#I can SEE the Suits standing over the writers saying

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the slow night

buttercup, chapter six

a/n: he a hoe and I love him. thank you and goodnight.

summary: as the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, kissing, semi public sex (at the bakery), clothed sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3244

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Leaning against the doorway to the small bakery bathroom, you watched Walter’s tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he flicked glittery stripes of eyeliner over his lids. 

“You sure you’re okay with closing up on your own tonight?” you heard Howard ask you as he sat on a low stool some space behind you, bending down to tie his shoes. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smiled, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “you two deserve a night off.”

Staring out into space, your uncle leaned his tattooed forearms on his robust thighs a moment as he murmured, “you know, I don’t even remember the last time we went out…” casting a glance past you at the bald man in front of the mirror, Howard raised his voice, “honey, did you find out what queens are performing tonight?”

Popping the lid back on the pencil, the former club kid tilted his head approvingly in the reflection, “I think Holly Day still works Friday nights there, but other than that I have no idea,” he exited the bathroom, only to press a small peck to your cheek as he slid passed.

“Urgh,” you groaned with a smile, letting your inner child temporarily show as you dragged the back of your palm over the faint lipstick stain, “well, have fun you two!”

“Night, night, cupcake,” Howard blew you a few brief kisses as the pair scurried out of the shop, “don’t forget to feed the sourdough starter, oh! And mix a new batch of ginger maple cookies, portion them out and pop them in the freezing–, also–”

“Howard,” you interrupted him with a smile just as Walter pulled open the back door for them to exit, “I know what I need to do. I’ve done this countless of times before, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Alright,” he exhaled slowly.

“If it’ll help, I can send you a picture of the place before I lock up.”

A relieved smile then warmed up your uncle’s features, “thank you, sweetie.” 

Half yanking his husband out of the door, Walter offered you one last wave, “bye, Y/n!” before the solid door slammed shut behind them. 

Bending down, you put the last one of the wide and clean bowls away on the bottom shelf of the metal storage system in the corner of the kitchen. 

The skirt of your dress swooshed gently around your legs as you straightened back up, like a summer breeze, fluttering against your skin. Reaching for a clean cloth, you briefly ran it under the tap before wiping down the aftermath beside the sink following your dance with the dishes. One of the tiny puddles of splashed water soaked your apron as you leaned over the steel table to reach deeper, turning it a darker shade of brown right over your belly button. 

Just then, from out of nowhere, “hi,” the voice of your neighbour echoed throughout the kitchen, thoroughly startling you and causing the rag to drop from your grasp.

“Ah!” you jumped, haven not even heard the back door creak open, “Matthew!” pressing a soothing palm to your chest as you spun around, a light giggle flowed from your lips, “oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leisurely leaning against the far counter close to the back exit. 

You already knew he’d be out on patrol tonight, but actually seeing him stand there before you was something else entirely. The black suit clung tight to his physic, and now that grave injuries no longer distracted and adorned his visage, the vision of the obsidian vigilante that stood in front of you proficiently provided you with a sinful shiver that trickled down your spine. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, attempting to brush off the tingle that bloomed between your thighs. 

A bold smirk bloomed on his lips, visible below the dark mask, as he slowly stepped closer to you, “it’s a slow night,” gently tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the table he passed, an action you didn’t expect to find as seductive as you evidently did, goosebumps now blossoming all along your arms. 

“A slow night, huh?” you chuckled, tilting your chin as he neared. 

“And I was in the area,” he cocked his head as his hands settled on either side of your frame, leaning against the counter behind you.   

“How convenient,” you smiled, his light-hearted explanations not convincing you in the slightest. Matt’s fingers then found your chin, tilting it further up as he bent down to brush his lips against your own. Your knees nearly buckled as you felt yourself swiftly sink into the intoxicating sensation, your arms gliding up and over the black fabric that hugged him, till they were locked around his neck. As the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

Mirroring your own chuckle, he playfully tested, “and what if I am, huh?”

“Wait, really?” you giggled, your hands seized each side of his face and pulled him back a bit as his hot mouth worked wonders at making you lose your train of thought, “you sure you weren’t just hungry or something?”

“Hm,” his palms slid up to cup over yours as he cheekily said, “something, yeah…” peeling your fingers off of his stubbly cheeks, he placed a few pecks in your open palms, “I would fucking love a taste of something sweet.”

Tearing your gaze away from his onyx visage, you briefly cast a glance around the space, “uhm, I don’t really know what’s left over from today, but there might be someth–”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not the kinda treat I was thinking of,” he smirked brightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer to his warmth as his fingers sneaked under the apron’s knot. 

Finally reading his obvious subtext, “o-oh,” you couldn’t help but giggle as he then leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your laugh till it melted away into a low moan that vibrated against his lavish tongue. 

Scrambling closer, you damn nearly climbed him like a tree with how desperately you clawed at his mass. When his touch slid further down your frame and curved around your ass, he briefly offered you a squeeze that you swore soared all the way to the sensitive nerve endings in your throbbing clit, before he scooped you up and sat you down on the steel countertop. As he slotted his width in between your parted thighs, his teeth playfully caught your bottom lip. 

Fluttering your fingers further up, you cupped the sides of his face as the heated make-out slowly began to ease. The tips of your touch grazed the bottom of his black mask as you gently pulled back.

Blinking back at him through your lashes, your digits ghosted over the material as you uttered, “…can I take this off?” 

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he softly nodded, “mhm,” and let you peel the charcoal mask off of him. Letting it drop to the table right beside where you sat, you gazed back at him for a moment, his chocolate eyes gently crinkled up in bliss as you briefly traced a light caress over a few of his newly revealed features before you sealed your lips with his once more. 

Undoubtedly, your panties must have clung to your core at this point from how soaked they felt. 

Abruptly, Matt’s soft lips suddenly strayed from yours. Fluttering your gaze open, a giggle bubbled out of your lungs as you saw him slowly sink down to the tile floor beneath you. 

“Matty,” you beamed, your touch straying from his cheek as he settled down on his knees. 

Slowly raising a sliver of your hemline up to your knees, his lips grazed against your shin and leisurely roamed further north. 

Burying your fingers in the fabric of your dress, you gently began to hike it up till it, and the brown apron, bunched above your hips. 

Your breathing was ragged, and your mouth hung agape when his kisses neared your centre. One of his warm palms stayed planted on your inner thigh after he’d split your legs further to grant himself better access as you sat there, nearly dangling on the edge. 

A shiver ran through you when he placed a brief kiss to the soaked spot soddening your underwear, before his reach extended and hooked the cotton to the side, a sting of your slick clung momentarily to the fabric before snapping back against your core. 

“Fuck,” he let out a gravelly groan and you felt his breath tickle your cunt before his hand, the one not clutching your soaked panties, curled around your frame and tugged you towards him, closing the minuscule distance between his zealous mouth and your glistening centre.

Parting your petals with dizzying laps, Matt let out a moan as he made out with your pussy, the tickling vibrations caused your thighs to tremble beside his head. 

“God…” spellbound, he pulled back for but a second, “your pussy tastes like fucking heaven,” before he tilted his chin and enraptured your clit, fervently sucking down on it in a way that made your eyes roll in your skull. 

“Oh my god, I–, I–…” you panted, sensing yourself race towards the finish line, but even with how incredible his tongue made you feel, deep down within you rumbled a feral feeling for more. As your pelvis bucked lightly against his efforts, you gasped, “Matt… get up…” unsure if you’d ever felt so empty in your entire life, “get up right fucking now.” When he rose, the lower part of his face glinting with your want, he didn’t get a chance to say anything before you yanked him by his shirt and crashed your lips against his. With the intoxicating taste of yourself lingering on your mouth, your heavy breath fanned across his face as you desperately uttered, “in the corner behind you, on the hook beside where my coat is, my bag, the little front pocket.”

Breathlessly, his expression fogged up in soft puzzlement, “what?” 

“I went to the drugstore earlier,” you said, hoping that you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him. 

It actually took him a second for him to realise what you were talking about, “oh,” as if he hadn’t hoped or expected anything more than what you’d just let him do. Crossing the room in mere moments, a playful chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fished out the box of condoms, “this is a big pack… were you planning on seducing me?”

Rolling your eyes, you giggled, “oh, shut up and get back here.”

As soon as he was back in your reach, your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, impatiently freeing him as you virtually drooled seeing the imprint of his cock strain against the dark fabric of his pants. 

“Put it on, please, please, I wanna feel you so bad,” you begged as he ripped the foil packet open. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yes, please,” your hungry eyes were glued to his breath-taking fist as he offered himself a brief pump before he hastily rolled the condom on, “Matt, if you don’t fuck me right now then I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Sighs flowed from the both of you in unison when Matt sank into your drooling cunt. You almost felt drunk, that’s how wound up you’d gotten.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good,” Matt exhaled, letting his forehead melt against your own as he rolled his hips, getting impossibly deep before drawing back a bit and finding a rhythm that caused your legs to be like crickets, shakily rubbing against either side of his frame as fucked you, “sweetheart–, christ… you’re about to cum, aren’t you?” his lips tilted up into a smirk. 

“D-don’t you dare stop,” you panted, clawing needily against his torso. 

“I won’t, I promise,” he then sank a hand down between your frames to tickle your puffy pearl, “I could do this all day, baby.” 

You collapsed back on your elbows when your pussy fluttered around him and a lewd cry accompanied the high. 

Panting against the cool table, you hazily blinked up at him as he then uttered in the deepest sincerity. 

“God, I'm crazy about you, Y/n,” his expression was soft and dreamlike, “you know that?”

Your eyes went wide a moment, entirely forgetting how to fill your aching lungs, “really?” you then regained control rather gracelessly as you nearly coughed, “sorry... I forgot how to breathe for a second there,” the grin that bloomed on your lips nearly hurt.  

Snatching one of your hands up in his, he weaved his fingers with your own, “you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m amazing…” you gazed up at him, “I’m also completely and utterly wild about you,” you then tugged on his hand, drawing him down enough for your lips to graze against his. 

His hips instinctively rolled as your tongue flicked across his own, grinding briefly into your sensitivity before he noticed and went back to being completely still within you. 

But when your sloppy kiss then parted, you tilted your own hips a bit, slowly fucking yourself shallowly on his cock. As he gently offered you a tender thrust, gradually pulling out of your clinging cunt just a tad, you glanced down between the shy space betwixt you and spotted the ring of your cream that stained the base of his dick. 

“Fucking hell,” you whimpered as he straightened his spine back out and brought the back of your palm up to his lips, “I don’t get how I bounce back so quickly with you. It’s like you just have to smile and then I’m just–, oh my god!” you moaned as he changed his angle, brushing directly against a spot that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. 

“Oh, you like that? Right there?” he repeated the same lavish motion. 

“Y-yes–,” with your interlocked fingers, he then pulled you back up to a sitting position, the shift leaving you breathless, “fuck. You feel so good right now,” his hand let go of yours as it then snaked around your back, his burly forearm supporting your spine as the fingers reached up to weave within your hair, gently scraping his short nails over the nape of your neck.

Drawing you in even closer, your chest pressed against his as he kissed your cheek sweetly while he kept his pace meticulous and precise. 

Hugging onto his broad shoulders, your head dropped down to rest against one of them as you then muttered, “harder,” your gaze hazy on the kitchen behind him before your eyes fluttered shut. When he then snapped his hips forward a little more electrically, you weakly repeated in his ear, “harder.”

Slamming into your needy cunt so fiercely that the sound of your skin colliding echoed off the tile walls and a bit of drool began to stain his dark shirt as your cheek stayed smooshed against his width. 

“That it?” he growled silkily, “huh?” but when you couldn’t form any coherent words within the mess of moans that flowed from your lips, you didn’t have to see his face to know the grin that bloomed on his face, “aw, it’s alright, sweetheart,” his grip tightened in your hair, “you’re doing so good for me,” tugging intoxicatingly right at the roots, “just relax… that’s it… good girl…”

Keeping his pace rough, he lavishly slid out of you till just his bulbous tip plugged you up, before ramming his cock back in so feverishly that you could scarcely breathe at all, just tremble in his embrace, listening to the pure filth that he murmured in your ear, till you both tumbled over the edge. 

With his spent girth nuzzled against your tender pussy, faint hums of contentment flowed from your lungs as Matt gently stroked your hair, his other arm wrapped around you as well as he kept your sluggish frame close to his long after you’d both regained your breaths. 

As your fingers disappeared below his neckline and softly rubbed against the warm skin, your voice eventually found his ear, “okay, so I know that you didn’t come in here for a late-night snack,” the corners of your lips tilted upwards, “but now I’m kinda hungry.” 

With a gentle chuckle rumbling within his chest, he briskly tugged himself away and untangled himself from you, “one second,” his lips pressed against your hairline before you saw him turn around and wander out of the kitchen. 

As you watched him disappear into the front of the bakery, you tugged your panties back over your mess and pushed your dress back down, “oh, I'm not sure if there’s anything left out there–”

“Do you want a raisin bun or a very seedy one?” he asked and your brows flew up as you still hadn’t gotten used to how perceptive his heightened senses let him be. 

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked, completely blown away, “raisin.” 

Appearing before you once more, he handed you the speckled bun, “here.”

Smiling adoringly back at him, “thank you,” you sank your teeth into the pillowy treat before offering him a small bite, which he gladly accepted as a tender laugh rolled out of him. When you had consumed the sweet bun, a soft yawn promptly flowed out of you, “fuck,” his palms were warm at your waist as your arms briefly curled up beside your head, “I can’t wait to get back home and sleep.”

“How much do you have left to do till you can lock up?”

“Not too much,” your hands dropped back down and rested atop of his for a moment, “how about you? How long do you think you’ll be out there?” 

“Probably not too much longer either,” his head tilted gently before he leaned back in. 

“Alright,” you smiled, tenderly pressing your lips to his before he snatched up the discarded mask and tugged it back over his features. As his feet began to carry him towards the exit, he paused as soon as you said, “hey Matt?”

“Yeah?” the vigilante twisted back to face you. 

A bubble of nerves suddenly fluttered in your belly as you uttered, “when you get back tonight, could you maybe–, uhm… or maybe I could–…”

Swiftly getting at what you were trying to convey, Matt simply marched right back to where you sat and pulled you in for a kiss. Cradling your cheeks a moment longer as he slowly pulled back, he smiled, “there’s a spare key to my place behind the radiator in the hallway.”

Gazing back at him, you uttered, “okay,” feeling like you were floating on a cloud. 

“I'll try not to get home too late,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours one last time before he backed up again. 

Calling after him, “be safe!” he stopped on the threshold of the back door for a second, silhouetted by the dark city as he flashed you a grin before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in the bakery alone, feet dangling off the table as a bright smile tenaciously lit up your face. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock smut #marvel smut #matt murdock fluff #daredevil smut

[norrisleclercf1]

hii babes can we please please get a super angsty mafia fic for max!!! I am obsessed with your writing!! something about the reader being hurt or even close to dying I’ll leave it up on you!! just wanna say you are a wonderful writer!!! also an update on mafia mick would just be ahh!! hope you are doing good bb

A/n: Mafia Max and it's angst, you're spoiling me

He knew something was wrong. It was one of those waking up and feeling off, but nothing was wrong. Max couldn't place his finger on it. His morning started off how it always did.

You still asleep, him kissing you and then heading out for his daily run and workout. Coming back to you outside in the garden waiting for him. It was then the soft sex you'd have in the privacy of sun room and then going on with his business.

Max got the text of you going out to shop in the afternoon, smiling at your text. But still, the feeling that something was wrong, wasn't going away and he doesn't know how to get rid of it. Sitting in the meeting he tries his best to ignore the growing pressure in his chest.

Max growls when the doors to meeting room slam open and the frantic face of his assistant pops in. "Mr. Verstappen," She whispers, Max tenses seeing the way she was trying to hold herself together. "What?" The feeling from earlier grows, so much so it takes over Max.

"It's," She swallows shaking her head. "It's Mrs. Verstappen," She whispers, the tears finally rolling down her face. Max recognized the feeling now, the aura he's been around all day. He's felt it before, right before tragedy or even worse, death. This, this feeling was utter doom.

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

"A car ran right into hers. 2 of the guards have passed, she," The doctor takes a deep breathe. Max holds up his hand, not wanting to hear the words. Words that have been spoken to him before. "Don't, I won't have you say them." He whispers, large hands wrapping around your delicate ones.

Hands that were always warm and dancing in his hair, now limp and covered with wires and needles. "Mr. Verstappen, you need to prepare yourself." The doctor steps out of the room, Max refuses to look away from you.

"Maxy?" Looking up, his bloodshot eyes meet the eyes of a head of dark curls, and tan skin. "Was it on purpose?" Max whispers, Daniel hangs his head. "Yeah, they aimed for her side. It was on purpose."

Max sniffs loudly, wiping his eyes as he stands up. Leaning down he kisses your cheek, none of your warmth greeting him, only cold. "Stay with her?" "Of course," Max fixes his suit, and adjusts his gun. "Don't leave me, not yet. At least let me finish some business yeah?" He jokes, but it falls to deaf ears.

"I love you,"

He didn't know that, that would be the last time he could say those words to you.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fandom #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 scenario #f1 angst #f1 blurb #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max x reader #max imagine #max verstappen f1 #f1 max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #mafia!f1 #f1!mafia #mafia!max verstappen

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 20: GETTING CAUGHT Shanks 𝘹 F! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: @downforsanji ➡ Hii Sashi!! I always love your work, one of my favorite writers 😘 for the kinktober, may I please request kink/day 20 (getting caught) with Shanks? The reader is female (she/her). Additional kinks/trope are friends to lovers and praise/degradation kink. Also power dynamic if it suits the story. Thank you so much Sashi ❤❤ have a nice day!! ➡ hi love! I'm sorry for the delay, but here it is! finally! hope you enjoy! 💞 tw: kinda public. soft degradation. soft power dynamic. friends to lovers. ft buggy. wc: 1.2k 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Someday had to happen; they were friends -and sometimes brawled like enemies- but still everybody noticed the tension in between them swearing that their relationship had to be more than being friends…

Well, they were… right.

“I can’t stand you, Shanks. That damn face of yours, always so cocky but still acting like a sweet boy. People should know your true you” you spit, pushing him aside after he beat you in that game.

He keeps laughing, grabbing you by your wrist to stop you from leaving a party where nobody is paying attention at you, even though is full of people.

Shanks catches you, as your nose finally buries on his exposed chest. You smell the scent of his sun kissed skin, feeling his hand pressing your waist against him.

“Oops, you clumsy! Don’t fall” the red-haired scoffs, while your eyes fix on his sharp jaw and your legs quiver.

“Stop it, for real. You pulled me… are you that needy for feminine touch? You try to downgrade him, even if it’s you now who is not willing to move away from his arms.

Your friend hugs you closer, so close you can feel everything of him. And so close, he can feel everything of you, too. You gasp, because you are sure you just grazed something hard on him.

“Sh-Shanks…” you murmur. “(Name)…” he smirks, biting his lower lip so slow and sexy as he looks down to you.

Your hands feel sweaty against his chest, your legs more and more weak… truth is, that even though you love him as a friend… Shanks is beyond sexy, and you just discovered how much you wanted to touch his skin, to kiss his lips…

He looks to the sides; the music is loud, people are drinking, people are dancing, and others are dancing. Some more are passed out on the couches, and others about to. The music is loud, the smoke fills your lungs, and the little door of a pantry stays semi open behind you.

And Shanks pushes you slowly inside of it, and you walk backwards because you really want it as much as he does. And it wasn’t the alcohol, nor any drug… it was… desire.

As soon as you are inside, you hit your back with a shelf full of toilet paper with them falling on your head. Shanks, whose hand rests sexily but still delicately in your face, laughs at you.

“Stop it…” you shyly say, trying not to laugh. Even if you would like to keep it cool, you simply couldn’t. The man right in front of you shared many laughs with you not to laugh now.

“Or else? What are you gonna do, hm?” he teases you, lifting your chin up in between his fingers. His red locks tickle your cheeks, and the warmth of his breathe menaces with kissing you.

You swallow, pulling him even closer from the collar of his white opened shirt.

Inside of that little pantry, it’s hot and humid. And the little light filtering through the door is the only source of light… even if there is no need to see, because you know him so well. There is only one need, and it is to feel.

When his lips finally crash against yours, you moan loudly. It’s almost a surprised whine, a gasp of the unbelievable happening.

His tongue, and yours, dance lustfully. The music coming from outside, filters like a murmur, playing in the background while the pumping hearts of you two take over.

And the more you two kiss, the more both want to melt into only one body; his hardness pressed against your lower belly, the little hint of alcohol in his breath, the way he lifts you up holding you from under your legs and your arms around his neck.

“Fuck… if you wanted me this bad why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, scoffing once again, but this time with a little tremble on his voice he can’t conceal.

“Wasn’t it you the one who pushed me inside this place, Shanks? Is you who is desperate to fuck me” you reply, teasing him with your voice and softly humping on his erection.

Shanks stops smiling, and this time you feel the shelves on the wall carving on your back. He moves you so that his sex practically pierces your panties from under your short tight shirt; you can even feel his throbbing member all through his capri shorts.

“You are right, I am desperate to finally fuck you. I’ve been wanting to be inside of you from months… even holding myself back whenever you fell asleep next to me on that long trip with the guys…” he confesses, breaking your blouse with claws like a feral animal.

You are left speechless, thinking such thing would never come out of Shanks mouth… or at least when talking about you. But he seems to be watching you for long enough, waiting forever for you. Who are you to tell him to stop, despite being on a very public spot where anyone could walk in at any moment?

“Then… fuck me, once and for all ~” you purr, passing your hand through his beautiful crimson hair, feeling his eyes burn holes into your soul and the muscles of his jaw tensing in desire.

“As you please, my dear friend”

You aren’t very sure how, but he already managed to free his sex from his trousers’ prison. You can feel the wetness of his tip pushing against the equally wet surface of your panties. It is warm. It feels like heaven to even have your sexes barely separated by a fine mantle of lace.

But lace should be removed, or at least moved to the side, because this man wants to bury deep inside of you. And that’s exactly what he does, as he guides his sex towards your dripping flower.

He breathes your suffocated moan, while he stretches your entrance as he slides inside of you. Your nails carve on his shoulders, and after staying for a couple of eternal, killing seconds right by your entrance, he impales you so violently and mercilessly it rips a growl out of you.

And the more you moan and whine, the more his hips become the executioners of your sex. His grunts and low growls, the way that he sucks your nipples while he keeps fucking you…

The way you had forgotten you were at a party, in a pantry close to everybody… the way you had forgotten about time, and about parties ending at some point of the night…

“SHANKS?” a man, with blue hair and a funny looking nose screams while opening the door. “I can see your butt cheeks what the fuck!” he continues.

You open your eyes, picking through the broad shoulders of your lover, to see Buggy, Shanks best friend, screaming with the door open.

“Buggy… close the god damn door!!” Shanks protests, once he stops sucking on your breast. He doesn’t seem to care, and for some reason he only wants his friend to go away to keep fucking you. “Or stay, but let me finish fucking her”

“SHANKS, NO!” you chime. “Shanks, you are disgusting… fine! Roger called us, so hurry up. And I knew it, finally you did her” Buggy claims he knew, and of course he did. “Yeah yeah, now go!”

“Shall we continue, mademoiselle? “Shanks for the love of God…”

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#shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x you #one piece x reader #shanks one piece #shanks hc #kinktober 2023 #one piece x y/n #one piece #one piece shanks #shanks headcanons #hentober #shanks x y/n #red haired shanks #kinktober #shanks imagine #sashi ya #one piece x you #one piece x oc #sashi-ya #shanks smut #kinktober 23

[heartless-tate]

I have a request!!

I need some angsty Rhys x reader like I need the air I breathe. I’m talkin someone died and was brought back by the grace of the Gods or something along those lines. And I need the other party to lose it.

Can be smutty too I won’t be mad about it. But if it doesn’t fit don’t force it. Love your works! You’re a fabulous writer 💜

Come back to me | Rhysand X Freader angst

A/N: sorry it took so long! I’ve been very busy. P.S this shit wasn’t proof read so if it sucks it sucks. I’ll do better on my upcoming fics 😭 And thank you so much anon!

warnings: death, allusions to sex, wasn’t proof read 🥴, MDNI!!!!

“No!” Rhysand snaps at you. You growled challengingly at your friend. He was so fucking stubborn. 

“Rhysand I swear to the cauldron above I will skin your ass if you don’t let me go on this mission.” 

Rhysand bristles at your new threat. You were always creative with them. His eyebrow quirks. He sighs and rubs his temples. He looks around his office as if trying to find an escape. He stands abruptly and approaches you. His wings gently cocoon you, and he drops his head on your neck defeatedly like a pouty child. 

“Don’t call me that...” he mutters into your skin. Your fae ears catch it. His breath was warm against your skin, and you wondered briefly why he had been so touchy as of late. 

“What?! Your name…?”

“Yes.You always call me Rhys- call me anything but my full name. We’re closer than that dear.” He whispers, lifting his head up. You huff. You wonder why you feel your body gets hot at the nickname. It was just Rhysand- he gave pet names to others. Right? Your eyes find his violet ones. You were tempted to scream at him again but you saw his tired eyes, and softened. You sigh. 

“Fine. But I’ll go with you.” Rhysand spoke before you could say anything else. 

——————

It wasn’t just Rhysand that tagged along. Azriel and Cassian did too. Whatever- at least you got to go. Ever since your best friend, Rhysand, returned from under the mountain he’s been weirdly protective. He had always been protective- but now he was outrageously paranoid of anything harming you. It was odd. 

You were on a simple mission. Track down a group that has been disturbing some of the night court’s cities, take them out. Simple really. Or so you thought. Once you had successfully tracked the group down, Azriel had stopped any of you from proceeding further. He wanted to observe the band of rouges to see what they were doing. And their powers. You didn’t see a point in it- as you were there. Azriel was there. Cassian was there. Rhysand was there. You four could take out this lowly group in minutes! Or so you thought.

 After about three days of restless following the group, it was safe to say you were ready to take them out. You didn’t pay any mind to Cassian  trying to stop you from proceeding. Azriel had been scouting the area for any others. Rhysand was with him as back up. Leaving you and Cassian to watch the group. You felt a hand grip your wrist and jerk you back.. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Cassian whisper-barked at you. 

“Cas- I’m hungry. I was just going to get some food.” You whispered sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him. His eyes softened he contemplated. 

“Fine stay here, don’t move and keep your eyes on them- I’ll go on a quick hunt real quick.” He muttered. You smirked in victory once he left, now it was time to show them that you could be helpful. 

————————

“Something’s wrong. I sense it.” Rhysand yelled to Azriel over the wind. There was no other members of the band of rouges around.  Azriel flared his wings slightly and nodded in response.

“Let’s head back, I’m sure everything is fine.” He responded. 

Rhysand wasted no time and turning swiftly in the air. He started a fast pace back to the camp where the group was resting. Azriel followed suit. Something was wrong. He could sense it. His skin had goosebumps, and he felt restless. He had a shaky feeling of anxiety. Why? He couldn’t figure this out.

The camp came into view, and he was about to dive into the forest to hide himself from the group. But his eyes caught something- a body. A body in the middle of all the men. The men were cheering and whipping it. Rhysand’s eyes sharpened and he felt sick. It was- you. A sense of rage and utter wrath of a thousand burning suns filled him. 

Azriel flinched when the whole area went completely dark- it wasn’t nighttime- it was Rhysand’s wrath. He felt a shiver work it’s way up his spine. He caught sight of your naked body being beaten. 

A loud book of thunder sounded, causing all the men to pause their fun. They didn’t have time to react when something large hit the ground. Majority of them fell to the floor, scampering. Dust was everywhere. 

A tall looming figure with bat wings spread in front of you, covering you. Rhysand. Everything hurt. So fucking bad. You were covered in blood and vomit- whatever they had shoved down your throat was working fast. You felt sick. Vunerable. Everything was so hazy. You didn’t have time to process the screams around you or why. You felt your body collapse. Something was wrong. No- it’d be fine. You’d get flown to Madja and healed and you’d soon wake up. You tried to keep your body up but failed, collapsing to the mud. 

Rhysand felt dread at hearing the thump on the ground. There were bodies everywhere. His senses were heightened. The only heartbeat was Azriel’s and yours. But yours was the only one that mattered right now. And it was so slow- 

He shoved Azriel away from your collapsed form quickly, cradling your head. Your scent- it was fading. Your skin was so pale. He realized with a sick feeling you were dying. His eyes met your weakly opened one’s. Your eyes started to close.

“Nonononono- cmon we need to get her to Madja. What are you doing?! Let’s go!” He yelled, quickly hailing your body in his arms. Azriel flinched. 

“Rhys- it’s too late. It’s an hour flight, and where we are it’s impossible to winnow! And the poison they forced on her has spread mostly.” Azriel whispered. Rhysand ignored his words, shaking his head. His wings flared, preparing for flight. 

“Where’s Cassian- get him- we can make it-“

“Rhysand- we fucking can’t. It’s not possible.” Azriel’s words and reality finally seemed to hit Rhysand. Rhysand collapsed in the mud, holding you close to his chest. He was rocking you back and forth, tears falling from his eyes. 

He gently caressed your face. Your eyes opened. He whimpered softly at your weak expression. “No.nononononono! It wasn’t suppose to happen like this. There was so much I had planned for you- for us.” Rhysand said. His words were soothing. You felt yourself relax. You felt Rhysand’s talons scrape your mind, and gently broke your barricade. The pain in your body disappeared. You were able to process his words better. Death, you were dying. Us. You had never realized there was an us. You couldn’t help but press your face against your hand. You think you could die at peace like this. You weren’t sure if the tears on your face were his or yours? Maybe both. You were so tired- you felt so relaxed with his warm body and wings covering you. We’re the woods always this quiet? It was getting harder to keep your eyes open. Rhysand’s hold tightened. 

Rhysand came to the realization if he was panicked you would feel it- he needed to calm himself for you. It was the least he could do. He took shaky breaths pressing his forehead agaisnt yours. “I’m so sorry..” he muttered agaisnt your skin. 

“..you have nothing to be sorry for…” you grunted out. “..I love you Rhysand.” 

“Don’t call me that.” He groaned out. Nudging his head against your body gently. Your choked laugh filled his ears. 

“I love you so much Rhys.” You said again. He made a noise of pain  and kissed your wet eyelids. 

“I have loved you with every fiber of my being since the day I met you, and I will continue loving you until the day I die..” He whispered loudly. His lips were soft as they gently pressed to the tip of your nose. He watched as your shaky hand reached forward to wipe his watery eyes. Your fingertips were soft. He savored the moment, closing his eyes. Until he felt your hand fall. His eyes widened open, panic settling in. Your eyes were fighting to stay open. Your chin lifted foward as if to kiss him. He bent forward. His forehead again rested against yours. You were both staring at eachother. Something snapped- a gold tether between you too. You felt your heart throb one last time. And everything went dark. 

Rhysand screamed. It was guttal and terrifying to Azriel who stood off to the side giving you two privacy. He felt his heart break. You were dead. 

——————

Rhysand refused to let you go. Your corpse remained in his bed- it had been two days after your death. Somehow his magic had kept your body intact and clean. He refused to eat, drink, or even leave your side. He spent his hours curled up agaisnt you, crying and begging for you to come back. You were his mate. He had loved you as much more then a friend for a millennia of years by now, and he had a sneaking hint you were mates. But the mother was so cruel- killing you just as soon as the bond snapped. 

His claws dug into your skin gently as he rocked your corpse back and forth. A knock sounded at the door, eliciting a growl from him. Azriel stepped in. 

“Rhys. You need to eat. Y/n wouldn’t want you-“ 

“Don’t say her fucking name!” Rhysand growled, eyes going dark. Azriel shivered in fear at the sudden darkness. Nobody could get to Rhys. It was scary. His brother was slowly killing himself. And they couldn’t do anything about it. 

Azriel nodded and left the room, deciding to leave it be. Rhysand curled his wings back around you. He climbed on top of you, gently straddling. A few tears dropped down his face, landing on yours. His forehead met yours. 

“Bring her back home-  please..” He cried out. 

Rhysand flinched. He was hearing things now. Was he in so much pain he was delusional now? He whimpered. He thought he could hear you calling his name. Maybe his time has finally come and he’ll be with you again. 

“Rhys..!” 

Rhysand jumped, hearing your sickly coughs. You. You. You. You were breathing. He was surely in the afterlife now. His head dropped to your chest, ignoring your cries of his name in favor of hearing your heartbeat. It was there- you were alive.

Rhysand choked on a sob. He didn’t know what to say. 

“Rhysand!” You yelled louder. He flinched. 

“Get off of me- your suffocating me you big Illyrian baby.” You groaned. He wuickly jumped off of you. Onyl to wrap you in his arms and cradle you to his lap like a child. 

“Rhys?” You questioned. His head was pressed to your chest again. Where your heart was. You felt something wet drip down. 

“You were dead. Gone- dead. I lost you!” He choked out. “I thought..” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he made a whimpering noise. He was having a full break down. 

“Rhys. I’m right here, I’m alive, calm down.” You muttered. Your body was sore but you couldn’t feel much right now. All you could focus on was the weird attached feeling towards the male holding you. How were you alive? You had no idea. But you weren’t mad. That’s for sure. 

Rhysand gently pushed you down against his sheets. You were in his bed, in his shirt and boxers. You smelled of him. There wasn’t much to say. He was acting on instinct. His hand roamed your body, as if ensuring you were real. His wings cradled you, blocking out the world. He grabbed your face, turning it, inspecting you. 

“Rhysand!” You snapped. He flinched in response. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m fine.” You repeated trying to calm his mother hen. You could feel his emotions now. 

“No. You’re not going anywhere. That’s for sure.” He whispered, eyes holding a dark look. You nodded in response. You flushed slightly, remembering. He was your mate. He finally smiled down at you. It was slightly crazed, but it was better than crying. His eyes were puffy. 

“I’m here to stay.” You whispered as his lips slowly met yours. Your first kiss with him. 

—————-

Rhysand was very clingy. The last two weeks have been spent with him up your ass. The inner circle was delighted to see you alive. And Cassian begged forgiveness. He thought it was his fault. You assured him, it wasn’t his fault. Which led to Rhysand sitting you down and giving you a very long lecture. You weren’t allowed on missions until next starfall. Of course, it annoyed you. But you also decided to relent and obey Rhysand this time. Armen said you were a miracle and not to question your resurrection.

You and Rhysand had been taking it slow as far as the bond. It strictly stayed to small pecks on the lips. He wanted to ravish you- but he wanted you to be comfortable with him. You were. How couldn’t you be? Azriel told you how he stayed beside your body. It made you tear up. And now, all that was left of the ‘accident’ was a protective Rhys. He refused to leave your side for more than an hour. Sleeping arrangements were made where you could sleep in his room or yours, but best belive he had to be in the same room. If you didn’t want him touching you that night he was more then happy to sit in a chair and do paperwork (and watch you as you sleep but you didn’t know that.)  But you always ended up wanting him by you. It brung comfort. 

You were ready for more. Specifically tonight. You convinced Rhysand that you would be okay while he joined his brothers at Rita’s. But you knew he’d be back within two hours. And would waste no time attaching to you. So you worked fast. You made yourself look pretty in the mirror feeling slightly self conscious. You felt a shift in the air realizing Rhysand was near. You rushed to the kitchen looking at the meal you prepared. You were shaking. This was embarrassing. What if he didn’t want you? 

“Love?” Rhysand’s sweet voice filled the air as he sensed your distress and rushed into the dining room. He paused upon seeing you. You were gorgeous. No female on this planet could hold a candle to your beauty. He swallowed the saliva building in his mouth. You were standing in one of those sundresses. He gulped. You were clammy. His eyes slid to the plate of food where he usually sat for dinner. His eyes slid back to yours. 

He felt himself harden. “Y/n?” He whispered. 

“I’m accepting the bond.” You whispered. 

“Say it again.” He demanded. 

“I’m accepting the bond Rhys.” You said louder, feeling embarrassed until he plopped down on the chair. He wasted no time in devouring his food. It was gone in under two minutes. His eyes found yours again. 

“I suggest you sit and eat your plate. Because once I get you in my room you’re not coming out for a very long while.” His pupils were dilated and his wings were flared. He was holding himself back.

You certainly didn’t waste any time eating your plate. 

#acotar #acosf #imagine #x reader #azriel #acotar 5 #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar #Rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand smut #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand angst #rhysand and feyre

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Seven

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Javi P got a lot of attention last week, both his visit to the bakery and for the many Pickled Peña fics he starred in. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! It really means more than you probably reaslise! It's been a rough week and I feel lucky to have found a great community here and to have found so much fun and enjoyment in writing to keep my mind off things.

This week's Pedro boy is dedicated to my lovely friend @secretelephanttattoo who is not only an amazing writer, but also one of the best people I've meet on Tumblr. Love you ❤

Series Master List

Working in a bakery almost every day means you pick up on people’s habits, whether they come into the shop or not. You know the bookshop owner across the streets always arrives ten minutes late on Tuesdays. The bodega owner next to your bakery always picks up his dry cleaning on Fridays and the dry cleaning lady always throws out her trash on Thursday evening. And you know that the cute guy with a dimpled smile always walks past your shop at about eight forty-five every weekday morning. 

He hasn’t always walked past, it started just a few weeks ago, but now it’s routine. You’d first noticed him when he stumbled over something on the sidewalk, smacking his hand against your window to keep his balance, and making you jump. He’d given you an apologetic smile, that’s how you know he’s got a deep dimple on his left cheek. And a really, really, great smile. 

The next morning you noticed him again as he glanced in through the window and smiled, a quick wave as he hurried down the street. And the same thing the next morning and then it was a routine. Around eight forty-five, between customers, you’d keep glancing over at the window until you see him walk past in his well fitted business suit, always a tie flapping in the breeze. He has a routine with those too you notice; a blue tartan pattern on Mondays, slate gray on Tuesdays, navy blue with white dots on Wednesday and the then tartan one again on Thursdays before he ditches the ties on Fridays. You wouldn’t go as far as saying that seeing him is the highlight of your day, but when one day he doesn’t pass by, you notice. And when the rest of the week passes and he doesn’t show up at all, you feel a little bit sad, even though you never even spoke with him. 

Monday morning, eight thirty, and you’re working your way through the morning rush, serving coffee and selling croissants and cinnamon rolls, he suddenly appears again. But this time he’s in front of your counter, holding on to a credit card as he smiles down at you. 

“Hi,” he says, the dimple deep in his cheek, “I thought it was about time I stopped by and said hello properly.” 

“Hi,” you say, a little breathless, he’s even cuter, and handsome, up close, and you’re suddenly very aware of your shiny face, straggly hair and stained apron. 

“I’m Marcus, Marcus Pike,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’m the creepy guy who slams into your window and never comes inside.” 

“Hi Marcus,” you reply, taking his hand, hoping yours isn’t too sweaty and clammy, “I’m the creepy baker who stares at you every morning.” 

He laughs at that, a warm sound that makes your spine tingle as his eyes crinkle at the corners, a wide smile making another dimple pop on his cheek. 

“I guess we need to be less creepy then,” he chuckles, “maybe I can start by buying a coffee like a normal customer?” 

“That sounds like a good start,” you smile back at him, “what would you like?” 

“A cappuccino, please,” he glances up at the coffee menu behind you. 

“Coming right up, anything else?” You motion at the fresh croissants and pain au chocolat piled up on the counter and he looks at them with longing. 

“I would love too, really…but my job, we’ve got this fitness test thing in a few weeks and I’ve got to be in shape for that. That’s why I started walking to work, instead of taking the metro.” 

“Come back when the test is done then, if you pass, it’ll be on the house,” you wink at him over your shoulder as you start preparing his cappuccino. 

“Now there’s the motivation I need,” Marcus laughs, stepping back and glancing over the selection inside the display cases, “But you don’t have my favorite I think.” 

“No? What’s your favorite then?” you ask, “No, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.” 

“Ok,” Marucs smiles as you hand him the cappuccino in a takeaway cup,” what’s my favorite?” 

You look him up and down, and he grins and takes a step back so that you can see all of him, holding out his arms and giving you a little spin. 

“Hmm…business suit, always a tie, well polished shoes and a job that requires fitness tests…” you hum, enjoying the chance he’s given you at properly taking him in. His suit stretches almost  tight over his broad shoulders, hugging his biceps, and when he holds out his arms, the shirt underneath hangs on for dear life. The suit jacket lifts up over his butt as he turns and you’re given the privilege of eyeing it for the first time. It’s just as cute as the rest of him and you have to mentally chastise yourself for ogling. 

“What’s your guess?” he smiles, coming to a stop in front of you again. 

“Carrot cake, but you wipe off the frosting to stay healthy,” you say and he manages to look both cute, amused and offended at the same time. 

“No way, I would never sacrifice the frosting!” he says, pretending to be insulted as he grins, “but nice try, I really like carrot cake, but it’s not my favorite.” 

“Hmm…maybe-”

“No,” he interrupts you with a wave of his hand, “you get only one guess per day, you can guess again tomorrow.” He gives you a warm smile and as he taps his credit card to pay for the coffee.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, keep guessing,” he says, stepping aside to let the man who’s just stepped into the shop approach the counter. With a final wave he disappears out through the door. 

The next morning he turns up again, as the morning rush dies down, and orders another cappuccino. 

“Canéles,” you say, pointing at him. “Fancy, French, just the thing a guy in a smart, well tailored suit would like.” 

Marcus grins and shakes his head, “I don’t even know what they are, but keep guessing!”

“Give me more clues then!” you protest as he takes a sip of the coffee you just handed him. 

“Hmm…I used to play bass in a band in college,” he says and you raise your eyebrows. He does not look like a bass player, or any kind of band member for that matter. 

“Special brownies?” you ask with a wink and Marcus almost spits out his coffee. 

“Definitely not,” he splutters, chuckling as he wipes his chin, “and you only get one guess per day.” 

“Says who?” you ask, but you already know the answer, Marcus’s grin tells you. 

“I do, my game, my rules,” he gives you a wink and heads for the door, “see you tomorrow!” 

Wednesday he comes in a little bit earlier and hands you a travel mug. 

“This looks brand new,” you say and he nods. 

“Decided I should save on the environment, and your takeaway mugs,” he smiles, leaning on the counter while you start preparing his coffee, “What’s your guess today then?” 

“Cinnabons,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, feeling butterflies erupt in your belly when his face splits into a wide grin. But he shakes his head and you give him a mock scowl. 

“You’re impossible to guess!” 

“Keep trying, gives me a reason to come in every morning,” he replies, “Not that I need a reason though,” he adds, a pink flush suddenly creeping up from beneath his shirt collar as he gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile. 

“I’ll keep trying if you promise to keep coming in,” you smile back at him, you can feel heat creeping up your own cheeks as you hand him his travel mug. And of course his fingers touch yours, just a light brush, but enough for both of you to glance down at your hands. You jump a little as his breath catches and when you look up at him again, his lips are parted and you see the tip of his tongue peak out, just for a split second, before he composes himself. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles, “thanks for the coffee again.” 

Thursday he’s a little bit late, and he hurries through the door with his tie hanging around his neck, untied. 

“Sorry, I worked late last night and slept through my alarm this morning,” he huffs as he reaches the counter. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” you smile, “I only sell you your coffee,” you hand him the cappuccino you’ve already made him and he gives you a grateful look, “and let me fix your tie while you caffeinate yourself.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs and takes a long sip of the coffee as you walk around the counter and stand in front of him. You look up at him, taking hold of each end of his tie, and you suddenly realize you’ve never been this close to him before. There’s always been a counter between the two of you. Now he’s standing barely a foot away and you can smell his aftershave, warm and woody, as you adjust the tie. 

“Over…under…over again…” you mumble to yourself, trying to remember what your dad taught you, “up through the neck and down…there, got it,” you say, gently tightening the tie up against the collar as Marcus lifts his chin up, “but you might want to adjust it.” 

“No, it feels perfect,” he says, giving you a warm smile, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile back at him, tilting your head up a little to be able to meet his eyes now that he’s standing so close. You should really move back but he smells good and his eyes are so soft looking, the way he just smiles at you. 

“What’s your guess?” he asks, smoothing his hand down over his tie as you drop yours to the side. 

“What?” you mumble, slightly distracted by how his throat bobs just over the knot in the tie where your hands just where. 

“What’s your guess for my favorite baked thing?” Marcus says again and you blink, catching on. 

“Oh, of course! Uhmm…brownies? But real brownies, gooey in the middle and crunchy corners?” 

“Oh….that is definitely high up on my list, but not my absolute favorite, you’re getting close though,” he grins at you, putting down his coffee mug on the counter. 

“I’ve got to run, but….are you free tomorrow, after work?” he asks, his eyebrows knotting together as he waits for your answer. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” you say, you can’t stop the smile breaking out on your face at the question and he smiles back at you. 

“If you want, I’d really like to have dinner with you, maybe we can both drink something this time?” 

“That sounds nice, I’d like that, Marcus,” you reply, butterflies multiplying in your belly as he gently puts his hand on your arm, “and I’ll definitely figure out what your favorite is by then.” 

“It’s a date then,” he grins, “you supply my favorite and I’ll sort the rest, I’ll come by at closing, ok?” 

You nod and before you know it, he’s leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” 

Friday morning Marcus stops by and buys his, by now, regular coffee, “So what’s my favorite?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“Not telling you,” you smirk at him, “I’ll serve it tonight, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out now.”

“I can’t wait,” he chuckles, winking at you before he grabs his travel mug and hurries off to work. 

Your day drags on and your nerves tingle every time you glance up at the clock at the wall. When the shop quietens down after lunch you prepare what you hope is Marcus’s favorite dessert, putting it in the fridge for baking later. 

Just a few minutes before the clock hits closing time you hear the jingle of the doorbell and look up to see Marcus step through it. He’s changed out of his usual business suit and is wearing a leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and jeans, a bright smile as he gives you a wave. You ring up your final customer, bidding them a nice weekend as Marcus lingers to the side, and then you get a chance to say hello to him as you go to lock the door and flip the sign. 

“Hi Marcus,” you smile at him as he steps forward.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against your cheek, leaving the spot tingling and your skin warm. When he straightens up he smiles at you, his eyes soft and crinkling at the corners, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a slightly unusual plan,” he says, pointing to the duffel bag he’s got hanging from his shoulder, “Dinner’s on me, but in your kitchen.” 

“You’re cooking for me?” you ask and he nods. 

“Seems only fair, you’re making dessert, so I do the rest….well…” he gives a little embarrassed shrug, “with a little bit of help from my favorite restaurant.” 

“Sounds like a nice plan,” you say, putting your hand on his arm and his smile brightens again, “come, let me show you the kitchen then.” 

You lead him past the counter and into the back room, the kitchen clean and ready for tomorrow, except the dessert for Marcus. “What do you need?” you ask, “Help yourself to anything.” 

“First of all, I need you to sit down,” he says with a smile, looking around the kitchen for a chair and spotting only the stool with wheels on, “Not many places to sit in here, huh?” 

“When would I have time to just sit around?,” you laugh, taking your apron off and throwing it in the dirty laundry basket in the back room, “I usually just sit on the counter.” You heave yourself up onto the large workbench as Marcus starts unpacking his duffel bag. He’s hung his jacket on the hook by the door and now he’s crouched down, digging through the content at his feet. The gray t-shirt hugs his shoulders, stretching tight over his back and riding up, exposing a strip of bare skin just above his jeans. It’s so far from the man in the well fitted business suits you’ve been seeing every morning for the past few weeks, a much more relaxed Marcus. 

“Do you wear the suits every day because your job requires you too?” you ask, taking the opportunity to stretch your tired back as you get settled on the counter, baking all day takes a toll on your body. 

“Yeah, I don’t mind them but I prefer the days when I don’t have to wear them,” he answers, standing up and placing a stack of boxes next to you on the counter. “No peeking,” he says in a stern voice, smirking at you and you hold up your hands. 

“I’m not touching anything,” you reply, “But I never asked what you work with?” 

“I work at the FBI, with art theft,” he says and you widen your eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re an FBI agent?”

“Yeah,” he furrows his brow as he looks over at you, “do you..is- is that a problem?” 

“No, no, not at all, I’ve just never met an FBI agent. It makes being a baker seem very tame is all.” 

“Maybe tame is good sometimes,” he chuckles and looks around the kitchen and his brow furrows again, “Hhmm…hang on, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing the bag and going out into the shop again, “No peeking!”. 

“What are you doing?” you call out to him as you hear tables and chairs being moved around. 

“Nothing, just setting things up, just wait there,” he calls back and a few minutes later he comes back to the kitchen. 

“Now, let’s get dinner ready,” he smiles, “Plates and a small saucepan?” 

You direct him to them and soon he’s arranging food on two smaller plates. 

“Miss,” he says, winking at you and holding out his arm, “Let me show you to your table.” 

“How nice, please lead the way,” you smile at him and slip off the counter, taking his arm. He brings you out into the café part of the bakery and leads you to one of the small round tables by the window. He’s put a white table cloth on it and set two candles in the middle, another few candles arranged around the shop. The sun is setting outside and in the dim light of the shop the candles spread a golden glow, giving it an atmosphere you’ve never seen before. 

“Marcus…this is lovely, I’ve never had my shop look so nice before,” you say, sitting down as he pulls out the chair for you, “It’s so…romantic,” you let it slip out without thinking but Marcus puffs up a little and beams down at you.  

“I’m glad you like it, I really like your shop,” he smiles, “and I really like the shop owner, I wanted to make it special for you.”  

“You might be my very favorite customer, Marcus,” you smile back up at him, your cheeks heating up and he grins. 

“First course is coming right up,” he says with a smile and disappears into the kitchen. 

“You should give food walking tours of the city,” you joke as Marcus smiles at you from across the table. “I’m so full but I still want to go and eat at all your favorite places right now.” 

“I’d take them here first,” he says, “and make sure everyone knows where the best bakery in town is, but…” he leans forwards and grins at you, “Speaking of baking, I want to know if you’ve guessed my favorite dessert yet.” 

You give him a soft laugh and mimic his movement, leaning forward to meet him across the table, “I think I might have, I just need to go and turn on the oven and then they’ll be ready in a few minutes. But I just realized, you never said what my reward would be for guessing correctly.” 

Marcus hums, tapping his long fingers on his chin as he looks at you, a mischievous smile making the corner of his mouth curl up. 

“I don’t think we agreed on anything, but if you go turn on the oven and I’ll come up with something good,” he says, his smile widening, making your skin heat up as his eyes seem to suggest something enticing. 

Thank god for your industrial oven, it turns on and heats up to the right temperature in no time. While you pull out the dessert plates and take the ice cream out to soften, it hums to life and pings. The dessert goes in and you set a timer and go back out to Marcus, sitting down at the table again. 

“It just needs a few minutes,” you tell him, “did you come up with a reward?” 

“Yeah, I did, but what if you guess wrong?” he asks, “I need a reward too.” 

“If I’m wrong…” you say, thinking out loud, “you tell me your favorite, and no matter what it is, I’ll make it for you.” 

“That’s a nice idea,” Marcus smiles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, the t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps, you swear you can hear a seam ripping behind him, “but I like my idea better.” 

“What’s your idea then?” you ask, giving him a suspicious look, he’s got a very happy grin as he looks at you. 

“If you guess wrong, I can take you on a second date,” he says and you laugh, that’s probably the easiest reward he could’ve asked for and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he sees your laughter.

“Hardly a difficult reward, Marcus,” you smile at him and he gives you a warm smile back, “But what if I guess right, what’s my reward then?” 

“If you guess right, you get to take me on a second date,” he grins and you feel little happy bubbles in your chest as his soft eyes stay locked with yours, you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“Deal, Marcus,” you say, holding out your hand to him. He leans forward and takes it, his large hand enveloping yours, thick fingers gently closing around yours as you both shake on it. 

“I can smell chocolate,” he grins, glancing at the kitchen, “I think you’re on the right track.” 

“I know you, Marcus,” you laugh, “all serious business suits on the outside, but a wild child on the inside, bass player and all.” 

“Hardly the definition of a ‘wild child’,” Marcus chuckles, “now, if I’d been lead singer or lead guitar, then maybe.” 

“Well, the dessert is only a little bit of a wild child, the defining factor is that at its heart, it’s very romantic, just like you.” 

Marcus gives you a slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s that obvious, huh?” 

“That you’re a romantic? Of course, but I like it,” you smile softly back at him, turning off the timer that’s just gone off, “Moment of truth. Did I guess right or not?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m getting a second date either way,” he says, winking at you as you stand up and head to the kitchen. 

Pulling them out of the oven you quickly plate the dessert and scoop up the vanilla ice cream, finishing with a light dusting of cocoa. Your hip bumps open the door to the shop and Marcus watches you eagerly as you bring the plates over and set them down on the table. 

“If this is what I think it is, you’ve got yourself a second date,” he jokes and grins up at you. 

“That’s not helpful, Marcus,” you laugh, “either way, you’ve got yourself a second date.” 

“I know, that’s the beauty of this deal,” he chuckles, picking up his dessert spoon and looking at you expectantly, “Can I guess?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” you smile and he pokes the dessert lightly. 

“Chocolate fondant?” he asks, looking up at you, raising his eyebrows, before he digs the spoon in and cuts it open. The soft chocolate cake exterior gives way to a thick river of chocolate that pours out of the interior of the little cake. Marcus giggles and scoops up a bite of both cake and sauce and puts the spoon in his mouth, humming at the flavor and closing his eyes. You watch with pride as he tips his head back and moans, the spoon still in his mouth as he sucks it clean. 

“How did you know?” he asks, a bright smile on his face when he’s finally done with his first bite. 

You shrug and smile back at him, “You’re not a health freak, you didn’t recognise the more complicated French pastry, you like gooey brownies and you’re a romantic. Chocolate fondant seemed like the obvious choice. Decadent, sweet and just the right amount of fancy,” you grin at him. 

You take a spoonful from your own fondant and put it in your mouth, watching the chocolate flow out from the inside, just the right amount of undercooked to keep the inside flowing and warm. The chocolate flavor spreads across your tongue, paired with a hint of vanilla and salt, rich and warm and you let an involuntary moan escape. When you glance up you don’t miss the dark look Marcus gives you, his eyes fixed on your mouth as he takes another spoonful. 

“You really guessed right, I love chocolate fondant, but I’ve never had one this good before,” he says, humming around the big piece in his mouth. “How come you don’t have them in the shop? Actually, don’t have them in the shop, I’d buy them all every week.” 

You giggle at his blissed out face as he takes another big bite, dropping his head into the palm of his hand as he sucks the spoon clean, “It’s like hot chocolate, brownie and chocolate sauce all in one fluffy soft shell of cake.” 

“I’m glad I guessed right, seeing your happy face makes me happy,” you smile at him and the tips of his ears go a pink in the dim light as he clears his throat and chuckles. 

“Coming to your bakery makes me happy,” he smiles, scraping the last bit of fondant from the plate while he looks up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and it’s your time to feel the heat rise in your face, his grin widens as he sees you shift awkwardly in your chair and glance at him with a smile.  

“Really, getting my morning coffee has become the highlight of my day,” Marcus says, “How sad isn’t that?” 

“Not sad, you coming into the bakery every morning has been the highlight of my day,” you say, finishing off the fondant and putting the spoon down while Marcus watches you with a smile. He suddenly pushes his chair back and stands up, holding his hand out to you. 

“Dance with me,” he says, the warmth of his hand spreading across your palm and down your arm as he pulls you to your feet. 

“There’s no music, Marcus,” you laugh but he just grins and spins you around before catching you in his arms, one around your waist, the other still holding on to your hand as you put your own hand on his shoulder. 

“Who cares about the music,” he says, gently swaying you back and forth while he gives you a soft smile, “it was just a clever ruse to get to hold you.” His hand on the small of your back is lightly stroking the fabric of your shirt and you’re very close to him, pressed up against his chest as he holds you near, moving slowly in a circle. You can smell his aftershave, mixed in with the dark chocolate of the dessert and without thinking, your hand slips into the soft looking curls at the back of his neck. Marcus tilts his head as your fingers play with the silky strands, letting go of your hand and moving it slowly to cup your face, his thumb stroking the soft skin on your cheek as he seems to inhale slightly and dip his head to yours.  

His lips are just as soft as you’ve imagined them, warm, gentle, as he parts them and tastes you. His steady hand holds you close, the curve of his strong nose brushing up against your cheek as he angles his head to better kiss you. You feel your fingers gripping his hair, willing him to press you even closer to him. All of his warm, solid body is pressed up against yours, his hand at the small of your back sliding up to hold you closer to him, your own hand gripping his shoulder, steadying yourself as you feel like melting into his touch.  

He’s still swaying the two of you gently, your lips moving slowly together, tasting the chocolate on each other's tongues. Heat is creeping through your body, wrapping around you, as you feel him tighten his hold on you, his breath skating over your lips as he exhales, a quiet groan leaving his throat. 

“You taste so sweet, even sweeter than the dessert,” he mumbles, his mouth close to yours, “I never want to stop kissing you.” 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach more of him, your hand around his neck, and part your lips for him, letting his tongue lick into your mouth with more fervor. He also tastes sweet and the way he pulls you closer as you steady yourself against his chest makes you moan under his increasingly heated kisses. He’s not swaying you anymore, instead he lets you melt into his body, his arm holding you up, as he bends his head, another groan slipping from him as he feels your tongue slip around his own. 

Marcus’s kisses make you forget the time, where you are, and not until he pulls away with a sigh, do you open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and it’s mirrored in the way his body feels against yours, his arousal a clear presence between you. And you can feel your own fill your core with heat, a slow shiver as you touch upon the thought of having him even closer. 

Marcus keeps his eyes locked on you, his warm hand gently stroking your cheek as he seems to take a deep breath, composing himself. Your fingers are still toying with the impossibly soft curls at the back of his neck, letting them slip through your fingers, and you feel like you might drown in his dark brown eyes if he doesn’t release you soon. 

“Is it too soon to ask for a second date tomorrow?” he whispers, his eyes dropping down to your lips again, and then back to your eyes as you shake your head. 

“No, tomorrow sounds like a very good idea,” you mumble, slightly hazy from the way his hands never stop touching you, warming your body and sending shivers to your core. 

“Ok,” he mumbles back, “can I kiss you again?” 

“If you do, we might not get out of here tonight, Marcus,” you smile at him and he chuckles, nodding and pulling back a little. 

“You’re very right, maybe it’s best to save more kisses for tomorrow.” 

“I look forward to them though,” you say, letting your fingers slip from his hair and down over his shoulder, caressing his arm, his wrist, and finally his hand. He takes your hand then, enveloping it in his larger one,  and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“Tomorrow then,” he smiles. 

Part Eight

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x ofc #marcus pike x reader #a baker’s dozen

[everlastlady]

Boyfriend Vox HCS

✥- Author's Note: I can't wait for Hazbin Hotel to come out, now Vox isn't my favorite character but he isn't a character that I hate. He's a character that I find interesting, and when the show comes out maybe my interest will spike and I'll enjoy him more. I'm already enjoying his voice, design, and especially his singing voice, tell me what you guys think about Vox's voice and design, what do you hope to see in the show when it comes to Vox besides his rivalry with the radio demon Alastor. Remember to eat a meal or a snack, drink some water, get some fresh air, take your medicine, and remember that you are loved. If you loved this story remember to comment, click or tap that heart button, reblog with tags, and blaze if you can. Always remember to support your local writers. ♡♡♡

✤- Story Contains: CEO female reader, romance, Vox being a bit of an ass, strong language, reader is a falling angel, and overall just a fun silly fan fiction.

✤- Vox has always been asshole towards (Name) but (Name) was always an ass back to Vox too. The two trading insults and even shoving each other. This was this love language because the two were dating. The powerful Overlord was dating the falling angel ceo of Hell. Vox was fascinated that (Name) was a falling angel, and built a company on helping falling angel especially since they made a lot of money. But Vox didn't love them for the money, he loved them for their passion, fiery attitude, and being able to stand for themselves. Vox was glad that (Name) was his girlfriend.

✥- The two helped each other out. Vox made sure that (Name) had all the power and influence she needed for her company. And made sure that Vox any of his associates were protected from the angels. She also uses Vox's products at her company and having models use them in photoshoot. " Think you can have one of your models eat my cereal in the video babe? " Vox asked. " Yeah, sure. " (Name) smiled giving a nod. " In a sexy way please. " Vox walked away. It took (Name) a while to progress what her wide screen boyfriend just said. " .... In a sexy way? "

✥- Whenever (Name) and Vox argue in public or call each other names. Even shoving each other and fighting. People don't know that it's over the most stupidest things. Vox could say a cloud looks like a turtle but (Name) would say it looks more like a mouse then they'll fight even in meetings. If you were there Velvet would just say. " Don't worry this is how they express their love. "

✥- Vox loves to spoil (Name), he loves getting her a ton of gifts and outfits. Only the best for his woman, he especially will rent out her favorite restaurant so that they can have it all to themselves and order whatever they want off the menu. Vox once rented out Loo Loo World for their anniversary and they had a lot of fun. But (Name) laughed her ass off because Vox was screaming like a little girl because of a roller coaster ride and he could hit the targets at one of the games after bragging about how he'll win her a prize but in the end, it was (Name) that one him a large plush toy of a wolf bear that he keeps in his bedroom.

✥- (Name) also spoils Vox. She treats him to fancy dinners, gets him the most cleanest and comfortable suits. Sends him a shit ton of birthdays money. (Name) also spoils him in affection with kisses and pet names. Sometimes in public which Vox doesn't mind. He wants people to know that (Name) is his girlfriend anyone who even tries to flirt with her has to deal with Vox.

✥- Vox will brew up a hot boiling pot of rant when he talking about Alastor which (Name) finds annoying because she didn't care about Alastor and wasn't afraid of him. So whenever Vox got worked up to the point his ranting was annoying (Name) she would say. " He's starting to sound more like a crush that you want to kiss instead of a rival, maybe he should be your boyfriend. " (Name) said smirking. Vox would buffer a bit before making a face of disgust. " I don't love that mediocre show host, don't ever think or suggesting that. " Vox said. He would walk off, finally (Name) could read in peace.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox x female reader #hazbin fandom #hazbin fanfic #hazbin everlasting #everlasting writes🪻

[goldengalore]

Slutty Little Shorts

Summary: Y/N is turned on by Harry’s tiny running shorts.

Word count: 880

Warnings: smut (sub!harry, dom!reader, teasing, edging)

A/N: I’m having a terrible bout of writer’s block. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to write stories 🙃 So I thought I’d just work on something small, like a random blurb about Harry’s shorts. Enjoy!

***

It’s a bright and sunny Saturday morning. Y/N stands in the kitchen, staring out at the garden through the window, admiring the meticulously arranged flowerbeds and vegetable patch that she and Harry planted together in the spring.

She doesn’t hear him enter the kitchen until he says, “Babe? I’m heading out for a run.”

Turning to look at him, her eyes are immediately drawn to the tiny orange shorts hanging off his hips, not even reaching the middle of his thighs. His tiger tattoo stares back at her.

“Wearing that?” she asks.

He looks down at his outfit. “Uh, yeah? These are the new running shorts I bought last week, remember?”

“I didn’t know you bought those for running.”

“What else would they be for?”

She shrugs. “To seduce me?”

He places his hands on his hips and glances down at the shorts again. “I’m not sure they look sexy enough to be used for seduction purposes. I mean, they’re neon orange, for one thing.”

“You can make anything look sexy. It’s like your superpower.”

She may be biased, but she can’t think of a single instance where Harry looked unattractive in whatever he was wearing. Whether he’s dressed in a tailored suit or a hoodie and sweatpants or as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, he never fails to look like a Greek god to her.

“I’m almost hesitant to let you out of the house wearing that,” she says, only half-joking.

“They’re just shorts, Y/N,” he laughs, oblivious to how thick and juicy and delectable his thighs look. “You’re acting like my ass is hanging out the back or something.”

She lifts her brows. “Is it?”

“No!”

“Let me see. Turn around.”

He sighs and turns around slowly, keeping his hands on his hips.

“Seeeee?” He wiggles from side to side a bit, enticing her even more. “The ass is nicely tucked away. There is nothing to worry a—”

His sentence is interrupted by both of Y/N’s hands landing firmly against his cheeks. He jumps slightly in surprise.

“I love your cute little butt,” she says, squeezing it over his shorts, feeling the toned muscle flex beneath her fingers.

He frowns over his shoulder at her. “Little? I don’t do forty squats a day for you to call my butt ‘little.’”

“Forty squats, huh? How come I never get to see you doing those squats?”

“Because I’m shy,” he mumbles quietly, playing up the act.

She snorts. “Right.”

Moving her hands to his hips, she guides him back against the edge of the kitchen counter and stands in front of him. She pulls his head down to kiss him, instantly gliding her tongue across his plush lips and into his mouth. He tastes like toothpaste.

One of her hands sneaks into his shorts. When she reaches his cock and gives it a firm squeeze, he whimpers against her mouth. She knows he must be extra sensitive after how much she teased him in bed earlier this morning, licking and caressing his hard length, refusing to let him come no matter how much he begged and begged. It’s part of his punishment for coming without her permission last night.

“Y/N, please,” he whines, pulling away from the kiss. “Have t—to go for my run.”

Sliding her other hand to the back of his head, she gives his hair a sharp tug. He moans.

“I’ll let you go soon, puppy,” she tells him gently. “Just want to play with my toy for a bit.”

She kisses him again but just briefly so that she can watch his reaction as she pumps her hand back and forth over his cock in quick, unrelenting strokes. His mouth falls open. He’s almost panting in pleasure, and the sound is music to her ears.

“Stay still,” she warns when he starts rocking his hips against her hand.

“Sorry.”

His hands are at his sides, gripping the edge of the counter so hard that his knuckles have gone white. She keeps her eyes on his sweet face, grinning at how his cheeks flush a deep red under her watchful gaze.

“Oh, please, please,” he whispers as he gets close.

She pulls her hands out of his shorts abruptly and says, “Okay, I’m done. Off you go!”

“Wh—what?”

She smiles and fixes his shorts around his hips before stepping back. “You can go on your run now, puppy.”

“But… But...”

“But but but what?” She tilts her head to the side, challenging him to continue, to ask her to keep touching him until he comes, but she knows he won’t. Because she made it very clear last night that he won’t be coming for the rest of the weekend and possibly the entire upcoming week if he keeps misbehaving.

So, all he does is stand there and pout. And while he has a knack for putting on the cutest puppy-dog eyes Y/N has ever seen, she’s not about to give in that easily.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. You’re the one that came down here wearing those slutty little shorts. What did you think was going to happen?”

She laughs evilly and starts to leave the kitchen, turning back in the doorway to say, “By the way, we need to buy you more of those. In all different colours.”

***

Thank you for reading! MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #sub!harry #subrry #dom!reader #my writing

[superiorsturgeon]

DeadPyr:

Adam: *tosses tied-up Jaune on the ground*

Jaune: Oof! What do you assholes want?!

Cinder: *crouches down in front of Jaune* Don’t worry, blondie, we’re not going to hurt you. You’re just bait for your girlfriend, Pyrrha!

Jaune: My girlfriend is dead!

Cinder: Yeah…see, that’s what I thought! But she just keeps coming back!

———————————————————————

Pyrrha: *at the laundromat, trying to scrub bloodstains from her suit*

Maria Calavera: *doing her laundry beside Pyrrha* Use lemon juice and baking soda to clean blood out of clothes.

Pyrrha: 😲

Maria: …idiot…

———————————————————————

Garbage Truck: *pulls up beside shady hideout building*

Pyrrha: *half climbs, half falls out the back*

Pyrrha: Thanks for the ride! Sorry for bleeding all over your garbage!

———————————————————————

Pyrrha: *tearing through a hideout of bandits*

Vernal/Shay D Man: *run to safe room and slam the door behind them*

Pyrrha: *trying to break into safe room* Come on! It’s my anniversary today and I’m running late! 😫

———————————————————————

Neo: *behind the bar* So you’re back from the dead, huh? Have you told your boyfriend?

Pyrrha: No…! I’m terrified of what he’ll say when he sees my face…😭

Neo: Oh, come on, how bad can it-

Pyrrha: *pulls back her hood, revealing her scars*

Neo: WHOA!! Your face looks like an avocado face-fucked a topographic map! 😨

Pyrrha: Thank you…😑

Neo: It must’ve been serious hate-fucking…there was something wrong in the relationship…😰

Pyrrha: Thank you…😓

Neo: I’m sorry, but you look…haunting…!

Pyrrha: *face on the table*…thank you…😭

———————————————————————

Pyrrha: *smashes phone down* AAAARGH!!!

Neo: Shit, they’ve got Jaune?!

Pyrrha: …I need guns!

Neo: Which guns?

Pyrrha: ALL OF THE GUNS!!! 🤬

———————————————————————

Pyrrha: Okay…I need your help…! They’ve got Jaune! 😓

Nora/Ren: 🤨

Ren: All right, but in return we’d like you to consider joining us!

Pyrrha: Okay…FINE…

Pyrrha: *muttering as she turns away* …it’s funny…all the other teams have four members, but I only ever see two of you…

Pyrrha: …it’s almost like the writer was too lazy to add more characters…

———————————————————————

Pyrrha: *standing on Cinder’s body*

Cinder: 😵

Pyrrha: …I’m just a girl…standing in front of a boy…

Pyrrha: …Oh my gods, what the hell am I going to say to him?!?!

Ren: *turning away* Well, you’d better think of something quick…!

Nora: 🤭

Pyrrha: What…? *turns around*

Jaune: 😡

Pyrrha: 😱

#rwby #adam taurus #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #lie ren #cinder fall #neopolitan #maria calavera #arkos #jaune x pyrrha #jaune arc X Pyrrha Nikos #vernal #Shay d man #source: deadpool

[vivmaek]

MERCURY IN THE FIFTH HOUSE: Observations

Out of all the placements that I’ve written for, this one has stumped me the most. People with this placement are quite unique. When analyzing Mercury in the fifth house, a sense of playfulness is immediately evident. These people don’t take themselves too seriously. But, this behavior doesn’t come across as childlike. They’re pretty sly, more fairy-like if that makes sense. They have an amazing sense of humor and are constantly making witty remarks. A permanent smirk resides upon their face. They look like they’re up to no good and other people want to join in on the fun! Strategizing is a hobby of theirs, they enjoy a good scheme. People with this placement don’t feel a need to prove their intelligence to others, they just want to make clever jokes. Entertaining people through their words comes naturally to these types, in both written and verbal form. They’re good at impersonations and dominate in the game of charades. In fact, when it comes to board games or any sort of activity that requires mental agility, they’re quick to master it. I think people with this placement might struggle with people overlooking their talents and capabilities. Others only see them for their mischievous nature and would be shocked to know that Mercury fifth housers have incredibly innovative minds. In whatever field they choose to pursue, they will present a creative outlook that offers value and opportunity. I wouldn’t say that professionalism is a strong suit of theirs. They like to keep things casual and don’t want to box in their sense of self expression. People with this placement can be incredibly dramatic sometimes and have a tendency to over exaggerate their words. This can be annoying or exciting depending on the situation. They’re great story tellers and even better at gossiping. Taking a joke too far, or making an off-colored joke at an inappropriate time are the types of situations people with this placement might encounter commonly. Pursuing stand up comedy is something they could find success in. They also make for talented poets and creative writers. They know that in order to be entertaining, paying attention to the fine details is necessary. They don’t cut corners within their creative endeavors. However, they might struggle with followthrough. They’ll start many projects and only finish a few. Just know that if they feel passionate enough to see a project to its end, its high level of quality will generate a lot of praise.

#astrology #astrology placements #astro community #astro observations #astrology observations #birth chart #astro notes #astrology tumblr #natal astrology #natal chart #astro posts #astro tumblr #astro placements #astrology notes #astrological observations #astrological houses #astrology community #astrology blog #astroblr #birth chart placements #birth chart analysis #natal chart placements #natal chart analysis #mercury in the fifth house #mercury in the 5th house #mercury #mercury astrology #the fifth house #the 5th house

[bamf-jaskier]

Cavill is not a martyr

I have been seeing so many posts and comments along the lines of “Henry Cavill left the Witcher because they were inaccurate to the books and he had enough of all the changes”

And this thought process, especially if you mention the recent DeMayo writer’s interview, is just a flawed thought process.

Just a quick blurb on DeMayo, as I said here his comments are probably a cry for attention from a fanbase he knows how to rile up and I would take what he says with a grain of truth salt. And Cavill has already filmed season 3 and I can assure you that a random writer he probably has already met making these comments didn’t send Cavill over the edge and have him march into the office an rage quit. Recasting and deciding on a new actor and getting out of contract is a lengthy process that has likely been going on for months. If anything it’s more likely DeMayo knew about Cavill leaving and then made his comments than the other way around.

So Henry Cavill announced he was leaving the Witcher just a few days after announcing he was returning to Superman.

In fact, he was quoted as saying this about his recent cameo as Superman in the new Black Adam movie:

"It was a very powerful moment for me. I wasn't sure how I would feel… whether it would be something very emotionally connective because I put the Man of Steel suit back on," Cavill said. "I chose that one in particular because of the nostalgia attached to the suit. It was important for me to be standing there and enjoying that moment. That is one of the top moments in my career. It feels great to have the opportunity to wear it again."

"The character means so much to me. It's been five years now. I never gave up hope," Cavill said of the half-decade he spent waiting for news about playing Superman again. "It's amazing to be here now talking about it again. There is such a bright future ahead for the character. I'm so excited to tell a story with an enormously joyful Superman."

And that 5 year mark is important. Because it is no coincidence that on September in 2018 it was reported that Cavill will no longer be playing Superman in the DCEU just days after it was announced he would be taking on the role of Geralt in The Witcher.

In fact, it was stated:

the Witcher commitment came after the Warners impasse, suggesting a change in the studio’s strategy.

Meaning he signed onto the Witcher because he stopped being Superman. So what we are seeing right now with Cavill announcing he is returning as Superman and then announcing he is leaving The Witcher is an exact reverse of the situation in 2018.

Cavill loves playing Superman and not only is it a project he is passionate about, but he also nets in a massive paycheck.

Even back in 2018 when Cavill left the role of Superman there was talk that he left because of contract disputes:

Cavill's original contract was for four movies, so a contract extension would naturally need to be arranged before Warner Bros. could move ahead with another standalone Superman movie. According to Revenge of the Fans, Cavill's team wanted to leverage a better deal out of the contract extension - including more movies, more money, and possibly even a producer role. From Warner Bros.' perspective, however, there isn't exactly a burning need to get another Superman movie made.

Then in August of 2022 reports began to come out from comi-con that Henry Cavill was looking to return to the role of Superman but wanted more money for the role.

And considering Cavill was paid a truly insane amount for 2013′s Man of Steel -- an estimated $14 million and a $20 million for 2017′s Justice League I have to wonder what wildly high amount he will be paid to return as Superman now in 2022 when he is a bigger star than ever before.

And his Witcher paycheck does not compare to that Superman money -- with him making 500k an episode in season 1 and $1 million an episode in season 2. Even if he was just making as much money as Justice League, and he is likely making much more to return, that is still well over double the amount of money to play Superman vs playing Geralt.

And at the end of the day, The Witcher is a show with very specific scheduling requirements and set locations. Blood Origin and Season 2 lost actors because of the scheduling conflicts. And that is not at all unusual for the industry.

And for set locations The Witcher is mostly filmed in Mafan Film Studio in Hungary as well as various locations around the country as well as Arborfield Film Studios in the UK and other locations there such as North Yorkshire & The Lake District. And with fewer COVID restrictions the production team is likely to want to go around Europe again for S4 and S5.

Meanwhile it’s hard to know where the new DCEU movies will be filmed but Man of Steel was filmed around Vancouver, British Columbia and Illinois in the US. Justice League was filmed around Scotland and London. Black Adam was filmed in Atlanta Georgia in the US. 

All this to say filming DCEU movies and The Witcher are two very time intensive processes that require film locations that could be on opposite sides of the world. And in addition Cavill is starring in the new Highlander Reboot and in the Enola Holmes movies. Being a TV actor takes a lot of time for not as much money and acclaim. Cavill is seemingly going back to just being a film actor instead of a tv actor which considering his busy schedule makes a lot of sense.

So it’s pretty clear why he would leave The Witcher to return to Superman and his other films roles:

1) Far higher paycheck to play Superman

2) He loves both the characters but Superman is very meaningful for his career and he has stated he has always wanted to return to the role

3) Scheduling conflicts and very different filming locations and the prestige of film vs tv

Trying to spread the narrative of “Cavill is a martyr in the battle against the inaccuracies of the tv show” is based on nothing but your own confirmation bias. And it honestly says a lot about the type of person you are that you jump to find a symbol to represent the victimization of your hatred of the show.

You can dislike the show but the tinhatting and conspiracy theories I have seen flying around are quite frankly embarrassing and this is a needed reality check.

At the end of the day Henry Cavill is a high-level movie star who makes choices based on his career and what he wants to do. Your parasocial relationship with the man is entirely in your own head and I recommend trying to get out. 

#and there's my thoughts on all the people commenting under my other post #the witcher #henry cavill #twn #liam hemsworth #discourse #superman #dceu #long post #myposts

[soulofapatrick]

Not What I Thought - Henry Fox x Male Reader

Summary: You meet Henry at Philip and Martha's wedding to find you're both as enthralled by the other as the other

Words: 2.1k 

Warnings: None really, almost smut but interrupted

Notes: Henry and Alex from RWRB have taken over my life 🤣🤣🤣

Y/N’s POV

To say that I wasn’t absolutely shitting myself would be a lie as I step out of the limo with Alex, my older brother, and Nora, the vice president’s daughter. Usually, Alex and Nora would take this job but mother wanted me to start getting out into the spotlight and making a name for myself as Alex is about to start running the campaign in Texas and June has officially become a speech writer for the Whitehouse while I’ve done nothing. I’m only just eighteen and I have the whole world knowing my name which is rather daunting, but, not as daunting as this…

Buckingham Palace is fucking huge, and gold and full of fancy shit that I don’t know the name of. I’m not even sure why I said yes to this. Alex is grumbling and rolling his eyes about how snobbish and pretentious Prince Henry is while Nora is basically bouncing as she walks, full to the brim with excitement, as she drags my stumbling self behind her to line up and greet the royal family as they enter the hall. Or ballroom. I’m not sure, all these rooms are too big to distinguish them. 

Prince Philip and his new wife, Martha, look to be the snobbish ones, noses upturned and voice articulate as they shake hands with every important member of governments and royal connections in this line. He looks at us three like we’re the dirt under his shoes and shakes Alex’s hand like he has the plague before skipping me entirely and greeting Nora with a little better attitude. Next is Bea, the middle child and the wild child from what I hear. She’s pleasant if somewhat reserved but she greets the three of us like we’re long lost childhood friends reuniting and it leaves a warm feeling in my chest even if I don’t actually swing that way. She’s waltzing Nora away before anyone can say anything and suddenly I’m face to face with beauty. 

Prince Henry. He stands tall - taller than Alex - and regal amidst the opulent surroundings of Buckingham Palace. His blond hair impeccably styles, the locks sweeping messily back from his forehead with natural elegance. The subtle curl at the ends softens his appearance, giving him an approachable air despite his royal stature. The rich hue of his hair contrasts perfectly with his fair, porcelain complexion. His eyes, a light shade of blue that seems to hold a depth of emotions, are set beneath finely arched eyebrows. They radiate a mixture of curiosity, kindred and a hint of despair - a combination that makes it hard to look away. 

His features are finely chiseled, with a strong jawline that adds a touch of masculinity to his ethereal beauty. His lips, full and oh so inviting, seem to hold a natural grace that could effortlessly break into a smile or a quick teasing grin. His tailored suit fits him like a second skin, emphasising his lean build and hinting at a strength beneath the refined exterior. The way he carries himself, with an air of confidence tempered by genuine interest in those around him, makes it easy to see why he captures the attention of all who meet him despite Alex’s stories of how entitled and narcissistic he is. 

As his voice reaches my ears, it’s warm and inviting, breaking through the nervousness that has settled within me, “Good evening,” He says, his tone polite but not distant, “I don’t believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before. May I have your name?” 

His hand, when he extends it for a handshake, is warm and firm, his grip confident yet not overpowering. There’s a sincerity in the ay he clasps my hand, a fleeting connection that carries a sense of genuine interest. As his blue eyes meet mine, I can’t help but feel that beneath all the rumours I’ve heard and the expectations, there’s a complexity to Prince Henry that is both intriguing and captivating. 

“Y-your majest- Oh no! Your royal highness-“ Alex facepalms from beside me, watching me fumble over my words as my brain displays images of Henry pressing me up against the nearest wall and having me any way he likes, “Y-Y/N. It’s Y/N Claremont-Diaz.” 

“Well,” His eyes seemed to have darkened as they sweep over me once, not in the same way Philip did, and oh fuck me. I am not going to make it through this evening if he keeps looking at me like that, especially when he leans in close, breath hot against my cheek, “I hope to see you later.”

As quickly as he appeared, Henry is gone, and Alex is at my side, steering me toward the bustling ballroom where the after party is in full swing. Amidst the crowd, Alex seems to vanish in search of alcohol, leaving me to navigate the sea of unfamiliar faces. My eyes find Nora, her laughter blending with Bea's in a way that suggests they've been friends for years. I decide to do what I do best, explore without getting seen, blend into the shadows and find a quiet spot where no-one will disturb me, except maybe Amy who is my PPO for the day. Deciding to retreat into my comfort zone, 

I slip away quietly, becoming a shadow in the corners of the palace. It doesn't take long before I stumble upon a room, a hidden oasis amidst the grandeur, filled with books. Floor-to-ceiling shelves line the walls, laden with leather-bound volumes and dusty tomes. The soft glow of sconces illuminates the space, casting an inviting warmth that contrasts with the glitz and glamour outside. I step further into the room, running my fingers over the spines of the books. It’s mesmerising, the sheer collection of knowledge and stories tucked away in here. For a moment, I forget about the grand event unfolding just beyond these walls. I lose myself in the comfort of solitude and the intoxicating scent of aged pages. 

Just as I’m lost in my thoughts, the door creaks open, and I spin around to face the intruder, expecting to be Amy or Alex, having found me finally. But the sight that greets me is anything but ordinary. Henry stands there, his presence no longer commanding but somehow ordinary, like another person in the streets. His blue eyes meet mine, and there’s a shared understanding that in this moment neither of us are from royalty or fame, we are just Y/N and Henry. 

“You are an enigma, nothing at all how I imagined.” He tells me, quietly closing the door and making his way over to me, gesturing to the sofa. I sink straight into the plush cushions, Henry sitting on my left, one leg tucked under himself and arm flung over the back of the sofa, expression open and I have to adjust my seat imagining pushing him back and kissing him breathless. 

We exchange banter, light teasing, and the kind of easy conversation that’s reserved for moments of genuine connection. Henry’s flirting is subtle, a glint in his eyes and a playful quirk to his lips. It’s a dance of words that feels both exhilarating and comfortable, as if we’ve known each other for far longer than just a few hours. 

But then there’s a pause, a fleeting moment where the air between us changes. It’s as if time is holding its breath, our eyes locked, and the room is charged with a palpable tension. And then, in an instant, the atmosphere shifts again. It’s a surge, a magnetic pull that neither of us can resist and as if guided by an unseen force, we’re both leaning forwards, closing the distance between us. Our lips meet in a kiss that’s hesitant, testing the waters to see if awe are both wanting the same thing. It’s a slow exploration, a gentle press of lips that converts a shared curiosity and a mutual yearning. There’s a softness to the touch, a tentative dance that feels both intimate and tender. 

The hesitation doesn’t last long. As if a dam has been breached, the atmosphere between us surges with an irresistible pull. Henry’s lips mould against mine with more urgency, his hand finding it’s way to the curve of my cheek as if he’s trying to memorise every contour and scar. I respond in kind, my fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, a silent invitation for him to come closer. And he does. The kiss deepening, a dance of desire and longing, a magnetic force that draws us closer until there’s hardly any space between us. 

I feel the shift as Henry’s hand traces the line of my jaw, his touch igniting sparks along my skin. And then, suddenly, the world tilts as he pushes me back onto the sofa, not dissimilar to the way I was picturing doing it to Henry. There’s a controlled urgency in his movements as he claims over me, body hovering just out of touch and the sensation is electrifying. Our lips collide once more, a collision of passion and aching want. It's a fervent dance of tongues and shared breaths that leaves me dizzy and craving more. His hands, exploratory and confident, trace the contours of my chest and shoulders. The path they leave in their wake is seared with fire, a trail of sensations that has me arching into his touch. 

As the kiss deepens, I can’t help but let my own desires take over. My hands, emboldened by need, glide down his back until they reach his waist and I pull him down to close the achingly large gap between us, drawing a whimper from me as his hips brush against mine just right. 

“Jesus, you know exactly what you want, don’t you?” Henry pants, breaking the kiss to focus his gaze on my shirt with an annoyed expression. His lean fingers with the buttons on my shirt, his touch almost impatient in it’s eagerness to explore what lies beneath. He looks breathtaking, hovering above me, honey hair mused and blue eyes glazed with want and abandon. 

I can’t stop myself reaching up and tangling my hand in those locks, grumbling, “You talk to much.” Before yanking him down into a bruising kiss. My hips raising up to meet his, causing a delicious friction that has me swallowing the sounds Henry makes, his hips rocking to meet mine. 

“Y/N, I told you not to-oh my god.” Amy is turning around and walking back outside, closing the door with a meaningful clearing of her throat. Henry is scrambling off of me and to his feet, eyes wide as if he’s realising what we’ve done and there’s a sinking feeling in my gut. I sit up, adjusting myself, the suit pants doing not much to ease he uncomfortableness and trying to make myself a little more presentable, keeping my head bowed away from his royal highness. 

“Oh no, no, no,” Henry is appearing between my legs, doing nothing to help my problem, those fantasy inducing fingers gripping my thighs higher than they should be, “Y/N Claremont-Diaz, you are a pleasure and I do hope we can see each other again. I would…” He pauses, looking up at me through hooded lashes and his right hand shifting even higher and a strangled sound escapes my throat, “I would like to see more of you.” 

“Fuck.” I’m letting my head fall back, the dull pain from the couch frame helping ease my raging erection that is currently being groped by someone I never thought. I think I get whiplash when Henry pops the button on my suit pants, “Hen- fuck… Henry, Alex is looking for me…. We don’t… we don’t have-“

“There you are Y/N!” The door bursts open and Alex stops short, eyes wide and jaw almost hitting the floor before he screeches, “HENRY?!” 

“Alex-“ 

“OF ALL PEOPLE? YOU PICK HENRY?” He’s staring bug eyed while Henry is still kneeling there, worry on his soft features. 

“Get out.” I grumble at my older brother who just rolls his eyes and focuses his gaze on a very red in the face Prince. 

“You hurt him, I hurt you.” Then Alex is gone with a half hearted slam of the door. 

I’m gripping Henry’s chin between my thumb and forefinger, guiding his gaze to mine to see the same nervousness and intensity in them. He parts his lips when my thumb ghosts over his plump bottom one and I think I die and go to heaven right then and there. 

“Where were we?’ He murmurs, guiding my hand to his hair again and yeah, I’m dead. How the fuck did I get the Prince of England to want me back in the span of four maybe five hours? I’m not gonna question it, just gonna take it as it is. 

Fuck Me.

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

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[hamliet]

can you analyze the song Out for Love from Hazbin Hotel means to veggies character arc

It's the main theme of the entire series: people can only be redeemed through love.

Hard work, sure. Struggle, sure. Apologies and accountability, of course. But it's ultimately dependent on love.

The only way any lasting change of meaningful measure is made is through love. And yeah yeah it's simplified but it's the main message. Think about Sir Pentious. What is his last action?

Telling Cherri Bomb he loves her.

His sacrifice amounts to nothing at all, but he died to save Cherri alongside all his friends/family in the hotel. It's not a coincidence that Sir Pentious says that line before making his sacrifice: the writers are telling us exactly what they want us to associate his getting into heaven with. Love.

But the song does have really cool Easter eggs so let's go:

I see you're driven by your detestation Your every step is stoked with animus You need a different type of motivation Or there's no way that you can handle this

Obviously, being driven by revenge doesn't work. However, there's a clever play on words here with "animus." See, Vaggie is Charlie's Jungian animus, and vice versa. The anima (or animus) is, inJungian theory, the masculine within the feminine and the feminine within the masculine. The goal is to align with your animus.

We see that in Vaggie and Charlie's respective attitudes and outfits--again, this is simplistic, but as a design choice it was deliberate. Vaggie, the more aggressive one, dresses far more feminine. Charlie, the princess who sings her heart out, dresses in suits. They're each others' animus.

I know you're thirstin' for vengeance, Vaggie You're out for blood But you'll only stand a chance if you're out for love

Out for love, love Think of who you care about, protect 'em and be Out for love, love You're gonna fight without gloves, long as you're out for love

Vaggie actually always wears gloves, but fingerless ones, symbolic of how she's partially letting Charlie in but still keeping part of herself back. Except now the truth is out there.

So in the final battle, it's fitting that she has new gloves. It's not practical to fight without them, but she has new ones to reflect her internal change.

Fuel yourself with the fear of losin' That somebody who's your reason to live Harnеss your heart, and you can't help choosin' To fight with all you can give

She's also wearing a harness over her heart, literally taking Carmilla's words to heart. Plus Charlie's in a dress and Vaggie in armor, showing again integration following their reconciliation.

Out for love, love Think of who you care about, protect 'em and be Out for love, love You're gonna fight without gloves And when that push comes to shove Yeah, you just might rise above, long as you're out for love

If you're out for love you might rise above... to heaven, like Sir Pentious.

Anyways continuing with my argument that Hazbin is actually theologically fascinating for Christians as a work, the focus on love also is very, uh, Biblically sound, considering 1 John says "God is love," and, well:

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

So yeah. Literally angels might have power and be in "heaven," but without love, they are nothing. Which we see in the end when Adam gets stabbed by literally the lowliest at the hotel.

#ask hamliet #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel meta #vaggie #chaggie #charlie morningstar #sir pentious #cherri bomb

[silicon-puppy-pudding]

Danny totally kills the Joker

I have a very specific Eldritch!Danny in my head that, even though I've tried drawing before, I can't really get out of my head if you get what I mean

And as a dead on main shipper and a lover of angst I have him do shit that causes problems

Like kill the Joker in a blind rage after an Arkham break out

So it's like this, after a breakout that obviously requires all hands on deck, everyone is eventually re-cuffed and put back in their cells (including the Joker).

Red Hood and Phantom are doing some clean up in the Narrows and it's hard on them. Seeing some kids whose parents died cuz of the clown nearly broke Hood.

Phantom, now well known as Hood's right hand, picks up some of the burden. Helping more then he normally does with some displaced kids and families cuz he can feel Hood breaking down.

It hurts..

After the night/day/whatever is over, they head back home to their appartment and Jason just breaks. Danny's been helping with the pit rage so without all the extra anger crowding him it just sort of crumbles into pain and hurt.

Danny can't stand it

He can't stand to see Jason like this

Jason was his rock, his shoulder to cry on, his partner in crime. He had always been there for Danny when he had panic attacks and couldn't breathe cuz he saw some guy walking down the street in a white suit. Was always telling him it was going to be okay. Had told him things were gonna be alright. And now the roles had switched. Danny comforted Jason for who knows how long. Held him tight till he calmed down and was able to fall asleep. Once Danny was sure Jason would be okay he slipped out of the appartment...

Phantom would not stand for this.

Phantom flew over to Arkham with the intent to "have a little chat" with the Joker. Just ruf him up a bit. Scare him shitless so he'd rethink ever braking out again.

He didn't mean to bash the guys skull in.

He didn't even realize he'd been beating a flattened pound of meat and skull till Batman showed up and pulled him from his mind.

He looked over to where he'd heard his name and saw Batman and Nightwing standing by the door of the cell. Both were wrapped in bandages, some obviously stained in blood from the damage they endured during the breakout.

Dick covered his mouth and stared in horror at the sight of Danny, who he'd been lovingly calling his future brother-in-law for the past 2 months, covered in the Jokers blood. He looked like a staticky, distorted shadow. Three(3) sets of arm all ending with white clawed hands; one pair around the Jokers barely intact neck, another clutching the inmate uniforms chest, the last frozen mid punch. Bruce, having just the slightest ecto-connection from the pit, fought off the screaming in his chest to run and leave the King be.

Bruce slowly approached Phantom. Phantom on the other hand, slowly realized what he'd just done and was starting to panic.

He'd just killed a man

Sure he fucking deserved it but he just....let himself go. Let himself indulge in his rage, be consumed by it. And now the Batman was here to stop him. Would he send him back to the Realms? Would he lock him up, away from anyone he could hurt? Away from Jason?

Phantom flinches when Bruce touches his shoulder. And continues to try and back away when Bruce calls for someone to get a hold of Jason on the coms. What's he doing? Isn't he going to be thrown into a cell? He's dangerous! He could do this again if he wasn't dealt with! Why is Bruce calling for Jason? Does he want to show him the monster he let into his life? Does he want Jason to be the one to do it?

Bruce is talking.

Not Batman, but Bruce, is saying something to him, his name.

Not Phantom

"Danny? Danny!?"

Phantom disappears and isn't seen for two(2) days

Nightwing is the one to find him. In some warehouse, slamming his head into a support beam, yelling at himself that he can't become Dan.

I don't know how to continue this. It was supposed to have a nice hurt/comfort ending but I'm not a fic writer and I don't know how to do that. So feel free to use this as a prompt or something 👻👉🏾👈🏾

Edit: figured I'd add one of the Danny doodles I did a while back cuz it fits. I already posted it a while ago but it feels appropriate here too.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dead on main #ghost king danny #jason todd #fic prompt #idk how to tag this #angst for days #Jason needs to show up and tell Danny everythings gonna be alright #Jason's been dealing with pit rage for years but Danny has never #Danny is not having a good time #Bruce is definitely mad but i like Good dad Bruce and its been a few years since he got Jason back #He's understanding of the situation but is still on edge #Dick is worried for Danny's mental health #he still sees him like a brother #eldritch danny #Dick is a good brother #Jason is very worried about his boyfriend #He also appreciates that Danny saw how hurt he was and immediately responded with “I'll get rid of the issue for you babe”

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I want to request Anthony Lockwood!fem reader, with the song I Can See You, where they are rivals kinda like him and Quill, and she hates him because his annoying, and he just likes to flirt with her to annoy her. And they get put on a case together by DEPRAC, and I don't know you could make some scene like from Lockwood&Co season 1, where he and Lucy where discovered by the relic man and his wife, I don't remember their name, but like something similar, where he is willing to do anything just so they don't hurt her. Also, could you put a dagger to the throat scene in somewhere, where the reader is holding a dagger to his throat, but all he can think about is kissing her. Obviously, you can make the plot so it suits the song. I hope you could write this as long as possible because I love long fics, and your Lockwood fics are just amazing!!

I Can See You - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: Had a bit of writers' block with this for a while, but I think it's one of my favourite works yet. TW slight suicidal and death mentions, spoilers for the ending of the second book in the series. 5.9k, enjoy!

Lucy Carlyle was currently looking back and forth between Lockwood and the leader of one of the teams from Fittes. Both of them were just staring intensely at each other in silence, expressions inscrutable. The Fittes agents watched their leader apprehensively while George was practically beside himself with glee.

"George, who's that?"

"Y/N L/N. Lockwood's had a bit of a thing for her for a while."

"Bit of a thing...?"

"They hardly agree on anything. Makes for some very entertaining cases, if dangerous. I've put money on her setting his coat on fire within five hours."

Lucy opened her mouth to ask more questions, but George shushed her impatiently.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

"Nice to see you too, Y/N.”

“Can't say I return the sentiment, Andrew.”

“Charming as ever, I see."

Barnes had sent them a letter a few hours ago, requesting their immediate assistance on yet another DEPRAC misson. That was nothing new, and neither was them being partnered up with a team from either Fittes or Rotwell. But a boyish glow had washed over Anthony as he skimmed the letter; he looked pleased enough to start humming. George didn't have as intense of a reaction, but his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair and he hadn't wasted time dawdling like he usually did. And now this stand-off. Strange.

“At least the papers get my name right.”

“I’d rather your lips get my name right."

"Oh, fuck off."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

There was a small kerfuffle as her teammates lunged to hold her back as she tried to launch herself at Lockwood.

"I take it back. Fuck you Lockwood, you and your agency can go to hell. Oh, hi George. Did you get my biscuits?"

"They were lovely. This is Lucy, by the way. New recruit."

"Hi Lucy. I like your boots."

"Thanks. I like your belt."

"Really? I got it for a really sweet deal."

"Well, while we're exchanging compliments," Lockwood began all too innocently, unperturbed by her glare, "I really like your jumper, Y/N."

A curious silence followed as she stared at Lockwood, trying to figure him out. Next to Lucy, George inhaled sharply as realisation struck. "Now that I think of it, might be best to lower it to three hours."

She finally broke the silence, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of falling for his only seemingly innocuous bait. "Right, well, I don't care. I hate it, in fact."

"Really?" He had the gall to raise his eyebrows as if genuinely surprised. "Hmm. I suppose you're right. It would look better on my bedroom floor."

She was too flustered to come up with any clever sort of response, only this choking sound that was a cross between a scoff and an expression of disgust. It was only because it was completely uncalled for, she reassured herself. Why would she want to know anything about his bedroom, floor or otherwise? She suddenly became aware of the murmurs running through her team and she rallied her senses as best she could.

"In your dreams, Lockwood."

"Ass-kisser."

"Rule-breaker."

"Goody-two-shoes."

"We're starting!" Barnes hurried in, so she had to settle for giving Lockwood a very dirty look. "Well, not much to it this time. We're missing source, a pair of opera glasses, recovered only a few hours ago."

Barnes holds out a file and Lockwood and her both lunge for it, but she's just a fraction quicker. Feeling unusually smug, she takes her time smelling the paper, flicking the page, glancing at the ghost of the competitive smile on Lockwood's lips.

"...we think it's more likely that they're still inside the house they were found in, but it's always possible that they've already been stolen-"

"Wait, a poltergeist?" She was holding the file open to the second page. "Inspector Barnes, you can't be serious!"

"You'll manage. Reports don't point to it being particularly vicious, and visiting the house is more of formality. We don't expect the source to still be there, buy we didn't check for hidden walls or flooring." One of Barnes' assistants leaned forward to whisper in his ear, and he nodded. "I have to go. Find the source."

With that, Barnes left, and the two teams stepped forward to absorb the space he left, Lockwood and her facing each other directly.

"Well then, to the house we go."

"Are you crazy? With a poltergeist? That's a suicide mission."

"But isn't that what Inspector Barnes said?"

"I don't know what kind of agency Lockwood & Co. is, but at Fittes we address our superiors with respect."

"If the source is at the house, we won't have to deal with Winkman. Case closed."

"My team would rather deal with Winkman than a poltergeist. Case open."

"No, your team wouldn't think that if they had actually dealt with Winkman before, like we have. Case closed."

"But-"

"Look, you do not want to deal with Winkman. Trust me on this."

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

The air in the house was stale, and the creaky floorboards made her jump while the wind howling through some draft kept her on edge. In short, the worst kind of house to deal with a poltergeist. The corridors were so narrow, shrouded in darkness except for light from the ghost lamps filtering through the cracks in the ceiling, and everything smelt like death. They were walking in a single file, Lockwood and her at the end, just to make sure no one got left behind. Of course, that also meant that she had no respite from his incessant chatter, his warm breath tickling the nape of her neck.

"Would you quit it? I'm trying to Listen."

"We'll be fine. I happen to have the-"

"The best Listener in the country, yes, so you've mentioned. A few billion times."

"Aw, cheer up. I'm sure you're not half bad either."

"I'm perfectly cheerful, thank you very much."

"Then I wonder what you're like when you're actually all wound up."

That was her breaking point. She needed to assert herself if she had any hope of being even remotely civil towards Lockwood on what was beginning to look like a very long case. She spun around, pulling out her dagger and pushing the flat of the blade against Lockwood's neck while the rest of the party continued on, oblivious.

"Still no rapier? Y/N, you're going to get yourself killed. That butter knife of a weapon isn't going to do anything to a ghost."

"Listen, Anthony, I'm here to do a job, not entertain your charades, and I'd like to do so with as little casualties as possible. But if you don't stop, I think I can make an exception for you. Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours. Are we clear?"

She revelled in his stunned expression, mouth ever-so-slightly agape, finally receiving his full attention. But as the glow of her satisfaction faded, she felt a lump growing uncomfortably in her throat, suddenly aware of the simmering hunger in his gaze, completely unable to tear her eyes away. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she could have sworn he ever so slightly licked his lips, and unbidden images of what they could, or would, do if they were alone flashed in her mind's eye. She felt rather than imagined his mouth pressed unyieldingly against hers, his hair in her fingers, their bodies pressed impossibly close to each other.

She inhaled sharply, blinking, unknowingly withdrawing within herself, her dagger resting on his collarbone rather than his throat. Lockwood's expression was back to normal, insufferable and aggravating as always, but there was a slightly less arrogant tilt to his head now.

"If you wanted me up against a wall, all you had to do was ask."

"I'm not even...going to deign you with a response to that. It's scarring to just think about." Not her best, but it was all she could force out without giving away the need bottled up inside of her. But she could see in the way that he wasn't quite meeting her eyes that he felt it too. That moment had permanently shifted their relations. From professional, if slightly hostile, to something far more intimate. It made her dizzy with want, or fear - she couldn't decide.

One of her teammates had stopped at the door at the end of the corridor, hand hovering over the doorknob. Lockwood squeezed past the single file, barely brushing against her, razor-sharp focus on the door. She hated the way her cheeks flushed at the slightest of his touches. He became a totally different person when he was working: dedicated, professional, capable, and the Fittes-agent in her couldn't help but find that efficiency desperately appealing. But it was more than that. As big as his ego was, he clearly didn’t think much of his casual nonchalance or confidence, and there were these increasingly frequent moments where she would be possessed by this sudden insanity to wrap her arms (rather than her hands) around his neck.

Months of suppressing and denying feeling anything other than despisal towards him certainly didn't help matters. It made her feel unstable, like she didn't have proper control over what she would do or say when she was around him. Kiss him, kill him, push him over a bridge...She spent half of her time with him enraptured and the other half trying not to think about him. She bit the inside of her cheek. There was something about his daring, his ability to throw himself in the direct line of fire that made him so dangerous, so addicting.

The boy at the front stepped back, relieved, as Lockwood pressed his ear to the door. He started turning the doorknob.

"Lockwood, don't, you can't hear a poltergeist. He's probably heard us by now but he hasn't done anything yet. Don't be foolhardy. It could be a trap."

"I don't think it's a trap."

"You don't know it's not a trap. We need to think about what to do next."

But it was too late. Lockwood swung the door open. In an instant, the floor heaved, then gave away, and suddenly she was falling through the air.

"Lockwood, I fucking hate your guts!"

Out of nowhere, she felt herself being grabbed by the waist and then almost immediately slammed into a wall. There was this awful ringing noise in her ear, but at least she had someone to hold onto.

"Please, save the dirty talk for the bedroom."

She groaned, wishing it was literally anyone else, trying to block out the warm feeling of his body pressed against hers.

"That's twice I've saved you now, by the way."

All she could manage was an incomprehensible scream which made Lockwood wince, not realising her lips were on the shell of his ear. Strangely enough, despite her panic, she felt oddly grounded by the feel of Lockwood's rough coat desperately clutched in her hands and his annoying yet normal quips. It was a new sensation. Plastered against her mortal enemy, and yet it was the only thing keeping her breathing? The intimacy of how she was wrapped around him made her breath hitch, and the anxiety it induced was enough to drive her back to the present.

Looking down was nauseating, and looking up was somehow worse. Lockwood had wound a loose wire from the ceiling around his knuckles, and it was digging a cut into his palm. She felt her grip loosen as her head spun, but the arm around her waist tightened. She felt a brief flicker of peace, or maybe hope, and then the ceiling started to crumble.

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The last bits of debris were still falling when she came to, but she could have sworn she had blacked out in fear for a moment. She couldn't feel any broken bones, only a heavy weight on her hip. She blinked away the blood and dust and saw the weight take the form of Lockwood.

"Well. I didn't know you were so scared of heights."

Lockwood didn't like admitting fault, and she didn't like admitting weakness. It was such a silly thing to be afraid of, but and when all Lockwood did was push her to the precipice of territories unknown, she didn't know what to do with the fear running through her. Didn't know what to do, except lash out.

"Get off. Get off.”

"Geez, take me out to dinner first." She finally snapped.

"This is all your fault!" She yanked him towards herself by the lapels of his coat, yelling at him through tears. "That's twice you've put our lives in danger, idiot. I told you it wasn't worth it, that we would be so much better off at Winkman's, but you just had to go for the more dangerous option. You just had to open that door. Anthony Lockwood, you're a professional show-off. What if someone on my team died today? You'd just skip on home while I would have to live with that grief for the rest of my life. You don't know what it's like to see someone Ghost-touched in front of your eyes and being completely and utterly helpless."

The lines on his face hardened. "Y/N, if the worst thing to you is death, you won't stand a chance against Winkman."

"What do you know? You've demolished an entire house. Face it Lockwood, everything you touch gets destroyed."

He was finally out of smartass quips. She felt small just saying that. She knew it was too far, and under-handed, but she was just so mad she couldn't help but spit fire. Why did he have to be so reckless? Didn't he realise his luck would only last him so long?

She felt an awful prickling at the back of her eyes, and she tried to convince herself that no one noticed the rough edge to her voice. "I think it's best we go our separate ways." With a heavy heart, she turned, her team tiredly following her, no one pulling her back to stay this time. Feeling the floor fall beneath her feet and seeing Lockwood grasping for life with his fingertips was too frightening for her to stay, and if that meant she was a coward, so be it.

Too much of a coward to even look him in the eye.

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Her team decided to stop for supper before tackling Winkman, not that she managed to eat much. The events at the house sat like lead in her churning stomach as she turned the memories and images in her head, until she felt numb. It was either that, or acknowledging that she just might be the worst person in the entire world. Distantly, she heard her team discussing their plan of attack at Winkman's, and suddenly her mouth was forming words her brain wasn't aware of.

"I'll go. No point in all of us going, we wouldn't be stealthy enough. Besides, I'm responsible for all of you. Contact DEPRAC if I'm not back in 12 hours." With that, she stood up and left before she could properly hear her team's protests.

As she drew nearer to Winkman's, she heard repeated dull, echoing thuds of metal hitting metal. She crept up cautiously with her hand on her dagger, then visibly relaxed when she saw it was just Lockwood hammering away at the lock.

"Oh. It's you." Apart from a glance, Lockwood acted like he didn't even hear her, or know her, with an impassive expression. A part of her was angry, but another part knew it was what she deserved.

"You're lucky it was just me. That dagger's not scaring off anyone." She fumed. Did he have to be so antagonistic? Why couldn't he be nice or just civil like a normal person?

"The dagger works perfectly fine for me. I have no trouble scaring anyone off."

"Yeah, I can see that." His voice was so rough with hurt and resentment that she instantly regretted everything she just had to say. She opened her mouth to apologise, but was interrupted by the final clang of Lockwood's rapier and the thud of the lock falling off.

"Lockwood, I'm really sor-"

"Save it. Somehow, that's still not the most frustrating thing about you."

Her mouth dropped open, and it was a good few seconds before she spluttered and found her voice again. "Frustrating? ME? Are you out of your mind?"

She felt her back slam against the aluminium door, not much different from how she had cornered Lockwood in the house. Lockwood's arms caged her in, but he didn't make her feel nearly as claustrophobic as her emotions did, threatening to claw their way up her throat. He was impossibly close, breath ghosting over her face, overwhelming her senses, and she felt every rational thought scatter in her brain, like loose marbles. His voice was gravelly, almost tender, and she didn't trust herself to speak.

"What would you do..." She didn't resist the arm snaking around her waist, nudging her closer. "If I held you like this..." His other arm reached into her scalp, sending a shiver down her spine, cradling her head and exposing her neck in a way that made her feel too vulnerable. His breath tickled her ear, threatening to snap every single one of her highly-strung nerves, mouth just a few inches below her temple. "...and kissed you?"

For a few short seconds, all she was aware of was her distracted, erratic heartbeat and the feel of Lockwood all around her. She felt her legs losing circulation and her knees threatened to buckle at any moment. He pulled back, cold air rushing in to take his place and sting her scarlet cheeks. Her answer must have been written all over her face, making Lockwood laugh sardonically.

"But no, Y/N L/N is too good, too proud to be involved with anyone beneath her. So she'll deny and push down any sort of feeling or passion," he spit that word out with such vehemence, "Like she's some saint, too holy to meddle with mortal sins like love. No, no, so in your perfect, sensible words, let's just stay out of each other's way." Even though they were her own words, it stung to have them thrown back in her face with such malice. Lockwood started on one end of the warehouse, and she started on the other end, sifting through the hoards of trinkets as if on autopilot.

"I wasn't kidding before. It really is dangerous to carry a dagger instead of a rapier. You'd be ghost touched before you realised."

Lockwood's voice floated above, somewhere beyond the walls of junk. Her hands trembled as she continued, guilt gnawing away at her, fixating on the feeling of his hands on her.

"And just so you know, if someone on your team died, whether or not it was because of me, I would very much care. I don't think I would be able to live with myself."

She groaned internally, the beginnings of a migraine spreading through her temple. Why did he have to be so complicated? "Which is why," he continued, "you should go back. I've handled him before, and I can handle him again. You're way out of your depth here."

"I've been an agent nearly as long as you have. I'll be fine. Just focus on finding the glasses so both of us can get out of here."

"No, you won't. Trust me on this. Leave."

"Lockwood," she began irritatedly. She was so very tired. Why did Barnes ever think they would make a good, or even functional team? "I mean it. Stop being an ass and just look for the glasses, okay? Lockwood? Lockwood?"

She crept around the aisle, peeking from behind a tapestry. Her vision was limited, but she could see enough. Lockwood was kneeling, talking soothingly to this little boy of about five. There didn't seem to be anything obviously hostile about him, but something about the scene deeply unsettled her. Suddenly, there was a flash of electricity at Lockwood's neck, and he slumped forward. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming, tasting blood.

She turned away as the woman who had shocked him dragged him off. Her heart shifted into overdrive. She looked around blurrily, fighting back tears, shoving down the panic and bile rising in her throat. She had to save him. No, she had to find the glasses first. Then she would come back with reinforcements. It was only logical. But what if it was too late by then? She clumsily searched the little cartons, making more noise than she would have liked, breathing shallowly as she desperately fought the panic attack hovering over her.

Maybe it was just her heightened anxiety now that she was alone, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up. She spun around and was badly startled by that same boy - Winkman's grubby gremlin of a son. Oddly enough, it grounded her enough to stop spiralling. "What are you looking at? God, you're so creepy. Quit it with that smile, your cute act won't work on - oh."

And it was just as those words fell from her lips and the world turned black that she realised her horrendous, absolutely awful mistake.

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When the world came back into focus, she felt terrible. Every joint in her body was screaming for relief and her sore muscles ached. Once she had adjusted to the blinding light, she felt the rough floor against her cheek, heard voices around her; one behind her and one in front. She felt...distant, somehow, but she was sure one of them was Lockwood's...so the other had to be Winkman's.

She shifted her fingers as much as she dared, heart in her mouth for fear of being caught at any second. The muffled voices continued miles away from her, as if she wasn't even in the room, one of them becoming increasingly agitated. What was Lockwood even doing? Couldn't he see that she was awake?

She blinked imperceptibly, and the blood roaring in her ears finally died down. Her head hurt and her senses were too stimulated to think straight, but she managed to pick out Lockwood's voice eventually.

"I'm telling you, I don't know her. We're not even from the same agency."

"Is that so?"

"She might not even be an agent, I don't see a rapier on her." She felt a stab of annoyance and then overwhelming relief. Her other hand was stuck beneath her, but if she could just wriggle it around enough - yes. She still had her dagger. Her fingers closed over the handle, waiting for the right time to strike.

"Then you won't mind if I..." Winkman trailed off, and her glow of happiness was immediately extinguished by the feeling of a cold barrel pressed against her skull. It took all her efforts to not openly panic. She closed her eyes tighter, bracing for the pull of the trigger as she heard the gun click.

"Don't!" Lockwood's voice reverberated in the dingy room, startling everyone.

"So you do know her."

"I don't, I just think that she shouldn't have to die when she hasn't done anything wrong. She just got caught in the middle of this. Please, she can't tell you anything. Just let her go."

"How would you know? Fittes uniform...looks like some higher-up. She probably knows something of value, and I could probably force it out of her," he pressed the gun more insistently into her skull, "if not out of you."

Her mouth was dry as her heart hammered against her chest. She was going to die here, she could feel it. Suddenly, she heard Lockwood speaking in a rush, breathless, and she felt her heart sink.

"Fine. I know her. And I know she doesn't have anything you want. But I do. Whatever you want to know- want to do, do it to me, I'll tell you everything. You can kill me, I'll never see the light of day again, and no one will find out. No one will come looking. Just let her leave, she won't breathe a word of this to anyone else, I promise."

She could feel Winkman consider his words, and after a moment or two, she felt the barrel being lifted from her head. That was all she needed.

With her free, outstretched hand, she grabbed the barrel, hoping and praying Winkman's finger wasn't on the trigger. Her prayers were answered, and she jerked the rifle upwards, which punched him in the jaw. His grip loosened, and she turned the rifle on him, slipping Lockwood her dagger with her other hand to cut himself out of his restraints.

"Take one step towards us, and I'll shoot." Winkman was right where she wanted him, because there was nothing more terrible for a man as selfish as him than dying, missing the chance to enjoy his spoils. Her voice was calm and belied the rage simmering underneath her. How dare they hold Lockwood hostage like that? They were going to pay, and she would make sure of it. She was so furious, and all reason had been thrown out the window by that point.

"Actually, I don't need a reason to blow your fucking brains out." She raised the rifle, taking aim, just about to pull the trigger, when she felt Lockwood's hand on her shoulder. She didn't even turn to look at him, but she immediately felt the anger bubbling within her flow out, replaced by the gasping relief that everything was going to be fine.

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

She kept the rifle trained on the couple as best as she could with her trembling hands as she and Lockwood slowly backed away, then broke into a sprint, rifle tossed to the side halfway through. When they had finally run far enough into the city, they stopped at a bench underneath a ghost lamp, and for several seconds there was only the sound of their panting as they struggled to catch their breaths.

"I think," she began breathlessly, "that's the third time you've saved my neck." Lockwood looked at her from the corner of his eye, and she smiled so earnestly that they couldn't help but laugh. Their laughter swelled in the silence of the night.

But the laughter was temporary, just like their relief, and once they fell silent, the tension from earlier returned and occupied that vacancy. She pulled out a mini first-aid kit and started cleaning up his cut, which looked grimy and almost definitely infected by now.

"What was that, at Winkman's? You were practically begging him to kill you."

He didn't respond, and his eyes had taken on a dull sheen. It confirmed everything she needed to know.

"I...I guessed, a little...never would have thought it true."

It was like talking to a mannequin, except for the occasional wince when the rubbing alcohol stung. She didn't even recognise her own voice. It hurt to think about her being more attached to Lockwood's life than he was. The vigour with which she bandaged his cut grew with her words.

"It...It feels weird when you say things like no one would come looking for you. Your friends care about you so much. George would burn down the Archives if it meant saving you-" Lockwood groaned at the idea. "-and yes, he will bitch and moan about it for probably years on end, but if it meant you sticking around? He'd do it in a heartbeat. And I'm sure Lucy is no different either. I don't know how you got this weird idea that we'd just move on with our lives if you disappeared, because we wouldn't. Lockwood, people care about you, so stop being an arse and just let them."

"Even you?"

She paused, pretending to focus on the ointment. Opening up was as difficult as cracking a walnut open, but it was a bit too late to avoid all this. "I get restless if I don't see you in the papers for a while, whether it be for burning a house down or actually getting a job right. And every morning when I pick up the paper, I hope...I hope i don't see your obituary. So yes, Lockwood, I would hate it if you were dead. Who else am I going to butt heads and dream about making out with?"

Lockwood sat up, suddenly very interested. "Relax, it was a joke, just trying to breathe some life back into you. There, you're all done."

He fidgeted, looking down at the blood bleeding through the thick layers of the gauze bound almost a little too tightly to his palm. In the pale yet weak light of the ghost lamp, he suddenly seemed years younger, someone just like her. Someone who may have been a rival, but first and foremost, was an equal. She felt this sudden pang inside her heart. She dropped her voice, as if saying it a little louder would make her feelings for Lockwood all the more real.

"I didn't mean, what I said, earlier." Lockwood waited for her to continue. She had said a lot earlier. "About you being...destructive. I guess I was just furious that you had me a wreck when you weren't even trying all that hard. I'm such a mess, Lockwood, you have no idea. My dagger?" she pulled it out with some difficulty, wiping away the grime on it with her sleeve, her bloody face staring back at her. "It's just because I suck at using a rapier. I'm not even middling, I suck so bad it's not even funny. Stop!" Lockwood's mouth was twitching at the corners and when she finally looked up, looking like a cat left out in the rain, all because she couldn't handle a rapier, he lost it. "You know, you wouldn't be laughing like this if you actually saw me-" That just made him laugh even harder. She shook her head, waiting for him to finish.

"Y/N," he began, once he was done laughing. "You really are better than any medicine." He interlocked his fingers with her, raising her hand to kiss the back of it. "You can't handle a rapier yet, so what? I'll teach you. And then you'd need loads and loads of practice before you could get anywhere as good as me."

"I'm not done." He threw his head back dramatically. "I have a list!"

"Of course you do."

"I heard that." There was something infectious about his teasing smile, but its warmth was fading fast as she unpacked a memory she had shoved into the corner of her mind. She didn't like thinking about it too much, it made her too hopeless. Even now, she felt waves of despair crashing over her. "I didn't mean to fly at you like that earlier. It's just, my mum's been ghost-locked for a few months, and I'm not having the easiest time dealing with it."

She felt Lockwood still next to her, hating yet craving his sympathy. It had been so hard to wake up each morning, put on her suit, and go about her life while fighting the very real fear of never speaking to her mother again. It was like a long, drawn-out death that repeated every day. He wordlessly pulled her in as she sobbed into his chest, unravelling at the seams. If it was anyone else, she would have been mortified, but with Lockwood...it was different. It always had been.

"I understand," he murmured into her hair, "my sister was Ghost-touched in front of me. "If I had cared a little more...she might still be alive today."

That just made her sob even harder. How did he stand it, her hurling every insult in the book at him, when she didn't know the first thing about him? She don't know how long she cried, long enough to release months' worth of pent up grief, but Lockwood didn't show a single sign of wanting to let go. She wrapped her arms around him as she calmed down. She never wanted to let go of him.

"I never thought you were beneath me." Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his chest. "You own a property in central London, for God's sake."

"Not much else, mind you."

"If anything, I would have thought myself beneath you." She finally peeled her face off his shirt to see him raising his eyebrows with mock innocence, and she nearly shoved him off the bench. "Gosh, not like that. You're like a walking...sex...maniac. Is that all you ever think about?"

"When I'm around you? Most definitely." She groaned, but for the first time, she allowed herself to laugh too.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a crush on me."

"Lucky for you, I don't know better, and I can say I do." They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the first respite in what had been a very chaotic night.

"I still can't believe Irene's been Ghost-locked."

"Irene? Have you been...corresponding with my mother?" Lockwood shifted awkwardly, jerking his head up.

"Do you hear that? Is that Barnes?"

"Lockwood."

"Yes, that's most definitely Barnes."

"Barnes isn't even here! Lockwood. Lockwood!"

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She was sitting in the waiting room outside Barnes' office. It was morning now, and the room was filled with a pleasant warmth. She had already given her account of the events while Lockwood was being stitched up by the paramedics, and now she was waiting for him to finish his report after her head was bandaged up.

The door opened with a soft click, and Lockwood stepped out wearily, the exhaustion finally catching up to him as well. He smiled weakly. Even after a long night she sat with perfect posture, legs crossed neatly, looking the paradigm of innocence with hair gleaming like honey in the sunrise. It was maddening to Lockwood. He could never get enough of her little intricacies.

"You have no idea how much I've hated your necktie. It distracts me so."

"It's not a necktie, it's just a tie. You'd know that if you weren't so pretentious."

She grinned, reeling him in by his tie, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. She pulled away, walking out of the waiting room where the rest of her team was waiting.

They had discussed it on the way to DEPRAC's headquarters. The papers would have a field day if they caught wind of their relationship, and they would spin it and twist it in every which way. The less negative press they got, the better.

"I'd lose my job."

"Come work for me."

"Does your insurance cover ghost-lock of family members?"

Lockwood swore.

Now, he reluctantly followed her out, where George and Lucy celebrated him being in one piece. They turned to leave when she spoke up across the lobby.

"Lockwood."

Both agencies froze, watching uncertainly. George hopefully wandered towards the fire extinguisher. "I'd absolutely hate it if I needed your agency's help on our next case."

"I'd hate it even more."

"Good to see we're on the same page. Fingers crossed I never see you again."

She quirked the corner of her mouth, and Lockwood had to purse his lips to keep from smiling. Lucy looked back and forth, as confused as she was at the beginning of the case, turning to George.

"What was that about?" George groaned.

"Never mind that, you have no idea how much money I've lost..."

#fanfiction #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #fanfic #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #I can see you #taylor swift #speak now taylor’s version #from the vault #requested

[banananutsmuthie]

Please Do Not Touch

Idol(s): Gaeul [IVE]

Word Count: 4.3k+ words

Content Advisory: Mommy kink, Femdom, Degradation, C-Ring Use

A/N: Add BNS to the list of writers who have returned in the first week of 2023 😀

“Say it. Say my name.”

She’s got you by the balls. That’s her other hand on your throat, constricting. She’s a killer, that one, standing on a step stool to meet your line of sight just so she can enjoy you begging for it. It’s almost hard to take that naked little thing seriously. Oh, but you’ll take her seriously, alright, especially when she’s clamping down just a little tighter with both hands.

She’s got this look in her eyes, fresh, uninitiated, like she’s about to taste blood for the first time. It’s scary how much excitement is in those eyes. There’s a fire burning down that house. Little machinations running rampant like those little piece-of-shit children she swore she’d let you seed her with when she finally walks away from the idol life. Her body will still be nice and tight then is the only thought running through your mind. You’ll blame the oxygen deprivation for such lewd thoughts, but her pert petite breasts pressing against your bare chest surely doesn’t help.

It’s not that hard, really. She only wants one thing, only wants to hear her name. You can give her that much, at the very least. Of course, it’s not what she really wants, but you’ll amuse her just to see how far she’ll go.

“Gaeul.”

That hand she’s got on your balls doesn’t let up. She twists, and you swear if she goes any further, you won’t be able to breed her properly later. But it’s oddly satisfying. The kind of satisfying that’s making your cock just a little harder. It’s all part of the experience, but you didn’t expect it to get this far.

“No. You know my name. Do it right this time, little bitch.”

You’ve created a monster. This isn’t Gaeul. Not anymore. Not while she has you wrapped between her fingers. This isn’t a role she thought she’d play, but she puts in the effort because she’ll do anything to please her man.

She’s got that hand on your throat tightening just ever so slightly again. “Say my name.”

Pride will be the death of you if Gaeul doesn’t kill you first. That’s fine. She’s got you right where she wants. You’ll hold out a little longer because she loves it—the chase, the capture, the kill, everything. And then right as the room turns white, just before you meet your maker, you let her have it.

“Mommy.”

Gaeul finally lets go. She’s stepping down from her stool, she’s getting back on the bed, and she’s watching you, stiff against the wall she had you pinned against. Gaeul’s got her legs crossed, hiding that view that’s already dripping in pleasure. One hand props her upright against the bed while the other flips through her frazzled hair.

“Now was that so hard?” It’s a game to Gaeul. She’s a neophyte but acts like she’s been there countless times before. Knows the rules, knows the limits of your body. It’s as easy as learning choreography for her. “Do you think my naughty boy deserves mommy’s wet pussy?”

Whether or not you deserve it isn’t the question—mommy’s going to get whatever she wants. She’ll get that pussy filled like a jelly donut oozing its contents all over the floor sooner or later. It’s rather a question of how long she’ll drag this out. You’ll play that game, sure, but damn, does she look fine in her birthday suit.

“I said, ‘Do you think my naughty boy deserves mommy’s wet pussy?’”

Gaeul has to repeat herself because you’re too busy breathing her in, letting the oxygen she deprived you of back into your system. This time, she’s slapping that slit, flecks of her fluid visibly jumping onto her thighs. Gaeul knows how much you love it when she makes a show of how wet she is.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” you answer. That’s the hormones finally kicking in. You make a move toward the bed, but she’s got this look again. It’s that I-didn’t-tell-you-to-fucking-move look. It’s that you’re-gonna-have-to work-for-it look. You retreat back to the wall, and she’s expecting you to explain yourself. “Sorry. Yes, mommy.”

Gaeul owns you. She’s got you trained, domesticated, ruled. You’re nothing but a pet to her, a meatbag she uses for sex and nothing else. If not for your cock making her pussy feel things, you’d be out naked in the cold with a sign that reads, “Will fuck for food”. Even then, you wouldn’t put that past Gaeul: she’d do that anyway just because she could.

“Now listen,” Gaeul says. She’s getting off the bed, she’s making her way back toward you, and now she’s tugging at your cock. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Gaeul’s laughing. Without restraint. Without pretense. God, does she know how to make it hurt. You’re in this semi-solid state, good enough to get sucked, but definitely not hard enough to ram Gaeul’s pussy into some higher state of being. So of course mommy Gaeul is laughing: you’re useless to her right now. There’s no way she’s giving you a blowjob. No, that’d be too easy. Besides, Gaeul doesn’t give out mouthfucks, thinks she’s above getting down on her knees and choking on some cock. She’ll give you some lame excuse, like I can’t stand the taste, or you know it messes with my throat and I have to sound good tomorrow. So now she’s leaving you wondering just how much more embarrassment she’ll put you through before she even lets you touch her.

“You think I need a little cock like yours to get off? I’m gonna need more than that.” She lets go and returns back to bed, legs spread, one foot on the mattress and the other dangling over the edge. “You’re gonna stand there and watch me finger myself until you get your cock hard for me. And if I even see you touching yourself, no sex for you tonight. Nod if you understand.”

“But how—”

“Nod if you understand.” It’s only natural to nod. Whatever it takes to slip between Gaeul’s legs later.

It starts with Gaeul licking her petite fingers, the ones she’s decided are going inside her. She doesn’t need to make a show out of it, but she does it anyway for you. Could be because she’s a benevolent mommy or because she loves watching you squirm. Either way, you’re not turning down the free show.

Gaeul’s a pro by now, of course. Been pleasuring herself well before that dick of yours even came into the picture. Like riding a bike for her. She’s got her left hand spreading those lips. There’s that juicy pink inside, rare, already as wet as the Amazon. Had a big heaping helping of her dildo earlier but it’s clear by the way her body shivers at her own touch that she’s definitely up for seconds. She’s got that thumb pressing gently against her clit, rubbing herself in a rhythmic circular motion. She could easily get off with just the clitoral stimulation alone, but she’s got other plans.

Gaeul’s still got those fingers, wet, ready to penetrate. She tickles the exposed pink flesh with the pads of her fingertips, running from the bottom of her slit and working their way up. She’s exploring herself, testing her arousal, waiting for that perfect moment to strike. Not yet. She traces her slit again, down and back up. And again. Keeps repeating it like she’s a maestro orchestrating her fingers in an endless da capo al fine on her pussy, until that tiny hole you’re well-acquainted with finally puckers.

There it is.

You’re watching Gaeul sink her middle finger into her pussy. Then the ring finger disappears as well. She lets out a faint moan, lets herself sink into the bed while she’s fucking herself and lets you enjoy the one-woman performance.

For a second, she pulls her fingers out and brings it to her mouth for a taste, letting it marinate before pulling them out with a gentle pop. “Mmmm,” she moans. It’s no KFC but she swears it’s finger-fucking good. Gaeul drags her fingers down her neck, through her breasts, down her abs, until she finds her way back into her pussy, leaving a trail of saliva behind. She starts pumping again.

Gaeul’s got this nice in and out motion going now, wet squelches with every penetration that’s displacing the fluids dripping out of that well-pleasured pussy. Her chest heaves with every breath she sucks in through gritted teeth.

“This could be you, y’know, fucking mommy’s pussy. But you’re too big of a bitch to even get hard for mommy.”

She’s absolutely going to town on herself now. Gaeul shuts her eyes. She has her back arched, hips swaying to and fro like she’s riding a mechanical bull, those tiny mounds on her chest swaying along with each thrust of her pelvis that she’s throwing into the air.

“Holy shit, you feel so fucking good in me,” she cries out. “Fuck, this body is yours, only yours! Such a good fuck! You fuck me like none of the naughty boys ever could!”

It really is a cruel joke, the way she’s playing with you, teasing you. There’s Gaeul’s naked body in front of you, bucking the same way she does when you’re normally owning that pussy. She knows just how badly you wanna penetrate her, and here she is toying with you, acting like she’s actually getting fucked. You look down and see your cock throbbing just a little harder. It’s still not enough. You just need that little motivation to get rock hard for Gaeul, so you try to grab your cock to stroke along with her while she’s preoccupied with her own pleasure.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she says with more venom than a king cobra.

It’s eerie the instinct and awareness Gaeul has even with her eyes closed. You’d push further to see if you could get away with it, but she’s already said no to sex this entire week and there’s no way you wanna test her. She can replace you, have another you delivered to her doorstep faster than you can get a finger on your cock right now. Of course she can, she’s an idol. You’re just another guy with a cock that her pussy likes, coming to the immutable conclusion that you need that pussy more than she needs your cock. It’s frustrating. You let out a sigh and ball your hands into tightly clenched fists trying to endure the rush of hormones being wasted on just watching her.

“You want this body? Beg for it,” Gaeul says.

“Please, mommy.”

“What do you want? Use your words, baby boy.” Gaeul slows down, opens her eyes and sees how much harder you are. She’s intrigued, as is evident from that smirk on her face, the way she won’t stop staring at your cock while she’s rubbing herself.

“I wanna fuck you so bad, wanna dump a huge hot load of my cum into your needy little pussy. Please mommy, let me fuck you.”

Gaeul stops pleasuring herself. Here she comes again. You’re not really sure what she’ll do this time, whether she’ll drag you to the bed and let you fuck her mindlessly or kick you out of her room without getting what you came for. She hides her cards behind that Mona Lisa smile so well. Gaeul presses her body against yours. She doesn’t use the stool this time, so she’s looking up at you, her wetness pressing against your thigh, dripping.

“So, my baby boy wants to fuck mommy, is that what you want?” Your hands reach around Gaeul’s waist, hoping to grab those bouncy ass cheeks. It’s automatic for you. You can’t get enough of the way her cheeks sound when you slap them, the way she moans, the way her cheeks jiggle in your grasp before settling in your cradling palms.

She catches you, slaps your hands away before you even have a chance to make contact.

“Uh-uh,” she teases, “no touching. Good boys respect women: no touching unless I give you permission. If you can do that, I’ll let you cum in me. Am I clear?”

“Yes, mommy. No touching.”

“Good.” Gaeul smiles with the satisfactory answer. “As a reward, I’ll let you have a taste,” she says, bringing those two fingers she used on herself to your mouth, slowly shoving them between your lips the same way she did between hers. Your needy tongue tickles her digits, licking off your prize for being so obedient until there’s nothing left to savor. It really is finger-fucking good.

Gaeul pulls out her fingers and starts to walk toward the walk-in closet. “Stay right here, mommy’s got a present for you.”

She emerges from the closet after a couple seconds, one hand balled into a fist and the other grasping at a necktie, one of the few garments you keep at her place when you stay the night. She swings it over your neck and starts to tie it.

Over. Around and over again. Through the loop. Tighten. A Full Windsor knot. She’s got that shit memorized and perfected.

“Is this the present?” you ask. She’s got you wondering why she’s dressing you up like a formal chippendale with your own tie. This can’t be the present. She’s kept that hand balled into a fist the entire time, whatever she’s got in there must definitely be the present.

Gaeul ignores your question and gives you a command instead. “Turn around, hands on the wall.”

You obey. Gaeul’s got one hand on your hip, the one that’s clenched into a fist. The other hand is wrapping around, playfully running up your thigh with her fingernails, drawing closer to your cock until she’s got your shaft in the palm of her hand. Slowly, so that you can feel the sensation of Gaeul’s sleight of hand, she wraps a finger around the circumference, one at a time. Every finger that joins adds even more tightness, more pressure around your cock until she has a fist wrapped around your shaft, slowly motioning up and down and jerking you off.

“Fuck, Gaeul. Faster, baby.”

She lets go. “What did you just call me? You know that’s not my name.”

“Sorry. Please jerk me off, mommy.” She continues again, giving in to your request to stroke faster. Her other hand joins in on the action, wrapping around your tip.

“That’s it, baby boy, you’re doing so good. Just look how big you’re getting for mommy. Almost big enough to fuck me.” She strokes faster, and you feel the base of your shaft tighten. You’re throbbing in her hands now. Gaeul, happy with the work she’s done, stops stroking. Even with her hands completely off your cock, you feel yourself throbbing harder than usual, like she’s still squeezing you between her hands. You look down and finally notice the cock ring she managed to slip onto you.

“Do you like the present mommy gave you?”

“Yes, mommy. Please, can I fuck you now?” She’s got you right where she wants you, and you’ve got her on the verge of giving you her body. Before she can answer, she grabs you by the end of the necktie, choking you, dragging you and pushing you onto the bed.

Gaeul’s standing at the base of the mattress, watching, waiting for her time to pounce. She’s a killer, that one, tired of the chase, done with the capture. It’s in her eyes: she’s ready for the kill, and you can barely wait for her to sink that delicious pussy onto your shaft that’s throbbing harder than ever in the cock ring she bought you.

She leans forward, placing her hands on each of your thighs for support, lowering herself until her face is right next to your shaft. She grabs hold, slapping herself in the face with your cock.

“Is this what you want?” Gaeul asks.

“No, mommy,” you tell her firmly. Sure, it’ll be a New Year’s resolution fulfilled if she starts sucking your cock now, but you didn’t come this far just to get a blowjob. You want the whole thing: tits bouncing, thighs jiggling, Gaeul screaming your name as you slide in and out of her pussy. So, no, this is not what you want.

Gaeul smiles. There’s a small wince of disappointment in that smile for not falling for her trap, but she slides up again, dragging her naked body up against your cock before resting her breasts on you. It’s not much, but she pushes her chest together, cradling your cock between her soft mounds and stroking you between her breasts.

“How about a titjob? Is that what my good boy wants?”

You know the game she’s playing. By now, it’s clear she’s toying with you in a game of Deal or No Deal, but you know what’s coming as long as you hold out. Most men crumble this late in the game. Some would’ve even taken the blowjob, but you, you’re banking on the end game, and you can see your cock, wedged between Gaeul’s breasts, hungry for something far greater than a titjob. No deal.

“Please, mommy, let me fuck you.”

She slithers further up your chest, dragging your cock against her tummy as she does so. Keeps going until finally, she has her pussy lips grinding against the underside of your shaft. Oh, she’s wet, alright. You can feel her juicy outer lips, splaying, wrapping around either side of your shaft as she drags up and down on you. You try to thrust upward, hoping to penetrate Gaeul, but she’s one step ahead of you and lifts up just enough to drag this out a little longer.

“Not yet, baby boy.”

Gaeul fiddles with the new shiny toy she bought you, and suddenly, it starts to vibrate. It’s a feeling unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

This is it. The final stop. She’s got that pussy hovering over you, slowly coming back down. Gaeul doesn’t even ask if this is what you want. She knows.

“Don’t forget, no touching.” It’s the final thing she says before she grabs onto your shaft, aligning it with her entrance and slowly sinking onto you. It’s easy sliding into Gaeul’s primed pussy, the way she feels like she’s perfectly molded for taking your cock. But all of that doesn’t compare to Gaeul when she reaches the bottom and experiences the vibrations of the cock ring on her clit.

“Oh, mommy like!”

It’s a new experience for her. She’s had vibrators, dildos, massagers, all types of sex toys pleasuring her before. You’ve seen her collection. But the moment she bottoms out on your cock and her clit touches that vibrating cock ring, something in her turned on, like she finally knew the answer to the question: “What’s after like?” It isn’t love. It isn’t marriage. It’s getting her brains fucked out.

Her thighs jerk, grasping tightly against your hips, and those eyes, you’ve never seen her roll them back like that before. It’s an instant reaction. Gaeul’s arms crumble and she falls on top of you, almost incapacitated.

“Fuck me, baby,” Gaeul commands.

You sink down just a little into the mattress, just enough to pull out of that heavenly body halfway. You thrust back up, driving further into Gaeul. She lets out a moan, primal, without thought. That vibrator hits her right on her clit and she shakes at the hip, grinding on top of you, feeling those vibrations that’s pleasuring her.

Her lips meet your ear, clinging, nibbling. Gaeul grabs onto you and lets out a soft moan, hot and airy. “That’s it, baby. Fuck me just like that. Oh, God!” Even with her lips right on your ear, it’s hard to hear anything she’s saying over the loud thrusts of your cock crashing into Gaeul’s tight pussy.

“You feel so big in me, baby.”

You can feel that too, can feel yourself throbbing in her with each pump, the pleasure heightened for both of you with her present wrapped around the base of your cock. You didn’t think you’d enjoy it but it’s everything. Gaeul is muttering various swear words into your ear; you’ve never heard her swear this much in your life.

“Holy fuck! So good! Fuck me harder, baby!”

It’s pretty useless without your hands, though. There’s only so much you can thrust into her with just your hips. It feels good now, but you’d enjoy it more if you could grab her and fuck her properly.

At the risk of getting punished, you throw caution to the wind and grab her. One hand wraps around her back, hugging her tight. The other finally gets a handful of Gaeul’s ass, bouncing up and down in your hand with each thrust.

“That’s it baby, fuck!” she moans into your ear. She’s too inebriated with lust to care that you’re touching her, too lost in a stupor to keep up the mommy gimmick. This is Gaeul, raw, untamed, just the way you like her.

She is grabbing tighter onto you, an unspoken sign to fuck her harder. That’s her chest pressing against yours in the fervent fucking, her nipples hardening as the collective sweat bonds you together. You’ve got her in your grasp, and you’re really putting all that force into your thrusts. She is moaning harder than she’s ever had before, her quivering moans growing louder and louder like an oncoming train. Her bandmates will hate her later for the noise, but right now, you don’t care. All you care about is cumming in Gaeul’s needy little pussy.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m gonna cum!”

Gaeul tightens around you. You can feel her slick, trickling down your cock, sullying the sheets below. Her nails dig into your shoulders. Her body trembles in your grasp, going stiff through her orgasm until she goes limp on top of you. You tug on her hair to pull her up and check on her, and Gaeul’s eyes are in a daze, her mouth unable to close from the pleasure she just experienced.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Fuck that was so good.” Her eyes open, determined. She’s got that look in her eyes again, embers burning in her loins. She lifts up off your chest, her pussy still clenching around your cock. “Tell me when you’re gonna cum, okay?”

You start it up again. You’ve got your hands on her hips, bouncing her up and down on your cock. Gaeul’s a mess, but she keeps going for you, wanting that cum, giving you the one thing she promised earlier.

“Come on, baby, cum for me. Cum for mommy.”

The amount of sweat on her body is a testament to just how much she’s enjoying herself, tits bouncing, breathing labored. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your cock almost becoming numb to Gaeul’s pussy and the cock ring stimulating your pleasure.

“I’m so fucking close, baby.” Gaeul grabs onto your hands, interlacing her fingers with yours. You can tell she wants this as badly as you do, encouraging you, goading you on. She even grinds on top of you, wiggling that cute little ass on your thighs. There’s that sensation, you can feel it now. “Shit, I’m cumming!”

You thrust upward one last time, attempting to bury yourself into the depths of Gaeul’s folds, but she pulls your hands off her waist and pulls off.

“What the fuck, babe?” you ask in the craziness.

It’s too late now. She’s got your hands pinned to your sides, her petite body on your stomach so that you can’t escape. Gaeul’s shaking her head with the most villainous, evil smile and she’s watching you, defeated, shooting thick spurts of cum everywhere except inside her. When it’s over, you let out one final sigh of relief, rapture, frustration, indignance.

Gaeul is sliding off to the side, falling chest first next to you on the bed. Her back is painted in white that’s oozing off to the sides and the small of her back. It’s not exactly where you want to see it dripping, but it’s still satisfying if not a tiny bit disappointing.

“I told you I’d only let you cum in me if you didn’t touch me. You should’ve listened, babe.” Gaeul’s laughing. Without restraint. Without pretense. But at least it’s over now and she’s no longer so enamored in the roleplay. She collapses back onto the mattress, planting a kiss on your cheek and wrapping her arm over your torso.

She’s got this look in her eyes, dazed, intoxicated, like she just had the best cock of her life. It’s satisfying how much satisfaction is in those eyes. The fire’s been put out in that house. Little machinations finally fulfilled, kissed and tucked into bed. You’re not sure how Gaeul managed to make sex even better, but you’re glad she did.

See, she’s never been a dom before. Absolutely hated the idea. How can you hate something you’ve never tried? It’ll be great, just try it, you’ve told her countless times before. You pleaded and begged until that little piece of ass you call your girlfriend finally said, fuck it, why not. You never thought she’d be such a natural at it.

“So, how was that for you, babe?” you ask Gaeul. Her shoulder is shining in a waxy layer of your lip balm when you kiss her there. She reacts with a little giggle, traces circles with her fingertip on your chest, and lets out a huge sigh of relief.

“That was…” She pauses. The word escapes her. Gaeul’s expression turns quizzical. She’s running through the list of words to perfectly describe the feeling that overtook her. You can see those wheels spinning. Amazing? Fantastic? Mind-blowing? She’ll exhaust her internal thesaurus with how long she’s taking. The wheels keep spinning and spinning, until finally, the lights turn on in that house.

“That was…what?” you ask.

A smile registers on that precious face. She brushes her hair behind one ear and leans in for a kiss, her lips still laced in ecstasy.

“That was…definitely not the last time we’re doing that.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm hoping you'll see more of me in 2023 compared to the second half of 2022!

#kpop smut #ive smut #gaeul smut #male reader #reader insert

[bellarkeselection]

Tony stark x reader

Reader is having anxiety after her crush won't message her all day til later Tony gets upset and the team has to tell reader he has feelings for her and he hates how she's being treated

Thor's Gossiping Mouth Helped This Time

Laying on the long couch in the Stark tower living room i had been staring at my phone for who knows how many hours. I had recently went on a date with my current crush and he said he would text me later...except it's been almost two weeks and I have gotten no response. I normally didn't get this worried about relationships since I was an Avenger and had really no time for one. But the waiting is killing me right now.

"Y/n, how long are you going to keep staring at that phone?' Lifting my head up I saw Tony enter the room in a stained work shirt since he had been down in his lab working on his suits.

Laying my phone in my lap I sniped at him. "I just thought he would have messaged me back already. I thought the date had went so well."

"I don’t see the need for that tiny magical device when you have someone in front of you that care for you, Lady Y/n." Thor came from the kitchen with a big sandwich in his hands.

Tony whipped his head around at the God. "Nobody asked you, Lord Shakespeare!"

"I am not this Shakespeare you speak of. My name is Thor and I didn't need your permission to speak when I can tell that you have feelings for Lady Y/n." Thor points his freehand in my direction on the couch.

I was only half paying attention to the bickering going on between the two grown adult men. Holding the phone in my hands I couldn’t stop the negative thoughts that were being to form in my mind. I had decided that it was time I tried my hand at getting a boyfriend. I loved being an Avenger but I wanted a life away from the superhero life even if it was only for a few hours. "Why weren't you text back, Dustin?" I mumbled under my breath seeing the time on my phone read 11:58pm, two minutes till midnight. Meaning I had been waiting by the phone all dang day and....absolutely nothing.

"Shakespeare wrote plays and poetry. Seriously what did they teach you on whatever planet you came from?" Tony covered his face with his hands.

Thor had nearly finished the whole footlong sub in a matter of seconds talking with his mouth full but Tony still heard what he had said. "If Shakespeare was this great writer. Maybe you should see if he can give you some tips to get over your fears and just tell Lady Y/n how madly in love with her you are."

"Frustrating god man." Tony stomped, brushing past him and left around the corner.

I locked my phone screen hearing the bedroom door slammed behind him. Getting to my feet I sat my phone on the table following after the billionaire and man who declared he was Iron Man to the whole world. Standing outside his bedroom door I paused before pushing it opened seeing him laying on the bed facing the window. Crossing the room I sit down touching his shoulder. "Tony, are you okay?"

"Thor needs to keep his mouth shut. He doesn't have the right to tell how I feel about you." He grumbled under his breath clearly annoyed.

I slowly pushed him onto his back so he was looking at me instead of the wall. "And how do you feel about me, Stark?" I needed to know what was going through his head. He normally just said whatever he was thinking but now he was holding back from me. Which I didn't care for...I thought we were closer than that. Unless my feelings towards him were wrong.

"It doesn’t matter Y/n. You're already dating that uh...Dustin guy. I've lost my chances." The billionaire covered his face with his hands trying to hide.

Removing his hands from his face I shook my head retracting what he believed. "Tony, I am not dating anyone. Dustin and I went on one date and clearly he doesn't feel the same way since he hasn't messaged me in over a week. So I say hell to him cause I only care about you...I always have."

"You're not joking, Y/n. Because if you are I will make Dum-E kick you out of my house right now." Tony sat up on the pillows behind his head hands in his lap.

Rather than answer him verbally I leaned forward pressing my lips onto his. He pauses briefly before he released what was happening and he kissed back. Tony wrapped his arms around my waist tugging me against his chest and my fingers threaded themselves into his black locks. O moaned into the kiss when one of his hands ran through my hair making it a mess until we needed air. "I think that proves I'm not joking quite good don’t you think?"

"I might need some more convincing just to be sure. You know preforming issues and all." He chuckled drawing me in for another deep kiss. Wrapping my arms around his neck we fell backwards onto the pillows. Rest assured Tony wasn't angry over Thor's big mouth anymore.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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