that they can't handle it

You brush it off as a joke though

It's hard hiding such a big secret from them, but it's for their safety

They don't know why exactly you're so strong and cool, you played it a certain way that they'll never question

You do have your dumbass moments, but they never imagined you as an assassin- their mother? nah.

Your children come up with some weird ass shit on a day to day basis and never once they put two and two together

Your dumbass children i swear-

The boys love watching you in action

From the close combat that almost nobody can match-

To the way you effortlessly handle your blades

The way you know the exact points on a person to aim when attacking

Or how you've basically never lost a fight

The way you can scope out where your opponents are and how quick your reflexes are-

No you're not an assassin

I'm just lying!! You are!

If they ever were to find out, it's because your dumbass let something slip

The boys and April caught onto something

Leo confronted you in an indirect way

Boom

Exposed.

"WHAT?!" They simultaneously exclaimed in shock. Donnie pulls out a bunch of tech- probably to add to his file he has about you, Leo is shaking you by the shoulders demanding more information, Mikey copes by running around yelling 'OHMIGOSH,' Raph fell over backwards as if he were an object, and April yells 'I knew it!'

It's chaos.

As everyone settles down, you have no choice but to fill them in further, you go sit down at the table and they listen to your story. They are very shocked, very confused on some things, a lot of things are adding up now. But they aren't mad at you for keeping such a secret, none of them are, they think it's hella cool.

Leo raises his hand with a question and you wait for him to go on,

"So did the weird creepy fox yokai end up with the ugly bunny yokai or the nasty hamster one?" He recalls one of the missions you just told them about.

"I'm pretty sure it was the bunny." You answer, not really phased by the type of question he just asked and everyone nods along calmly.

Yeah. This is your life and you wouldn't wish for anything different.

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gwynniethenymph · 3 days

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Do you think so? Part 1.

Pairing: Azriel x Gwyneth Berdara.

Word count: 1212 words.

Notes: Sooo... here is jealous Azriel and a one shot that accidentally became a two chapter story! I'm very nervous about posting this since it's the first story I write in years, but I'm also very excited. Constructive criticism is very welcomed! Don't know if I should post this in ao3, but I'll think about it. Also, Azriel is very, very bad at feelings in this first part.

~~~

"Is it normal for the sun to be so... bright?” Cassian complained for the fifth time in an hour. Azriel only stared at him. His shadows writhed in agitation too, but there was little he could do.

The Summer Court offered oceans of the purest water and clear, hot days. Oddly enough, the Shadowsinger sometimes appreciated this kind of weather, though Illyrian leathers were unbearable in the heat. He missed his leathers.

Despite the initially pleasant atmosphere, the air around them crackled with raw power and fear. War was imminent, and so was betrayal, hence the week-long Courts Meeting. The Spymaster just couldn’t understand why war meetings were disguised as luxurious balls and quick alliances as amicable friendships.

“Courtier's shit,” Rhys had answered with a scoff. They needed to keep the common people calm while orchestrating swift relocations to the south, far from the borders between Spring and the Human Lands. The urgency of such activities was probably the only reason Tarquin tolerated Cassian's presence.

Azriel had plenty of work to do as well, trying to keep his High Lord informed of every glance and conversation. He sighed. It would be easier if that devilish, mischievous little nymph wasn’t so damn... distracting. And offensively good at her job.

With the growing popularity of the Valkyries Division and her remarkable contribution against the Illyrian Revolution, Gwyn had become a respected and well-known name across Prythian. According to Amren, she was also quick-witted, well-versed in history and politics, and "strikingly beautiful". Before understanding her line of thought, Azriel had agreed and added how good of a spy the priestess was.

As a result, Gwyn had been assigned to secure Tarquin's alliance and friendship. Considering how closely they danced at the moment, Azriel thought he might have to remind her of the "friendship" part. Or perhaps punch Tarquin and get himself banned from Summer.

It would be worth it, though.

The dark-skinned High Lord held the Valkyrie against his chest, one hand around her slim waist as they spun. The silk of Gwyn's gown resembled a cobalt ocean, the halter neckline exposing the toned muscles of her freckled arms. If she were closer, he would see her huge, mesmerizing eyes lined with gold and her pink, plump lips. She looked like a siren from the tales Azriel’s mother used to tell him—a beauty like no other, ready to enchant unsuspecting sailors and drag them to the depths of the sea.

Tarquin looked quite happy in his "sailor" position. Azriel would be happy too. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, couldn't ignore the pang in his chest. Gwyn had become too important to him in the last few years, their time together reserved not only for training and sparring, but for the deepest conversations he’d ever had, for silly jokes and friendly flirting.

Well, he had believed the flirting was not that friendly anymore, but as Nesta and Emerie giggled and whispered about the dancing couple, the Shadowsinger concluded he must have been wrong. As that terrible, awful dance ended and Gwyn separated from the High Lord with a courtesy, Azriel found himself relaxing, his shoulders dropping for a mere moment before he realized how many heads turned towards her.

“Twenty and seven, Singer.”

“What?”

“Twenty and seven males turned their heads to look at Our Light, Singer. Would you be interested in knowing the number of females too?”

Azriel sighed. “No, thank you.”

“Twenty and three females turned their heads to look at Our Light, Singer.”

“Okay, no more counting.”

“This equals fifty heads turned. Dismissing, of course, the heads that didn’t need to be turned because they were already looking in Our Light’s direction, Singer. This includes your head, Singer.”

Azriel gritted his teeth. “Please go check on the Vanserras.”

“Of course, Singer.”

As his shadows went silent and the Spymaster sighed, Gwyn reached the group with a smile. The golden sunlight streaming through the tall, arched windows hit her eyes, making them seem like a gateway to the shallow seas of Adriata. Emerie and Nesta grabbed each of her arms and proceeded to gossip and giggle:

"Who could imagine Tarquin uses dancing as a form of foreplay?" Lady death grinned, mischievously.

Even the tips of Gwyn's ears went red, her eyes going wide "It- it was not! We just danced. Like... friends. Very good friends."

Emerie snickered wildly "I am your friend for longer and never received this type of treatment. You are hurting my feelings."

"Oh, shush. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, but I know, Gwynnie. He looked at you the same way I do when you look too pretty."

Gwyn's mouth went slightly agape. "Wouldn't that make the look even more... friendly?"

Cassian, who had been observing the conversation, pointedly looked at his mate and nodded. "Wouldn't it, Nesta?"

Caught in the act, Nesta cleared her throat before uttering a simple, "No". Gwyn considered her friend for a moment before shaking her head.

Azriel expected her to say the relationship with Tarquin - and, well, Nesta - was nothing but friendly. That their were all going insane and seeing things that weren't there. He expected her to shrug it off. Instead, Gwyn's eyes glinted with interest.

"I'm not going to dive into your last comment, but... You think so? That he looks at me... like that?"

The two Valkyries looked at Gwyn like she had just convinced Helion to give them a pegasus. Azriel's shadows were whispering about murder and something else the Spymaster couldn't quite catch given the zooming in his ears. His fists and jaw were clenched so tightly he feared it may break. She... she truly liked Tarquin?

"SO YOU LIKE HIM!"

As if it was possible, Gwyn went even more red. "Perhaps, but-"

Azriel couldn't help himself from murmuring "That's not what you should be worried about."

Gwyn's eyes found his "Oh. I- Sorry?"

He shouldn't be saying this. It was only meant to hurt her like he was hurting. But, again, he simply couldn't help himself. "I said you shouldn't be worried about silly romantic... whatever. You have a job to do, and seducing Tarquin is not a part of it."

Their small group went deadly silent, Nesta shooting death glares at him. "I... I was not trying to... seduce him. I'm doing my job perfectly well."

Between the hurt he saw in her eyes before, there was anger emerging. One he matched quite well. "Well, then keep your- your heart and feelings out of it. And your body at least a few inches separated from his."

This time, her mouth was fully agape. Gwyn stuttered from a moment, trying to find an answer, when Tarquin suddenly surged behind her.

"Gwyn? Is this a good moment? There's something I want to show you."

She turned around to face the High Lord and, before Azriel could growl at him or stop her, one of his shadows - the only one that actually listened to the Shadowsinger sometimes - nervously darted across his face, whispering about something about Beron.

Azriel turned around, scanning the room in search of the Autumn High Lord, only to find him having a mildly heated conversation with Helion. But when he returned to excuse himself from the group, Gwyn and Tarquin were gone.

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel vibes #jealous Azriel #gwyneth berdara #pro gwyneth berdara #gwyn berdara #gwyn acosf #MY FIRST STORY SORRY IF IT'S BAD!#okay bye

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iceformer · 3 days

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It's 1:40 am but let me cook real quick

Ally Beardsley, the Person, Fundimentally Changed the Fantasy High Universe (an essay)

Fantasty High Freshman Year was supposed to be "dnd meets 80s high school" with the cliques and general vibe. The Interepid Heros grew up in the 80s but now live in the 20th century, so some anachronism were expected.

In later seasons we see the charecters using more crystal tech and making more modern references , the biggest ones I can think of being social media and Sandra Lynn having Life 360 for the Mordred girls

It would be like if they were playing a normal game of High Fantasy DnD where "we haven't invented plumbing yet so there's no toilets" but instead it's payphones and phonebooks

Again, the Intrepid Heores are all at least 90s kids so they would have grown up while technology was still in dial up and computer rooms, but they're also actors/comedians. The brief was "imagine you are all in Magic Breakfast Club Land" and we see them all playing up their tropes (or stereotypes) in Freshman Year (edgy Fig, loner Gorgug, snooty Fabian)

My point this morning is that the concept was Magic Breakfast Club but it evolved into modern Fantasy. Not saying that's a bad thing, I was just thinking about how has the vibe changed so much from the original idea?

And then I remember that in episode 3 of the first season, Ally Beardsley invented PrayerChain. Which could have been some instant messaging system but Emily and Brennan immediately follow it up with making GIFs Canon in this universe.

As a table full of comedians making a show, they cannot help following a bit. That's why the funniest moments of the show come from Ally's anachronistic references.

But I think the big one that changed the concept from 80s movie to modern Fantasy is during "Family in Flames" when everyone's separated, their homes and loved ones in danger, Adaine and Kristen stay behind for one last break in the case,

And Kristen straight up calls and Uber.

That moment was what sent me on this train because in what 80s world are the high school kids calling an Uber or taxi? It's always "the one with the car" or "everyone has a bike" to travel around town. I think from here and with all the anachronistic references that Ally made all season really cemented Solace as Modern Fantasy and not 80s Nostalgia.

I saw some posts on here about how Riz was the Main Charecter of the show because every Villain of the season had some Personal Beef with him.

I think Ally Beardsley, the person, not Kristen Applebees or K2, is the main charecter of the Fantasy High Universe

What's even better about this is that THEY WERENT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE THERE. I can't look it up right now cos I'm locked in, but everyone jokes about how Ally had never played DND before the show, I think they were a last minute edition to the cast.

And literally from that one change the show is completely different from what it would have been. Well, it would have been different if any of the Intrepid Heroes were switched out, but I think with Ally in the cast the world of Spyre was turned on its head.

If the Intrepid Heros had pokemon types, Ally was the more Comedian/Actor type at College Humor while everyone else and Brennan were Comedian/Writer/Geek type. Most of Ally's content outside of D20 was Total Forgiveness and that show where they smoked weed (loved it, can't look it up rn)

Compare that to Brennan, who started as an Um Actually writer, Lou and Siobahn, who are Geeks/have been playing DND for a long time, Zac, who i cannot find much Geek content for, and Emily and Murph, who need no introduction (i dunno if NADDPOD started before D20)

The addition of Ally Beardsley to the cast not only drove the show so far away from the concept that most people forget what it was supposed to be, but it did so in a way that made the show so much better than they had even planned for.

This Pride month, I salute Ally Beardsley

🫡

(It took me an hour to write this, good night ya'lll)

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #d20 #ally beardsley

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longlivedelusion · 1 day

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Hiker's Delight

Summary: Bucky takes you on a hike. That's it. That's the fic. Boyfriend! Bucky x Reader. Established Relationship.

Warnings: Just fluff and some mentions of post- Hydra trauma, but nothing too crazy. Will proper edit later!

A/N: Quick lil fic I wrote cause I've been just wanting more boyfriend! bucky, domestic life vibes. I need fluffy and comforting energy rn and this is that. Enjoy!!

I make my way up the hill, huffing as I grab onto a nearby rock to pull myself up.

Bucky's behind me, not out of breath at all, the damn super soldier and his stamina and-

"Hey, you doin' ok?" I hear from behind me, Bucky leaning against a nearby rock.

I nod, looking back ahead as I haul myself up. "This is just a bit more intense than I thought, I'll be okay though." I let out another grunt and I push another step. He's stayed behind me the whole time even though I'm going at a snail's pace, according to him I'd probably drop off and get lost if he lead the way.

"You sure you don't want-"

"No. You are not gonna carry me. I'm gonna finish *grunt* this *huff* damn hike with my own two feet."

We pull forward, the slopes a bit more steep than I expected which had me nearly sweating by the time we reached the edge. I looked up at the towering cliff knowing my arms were like jello, but I had to, needed to-

Bucky knelt down and held his hands out, a makeshift lift as he looked up at me. He quirked his brow.

"I can-" I start.

"Stop being stubborn and take the help doll. This cliff is a bit of a bitch, if you can't tell." He said waved his arm at the cliff to make a point.

I don't say anything and just sigh, knowing he was right. No use being overly stubborn about this. I prop my foot in his hands, griping where I could on the rock in front of me before Bucky said "Ready? 1... 2..."

And then I was up, the top of the rock pressed against my stomach as I hoisted myself over the rest of the way. I crawled forward, legs starting to feel a bit like jello now that I was on the ground.

I watched as Bucky followed right after, easily pulling himself up like it was the easiest thing in the world. He stood up with ease, clearly not dealing with jello legs as I just kind of collapsed on my back and took some deep breaths.

"Ugh, this damn body. Why must it betray me so." My dramatic ass said.

"Because you just went on a pretty intensive hike with barely any training even though I offered to have you train with me for like 2 months."

My noodle arm managed to raise up and wave him off, "Semantics."

He chuckled, taking a seat beside me and brushing the sweaty strands of hair off my face. "Want some water?"

I nod, eyes closed as my breathing stedied, my body starting to relax and calm down from the overexertion. I heard a bottle cap untwist so I opened my eyes to see Bucky reaching for my back.

"Come on, you can prop up against me if you want." He said, hand gently pushing my back upwards. I push myself up and shift over, my back now facing the soldier's chest as he hands me the bottle.

"Oh fuck that's good," I sigh, taking a long swig before passing it over to Bucky. It takes me a moment, but after I blink a few times I suddenly realize the view before me.

Directly in front of us is the most beautiful mountain range I'd ever seen--trees lining the edges, eagles flying overhead, and a huge, crystal blue lake smack dab in the center. Cut off from civilization, this untouched land surrounded my mountains and only Mother Nature as its mistress.

"Wow, this is-" I start, eyes wide as they tried to take in every detail. The lighting, the shades of green, the textures--all of it... "breathtaking."

"I'm glad you like it." Bucky said softly, his voice a soft tickle behind my ear. His arms wrapped around my waist, tucking me a bit closer to him as I still sat in awe.

"Even though I'm not the biggest hiking fan-"

"Huh, couldn't tell." Bucky joked.

"-oh hush. I was saying, even though I'm not the biggest hiker, I'm really glad you asked me to do this." I reached for his hands on my waist and gave it a small squeeze.

"Thanks for coming. I'd only ever been here alone before, and it was for a mission. So I'm glad I get to actually enjoy it, and with some pretty decent company while we're at it." He kissed my head after, a smirk pressed against my hair.

"Oh decent huh? Just decent?" I looked up and over my shoulder into his blue eyes already looking down at me. That same smirk still plastered on his stupidly gorgeous face. "Says the man who practically begged to take me here."

He shrugged, "I don't remember begging."

"Oh? So all that whining and bribing with takeout was just a lapse in memory then?"

"Probably." He said, the nonchalance to his voice making it even more frustrating.

I booped his nose and gave him a scrunched smile. "Cheeky," I turned back to the view before me, settling back into Bucky. I reached into my bag and pulled out the small lunch I'd packed prior, some sandwiches and fruits laid out. "Can't think of a prettier place I've ever eaten," I said, mouth half full as I took a bite of my sandwich.

He grabbed one as well, arms brushing past mine as he hummed. "I need to take you out more then. Can't let this be the peak of our relationship now can I?" He took a big bite.

"I mean, as long as I can actually physically get to these places ok I'm down. My stubbornness can't handle another hike like this, or I'll try to climb Everest of something next time."

"Eh, Everest is overrated anyways." He said, taking a sip of his water.

I turned around in shock, "Seriously? You climbed Everest?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yup. Was kidding about the overrated thing though. Impressed?"

"Um, yeah I'm impressed! But when, how, what was it like?" I rambled on. I couldn't believe this man I'd come to know and love still had stuff like this just to learn about. A whole lifetime to know.

He put the bottle down, thinking for a bit. "About ten years ago, when I was still in..." He hesitated, before moving on. Hydra. Something we both knew, understood. It didn't need to be said. "I remember bits and pieces, but it was cold as hell and windy. For a second there though, at the top of the mountain, I looked out and was me. Bucky. I didn't remember the last time I had been myself like that, and I just didnt know what to do I took a deep breath in, looked out at the mountains and sat there for... Fuck knows how long."

I set down my food and reached for his hand, my thumb tracing over the back as he spoke. "Is that why you like hiking and climbing so much?"

He nodded, hand turning and holding mine. He look at the metal hand below him intertwined with mine before he spoke. "It can always pull me out of whatever headspace I'm in, I don't know. When shit doesn't work and the day feels like hell, being out here just... Helps. It reminds me of who I was or could be. I don't know." He shrugged, looking away at the view.

I squeeze his hand, eyes tracing back to his face. "I think I can sort of understand. Not the hiking or climbing but... Being by the sea does the same for me. Helps me remember that I'm alive and here."

He nods, his gaze still in the horizon. "It's like, no matter how fucked up the world gets or I get, nature doesn't judge. She justs gets it and doesn't care. Doesn't care about who I am or what I've done."

"Because she just sees chaos and order and gets that both are important." I add, fingers still tracing along the side of his face slowly. "The rest of it doesn't really matter."

"Exactly."

We sit in silence for a moment before I shift Bucky's face towards me. His eyes lock onto mine in silent question.

"Thank you for bringing me here. And sharing this with me."

He smiles as he leans down, a small kiss pressed against my lips before he let his forehead drop to mine. "Happy to."

"So where to next?" I ask, pulling back enough to look at him. "Another mountain? The desert? A tundra?"

He smirks, "I got the perfect spot already in mind."

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #fluff #avengers bucky #bucky fluff fic #marvel #domestic bucky #established relationship #boyfriend bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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tuiyla · 2 years

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What’s the worst ships on glee, in your opinion?

The first that comes to mind is easily the one I was forced to think about just yesterday, Puck and Kitty. The age difference is one thing but the gross way in which they approach it and the general context is another. It's just a big no no. And you know having rewatched Sadie Hawkins yesterday I am very sorry that the writers turned it into a sexual thing but their banter was great and I actually think they could have worked great as buddies. But as is it's pretty much a no brainer as one of the worst ships.

Not to say all the worst ones are Puck-related because there are other Yikes ships, but obviously if we're gonna mention Puck and age difference and grossness and worst ships we can't not bring up Shelby. What an absolute shitshow. Another no brainer.

And lastly, just to say more of a "main" ship I'm gonna go with Quick. I really am not trying to turn this into an anti Puck-ships post lol but they're by far the main couple who make me the most uncomfortable. (Main couple being, like endgame or significant midgame ships with the main characters.) Even beyond the very questionable circumstances of Beth's conception, they're just so dysfunctional and have treated each other like shit so often. Mainly Puck tbh. I think in another world I could have considered Puck and Quinn a better couple because they had cute moments and have a bond, how could they not all things considered. I don't inherently hate it just how it was executed. Listening to Just Give Me a Reason the other day made me wish I could root for them because I do like a lot of their themes. And I think they could still work as a friendship but not as a romantic ship, not with how the series played out. I'm one of those people who don't consider them endgame because season 6 gives us nothing to believe they are. Go on girl, give us nothing! When it comes to Quick I actually love that for us.

#i'm not joking quick could have been good #alas #i'm sure there are other ships that could be contenders but these are the first ones that come to mind #quick being the main answer but the kitty and shelby ships are actually worse #glee asks #anti quick #i don't know and don't wanna know the other two shipnames #anon #noah puckerman #kitty wilde #shelby corcoran #quinn fabray

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luveline · 9 days

Note

omg would die for a concussion fic with remus <33

—your concussion causes moderate memory loss, and you forget some very important details about your relationship with Remus. fem, 1.3k

“This is nice.”

You toy with the ring on Remus’ finger, turning it around and around and around. With your weight bearing down on his right arm and your hand secured around his left to stop him from moving, there isn’t much he can do besides say, “Yeah?”

“I love when guys wear rings.”

“I had a suspicion.”

You wince as stars flash through your vision, pausing in your toying to press your face into his chest.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I can see black and white spots.”

“Oh, no,” he says sympathetically. “Close them, dovey. Take a breather.”

The chair under you is uncomfortable, your back aches, your head twinges, but Remus is comfortable to lean again. He’s wearing one of his big hoodies, old enough to feel like brushed cotton under your cheek and against your nose, decals washed away. He steals his hand back to pat your shoulder, an image of patience.

“Sorry. This isn’t a good second date.”

Remus leans down to talk near your ear. “Dove,” he whispers, “this isn’t our second date, remember?”

“It’s not?”

“No, sweetheart. But that’s okay.”

“You’re really handsome so I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Mess what up, the date?” he asks. “You didn’t mess it up, it went very well. It was a year ago, but.” He smiles, his breath warming your face, his arm hot around you and securing you to his chest.

“A year ago?”

“Yeah, a year ago. We went to winter wonderland and the bookshop by the train station and you wouldn’t let me buy you any books.” He laughs softly. “But I got you one eventually. A couple by now, at least.”

“That’s nice.”

“You’ve bought me a hundred more, it’s awful.”

You raise your head to squint at him. “I have?”

“So many,” he whispers, dipping his chin down to kiss your nose, to your wide-eyed delight. “But you let me look after you in other ways.”

“Let you?”

“Yes, let me. It’s part of…” He cups your cheek quickly. “Sickness and health and everything. I have to keep you happy.”

“Ah.” His ring is warm on your cheek. “Sickness and health, like we’re married.”

“Something like that.”

You straighten up as someone behind you coughs aggressively. A little further down a baby cries against a mother’s chest, and the TV plays a quiz show you’re starting to hate. Moving your head has black haunting the sides of your vision again, the light seeping in from the automatic doors too much to handle.

“I’ve asked Sirius to bring you some sunglasses.”

You turn around. “Sirius, that’s the one with the motorbike?”

“Yeah. He should be quick. But maybe they’ll have called you in again by then and we can go home.”

That’s right. You’ve been seen once by a doctor for triage, and sent back out again when they deemed you only mildly concussed, no bleeding on the brain, but an X-ray ordered for safety's sake anyways. That’s what you’re waiting for. Remus is waiting with you, because he’s a very nice man.

“Sorry if I’m ruining your Saturday.”

Remus’ hair falls from behind his ear as he lifts his head properly. “I think you might be having a worse day than me, so I’ll forgive you. I'm joking!” He tucks that stray strand behind his ear unsuccessfully. “You could never ruin my Saturday. I’d spend the entire bank holiday weekend in here with you, I only want them to look after you so I can finish the job.”

Heat like a kiss on each cheek. You bring your hand to your nose, overwhelmed. “Really?”

“We spend a lot of time together, sweetheart. I know you don’t remember right now, but I love you.”

“You do?”

“Don’t tell me you can’t feel that.”

You look at him with the sunshine caressing the side of his face, his three mean scars and his scattered beauty spots. He has thick eyebrows, light brown eyes in the sun like honeyed tea, and a playful smile. More frown lines than smile lines, but the beginnings of crows feet speaks to some joy, at least. You bring your thumb up to a small wrinkle and stroke it, before tucking his hair behind his ear. It’s too short to stay put for long.

“I love you,” you say surely. You do, even if you can’t remember more than your first date.

He’s a good kisser, you remember. He’d pulled you back from your door and kissed you like you’d stolen the breath straight from his lungs.

“I know.” He brings your hand from his ear to kiss. Gentle, he strokes your knuckles, his thumb turning a golden ring where it sits on your marriage finger.

“It’s really like we’re married, we have matching rings,” you laugh.

He holds his hand up between you. “We are married, lovely girl.”

You steal your hand back. He waits without hurry, though a line of concern marks his brow. “Are we? When did we get married?”

“Only a few days ago, but we’re married. This wasn’t on the honeymoon agenda.”

He takes your hand with care and shows you the gold ring on your marriage finger to match his own, aligning your hands. The colour hadn’t seemed important a moment ago, nor the placement, but now you’re seeing them you realise you’d made a small misjudgement. It’s not like you’re married at all, you simply are.

You frown. The way he’s holding your hand feels familiar, though the idea that you’re married is preposterous. You can’t remember any ceremony or reception, a proposal, nothing. There’s simply blank space there, which isn’t very nice. But…

You’re not scared. You haven’t been worried once all day.

“You have a concussion,” he says quietly, practised, like he’s said it to you before. “And it’s resulted in some amnesia, but it’s going to get better very soon.”

“We’re definitely married?”

“Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“I don’t want to change my mind.” You fluster quickly with what you’ve said, looking down at the hospital’s linoleum flooring.

Remus takes your hand where it lays on your thigh and squeezes it. A thread of memory tugs at the touch; you remember this. His tender concern. His constant support.

“Then you don’t have to. Whether you remember me or not, I’m here to look after you, okay? I’m right here.”

You nod without looking up. His hand knows yours no matter what you remember, rubbing at all the best parts, holding with the perfect amount of pressure.

“You okay?”

“I guess our second date really did go well.”

“Better than I could ever explain.” He tugs at your hand until you look at him, his head already ducked to keep you pinned by his gaze. “You’re like my shy girl all over again. I forgot how nervous you used to get.”

You can see the Remus who became your husband and the one who scared butterflies into action every time he looked at you coalescing. “You’re really good-looking,” you explain.

“And what do you think you are?” He rubs your hand. “You’re beautiful. Can I have a kiss, dove? Is that okay?”

You squeeze your eyes closed. You’d been fighting stars in your eyes anyways.

When Remus kisses you, your body responds to his touch like it knows him. Your heart thuds against your ribs, your lips know exactly how to move and when he’s going to turn his head. Love for him shines through it. His love for you makes your chest hurt, his chaste kissing like a straight shot of oxytocin. All your worry saps away.

“Feel any better?” he asks knowingly.

You remember enough about his teasing to withhold an answer. He kisses your cheek, his smile unmissable on your skin.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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reiderwriter · 11 days

Text

🔫 Oh, Captain, My Captain 🔫

Pairing: Unit Chief!Spencer Reid x Fem BAU!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: Unit Cheif!Spencer who uses gun training as an excuse to rub up on the new member🤭

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Gun kink, dubcon, dry humping, pictures/photos, age gap, Pervert! Spencer, unprotected sex, implied cream pie, semi-public sex, boss x employee dynamic, spanking, masturbation, slight cum play, degradation (slut, whore etc), praise kink if you squint (good girl).

A/N: This is my first entry for the CM Kink Bingo challenge 2024~! I chose a lot of the prompts based on some of the smut requests in my inbox and let my TELL you I was SO EXCITED to write Unit Chief + gun kink!!! I'm so excited for this entire challenge tbh, it reminds me of the good old days on past years' Kinktober 😂🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

When Spencer Reid was made the interim Unit Chief for the BAU, he agreed with the reasoning. At the time, he really couldn't argue that he was aptly experienced, responsible enough to make big decisions, and reliable. And whilst he had been through a lot in the last two decades with the FBI, he still did value his own sense of morality.

He accepted the job and then was assigned you as an intern, and suddenly, he didn't agree with any previous assessment of him.

Experienced, yes, but he was still stammering and rambling when discussing simple things like the weather. He certainly wasn't responsible enough to keep his eyes off you, and he probably couldn't be relied on in the field to focus instead of thinking about your pretty, plump lips and how they would feel wrapped around his cock.

All morality had gone out of the window after a week of working with you when he closed his office blinds, popped his pants open and took his cock in hand, relieving himself while staring at your newly printed ID card.

He had a lot of power, during the few months Emily was away, and he was trying desperately not to use it.

Unfortunately, with great power comes a great amount of orders to give, and since you reported directly to Unit Chief Reid, you'd become his de facto shadow for the first few weeks. You bought him coffees when you got your own, asked him for quick run downs of past cases so you could take notes and remember relevant details for later, asked him for help writing reports.

Which caused the blinds to be drawn at least once a day as he desperately tried to keep his hands off you.

Emily had joked when leaving him behind that she'd usually give the new boss the “don't shit where you eat” speech, especially with people in your chain of command, but it really wasn't necessary with him. Of all people.

It didn't help that you were so damn clumsy in the office. You were usually pretty calm and collected, but since starting at the BAU, the pressure was getting to you a bit.

You made small mistakes, you double, and triple checked your work, and you were constantly in Spencer's office asking him for opinions on topics, for background information, and for, well, reassurance.

And you dropped stuff. A lot of stuff.

Your analytical Monday have been perfectly suited to the BAU, but somewhere between your head and your hands, all your body parts refused to function adeptly. You'd dropped things constantly, tripped on your own feet, and constantly bumped into people even while they stood still.

Not to mention the time your dropped your (thankfully, iced) coffee all over Spencer's lap when you'd brought him his own.

“Oh my- Oh my god, Doctor Reid, I am so so sorry,” you scrambled, immediately grabbing tissues as he jumped up from the desk.

“Please let me help you, god, I'm so stupid, I'm so sorry-” you said, patting away as his lap as he stood frozen in front of you. You dropped to your knees to mop up the traces of coffee still running down his thighs, as he stammered.

“Y/N, please, you don't need to, I have a spare pair I can-”

“I'll have them dry cleaned, I promise,” you begged, just as a knock sounded and the door to his office swung back open for JJ to enter through.

“Spencer, the files for the- woah! Okay, I'm not jumping to conclusions, but I'm still backing out of this room right now.”

She laughed her way out of the room, which was when your brain finally caught up to your hands and realized the stupid position you'd put yourself in.

You'd practically pushed your boss up against the wall, kneeled before him, and begged to touch him.

You'd squeaked out an apology and quickly left the office, much to Spencer's relief, because even after an ice bath and semi-public humiliation, he was hard and horny and his IQ had been knocked to roughly 7.

How he'd wanted to keep you pinned in place, to stroke your cheek as he made sure you took each inch of him down your throat slowly, filling you up so you couldn't escape.

How he'd wanted to keep his job as well, something he'd probably not get to do if JJ had decided to walk back in, or - god forbid - bring other witnesses to his debauchery.

You were clumsy, and he was desperately horny, and you were both complete and total messes.

“I don't see how I can help you, Y/N,” Tara held up her hands in defeat as you begged for her help.

“I'm competent with a gun, but it's not something I can teach you. I wouldn't know where to start.”

“I just need someone to show me how to hold it properly. There's a trick to it, right? There has to be a trick to it?”

“Ah yes, the old aim and shoot trick, I forgot about that one,” Rossi laughed, shaking his head at your office antics.

You'd been interning for a few weeks, and the latest in a line of ability tests was shooting. You'd pretty much aced the physical fitness test, but you'd never even held a gun before joining the FBI, and you were struggling.

“I've put in 10 hours at the shooting range in the last week, and the closest I've got to an accurate shot was hitting the next lane's paper. Don't ask.”

Your coworkers shared a sympathetic look as you sat down at the round table, ready to hear the next case details.

“I'm relegated to office work until I pass this certificate, and I was not made for sitting at a desk for 7 hours.”

“Well, why don't you ask Reid for help?” JJ said helpfully, bringing her coffee to her lips to hide the meddling smile plastered there.

“Reid?”

“He had some issues shooting when he was a rookie as well, but he put in some hours at the range, and now he's the best shot on the team.”

“Easy there, blondie, I'm nothing to sniff at with a gun myself,” Rossi smiled, patting himself on the back.

“I'm sure he'd enjoy helping you,” JJ continued.

“Who would enjoy what?” Spencer said, finally joining the team in the meeting room and pulling out the case files as everyone opened up their tablets.

“Y/N was just saying she's having some trouble shooting, and I suggested she ask for your help?”

He froze momentarily and stared down at you as you looked up at him, hopefully, a shy smile on your face.

He tried to keep his eyes on yours, but from this height, he had the perfect view down your shirt, your perfect-sized breasts pressing together as you leaned towards him, giving him a generous eyeful.

He looked away quickly and nodded his agreement, sitting himself down and attaching his eyes to the files instead so he could get his mind off of your body, and your lips, and the begging that surely would've come out of your mouth had he not accepted earlier. His brain was tormenting him with images of you underneath him, under his desk even, his cock in your mouth as you paid for his precious time training you. He blinked away the thoughts and, for once in his life, actually had to put effort into reading and understanding each word on a page as he ignored the raging fire of his lust.

A few hours later, the two of you were at the shooting range.

“My main problem is shooting. The instructors said my form isn't great either and that I looked like a child playing with toys whenever I hold a gun, so if you could help with that…?” You said, putting on the goggles and turning back to look at your boss.

“Doctor Reid?” You asked.

“Oh, yeah. Yes, they said something similar when I was training. First, let's see what you can do.”

You smiled at him as he watched you bounce up to the lane and pick up the gun. You calmed your breathing and got ready to take the safety off when you felt a hard hand clamp over your own and pull the gun from your hand.

“What are you doing?” He asked, staring down at you with wide eyes.

“You said to show you-”

“You're not wearing a vest.”

You cursed quickly as he pulled you back over to the side of the room. The place was practically deserted, as it was past the official closing hours of the range, but Spencer had been forced to pull some strings with his new title and had managed to keep it open (and somehow unmanned) until now.

He quickly grabbed the first vest he saw and pulled it over your head, taking the side straps and tightening them until the vest was comfortably protecting all your major organs. His hands lingered for a second, and you stared shocked up at him, somehow enjoying the way he pushed you around.

You were a grown woman, and you could do this all by yourself, but there was something about a man roughly a decade and a half older than you controlling your movements that were entirely too dangerous. You quickly stepped away and back to the podium, whispering a quick thanks under your breath as you tried to ignore the heat pooling between your legs.

You stretched out your neck a little as you felt him walk back behind you again, keeping his distance as he watched you shoot your first clip at the targets.

Out of six bullets, you'd missed the target five times and had grazed just below the targets arm once, a brilliant display of your natural lack of talent.

“Your form is wrong. You're holding yourself too rigid, which means the recoil has a higher chance to hurt you. Loosen your arms slightly.”

His advice was actually good and you followed his instructions closely, listening clearly as he walked you through each tip.

“Like this?”

“A little more… here, let me.”

You had no chance to react before his body was pressed behind yours and his hands were wrapped around your own, moving g each finger by a fraction to improve your grip, trailing up your arms slowly, leaving a field of goosebumps wherever his fingers grazed. He repositioned your elbows before moving forward his hands down to your hips, turning them slightly as he widened your stance.

“Try now.”

Breathless, you could only nod as he stepped back, unaware if he'd even said anything since his hands had landed on you.

You forced yourself to breathe again and took one shot.

"Oh my god, it hit. Spencer, it hit!”

“Do it again and we can celebrate.”

Another five shots later, and you'd managed a small cluster of hits around the arms and one shot.

“You're definitely veering left, so let's try and over correct by aiming to the right.”

He pushed up against you again and held the gun, moving it to the right a fraction, taking complete control of your body.

If your breath was scarce before, it was totally gone now as you felt his crotch press up against your ass. Considering the bulletproof vests put an extra inch around your chests, he was absolutely doing it on purpose, and you were shocked to realize you were too.

You'd pushed your ass back into him, grinding slowly on his hardening cock as he hooked his head over your shoulder, looked down the sight with you, and fired the gun.

Straight into the center of the target.

“Good girl,” he whispered before pulling away.

He moved two meters away from you, and maintained the distance for the rest of the night, and even though you were both aware of his hard cock tightening his pants, neither of you said a word.

“Same time tomorrow,” he said and grabbed his jacket to leave. It was the first thing he'd said as your Unit Chief that even vaguely sounded like a command and not an enthusiastic suggestion, and you were suddenly very excited for the rest of the week.

“Before we start,” he said the next day, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows neatly. “Show me your posture again.”

He gestured towards one of the dummy guns at the side of the range, the style you recognised from mission training that held small layers instead of bullets - same weight, same mechanism, no lethality.

You'd spent the day and night worked up from the last time you'd been here with him, and a small part of you felt disappointed you were starting with the kiddy gun. Not one to miss an opportunity, though. You bent over to pick it up, making sure to bend at the waist right in front of him to show off your ass.

Maybe you'd gone crazy, but the memory of his touch was burning you from the inside out and you needed to feel it again to make sure you weren't crazy.

He maintained his distance, though. It was hard for him to keep his hands off you in all honesty, arms crossed to keep himself from crossing any more lines. That and he was sure that you'd be able to tell he'd spurted cum all over them in his office the night before despite him scrubbing them thoroughly multiple times, the weight of his guilt eating into him like a parasite.

“Arms up, point straight. Good.” You tried to keep still as he assessed your form, but his eyes prowled over you thoroughly, and you had to suppress a shudder.

“You need to control your breathing, Y/N, you can't be afraid of pulling the trigger if you need to.”

“I'm not-”

“Shoulders back,” he said, moving to your side as he again began slightly correcting your form.

Unlike the day before, though, this time, there were no bullets. And no bullets meant no bulletproof vest.

That's why when his exploring hands came to your chest, he could feel your hardening nipples through the flimsy material of your dress. He could feel you pressing forward into his touch as his hands cupped your breast.

“Calm your heartbeat, Y/N. You need to stay calm so you can shoot straight, right?”

The words sounded alien, even to him. His gaze was locked on the top of your shirt, looking down it to the slope of your chest, disappearing into your dress. He so wanted to let his hands disappear right along with them, to pull you back into his aching cock and play with your nipples until you cried out for mercy.

He let his touch fall and played off his molestation as correction, even as your underwear grew slick with desire.

“Grab your vest. Let's try again.”

A week of late night training later, and you weren't sure if you were improving at all. The guns were the last thing on your mind when Spencer's hands were on you, his voice in your ear telling you how good you were for him, such a good subordinate.

Both of you had yet to acknowledge that you were spending the majority of the session just rubbing up on each other, like teens at prom, desperate for whatever friction you could get without having to name the game you were playing.

“Doctor Reid, if I hit the target this time, can you do something for me?” You chanced on the Friday, needing something else to tide you over for the weekend.

“What do you need?”

“No, no, nothing specific, just like a…a reward?"

He'd done his best to keep his hands off of you, which meant that he'd failed miserably, and he knew exactly what he'd like to treat you to as a reward. Keeping his hands of you in daytime hours had become harder and harder as the week flew by, and he felt like a randy school boy the amount of times he'd needed to excuse himself to either kill his bones or abuse his cock with his hand.

“Oh,” he said, growing quiet. You took his hesitation for rejection, and immediately began to back pedal.

“Y-You don't have to, sir. It was really quite conceited on my part to demand a reward from y-”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If you shoot six bullets that hit either the chest or the head, you'll get a reward.”

You smiled brightly at him, suddenly feeling very hopeful.

“But if you miss, you'll get the opposite.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about what they meant. Just hearing the words made him want to visibly cringe and write himself up for office misconduct. But your smile didn't fade one bit.

“Yes, sir. I won't let you down.”

Turning away from him, you loaded your weapon again, and he watched you put yourself into the correct position. Despite his middling efforts to actually teach you, you had seemed to have improved over the last few days.

He wasn't sure if he wanted that outcome.

Just as you stepped up to take your first shot, he stepped closer to you, wrapped his hands around your waist, and pushed up against you.

Your first shot veered left, completely missing the target as you gasped. Spencer had popped open the front button of your pants and was unzipping them, letting his hand wonder down to your panties.

“Look straight. There will be distractions out in the field, you can do this, right?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You tried to steady your breathing g and your hands again as he began rubbing slow circles into your underwear, your body alight with lust as you let him.

Your second shot hit the paper. Your third didn't.

“You can do better than that, Y/N.”

You took another deep breath and picked up your gun again, shooting just as he shoved your underwear to one side and dipped his fingers into you.

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you quickly shot your last three bullets, not caring where they went so much as where his fingers went.

“Y/N, I expected better,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he took the gun from your hands with his spare. “You can't even handle a weapon like this.”

He kept his fingers pumping shallowly inside you, as he inspected the gun again.

“Maybe you'd learn better under duress. I did, too. It's easy to learn when there's a gun pointed yo your head, right?”

He quickly turned the gun on you pushing it to your temple as his other hand shoved your pants down. He angled you forward with a press of his hips as his fingers returned to your cunt and slipped deeper inside.

“S-Spencer, fuck-”

“You missed all six bullets, so punishment it is.” His fingers gained speed as you stood, flushed and spreading your legs for him. You wanted to bury your head in your arms and scream out your moans, but the gun to your head kept you quiet and in place.

“You may not be able to shoot a gun, Y/N, but that doesn't mean you're not enjoying them. You're so wet for me.”

Tears sprung to your eyes as you felt your climax build and build, chasing the high you'd been searching for with every unprotected touch.

You were letting your boss touch you, letting a man almost old enough to be your father hold a gun to your head, and you were going to squirt all over his fingers very soon.

“Spencer, Spencer, please- please….”

“Shhh, it’s okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You just needed some more help learning. You can cum now, princess. It's okay, let go.”

You tried your best to hold back, but your body had a mind of its own as your orgasm hit you, the cold metal of the gun finally moving away from your head.

With one hand around your waist, pinning you to the side so you stayed upright, Spencer carefully placed the gun back down before dragging your pants back up your legs.

Taking your elbow in his hand, he walked you to the door as you blinked out the daze in your eyes.

“We're going to my office now. To talk about your recent performance.”

You couldn't have cared less what he'd said as long as his hands were on you, stretching your head back so it rested on his chest and pushing up until your lips could connect with the bare skin at his neck.

“Hands off. We're going to walk all the way back to my office, and you're not going to let anyone know what just happened, okay? Not with your words, or your expressions or body language, okay?”

You nodded, but he kept a hand on your elbow, gesturing yourself forward.

You weren't sure how you were even able to walk after what had to have been the most intense orgasm of your life, but the promise of more likely carried you all the way up the stairs until you were comfortably enclosed in Spencer's office.

Like he'd found himself doing multiple times a day this month, Spencer closed the blinds, pulling you down to the sofa with him as he sat.

“When I was your age,” he started, making sure your ass was facing up as he pushed your head into the cushions gently.

“When I was your age, I couldn't shoot well. My Unit Chief had to kick some sense into me. I think you need that as well, right, Y/N? You need someone to beat some sense into you?”

You nodded as he stroked your hair, and he thanked you for being so open to him.

He made quick work of your pants and underwear, and in a quick hot burst, his hand came down on your ass.

“Fuck, more. Please more!”

He did it again and again as you squirmed in his lap and moaned, begging him to keep brutalizing you.

“That's it, show me how pathetic you are, show me how much you're craving my attention.”

He pushed your legs off of his lap until you were kneeling on the floor underneath him. He pulled up your arms and pulled your shirt over your head, similarly discarding your tank top and bra until you were totally bare on the floor in front of him.

Instead of stripping himself yet, he pulled out his phone, palming himself through his pants.

“Show yourself off,” he said, pointing the camera at you.

You followed his directions quickly, hands flying to your tits to fondle them while he took pictures of your fucked our face.

With his foot he gently nudged you down onto all yours, letting you know to turn around so he could flash a picture or two of your sloppy cunt as well.

Your hips rocked back and forth in the air, unconsciously searching for something to rub against, some relief from your frustrations.

He kept snapping pictures.

Deciding that you needed his attention and stat, you let your chest fall to the floor, face flat too as your hips lifted higher in the air. Your hands found your ass cheeks, and you spread them slightly, giving Spencer an even better view of how much you needed him.

He took one last photo, and then he knelt behind you faster than you could expect.

In a heartbeat, his pants were down, in two his cock was buried deep inside of you.

“So…tight, shit. You're such a precious little slut, you kept this little pussy nice and fresh just for me, right?”

It was all you could do not to cum right there, and when he started moving you were a goner. It had always been easier for you to cum a second time than it was for you to cum a first time, and considering how quick he'd made it happen earlier, you really should've been expecting it.

Your body convulsed around his cock as you screamed into the floor, hands still spreading yourself wide for him as he rutted into you.

“That's it, milk my cock, Y/N. Milk your bosses cock, let me blow my load inside you.”

Your nipples rubbed painfully against the carpet, only adding to the storm of stimulation you were experiencing.

His hips faltered as he collapsed over your body, holding tight as his muscles locked him into place with his orgasm. He came inside you with a grunt, and he felt your cunt still clenching around him, making sure to take every last drop.

“That- was much - preferable,” you said, gasping for breath. “To shooting - any gun.”

He rolled off of you as you laughed, body satiated now for the first time in what felt like forever.

“You still need to work on your gun skills,” he said after you'd detangled yourself, but before either if you had worked up the courage to leave the floor and get dressed.

“Why?” You said, turning your head to look at him lying on the floor next to you.

“It seems I can fire pretty accurately already,” you said, as your hand snaked down to his cock one more time.

#cmkinkbingo2024 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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lunamugetsu · 3 months

Text

Danny is an ao3 writer

Hear me out!

Y'know how there's a running joke that ao3 authors/writers will put in the author's notes that they're sorry that they took so long to update and their reason is because of either they got into a horrible accident/ life threatening health issue/serious personal issues/ their life went up in flames figuratively or literally, or somehow a combination of all of those scenarios. And they're all like "Well enjoy the chapter! tee-hee!" and everybody who's reading it all collectively go "are you okay?!" (aka the ao3 writers curse)

So I want to take this, and add Danny

Danny begins taking a liking to the classic literature that Mr. Lancer talks about during class and decides to writes a fanfic about it along those lines. It all starts for when he writes a Pride and Prejudice fic where Charlotte gets a better life where she's both happy and comfortable. And when he gets pretty supportive comments about it. He starts writing fics for other books as well (and it never stops)

During that time, who else but the Jane Austen fan, Jason Todd reads this fic. Yes he reads fanfic (do not ask him about his ao3 history), he yearns for more Jane Austen, but unfortunately she's not exactly able to write more books for him to read. So he turns to ao3 where there are some people who have incredible talent for writing pretty good regency era romance.

So what happens when he finds a couple of Pride and Prejudice stories written by " HalfDeadHalfAliveWriter

And when reading through the stories and looking at the author's notes.

All with very weird scenarios happening to the writer that he can't be sure that if it's a joke or if it's an actual thing he should be very worried about.

Author's notes such as:

Sorry it took so long for me to update this I was being shot at by my parents and ended up getting a burn on my hand and couldn't use my computer for awhile.

Sorry the chapter's so short, all the people in my town are being possessed by a hoard of angry ghosts because somebody had a bright idea to steal an artifact that belongs to an ancient civilization. So I had to get this out quick before they ruin my wifi connection

Sorry I haven't updated in awhile, I had to fight off a crazy guy that is obsessed with killing my father so he could marry my mother and become my new stepfather.

Sorry for the wait I got sent back to Ancient Egypt by my mentor to hunt down a runaway ghost that was messing with time.

But honestly the most recent author's note on a fic that hadn't been updated in week is what makes Jason really worried.

Sorry for not updating for a couple months guys, I was taken by a government agency that started vivisecting and torturing me. Thankfully my sister and friends busted me out and now I'm working on healing up. Anyway here's the Great Gatsby fic where Nick and Gatsby kiss.

After reading that author's note, Jason just sits there thinking only one thing.

What the fuck?

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #dpxdc #dp x batman #Jason just sitting there not really knowing how to react to these authors notes #I imagine that Danny is completely chaotic when writing author's notes but completely professional when writing his fics #Imagine the downfall of the GIW starts with Danny writing fanfiction #that's something he'll never let anyone forget

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changetyre · 6 months

Note

Thank you for all of the stories recently! Can you do one where Lando gets tired of you calling him “Little Lando Norris” and decides to show you how big he really is?

L.L.N II Lando Norris ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Lando doesn't mind you making fun and playing games just as long as you're aware of the truth...and he'll be more than happy to remind you.

WARNINGS: **18+**

A/N: Got some good news so felt inspired to write again ;) Sorry for the delay.

"Aww poor little Lando." You jokingly patted him on the back. "Better luck next time buddy." you laughed as you walked away leaving him fuming.

Once again you'd beat Lando for 3rd place by merely a few seconds, an ongoing rivalry between you both that had everyone at the edge of their seats.

Ever since karting you and Lando had this heated rivalry, always making the other's life impossible and being each other's biggest competition so it was no surprise when it continued onto Formula 1.

To the outside world, it was incredibly entertaining for everyone to see the rivalry between the two of you. The rude remarks and snarky comments you threw at each other during interviews, the hate between you two only brewing stronger with each race.

But little did people know the way you were able to keep the hate at bay and keep yourselves in check. It had all started as a stupid drunk mistake when you found yourselves fucking in a club bathroom. The memory was hazy but you both remembered enough to know that deep down you liked it.

The next time it was a simple rash decision, you didn't think about it when you found yourself waking up in Lando Norris's room naked his arm across your waist, quickly throwing it off before running back to your room.

It was good. The sex was good, and that was the only reason you kept coming back. That's what you both told each other.

But it had become a frequent occurrence now, almost 5 months of quick and meaningless fucks where you could let out the pent-up tension and anger you had for each other.

But this still didn't take away from the fact that you still loved to piss each other off on track. Secretly you'd grown to love doing it more because you felt the direct consequence of it later.

"Lando, how do you feel about yet another close battle today with your biggest rival on track?" The interviewer asked him.

"Yeah, she just got lucky getting the better line around the next corners, but she knows I'm not one to back down, she knows what's coming for her," Lando smirked loving the double meaning behind his words.

He could see you a few feet from him giving your own interview. He just about heard you when once again you'd referred to him as Little Lando Norris, something you'd taken to recently which just irked him a little more than usual.

He watched you carefully, keeping his eyes on you like a hawke which to everyone else looked like pure hatred but truly it was simply because Lando could see the way Pierre got a little too friendly with you for his liking.

Lando would never admit it to you but he truly couldn't control the jealousy that erupted in his stomach whenever he saw you get too friendly with anyone. Whatever you had might have been meaningless but as far as he was concerned you were still his for now.

"Alright thanks, Lando enjoy your break." Lawrence finalized the interview with Lando outside the McLaren hospitality just as he could see you walking out of the press conference room with Pierre quickly by your side.

He didn't hesitate as he stood up with a quick step towards you. His blood boiling when he heard you laugh at something Pierre said.

"I need to talk to you." Lando stood in front of you making you stop abruptly and bump into his chest.

"Oh look hey speaking of the devil." You smirked.

"Little Lando Norris." Pierre joked but for some reason, Lando didn't find it the least bit amusing coming from him.

"Okay well can't talk now so bye." You were about to move past him but Lando grabbed your arm.

"Wasn't asking." Lando was ready to pull you away with him but was stopped by Pierre who grabbed your other hand.

"I actually just asked her for a drink so-" Pierre was quick to tell Lando.

"So she can't right now." Lando didn't let him finish or you protest before whisking you away.

You were completely taken aback as Lando shamelessly dragged you away from Pierre not caring the way there were several eyes on you as he took you towards the McLaren building.

Your heart pounded in your chest rendering you speechless as he walked you all the way into the building past several staff members before reaching his room where he was quick to shut you both inside.

"Lando what the-" you finally regained your voice as the door closed behind you.

"Shut up." Lando pressed his lip to yours as he pressed you to the wall. You had to push through the rush that invaded your body trying not to give in so easily.

"Lando, what has gotten into you?" You asked breathlessly as Lando began kissing down your neck unbuttoning your jeans and dragging them down

"So it's just Lando now?" was all he said.

"What are you- ah fuck." before you could reply again you cut yourself off when Lando began ruthlessly attacking your clit.

Lando basked in the pleasure he could produce on you loving the way you became putty in his hands behind closed doors despite the way you loved to tease him and take control outside.

Lando's pants suddenly felt painfully tight as he continued his attack on you taking the liberty he unbuckled his pants all while still tasting you before pulling his dick out into his hands to give it a few pumps.

Lando didn't stop, not until you had your first orgasm before finally getting up. "Why don't you return the favor baby?" Lando asked despite knowing he didn't have to since you were on your knees before he could even finish asking.

You prepared yourself knowing the ache you would feel from sucking him off having to open wide to take him into your mouth. Lando's eyes showed the smugness in them at watching the way you always struggled initially to take him never able to take him all down until you'd sucked him off for a while.

Lando groaned as you began moving your head up and down, your hands taking care of what you couldn't fit in your mouth for now.

"Nothing so little about that is there?" Lando asked the pride clear in his voice.

Only now did you understand what this was all about but you didn't care to complain since he'd gotten you all worked up.

"Why don't you make it extremely clear for me." You decided to try to have your own way.

"Gadly baby." Lando pulled you up before picking you up and using the wall to support you in his arms before using one of his hands to line himself up against your whole.

"Please-" You pleaded, Lando loved the way you begged every time he got near you like these.

"you ready?" he asked despite feeling your wetness already drip onto him.

"Yes, please fuck me." You sighed as you grabbed Lando's face to kiss him.

Lando used this distraction to push himself all the way inside you swallowing your yelp. "Shit baby you're so wet," Lando whispered knowing he had to keep semi-quiet because of the remaining staff in the building right now. Although half of him hoped everyone could hear what you were doing and the way he was making you feel right now...make it crystal clear to everyone.

"Ah, fuck Lando go faster." You begged him as Lando pushed in and out of you fully and completely at a brutally slow pace.

"Who's making you feel like this baby?" Lando asked not answering to your pleas just yet.

"You Lan...You are." You could almost cry at the torturous pace he'd set.

"not even fucking Pierre can make you feel like this can he?" His words were laced with disgust and anger which made your stomach flutter.

"No...no just you." You replied kissing Lando once again.

This was enough for Lando as he picked up his pace feeling the way you clenched around him and the way you struggled to keep quiet.

"Fu...so good...shit" You moaned in a whisper as Lando kept thrusting faster and faster into you against the wall.

Lando could cum at the sight of you, watching the way your tits would bounce with each thrust, the way your eyes rolled back, and hearing your uneven breaths as you tried to keep quiet while your orgasm quickly approached, feeling the way you held onto him as if your own skin was begging for more. This was it. This was glory to Lando.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1smut #smut #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1fic #formula 1 #changetyre #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #ln4

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predestinatos · 3 months

Text

you mean everything - MV1 ೀ⋆｡🌷

summary: max needed a wedding date and you were used to being his fake partner.

tags: max verstappen x fem!reader, fake dating, friends to lovers, max is so whipped, fluff, a bit angsty maybe?, mentions of alcohol

word count: 2k

notes: i've been writing (and thinking) so much about max... my period is coming please give me a break i'm sensitive. also would love to get some feedback if possible so i know if it's worth making a series out of this!!!!

"If you want to make it believable at least hold my hand" you half-whispered to Max, who was buttoning his blazer while getting out of the car, you behind him.

"Sorry, I'm not used to this with you" he said chuckling. His sweaty palm held yours tightly, and the feeling of it was odd. Knowing Max for so long meant that these romantic gestures felt almost cringeworthy to you both, and you both had to put up award winning performances every time you played this game.

The game in question being fake-dating. It started as a funny joke where you both thought it would be great to test out the Get A Champagne Bottle For Free At This Restaurant If You Propose theory (which worked, by the way). From then onwards, you used each other as dates whenever asked by annoying family members, creepy coworkers, or just because you felt like lying.

The talking wasn't hard - you both felt comfortable in that part, lying with words coming off almost dangerously natural - but when it came to acting the part, both of you felt awkward, like kids who found relationships absolutely repulsive.

This time, though, the performance would last longer than usual: it was a wedding. Max's friend's wedding. Max could've just gone along, or bring a friend (even you as a friend). Yet he had told his friend, after one too many shots on his Bachelor's Party, and after being chosen as The Guy Who'll Take the Longest to Settle, that he had, in fact, a girlfriend. His friends didn't believe him, so he showed a picture of you two together - a selfie really, nothing much. And they still said they didn't believe it. So here you are.

You couldn't blame him, even if you wanted to. You agreed to use each other as a fake partner for as long as you could in as many situations as required, although when it all started none of you ever thought it would lead to wedding attendances.

So now there you were, Max's hand on yours, entering the small church. His eyes locked with the groom, who waved and called for you to sit near the altar.

"So you ARE real" he said, nervousness laced in his voice even as he tried to lighten the mood himself. You giggled at the irony of it, nodding as you said your congratulations.

"Just wait until the guys see this" he continued gesturing towards the bench where 3 other men around his age sat. Men you had seen before in some Instagram pictures, men you spent the previous night trying to memorize basic information about so you didn't sound suspicious.

Max's hand now fell on your waist almost instinctively - it wasn't instinctively, he told himself once he noticed its positioning. And if it was, it was only because he took this so seriously, almost as a sort of method acting. Sitting down next to his friends, he noticed how all of them seemed surprised at your presence, and something like pride filled his chest. He loved winning, loved being right even if he was lying; but most especially, he loved how jealous other men seemed to be over the fact that he was (at least in their minds) dating you.

He couldn't deny - though he tried, really - that you two looked good together. His rougher features mixed with your softer ones gave you both an aura of near unreachability, which yes, was pretentious of him to think but he thought nevertheless.

The ceremony was quick and endearing, a smile spread across everyone's faces at the shared loved between the bride and the groom. As the crowd clapped, Max leaned into you, "don't tell me you're crying". "I am, just to think that I'll have to keep pretending to date YOU for the next 10 hours" you replied, his mocking smile recognizing the joke.

The reception hall was beautifully decorated with shades of soft green and violet orchids. Max tried not to think about how much it matched the shade of your dress, how you looked like you had come to life from a classical novel. He tried to feel like anyone but Mr. Darcy as you felt so much like Elisabeth Bennett to him.

Sitting down next to him, you found this part easier - mingling and socializing was something you enjoyed more than he did - especially with alcohol in the mix. It's a wedding, you thought; this is what weddings are for.

So you drank the wine with the main course and sipper champagne to celebrate and ordered a few cocktails when it was time to dance and talk - and you felt it on your body almost as much as you felt Max's hand occasionally sitting on your thigh, but not even close to how strongly you felt his thumb caress your skin as he did so. Truth was, he too was drunk; his eyes looked smaller and his cheeks were flushed, and the amount of times he ran a hair through his dirty blonde hair had caused it to look messier. As you looked at him, you felt he never looks as attractive as when he is like this - loose and carefree, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a smile on his face when he notices people laugh at his joke.

"I have to admit I didn't think it was true" his friend said when Max left to go to the bathroom. He looked drunker than the two of you combined, his words hard to decypher, like a riddle. "He's been talking about you for months now and we never saw you for real so we thought you didn't exist" he laughed, and you laughed back before it registered.

"Months?" you asked him, eyebrows furrowed yet attempting to remain composed. You shouldn't have asked it - a supposedly month old girlfriend wouldn't be surprised but you were his fake month old girlfriend and you weren't understanding it anymore.

"Yeah. He talks about you so much all the time I think even we started to date you" he laughed again, yet this time you didn't find the joke so funny. You were frozen in your seat, merely blinking as if trying to put the confusing puzzle together, the pieces not quite fitting the way you thought they would.

A touch on your shoulder unfroze you, almost like magic, like a disney film come to life. You turned around to find the groom, somewhat sober, smiling at you while also looking somewhat concerned. "He's calling for you... And he's also absolutely wasted" he said, pointing to the door of the hall.

"Shit" you cursed, getting up from your seat at a speed you couldn't believe, worry filling your heart, making you forget the conversation you were just having.

Opening the door to the garden outside, you found Max sitting down against the wall, shirt partly unbuttoned and disheveled hair. When he saw you, he grinned, such genuine happiness laced with tipsiness.

"Lightweight" you mocked as you crouched in front of him, trying to balance yourself on your heels, somehow managing it despite your own drunkness.

"You're laughing at my mis- Shit- my misery" his throat bobbed up and down, exaggerating his own agony with a hand on his chest and another on his forehead like a Shakespeare character.

"I have to admit it's quite fun sometimes" you bit your lip as you fixed his hair as best as you could, hands brushing through its soft, blonde mess.

"You're so– you're so sweet" he said, his words dragged and messy. He brought a beer bottle to his lips but you stopped him before any liquid touched them.

"I think that's enough of that for tonight" you grabbed it and placed it behind you, sitting in front of him.

"See now... Now you're being mean" his hand grabbed a strand of your hair and played with it softly as he pouted.

"Okay big boy I'm gonna get you some water" you say, getting up once again, yet his hand stops you, grabbing your wrist tightly.

You looked at him, startled. His drunken state is visible, and it felt frustrating that you had to be the one sobering up for him. The music vibrated through the wall he leaned against, somehow tickling him, making him giggle.

"Stay," he managed to say, eyes half closed, "I'm so glad we're- Fuck things are spinning so much" his hands rushed to his eyes and his head hung low, "Ah fuck. I'm so glad we're datin- Fuck, no, oops-" he continued laughing despite how sick he felt, the whole situation sounding hilarious when filtered through alcohol.

You giggled along with him, mostly because you wanted to see if you could convince him to move, scared he might feel worse or pass out on the cold floor if he doesn't do so. "Fake dating. Fake dating, I know. I knowww" he continued, his words dragged and his finger pointing at you before poking your nose with such innocent sweetness you were taken aback.

"Max" you tried to sound more assertive but found it hard to do so, your own intoxicated state making the situation lighter than what it actually was. Your heart racing was a symptom of it, one you wouldn't feel if sobriety was an option, you thought. Max's eyes wouldn't seem to stare at you differently were he sober as well, and the way he scanned your features, his gaze staying on your lips for longer than expected, wouldn't affect you in the slightest had you not drank some alcohol.

"I like it when you say my name" he looked up at you innocently, pleading, almost.

"Want me to say it again?" you asked, smiling. You complied with these demands because you knew they were childish whims of an intoxicated man, his happiness a priority in times like these. Upon his nod, you started saying his name, half teasingly, half reassuringly, the leaves rustling in the garden behind you.

"Max... Max!! Max Max-"

He shouldn't. It would complicate things, and he liked when they were simple, clean and organized. He knew he shouldn't even when his whole vision spun and his brain convinced him that he should do things he would never do otherwise. But every time he refrained from saying something he would stumble across all his words and trip and fall and his head would only hurt more, and it seemed as if he could only focus if he kept listening to you and talking to you and looking at you.

The lights shone behind you in a way that made it feel as though he was dreaming, like you were a mirage, too good to be true. Maybe his friends were right - you weren't actually real. He wanted to be sure, in that moment. That you were real and that he wanted you as much as he thought. And though he shouldn't, though it was a terrible idea, he couldn't help but lean over to kiss you.

He tasted like champagne - bubbly and slightly sweet, his movements sloppy given his state, yet you couldn't help but drink it all in. Part of you - a big part - reciprocated the kiss, felt his fingers on the side of your neck, pulling you messily towards him, and tried to steady him, guiding him gently with your own lips.

It was odd, how this felt so right yet the fake hand holding didn't. As Max kissed you, that thought entered his clouded mind - did it feel wrong because it was fake and this was real? Your skin felt so soft, so much softer now he could touch it freely and unapologetically.

"Fuck-" he started, pulling away, his head resting against the wall once again as he stared at you, noticing how it hasn't hit you yet; what you just did, how it affected everything. "I fucking love you" he shrugged as you fixed your hair, pausing with arms raised for a few seconds before smiling softly.

"You're drunk" you replied, looking at his own grin, the gleam in his eyes making him appear both innocent and guilty of so many things.

"I'm drunk and I fucking love you"

"Max..." you started, and he said your name back to you with such tenderness you couldn't believe his lips tasted of alcohol earlier and not something sweet.

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" you continued, waiting for the silence to swallow you both.

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bubblebbg · 6 months

Note

can i ask for a jealous mizu from blue eye samurai feeling a little overprotective and jealous when taigen spars with reader bc they are a swordmaster as well? Mizu doesn’t like it how taigen always gets you to laugh or how he injures you when sparring

why yes, anon. you may. Only warning is violence, but like, not really? Not proofread. Also, Mizu's pronouns change per perspective. I may as well shamelessly plug my other Mizu fic right here ;))

❝𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝❞

Mizu has no one to blame but herself when she's forced to bite back her envy and watch you with Taigen. If you two spar one more time, she might throw up in her mouth. It's about time she takes matters into her own hands.

The clinking of metal on metal, the air sliced through with a swish; all sounds Mizu has become accustomed to. Nonetheless, her eyebrow twitches in irritation, eyes following the movements in front of her. She thinks to herself that she never wanted to be this accustomed to those sounds, especially not when accompanied with Taigen's stupid remarks.

She watches you double back after having knocked him down yet again in the midst of your spars. She hates the way the both of you giggle.

"Please," Mizu rolls her eyes, "It can't be that funny the eighth time."

Taigen collects his sword and stands, sheathing it before dusting himself off. "Like you could do any better. Sure, you're good, but you're no master." He looks to you as he says this, smiling as if the praise was at all inconspicuous. She scoffs a bit when you smile back, crossing her arms and looking to the side.

The irony of her jealousy is that it's of her own making. You've asked Mizu to train with you before, and every time it's been a no. Because she cares about you, she at least does you the decency of making up excuses. "I'm tired, maybe tomorrow" or "I'm busy" - poor excuses, she knows, but she's trying here - and you've learned to stop asking. The truth is, she doesn't trust herself to not give away what she tries to keep hidden. Her heart already beats hard enough around you. The consequence? Watching you spar with a man who's clearly inferior to you, all while he makes pathetic advances and jokes. She's not sure if she hates him or herself more right now.

"But that's right," Taigen remarks, a snarky look on his face, "You're too scared, aren't you?"

The look in your eyes is cautionary as you nudge him. "Stop it," you mutter. And Mizu knows she shouldn't be so childish as to take the bait, but this isn't about you; it's a direct challenge from Taigen on her (sort of) manlihood.

"I am not scared."

"Then prove it. Duel. Right now."

"That's enough, Taigen," you reply, always the mediator, "If Mizu doesn't want to spar, then he -"

"I'll do it," she stands, approaching you both and stopping in front of Taigen with a searing look, "And you'll see that you're not even half the swordsman I am."

𓆩… . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . …𓆪

Inhale. Exhale. You stand face to face, a few meters apart, each a hand on their sword. The cold bites, snow falling between the two of you. When you look into her eyes, you see blazing fire, a spirit like tempered steel. When she looks into yours, there's something more unnerving; calm, like the surface of water undisturbed. Her heart pounds.

Inhale, she wills herself. Exhale. She draws and lunges, and you're quick to block it. Another swing, and another, and another, all quick and strong. Sharp eyes, she thinks. Each attack of hers is stopped as soon as it begins. Your eyes, watching as if not only to prevent, but to predict.

Inhale. She steps back, assessing. You're like a fortress - impenetrable defense. Your lips curl in the slightest smile and there goes her damn heart's pounding again.

Exhale. She drops to a crouch and swipes snow at you in an attempt to blind you, to throw off your analysis. She lunges through the spray with a decisive blow, a duel-ending strike.

Nothing. Her blade hits nothing.

Instead there's a blade at her throat, with you behind her. "How the hell did you -"

She reddens at the feeling of your warm chuckle at her ear. "You're breathing gives you away," you whisper, "Every time, without fail." You sheath your blade and Mizu whips around to look at you. She can't help but share the smile you give her. "Dirty bastard," she replies, and your laughter fills the air, the only sound she'll never tire of.

"Hah! I knew it, you're no match either, Mizu!"

Mizu's about to reply when you beat her to it.

"Whatever Taigen, he lasted longer than you ever will."

And it's Mizu's turn to laugh.

#mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai #akemi #taigen #taigen x reader #akemi x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai netflix #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai

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sinsofsummers · 11 months

Text

push & pull

5.7k | din djarin x f!reader

summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.

With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.

"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"

Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.

That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.

But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.

You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.

So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).

You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.

This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.

There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—

Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.

—

It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.

Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.

"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.

You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."

His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?

"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.

You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"

He didn't answer.

"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."

"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.

"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."

Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."

He didn't answer for a moment.

"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."

You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."

"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."

"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.

This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.

You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."

With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"

"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."

—

You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.

On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.

As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.

Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.

This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.

Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.

It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.

And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.

You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.

It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.

"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.

He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.

"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."

You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.

"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."

If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."

You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.

They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."

Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.

When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.

"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"

You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.

Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.

You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?

Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.

"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.

His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."

You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.

"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.

"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.

"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"

His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"

"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."

Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."

You swallowed roughly. "So?"

He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."

Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."

"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.

To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.

He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."

You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.

Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.

With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.

He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."

You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.

The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.

The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."

You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"

He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."

You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”

This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind.

With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like.

Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?

Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.

“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead.

His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”

“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.

You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving.

“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”

You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean.

“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”

“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”

When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently.

Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him.

Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar.

“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”

He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”

“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”

Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”

Well, how were you going to deny him then?

You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance.

“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”

A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.”

He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared.

“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”

He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”

Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth.

You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly.

Now…now you needed him inside you.

“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?”

He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again.

You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la.

“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged.

“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”

Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue.

His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”

“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”

You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck.

Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled.

Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”

You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.

Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege.

“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him.

You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.

You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”

He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you.

The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again.

“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release.

You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”

For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”

tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!

adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE

this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl

the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #virgin!din djarin #din djarin x experienced!reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fic

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flamingpudding · 4 months

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I love your writing so much but I'm here with a crack idea just imagine deage Dan is Klarion.

Dan was able to find out who he is outside of Danny then he was able to change his name Klarion Jackson Fenton/Nightingale he is still a little villain boy also now a mom boy.

Ghost King Danny is his mom young justice was so confused when Klarion you're the best gifts get your mom after not talking to him for a while to also begging them to pretend to be his friend . Justice League dark is panicking in the background about the electric being that just shows up.

Danny in full ghost king attire standing there with a plate of cookies ready to meet his son's new friends.

Thanks so much! I am glad you enjoy my writing!

Also thanks because I absolutely love this Idea/Prompt! Sooooo please enjoy this piece inspired by it! Also I haven't consumed a lot of DC material lately so i am basing this all on my memories. In other words.... I went with Tim's little team here.

Hope that's okay and that this won't disappoint.

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

Dan, who was going by Klarion for some years now, had a massive problem. It was the huge kind of problem build on small bubbles of lies that then turned into this one giant bubble that was about to pop just because of one little question asked by his mom when his sister decided to throw him under the bus to deflect from herself and the fact that she was dating a demon. Don't get him wrong he still loves her, but man did he want to strangle Danielle right now.

"So Klarion, Ellie is right. When will I get to meet your friends you told me so much about?"

It was such an innocent question from his mom. And while his moms titles don't scare him, cause at some point in time they could have been his too, the happy dopey smile like nothing was wrong in the dimensions with little expectations directed at him was the scariest thing his mom could ever direct at him when he had asked THAT question.

So now Klarion was in need of a quick solution. When his mom had asked he had mumbled out a quick: "Next week maybe. We won't be busy with hero stuff then." He had started to form a plan. First of all, he needed to remember what all he had told his mom about his new and redeemed life on Earth 43 he had build for himself with the name Klarion Jackson Fenton-Nightingale.

Which fuck. There was a lot he had told his mom just so he wouldn't worry.

Cause now he also remembers that whenever he had gone out to cause some chaos he had made it seem to his mom like he was going out to bond with his new friend or help them with their hero duty. Well, in a way maybe his chaos causing could be seen as bonding. The ghostly kind, that is. And as for helping with the hero duty... he did give them work, something to do with their hero status. Anyway Klarion tried to remember all possible names he had dropped. Shit why did he also mention to his mom that he was working with heroes to make her proud? He should have name dropped some villains instead but nearly all of them were adults. He knew his mom would have frowned if he had only adult friends and no one around his age.

He was pacing his room in their castle. He need a plan, a good one at that. He knows he name dropped Robin, now Red Robin, Superboy and Impulse on a whim once. Superboy more so cause his mom had been interested in the Alien Heros of the Earth of the dimension he was partially living on now. He had mentioned Robin for the joke of knowing that there is a Dinner in an other Dimension with the same name. And because his Grandfather didn't like the Flash-clan which meant his mom didn't like them too much because of their messing with timelines either, he had mentioned being friends with Impulse on pure spite because of a punishment one day and to see their reactions. So he had to get these three on board anyway, and because for the heck of it he would get Wonder Girl involved too. It was never bad to have a girl in a friends group.

Klarion stopped his pacing. Turning towards his demonic ghost cat companion, kind of what Cujo was to his mom now. "Teekl, I think I have a plan. I will convince these Idiots, that shouldn't be a huge problem. Most of them are normale little flesh sacks." Teekl and him stared for some time at each other and after a moment Klarion huffed turning away with crossed arms. "It's a good plan don't be so sceptical, they are heroes right? They will not refuse my request!"

Well maybe Klarion should have planned this a bit better.

The next day Red Robin blinked at the witch boy up from the ground in the living room of what looked like to be an normal apartment. He had just been in Gotham, working on a case and now he was here? Looking to the left he also noticed that Superboy (the older), Impulse and Wonder Girl were also with him. They all looked stunned he observed and partially disoriented. Additionally they hadn't heard from Klarion since the last time they had foiled his plans on raging chaos upon the earth, that had been weeks ago.

"Kla-"

"I have summoned you heroes here. For the moment it is fruitless to try to leave because of the magic barrier." Okay rude to be cut of but that explained why he suddenly wasn't where he remembered to be last anymore. It was now Superboy who opened his mouth first but before he could even make a sound Klarion decided to speak over them again. "I have presents."

Four young heroes collectively blinked, confused, stunned and weirded out. As the which boy before them waved over to wards a table filled with boxes and packages. "I come in peace today, to proof that I brought these are presents, filled with various goods from different dimensions that should be to the liking of you all. Technologie, accessories, snacks, weapons, as well as clothing styles."

Red Robin shared a glance with his friends, a silent communication but before he once again could say anything Impulse was already by the table going through the stuff. They could here his 'oh's and 'ah's, which inevitably made them curious and they wandered over too. Klarion was not acting hostile at all yet but Red Robin did not trust that so he kept the which boy in clear view the entire time.

"Rob! You gotta see this! That actual futuristic Tech!"

"Look at these snacks."

"These accessories don't look to bad..."

His eye twitched when he noticed Klarion was sporting a smug look. Red Robin had to ask now, because this was not normal for the other. "Okay usually you would have started some big shot chaos plan by now. I don't buy this peace offering act and your way to formal talking. So what is going on?"

The other three, thankfully in Red Robins opinion, finally looked away from the tempting gifts and also turned their attention fully on Klarion. Who's smug smile falter as he let out a sigh and stared at them with what they could only describe as a frustrated look.

"My mom is planning to visit me."

"And?" Impulse asked between munching on three different bags of chips that where on the table.

"And he believes I am friends with you idiots."

They stared slack jawed. Impulse was pinching himself like he couldn't believe what they had just heard. Did one of their Villains, just informed them that their mom believes they were friends? Red Robin was starting to think he might be in a sleep deprived Hallucination.

"Why would she?" Wonder Girl questioned next to which Klarion glared at her with fire in his eyes.

"First of, my mom uses the pronouns he/Him. Be rude to my mom and I will find a way to make your life a permanent hell on earth." Wonder Girl blinked lifting her hands as in a sign of peace. "Second, my mom is under the believe that i work with heroes not against them. I do not have the heart to disappoint him after everything that happened in the past. So I embellished the truth a little."

"A little?" Superboy retorted sarcastically, to which they caught a light blush dusting the which boy's cheeks.

"Look my sister threw me under the bus and my mom wants to meet my friends now! So I need you idiots to play nice with me for when he visits!"

"And we will do that because?" Red Robin crossed his arms, watching their villain sceptically still not really buying this entire act. This was to strange of an behaviour change. Something was up, and he was going to get behind it.

Klarion on the other hand was starting to panic internally. His plan was not as he had hoped. The presents he had specifically gotten from other dimensions with what he believed was their interests did not work to make them simply accept his request. This was the last time he would listen to old man Vlad on how to bribe humans, he wasted his entire week on getting all that stuff. His mom was going to show up soon enough he need to have them act as his friends by then so he could remove the magic barrier. Or else his mom would notices he faked everything.

They left him no choice. He would have to throw his pride away for the sole reason to not disappoint his mom.

All four Young Justice Heroes blinked as Klarion suddenly threw himself on the ground before them into a pleading position.

"Please! I beg you, just for the time my mom is here. Please act like my friends!"

"I didn't think Klarion was a mama's boy...." Impulse whispered to the rest of them in pure disbelief as they stared stunned at the kneeling witch boy.

Cut to the heroes that noticed their teens were missing.....

"Where is he?" Batman growled at the Constantine who was sighing tiredly.

"Look mate, the way you and the other Spandex wearing friends explained it, made it sound like they got summoned by a being of the Infinit Realms." The blond man sighed lighting another cigarette eying the four heroes, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman and Flash. Zatanna was behind him pouring over a book about the realms and trying to find a tracking spell to trace it back and to where they could have been summoned.

"Don't you have something like a tracker on your boy?" Batman only growled something under his breath to which the Brite couldn't help to arch and eyebrow. Constantine was going to say something sarcasting as Deadman suddenly appeared a panicked look on him. "The Ghost King has chosen to come to our dimension."

"Say bloody what now?" All attention that had been on the heroes and their problem of missing teenage heroes turned now to Deadman and the news he brought with him. "The ghost, shades and spirits talked, for the king has decided to visit our Dimension. They are in an uproar, no one knows of why our King is on his way."

"Bloody fucking hell!" Constantine cursed. "We are fucking screwed! Isn't that guy a fucking tyrannical eldrich war maniac?!"

Deadman nodded solemnly and Constantine uttered another hearty and colourful 'fuck'. While the heroes present exchanged worried glances, not only were their kids missing but now a, by the sounds of it, highly dangerous being decided to appear in their dimension? Batman couldn't help but think that there had to be a connection to the missing teens and this.

Meanwhile in the Infinite Realms the Ghost King Castle...

Danny smoothed out his fur trimmed cape and adjusted his crown so it was floating nicely and evenly on his head. Today was the day he would get to meet his sons friends. He needed to make a good first impression. That was why he had chosen to take on his Ghost King form for this. With the wave of his hand he made an ice mirror appear before him, checking how he was looking once again. Once satisfied he nodded to himself looking over towards Fright Knight who was holding the plate of cookies he had baked himself. It was the fifth batch, and the only one that didn't turn out burned. He had needed Jazz help for this one to turn out well. It was only proper if he brought some cookies for the kids. Also he would have loved to bring his families fudge but... the last time he had tried making them had turned into a disaster.

"Thanks Frighty. Do you think Klarion's friends will like these? Wait don't answer! If they don't like them I will just get something else to thank them for taking care of my boy." Danny rambled on as he glanced at the plate of cookies in his hands. Why was he so nervous? He was just going to get to meet his little boy's friends. Sure his boy had dropped some stories about them and his adventures with them here and there. But hearing stories and meeting the kids were two different things.

Shaking his head Danny put on his best smile as he summoned a portal to Klarions apartment in the 43th Dimension of Earth. It was time to visit his boy in the place he had made his second home and thank the people that looked after his kid.

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