#Like WOW they really had way more of a finger on the pulse of the fandom than I thought they did

[aajjks]

Needy (m)

synopsis. you think he’s needy? He’ll show you just how needy he can be.

warnings. mature themes, kissing, extreme yandere behaviour, manipulation, cute koo, sexy times, sexual tension, marking, oh it’s hot, unhealthy dependance, triggering themes.

taglist: @lustfulpjm @bebejungkook @bunnysandsunflowers @livid-and-in-love @dimguin

disclaimer. This is purely fictional, viewer discretion is heavily advised. Do not romanticise this behaviour, strictly for entertainment purposes only!

“Noona.”

His voice calls out, cutting off your thoughts as you felt his hand wrap around your body, his other hand snaking around your waist,

He nuzzled his face into your neck, the cold and wet feeling of his tongue on your neck always sent shivers down your spine, the way his warm breath fanned over your pulse point, making goosebumps appear on your skin.

You could never really get used to his touchy nature.

“Hi baby.” You replied, looking at the papers in your hand. “Noona…. What are you doing?” He whined,

“I’m just looking through some important documents from work.”

Jungkook hummed, rubbing his nose into your neck. “Woke up early today hmm?” You turned the page, sighing. “‘Was cold without you, noona.”

You gave the documents a double look and closed them once you were satisfied. It was cold, undoubtedly, Seoul could be ruthlessly cold in winter.

Jungkook turned your body so you could face him now.

“Noona, can you skip work today and spend more time with me? Please?” The man child pouted, his sleepy eyes looking at you with hope. You caressed his cheek, you wanted to spend time with him too,

well, you always tried your hardest to spend the majority of your free time with him, he was your responsibility after all.

But the thing with Jungkook was that he was kind of…. Needy.

He wanted your attention 24/7.

He didn’t care if you had to work, Jungkook didn’t understand the importance of earning money or having your own privacy.

“Baby I have an important meeting today, I’m sorry.” You watched his gaze turn somber, “I can’t miss it sweetheart.” You whispered in his ear, your fingers caressing his cheek.

“Why?” His eyes turned glossy as he blinked twice. Oh him and his fragile heart, you felt bad, and guilty.

“Baby… actually my boss is hosting a new years dinner party tonight too… so I can’t skip it, it is mandatory for all the senior employees to attend.”

Jungkook whimpered at the thought of being away from you for so many hours, his hands grabbed your waist again.

“N-Noona what about me?”

He stopped sniffling and stared at you with a strange look. “I-I’ll miss you noona! VERY MUCH!” He pulled you in for a hug.

You sighed, “baby you know I don’t like to leave you alone a lot too… but I don’t really have a choice?”

He didn’t reply, his eyes were now bloodshot as he cried. He pulled you in for a hug. Your heart melted immediately at his gesture,

Jungkook was finally starting to behave like himself. But you needed to warn him.

clicking your tongue while you embraced him you spoke, “I don’t want you to behave like before Jungkook I’m serious.” You patted his back.

“I’ll be back before you know it!” No use though. He didn’t stop sobbing, you were sure he whined under his breath.

Your little brat.

He was mumbling something but you couldn’t hear him clearly, “jungkook.” You called out, trying to get out of his grip but the bunny man tightened his hold on your body.

Wow. He was too strong.

“Okay kookie I’m starting to get annoyed, my coffee is getting cold and don’t you want breakfast?”

“Want noona!” You pushed his shoulders [well tried to.] so he’d loosen his grip but it wasn’t working.

“So…” now there was only one way to get him to leave you.

“You don’t want the pizza with extra crust?” His heavy breathing stopped for a moment, he broke the hug and looked directly into your eyes, the glossy pupils dilated at the mention of his favourite food.

Ha, he was easy.

“Noona you’re s-so evil!” His tail wiggled and his ears perked up, his expressions were betraying his body. “But… firstly, you’ll eat the porridge I made.”

“NO NOONA YOU ARE TOO EVIL!”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over the kitchen counter, a wicked smile on your lips.

“Learned from my evil bunny.” You blew a kiss, winking.

“Okay stop drooling Jungkook.”

Jungkook watched you put on the black coat, his long hair almost falling over his eyes that were so focused on you, his eyes followed your every moment but he didn’t speak a word.

Just watched you quietly, his mouth open, his eyes turning hazy with your each moment, God, you looked so sexy.

The shade of that lipstick was perfect, it complimented your beautiful complexion so much,

your lips, Oh God, your lips.

“My noona is so pretty.” He breathed deeply, taking your attention, Jungkook’s heart fluttered when you smiled at him, he loved it so much when your eyes twinkled.

“Aww thanks Jungkook!”

He didn’t reply, too lost in your thoughts as he stalked towards you, “I really want to kiss you noona, can I?”

The room’s atmosphere shifted as he blurted that out, your hands stopped buttoning up the coat and he could tell the way your breath hitched.

“Please?” He stopped right before you, not waiting for your answer as he pushed your body towards his, your chest hitting his hard one as he inhaled your scent.

“So heavenly..” he whispered.

You were at a loss for words but didn’t stop him as he grabbed your face, bringing it closer to his.

Jungkook could feel your knees tremble as he refused to take his eyes away from your face, his lips now inches away from yours,

He was pulsing, he felt so hypnotised as his lips touched yours, his brain froze, his whole body felt like it was on fire.

He felt so hungry.

He swallowed your trembling breath as he kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever get to. Your hands grabbed his dark locks as his fingers traveled down towards your core, spreading your legs easily.

“Oh fuck!” He whimpered when you tucked at his hair.

God, he was sounding so sinful.

Jungkook could die while kissing you and he’d be so thankful, your lips were made for him.

So damn perfect.

He finally broke the kiss, his high getting intense as he kissed your neck, your heavy breathing making his legs feel like jelly.

His teeth were hot on your skin as he sucked on the spot that made your eyes roll back, he was eager to leave his marks on your neck so you couldn’t hide them even if you tried.

So everyone could know you belonged to him age him only,

“My noona. Only mine,” he growled possessively, you mewled out, unable to respond, Jungkook grabbed your hips as he settled your thighs on his waist,

“You can’t leave me, noona. I will make sure of that.”

#jungkook smut #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts smut #hybrid bts #hybrid!jungkook #hybrid jungkook #hybrid!bts #yandere smut #yandere x reader #bangtan smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #smut #bts yandere

[heich0e]

suguru's throat feels tight.

not in the nice way—like when someone pays you a compliment you aren't expecting, or you're given a thoughtful gift.

his airway is a vice; sticky and closing in on itself like a boobytrap in those terrible action movies that satoru always makes him watch, where the walls are slowly crushing inwards on the hero, leaving no obvious way to escape.

his face feels hot—too hot for the meagre amount of alcohol he's had to drink that evening. hot enough that he's sure his cheeks are flushed a vicious red. he looks down at his hands, still wrapped around the half-drained drink between them, and when he pulls one away from the circumference of the glass he sees the way his fingers tremble, moved by a force only he can feel.

he sets his cup down on whatever surface is within reach and looks for the nearest exit.

the bar is crowded, and every body that jostles him on his odyssey to the door makes him feel even more sick to his stomach—makes him acutely, and uncomfortably aware of just how many people are jammed into such a confined space. with every step he takes towards the fire exit (the one which at this point he just has to pray isn't connected to some kind of alarm) it seems to be growing further away, like his steps are a paradox he's trapped in.

finally, finally, his hands press down against the push bar of the door, and cold winter air hits his burning cheeks like a slap.

he's on his knees retching into the grimy snowbank that lines the back alley before the door has even fully swung closed.

"oh, wow,—"

suguru can barely hear you over the sound of his pulse in his ears. it was too noisy in the bar to make it out this clearly, lost in the thrum of the bass-heavy music and the spiral of his thoughts, but now it's unmistakable. it pounds in his head, under his tongue, trapped in the walls of his throat.

he lifts his head, his eyes bleary from the tears his exertion had sprung to them, and he sees a figure a few paces away from him with a cigarette lifted to their lips.

he blinks hard, willing the world to come back into focus. as it does (painfully slowly,) he can see you better. the first thing he can clearly make out is the oversized jacket you have wrapped around your frame (big enough that it can't possibly be your own.) his eyes flicker next to the bare legs that peek out from underneath it, and trail all the way up to the lines of your face as you watch him. but it's your eyes that make him falter for a moment: curious but strangely impassive at the same time.

"—rough night?" you ask, but you make no move to come any closer to him.

he's grateful for at least that small mercy, he can't help but think.

"sorry," he chokes out, spitting into the sludgy grey snowbank one last time just to try and get the terrible taste out of his mouth. he stands unsteadily, his hands braced against the brick wall of the bar to keep himself balanced. "i didn't even drink that much."

he's not sure why he feels the need to say it, or make any effort to save face when you've just seen him at what's surely one of the lowest points of his life. you're a stranger, after all. what does it matter, anyway?

you hum a bit, taking another drag from your cigarette. the sound is halfhearted, and it upsets him unjustly.

"i really didn't," he insists, wiping at his mouth with the back of his knuckles and turning to you properly. "i-i'm on these new meds and they've got me all fucked up."

your eyes widen a bit, and he watches the way the smoke slips out of your lips—painted a rich, ruby colour for the evening.

"no shit?" you ask him. "you shouldn't be out partying if you're sick, y'know. alcohol can really fuck up scripts."

"i'm not sick," he replies quickly. too quickly. too ardently to possibly be true. and the silence that follows is too heavy for such a cold, still night. he looks away, fixing his eyes on the road at the end of the alley.

"oh," you drag out the word, an understanding lilt in your tone. "those kinda meds."

suguru glances back to you.

"so," you take a step towards him, and it sets his teeth on edge. "what's your poison of choice then? paroxetine? fluvoxamine? good ol' fashioned escitalopram?"

suguru's head is still spinning from the liquor, but his pulse has died down a bit. now his mouth feels uncomfortably dry.

you keep going.

"are you taking it neat or did they give you a little chaser with it too for a bit more"—you make a little flourishing gesture with your hand—"oomph."

you're right in front of him now. close enough that the smell of your cigarette has finally reached him. suguru can't help but eye it covetously, longing for the pack in his own coat pocket, left somewhere in the bar. you follow his eyes and laugh a little, holding the half-smoked cigarette out to him. it has a lipstick mark on the filter, but he takes it anyway.

he sucks in a greedy, needy inhale.

the rush of nicotine hits him right away, comforting and familiar. his exhale feels almost rapturous.

he takes another little puff, then extends the cigarette back out to you.

"don't worry about it,"—you wave the gesture off—"you can keep that one on account of the whole... y'know..." your eyes flicker down to the snowbank where geto had just been retching.

oh, right.

"thanks," he mumbles appreciatively, wasting no time before he takes another drag.

the two of you stand side by side in the dingy alley while geto finishes off your cigarette. he crushes it under the heel of his boot, grinding it down into the cracked asphalt, once it's done.

"how'd you know?" he asks after a few more moments of silence. the cold is starting to get to him now—registering in a way that didn't when he first made it outside. the chill bites at his cheeks and his nose, stinging in its frigidity.

"know what?" you feign coyness, tilting your head a little to the side. he sees a flicker of something behind your eyes again that slips through the facade of composure—something mirthful, and maybe a little mean.

he swallows, and tastes tobacco on his tongue. "about the anti-depressants."

you laugh a bit to yourself, but the sound is strained like you're almost trying to bite it back. "don't take this the wrong way, but you just sort of look like the type."

he looks at you—really looks at you—then.

you're pretty.

he supposes he recognized that already, even if he didn't process it properly at the time. your lips look soft, your eyes draw him in, and in any other circumstance he thinks you might have been the type of girl he sidled up alongside in a bar just like the one he just fled and tried to start a conversation with.

but these aren't any other circumstances. you just watched him puke his guts up in a filthy alley and then guessed his SSRI prescription like the world's worst game show. and to make matters worse, his dick hasn't even been working right lately since he started these new pills.

as though life wasn't already cruel enough.

the fire exit flies open again, and all attention turns to it.

"there you are," shoko is standing in the doorway, half-in and half-out of the bar, cringing against the cool evening air. she frowns in suguru's direction. "we've been looking everywhere for you."

suguru watches as she ducks her head back through the doorway, but whatever she calls over her shoulder is lost to the music that's bleeding out into the alley from inside the bar. gojo appears behind her in an instant, his displeased expression brightening immediately upon seeing his friend. he pushes his sunglasses up atop his head, his white hair pinned back underneath them.

"suguru!" he cheers. "we lost you."

"i was just getting some air," suguru smiles blithely, in the way that he's perfected.

gojo shoulders his way out the door towards suguru, dragging him back towards the door with an arm slung around his neck. shoko's eyes flicker over to you.

"oh, hey," she says, nodding in greeting.

"shoko-senpai," you return her greeting politely.

"are you coming back in too?" she asks.

gojo and geto both pause in the doorway, turning to glance back at you.

"no, i'm heading home," you say with an easy smile, not unlike the expression geto had just shown. "you three have a nice night."

"get home safe," she calls after you, a lilt of curiosity in her tone. you lift a hand over your shoulder as you walk away, waggling your fingers in a lazy wave.

"who was that?" gojo asks as the door swings shut behind shoko. he leans in front of suguru so his voice can be heard over the loud music.

"she's a junior in my department at school," shoko explains, "don't you recognize her?"

gojo purses his lips as he contemplates it and then shakes his head definitively. it's not unusual for satoru not to recognize someone, especially a pre-med student instead of a physics student like himself, but suguru is a bit surprised that he can't recall meeting you previously.

satoru tugs suguru's arm back towards the thick of the crowd, and he braces himself for the oncoming barrage of stimulation. he freezes just before he takes his first step, whipping back around to the door.

"what's wrong?" satoru asks him, leaning over his shoulder. he's got his sunglasses on again, and now suguru can't through the lenses in the dim light of the bar, but he knows satoru well enough to picture the wide-eyed look of curiosity that must be behind them.

suguru's brow pinches in a bewildered furrow.

"was she wearing my coat?"

#suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #tw mental illness #tw anti-depressants #tw vomit #geto x reader

[awyeahitssam]

“Expulso!”

The force of the magic slammed him through one wall and into another, and Harry could not breathe. It felt like the time Dudley sat on top of his chest, pressing all of the air from his lungs. He gasped and choked to no avail, the sensation of breathlessness more distressing than the stars dancing before his eyes and the ringing of his ears. 

He was dying, dying, dying.

After a too-long moment Harry managed a shuddering inhale, getting a lungful of concrete dust for his troubles. He doubled over, coughing violently. His wand. He needed his wand.

His right arm was screaming in pain, and Harry squinted through hazy eyes to find a bone sticking out of it at a decidedly odd angle, having ripped through his shirt and robes. Harry had a half-hearted thought of relief that Lockhart wasn’t here to vanish all the bones, which was strange because he should be focusing on the fact that he still couldn’t breathe properly. 

He blinked blearily and twitched his left hand with a desperation that had his wand—blessedly whole—slapping into it. Harry wasn’t used to casting with his off hand, but he was still able to twist it enough to cast a bubble-head charm. 

The spell was silent, because he had no breath for words and no time to think that he couldn’t manage. He had to.

Harry gasped again, this time into a clean pocket of air, and the panic receded a little more at the hard-won oxygen. The pulsing of his temples began to ease on his next breath, but the world still looked too-bright and decidedly crooked. 

“My Lord,” came a smooth, even voice, “shall I take his wand?”

Harry’s eyes focused slowly on the two figures in front of him as his fingers tightened almost compulsively around his wand. His.

“Let the child learn his lesson in full first,” said Lord Voldemort generously. 

Harry swallowed around a dry mouth, glad to taste no blood. At least he hadn’t bitten his tongue or gotten any teeth knocked loose. He inhaled deeply again, revelling in his ability to do so, though the motion made him notice an ache in his sternum as well. Bruised ribs, maybe?  

‘Lesson?’ Harry wondered blearily, a few beats too late. 

Though perhaps he said it out loud, because Voldemort replied, “That you are no match for Lord Voldemort.”

Of course he wasn’t. What a stupid point to try and make. He was fifteen. He barely knew any magic at all. Voldemort had been given decades to learn, versus Harry’s five years. Any competent adult—and wasn’t that an oxymoron—could easily outmatch him, nevertheless a Dark Lord. 

“Well,” Voldemort’s voice came dryly, “you have more sense than I expected, having been raised on Dumbledore’s knee.”

Harry let out a vague approximation of a laugh. He hadn’t known Voldemort had a sense of humour. Dumbledore couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him. They’d spoken—what, six times since he was eleven? Dumbledore hadn’t so much as looked his way the entire year. 

Not that Harry exactly wanted his attention. He was still angry with the Headmaster for that stupidity with the Triwizard Tournament, and his assault after returning from the Graveyard, and the resulting announcement made (on Harry’s behalf, as if he had any right to speak for him) that Voldemort was back. Really, Harry could have avoided a year of carving ‘I must not tell lies,’ into his own hand if it wasn’t for Dumbledore deciding to tell the world about Voldemort’s resurrection. 

Or maybe not, if Umbridge was one of Voldemort’s and he’d told her to torture Harry for revealing his return. Who knew? That would certainly have been a neat, simple solution. The woman was prejudiced enough to be on par with Malfoy, and he was a Death Eater. But if being prejudiced was the only qualifier to being a part of Voldemort’s army, or movement, or whatever the hell it was, then everybody would get an invite. Dudders could be a Death Eater; make his parents proud. 

“He has quite a mouth on him, My Lord.”

Wow, how observant. Snape would love this guy. 

Was Harry concussed? That was weird. Normally if he was concussed he stayed very, very still and quiet until he was able to sleep and his magic saw him to rights. If he got talkative with a head injury, the Durlsey’s would’ve probably dropped him at an orphanage like they always threatened, or maybe just left him in the middle of nowhere in hopes that he’d drop dead.

“What nonsense is he blubbering about?” the voice said again, and the trace of discomfort was slight but obvious to a boy who had been forced to pick up on such subtleties to survive. Did he not like to hear about the fact that some kids did not get coddled?

Did Death Eaters coddle their kids? Like, as a whole? Draco Malfoy had definitely been coddled; he acted just like Dudley, if not as stupid. He’d definitely grown up with a bed and food and people that would say ‘yes’ to his whims. He just had that sense about him.

Not that Harry wished that the boy hadn’t grown up with that stuff. Harry wouldn’t be intentionally cruel enough to hope for that. Just, he didn’t have to rub it in people’s faces so much. Then again, the brat would have to have manners or something not to do that, and with each passing day Harry was becoming increasingly sure that no witch or wizard actually possessed any matter of manners at all. Everyone was so rude, all the time. Well actually Riddle hadn’t been rude at first, but then he sicced a basilisk on Harry, which was not only rude but also attempted murder. 

Wait, where was he again? Oh. Halfway into the wall he had flown into after bursting through the first. Attempted murder again. That made sense.

The only question was, why was Voldemort so bad at actually murdering him? That had to be a little embarrassing. Oh wait, no, ‘lesson’. The man wanted to teach him something. Harry wondered if he wanted to be a good student for the Dark Lord, or if he’d rather just decline the opportunity. So far, he taught like a muggle.

“A muggle?”

Ouch. Harry’s scar hurt more than his arm; how did Voldemort do that? Harry needed to learn so he could hurt the man right back. Fairs fair.

A finger pressed cruelly into Harry’s brow, right over his scar. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurtithurt!

“Just like a muggle,” Harry gasped out. Physical violence. Just like Vernon. Voldemort. Vernon. Maybe everyone in the world who had a V-name was the worst.

Cold fingers felt surprisingly nice against Harry’s overheated face. The pain of his scar ebbed abruptly, leaving a dizzying confusion in its wake. Harry might throw up sometime soon.

“Would you like non-physical violence, boy?” Voldemort asked.

Harry carded through the options. Isolation and containment. Starvation. Maybe mental violence, the kind that Snape preferred. Verbal violence of Petunia’s ilk seemed a bit below the Dark Lord, but then her words about how much of a worthless, unnatural freak Harry was did circle his head to this day, so there was no doubt that kind of thing was effective. Just, probably it would’ve been effective if Voldemort had started before he could remember like Petunia had. 

“Do you have a non-violent option? Or is there a box I can check to be killed quickly? Is this a survey? I would rate your services as abysmal. Or wait. Uh. Troll. That’s it, right? Yeah. Bad… bad grade. Probably your first. You’ve failed pacifism. A truly bleak thing for a Dark Lord. You have my greatest sympathies. Surely this will hurt your future career options and they’ll have to lower your salary.” 

Are revolutionaries paid? Or does Voldemort take his own payment? What would be a suitable payment for a Dark Lord? The bodies of his opposers? But then, all his opposers are magical, and didn’t Riddle have that Magic is Might thing? Or was that just something he said? The man had ordered the death of Cedric, who had been the most worthy of age wizard at Hogwarts according to the cup. Apparently Cedric’s completely attractive competency hadn’t mattered, because Voldemort hadn’t hesitated to kill one of the brightest of a generation when a stunner and memory charm could’ve worked just as well. 

Then again, he’d wanted to kill a baby, once, and the death toll of the last war had officially been tallied at one-hundred and seven magicals, after Harry’s parents, so obviously he could care less if he was decimating their population, so long as he got to rule the world or whatever. 

“Potter, do shut up.”

Huh? Had Harry been talking?

“Rambling,” the voice of the oddly not simpering sycophant chimed in helpfully. 

Well. That was something. Normally Harry went very quiet when he was concussed and waited for his magic to—oh. His magic. Harry had magic. What had he done last summer, when Sirius was no longer an adequate threat? He could probably just… 

Harry looked down to see his wand in his left hand. He set it down very gently, then stared blankly at said hand for a long, long moment. Then the air around it began to do that cute little vibrating thing that his magic would do when it hadn’t been let out for long enough, because of the stupid Dursley’s, and the stupid rules, (why the fuck weren’t students allowed to use magic at all over the summer? Didn’t it make them feel like they were going to burst apart with all the suppressed energy? It was near painful sometimes unless Harry found some way to use it, which invariably the Dursely’s gave him.) 

A hand grasped over his wrist and held him at bay. “Do not do whatever you are considering, you stupid, reckless child—”

Harry was a child, and he had chosen to be reckless when he had chosen Gryffindor over Slytherin, so he let his wrist spark with electricity that was enough to get the touch away from him. Why did people always feel so entitled to touching him? He shivered in revulsion even as he placed his hand to his head and let his eyes fall shut.

His magic went to work, effective as always. This was only the second time it hadn’t waited until Harry was asleep. That was very nice of it.

“Thank you,” he told it quite seriously, in the middle of its work. It buzzed against his temple, a current of energy, and Harry quieted and let it continue.

When Harry re-opened his eyes, his vision was not blurry, his head not pounding, and the world not an unsteady bouquet of water colours with a diagonal slant. When he opened his eyes, he met the red gaze of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and swallowed.

“Oh. Just… lovely. Hi?”

The man behind the Dark Lord snorted. Harry spared him a glance—no features were visible beneath his cloak and mask. 

Harry’s throat worked around a swallow. “Fancy seeing you here,” Harry offered, and then set his hand on his arms, because why not, and winced when his bone snapped back into place. 

Ithurtsithurtsohshit. 

Voldemort’s eyes were gleaming with an odd sort of hunger. “I wonder if you will be so eager to talk now, Harry Potter? Tell me… when was the last time you encountered me treating you politely?”

Voldemort didn’t know about the Chamber?

Harry swallowed. “Okay,” he said.

Voldemort stared. “Just like that.”

 “It’s not like I’m opposed to you knowing. I thought you already knew, but apparently you and Tom Riddle weren’t as connected as he implied. Though, you know, if you want me to spill all, you should at least say please.”

Harry’s scar ached, but his arm didn’t any more. Unlike his ribs. “Pardon?”

“You would actually prefer to use Crucio than say please,” Harry noted. “That says mildly concerning things about you, you know. Common courtesy—Troll.”

“He’s stalling,” the Death Eater noted, when Voldemort moved as if for his wand. 

“Of course I am,” Harry rebutted. “He’s clever; you should keep him around to control your terrible temper.”

Why was Harry doing this? Was he waiting for a rescue that would never come, or an opening that was twice as unlikely given the multitude of people involved. 

The Death Eater laughed, and Harry saw a flash of green light. Heard his mothers scream. 

“Oh,” he said, eyes going a bit wide. “There’s two of you.”

Both figures went unnaturally still. “Why would you say that?” The cloaked Voldemort asked. 

Harry tilted his head. “Your laugh,” he said simply. “Your voice is different, but your laugh is the same. Also, you’re not nearly frightened enough of ‘Your Lord’’.”

The cloaked figure hummed, then lowered his hood. “Clever boy,” he said lightly, eyes just as intent and intense as Voldemort’s own, though they were dark rather than bright. His hair was curly, Harry noticed, longer than Tom had kept it when he was in school, though this man didn’t look very old at all. He still had his nose, though his cheekbones were sharper than they had been as a boy, and unlike Voldemort he had lips as well. Harry catalogued these differences with some interest. The evolution of Voldemort, he thought vaguely.

“Technically,” he adds, as he finishes taking the other Dark Lord in, “I’d be doing the both of you a favour by sharing the story of my Second Year.”

His implication was clear. He wanted two pleases. 

“You’re positively suicidal, aren’t you?” the human Voldemort murmured. “Very well, Harry. Please tell me about the circumstances surrounding your encounter or encounters with Tom Riddle, as well as the encounters themselves.”

Harry watched him thoughtfully. “What are you going by?”

“Marvolo,” the cloaked man answered easily. 

“Marvolo,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Your middle name. Tom wrote it in the air for me—rearranged the letters to spell,” he gestured to Voldemort with his newly healed arm. It didn’t so much as twinge. He was more than a little impressed with his magic. 

“How did you take the revelation?” said Voldemort, something cruel in his voice. 

Harry's lips quirked. "I told him he was nothing special," Harry admitted easily. "I told him Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in the world. Mostly, I just wanted him to shut up. He kept asking questions,” he allowed his gaze to drift over both of them, mouth speaking absently even as calculations flashed through his mind. How was he going to get out of this unscathed? There had to be something… some way… 

“He was desperate to know about the night you lost your body,” he told Voldemort. “He thought I would have the answers, somehow. I told him it was my mum. Muggleborn,” he informed Marvolo, in case he didn’t know. Harry’s lips curled in amusement. “He didn’t like that very much. Went on and on about how alike we are. Then he decided it was luck and chance that had saved me, said I was nothing special, and called the basilisk.”

“Maybe I proved him wrong when I killed it and then shoved a basilisk fang into the diary.”

Rage bloomed in two sets of eyes, but it was Voldemort that hissed, “You what?”

“Well, I was dying too at the time,” he defended. “I’m nothing if not spiteful. If I died, I was going to take him with me.”

“Yet here you are,” Marvolo said with clear menace. “Apparently you did not get close enough to death.”

Harry watched him, unimpressed. “The diary wasn’t the only thing that got stabbed with a basilisk fang.”

“You lie,” hissed Voldemort, redrawing Harry’s gaze as if he’d ever truly lost it. 

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s the liar, here? My parents died begging you for mercy?”

“Didn’t they? Your father begged for his wife's life, and yours. Your mother for yours alone.”

Harry’s lips pressed tight. “Really fucked yourself, didn’t you? You told my mum ‘very well’, when she begged to trade her life for mine. You agreed. You didn’t think she was powerful enough to form an unbreakable vow without the official bindings? You would think you would be smarter than pureblood rhetoric when you’re hardly pure yourself.”

“That's it?” Marvolo murmured, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You couldn’t tell me that?” He glanced at Voldemort, then straightened. “You didn’t know.”

Harry felt the silent chastisement in the words. ‘How is it that a child realised what you didn’t?’

#my writing #Voldemort #Horcrux #concussion #ficlet #Harry being Harry #what can you do

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet p. 4.0

note: p4 has been officially split in half!! part 4.5 coming soon!

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (rlly fem like you are v girly)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: smut! read at your own risk! angst, miscommunication, ellie is still an asshole. explicit language. reader is a nervous wreck and overthinks like crazy

a/n: first of all i’m so sorry for making u guys wait! i was thinking about just holding out until i had the entirety of this part done, but part 3′s cliffhanger was brutal and i couldn’t make you guys wait any longer. some notes: this will ultimately be a hea! i promise! that being said, ellie is kind of awful in this part and i promise this will all be explained and resolved in the coming part(s)—there’s a reason why she’s being so silly goofy! (also this is the first time i’ve ever written smut so i’m sorry if it’s not that good Lfdjaklfjds)

wc: 4.7k

here’s a playlist inspired by exoplanet!

part 1

part 2

part 3

tags! @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma 

@ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland​ 

“Come here, then.” 

You froze as her words processed in your head. You hadn’t expected her to react positively. She wasn’t supposed to react like that. She was supposed to awkwardly scratch the back of her neck and tell you that, wow, that was really sweet, but she wasn’t really ready for anything, and you weren’t really her type. Except that was the Terranovian way to reject someone. Maybe it would’ve been a more realistic expectation to assume that Ellie would laugh at you, or maybe tell you to fuck off. 

She wasn’t supposed to tell you to come closer.

But she was waiting for you now, so you pushed the thoughts aside and shifted your weight forward, pulling your legs under you so you were balancing on your knees.

You hovered over her, the heels of your palms growing numb from holding you up.

“Do you need a written invitation or something?” she said once you’d stared down at her for a little too long. Her voice was softer, with a teasing edge. 

“Don’t be mean,” you said, blushing wildly. “I’m getting my nerve up. Give me a minute.” 

“You’re the weirdest girl I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re being remarkably unhelpful.” You weren’t sure why she was making you do all the work. You were getting steadily more flustered, your pulse rising and your heart crawling into your throat the longer you looked down at her.

She liked that, you realized with a start. She liked seeing you turn into a nervous wreck because of her, even if it meant waiting.

“Change your mind or something?” 

You shook your head. 

“So come kiss me.” It was barely a whisper, so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard it had you not been leaning over her. 

One of her hands shakily raised to brush a rogue piece of your hair behind your ear. Her touch lingered. Her fingers opened to glide through your hair, halting at the nape of your neck.

You shut your eyes and dipped your head. 

It was an innocent, tiny kiss, your closed lips barely brushing before you pulled back to gauge her reaction.

But before you could fully open your eyes, the hand that was cradling your neck pulled you back down. 

It was like a dam had broken. Your nervousness and anxiety about what you were doing—kissing your friend—faded into the background as your thoughts instead turned to the fingers tangled into your hair and the wet heat of her mouth against yours. 

Your hand splayed out on the pillow next to her head, balancing you as you dipped lower, tilted your head, and let her pry your lips open. The hand that wasn’t threaded through your hair slid up your shirt, running up your back and coming to rest between your shoulder blades, a pleasant, warm weight.

Slowly, you pressed into your hands and tried to maneuver your legs so that you were straddling her instead of doing that goofy kneeling position at her side, but one of your arms gave out and you pitched forward, accidentally knocking her teeth with yours. 

“Sorry!” you said quickly, pulling away and feeling horrified as you sat back on her thighs. 

Ellie just laughed. “It’s fine. That was pretty ambitious of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your arms are scrawny,” she said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t think you were going to last long up there anyway. No offense.”

“You don’t get to just say the foulest things to me and expect me not to be mad because you threw in a ‘no offense’,” you retorted. “And, for the record, my arms aren’t scrawny. I’m just genetically predisposed to be lean and have low muscle mass.” 

“Just—shut up,” she said. “Don’t you ever say something like ‘genetically predisposed’ in my bed again. That’s so stupid.” 

“You’re—”

She cut you off. “You can tell me all about how mean I am to you later. Now switch with me.” 

She flicked your elbow to emphasize her point, extracting her hand from under your shirt as she waited for you to get off her and lie down on the pillow.

You frowned as you flopped onto your back, feeling like you’d been demoted. You would have been fine. You could have done it—maybe not for long, but for a bit. You’d done it before. Fuck this shit. Also, if this was going the way you thought it was, you wanted to go first, not her.

But your frustration didn’t last for long, as when Ellie straddled you, gathered you up, and kissed you again, your mind went completely blank.

Things felt a little different with Ellie on top—like you were moving with more direction. Your kisses had long since turned sloppy, your hands twisted in the back of her shirt as you pulled her closer, closer, trying to drink her in.

The tips of her fingers were calloused, pleasantly rough against your skin as one hand ran up and down your side, careful to avoid the stitches. 

You heard her shift, but given that your eyes were closed and her tongue was in your mouth, you didn't bother to consider why. Then a hand wrapped around the non-stitched side of your waist and pulled you down the mattress until something hit the apex of your thighs, and you couldn’t stop that gasp that left your mouth.

The knee thing. Oh, my god, the knee thing. She was doing the knee thing. She was going to be the death of you. 

Ellie paused, your lips making an audible noise as they separated. You could see a sheen of wetness on her mouth. 

“Okay?” she whispered.

You nodded, but any pretense of appearing mentally present disintegrated as the hand on your waist tightened, rolling you roughly against her knee. 

The sound that left your lips was honestly and objectively very embarrassing—something between a yelp and a strangled gasp—but you decided to think about it later as Ellie leaned back down, her mouth pressing to your jaw and dragging down to your throat.

You keened, rocking down onto her as she passed over the sensitive part of your neck. She paused, her lips freezing before she sucked at the same spot again, this time slower and with more deliberation. 

You were a mess. All she’d done was kiss you and let you grind against her thigh with multiple layers of separation, and you were already falling apart underneath her, your hands desperately tangled in her shirt and your breathing frantic. 

Once her lips had trailed down to the curve where your shoulder met your neck, you tentatively fingered the hem of her shirt and began to pull it up. 

Wordlessly, she sat back and let you drag her shirt up, helping you once you got to her arms. 

“What?” she said once she’d gotten her head through the neckhole and tossed it off to the side.

Your mouth had been hanging open, so you shut it before you responded. “Uh. Nothing. You’re just—really pretty.” 

“Really pretty,” Ellie repeated drolly.

You covered your face with your hands. “What? Is that a crime?”

“Isn’t it?” said Ellie. 

You peeked through the gaps in your fingers. There was a smirk pulling at her lips.

“In Terranova,” she elaborated. “It is a crime, right?” 

“Oh, Christ. Can we not talk about that now?” 

She laughed.

Her fingers closed around your wrists, pulling them away from your face so you had to look at her dead-on. She leaned down, her lips brushing your pulse point.

“I’m just teasing,” she whispered into your ear, and you felt the sheets at the bottom of the bed bunch up as your toes curled. 

She kissed you again, her mouth parted and soft. Your hands wandered up and down her bare skin, pausing where you heard her gasp and dragging your thumbs across the peaks of her chest until her breath hitched.

It didn’t take long until she’d helped you out of the loose t-shirt she’d given you when you’d arrived, her warm hands a welcome respite from the cool night air. 

Then you felt the waistband of your shorts tighten, her fingers dipping briefly under the elastic. 

“Do you want me to—”

“Yes.” Your voice was breathy. 

“Sheesh,” said Ellie, though at the same time she was pulling them down your thighs. “Eager much?”

“I’ll leave,” you warned.

It was an empty threat. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ellie. “I’ll make it up to you if you’re so offended.” 

Her hand nudged between your legs, fingers rolling languidly up the middle of your clothed center.

“Oh god,” you whined, no longer caring about the magnitude of your reaction in regards to what she was doing to you. 

Your hands shot out to haphazardly grip the sheets as you felt your panties get pushed aside. Ellie’s knuckles slid down your folds, making a lewd wet sound from all of the slickness as she separated them. 

When you finally opened your eyes, you could see Ellie intensely studying you, her eyes cast down to where she was touching you as her teeth pulled at her bottom lip. 

You wanted to feel self-conscious. After all, it had been forever since you’d been touched like this, and to have it be done by someone you were so anxious to impress only added insult to injury. But your mind was so clouded with want and desperation that you couldn’t even bring yourself to want to close your legs, no matter how closely she seemed to be examining you. 

Something prodded at your entrance. Your legs tensed.

Ellie paused. “Alright?”

You bit your lip and nodded, shutting your eyes. 

The prodding morphed into a stretching sensation as something entered you, your walls seizing up and tensing as you sharply inhaled. 

“You could try relaxing,” Ellie whispered casually, like her finger wasn’t actively inside of you. “Just a suggestion.” 

“You could try not being an assho—”

Ellie’s thumb swiped across your clit, cutting you off as an involuntary gasp left your throat. 

“Oh, sorry,” she deadpanned. “Were you saying something?”

You sent her a withering glare as she smirked back. Your resolve didn’t hold long, as once her finger withdrew and plunged deeper into you, you were long gone. 

It wasn’t long until one finger became two, scissoring in and out of you while you writhed beneath her and keened over and over again. The room was silent apart from the obscenely wet sounds emanating from between your legs and your whimpers.

As you felt tension begin to pool inside of you like a rubber band about to snap, you pushed yourself up on your elbows, looking down the bed at Ellie.

She was biting her lip in concentration as she worked her fingers in and out of you. Her eyes snapped up to meet yours just as she hooked her fingers inside of you, pulling a high moan from your lips.

“There?” Her voice was low and slightly raspy. 

You nodded helplessly, feeling her pull her fingers out and thrust them in again, angling them just so to brush up against the front of your walls. 

Your head flopped back on the pillow, your mouth falling open as you gasped. You were almost there. You just needed—you weren’t sure exactly what you needed.

“Please,” you managed to stutter out, not clear on what you were asking her for.

But as you felt her press on your clit and rub a tight circle, you realized that Ellie knew exactly what you wanted. 

The rubber band snapped, a white-hot ball in your middle bursting and sending a tremor through your whole body.

You came down with a gasp of air, feeling your walls spasm around Ellie’s fingers once, twice, thrice—until you lost count. 

There was a tug between your legs, and you heard the squelch of her pulling out. You clenched around nothing, tiredly noting how strange it was to be empty again.

Ellie’s head dropped to kiss your shoulder, carefully avoiding your injured side even as she pressed her weight on top of you.

“You okay?” she asked once she’d sat back up. You didn’t miss the way she wiped her fingers on her shorts. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling reason and rationality begin to trickle back into your consciousness. Oh God. What had you done? 

She didn’t say anything as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, leaning down to retrieve her shirt.

Oh God. You hadn’t just made out with your friend. You’d let her finger you. You’d come apart under her and now you were going to have to eat breakfast and go on patrol and talk to her for the indefinite future knowing that she knew what it felt like to be inside you.

Horror built slowly within you as the implications mounted. You never slept with anyone without clearly defining the boundaries first. You’d never just…lost control, like you just had.

Ellie was standing up, pulling on her shirt and blissfully unaware of your overthinking spiral. Slowly, awkwardly, you reached down and pulled your shorts back up, trying your best to ignore the mess that was between your legs. 

Something landed atop your chest, making you jump. It was your top, helpfully tossed by Ellie from the floor. 

Nausea began to build in your stomach as you quickly redressed, head spinning. Would you get to have your defining conversation now? Did Ellie want to define what you were? Was she going to let you sleep over? You really, really wanted to, but you didn’t know how to ask.

She finished fussing with her shirt and turned back to you, seeing you sat on the edge of the bed.

In a stroke of courage, you caught her hand, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her palm. You heard her breath stutter before you released it, letting it fall. 

It felt like a confession. One that went beyond just “thinking” about someone. 

“I didn’t know you thought of me like that.” Your voice was hoarse, tired from what you’d just put it through. 

“How could I not?” There was something in the rawness of how she spoke that made your heart lurch. 

“Since…since when?” 

You waited a few moments before amending it. “I—actually, don’t feel like you need to say so.” 

Ellie shrugged, joining you on the edge. “You first.”

“Since…” Since the first night you wanted to say, but you couldn’t make the words come out. That felt too vulnerable, especially when you weren’t sure what you two were yet. That might be too much. “It’s been a while,” you settled on as a vague compromise. 

Ellie nudged the edge of your foot with hers. “I figured. You spend all of your time gawking at me.”

“I do not.” 

She raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Maybe a little. But I was very subtle about it.” 

“Yes, very,” Ellie agreed, nodding gravely. “Didn’t even notice.” 

There were so many things that you wanted to ask her—you wanted to turn the question back to her, you wanted to ask if you could sleep over, you wanted to ask what this meant—but the heavy silence of the room was too thick to speak through. 

“I’m, uh, I think I’m going to go to bed,” Ellie said, scratching the back of her neck uncomfortably. 

“Oh, right,” you responded. “It’s late. Me too.”

It was in fact not that late—you and Ellie had stayed up much later on prior evenings.

“Uh—sleep well,” she said, turning to you. 

An acute pang of hurt twanged in your chest as you realized what she was implying. 

“You too,” you said softly, reaching over to unplug your laptop and grab the charger. Your knees cracked comically loudly as you stood up, but neither of you reacted to it. 

You stole one last glance at her once you’d made it to the doorway. She was watching you, her chin resting on the palm that was propped up by her elbow. “Goodnight,” you said, trying your best to hide the hurt in your voice.

“Goodnight.” 

The walk to your room was short enough that you managed to keep it together until you’d slipped inside and shut the door tight. Then the tears pricking at your eyes began to fall, your back sliding against the door as you fell into a ball. 

It felt stupid to be crying over the fact that you’d had a hookup that hadn’t turned into a passionate love confession and the opportunity to fall asleep in her arms. You and Ellie were so different—there was no reason to believe that she wanted you on any level that wasn’t physical. Maybe she was one of those people who could have sex just based on attraction without it meaning anything. 

And to be upset because she hadn’t cuddled you afterwards or complimented your body or played with your hair or anything—ridiculous. There was no reason to believe that Ellie would suddenly stop being Ellie—sardonic, emotionally detached, asshole Ellie—just because you were in her bed. She’d done nothing wrong except be the person that she’d shown you she was many times over.

You knew this—you knew all of this, but it wasn’t enough to console you. You still wanted her. You still wanted more. You yearned to be touched by her, not just the rough caresses that pulled you over the edge, but the ones that you were expecting had she let you stay the night. 

A while passed as you sat crumpled on the floor, knees pulled to your chest and shoulders heaving. By the time you’d gathered the strength to get up and pee (you highly doubted they had cranberry juice out here, and contracting a UTI on top of everything else was going to be enough to make you jump over the wall banging pots and pans until every infected came to check you out), you were sufficiently cried out, feeling rather like a wrung out washcloth. 

It hadn’t been all bad, you thought to yourself as you splashed your face and washed your hands in the warm light of the bathroom. As long as this hadn’t permanently ruined the friendship between you two, you’d maybe consider doing it again. Despite the emotional turmoil and overall lack of intimacy, it had been nice. In the moment. Next time—if there was one—you’d just lower your expectations. 

Some Ellie was better than No Ellie. 

Yeah. 

You could do that. 

~

“We’re in a fight.” 

The words made you jump a foot in the air, nearly pitching you forward on the sidewalk as you were heading to the stables to help Maria out. 

“Dina!” you exclaimed.

She was frowning at you, her arms tightly crossed.

“Is there a reason we’re fighting?” you asked. 

“You promised you’d come hang out with me,” she said, jutting her chin out. “And where have you been? Not at mine.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, heat rising to your cheeks. In truth, you’d been so caught up with your Ellie obsession that you’d forgotten about Dina. 

“I guess it’s not totally your fault,” Dina conceded, waving a hand. “I keep telling Ellie to stop being so greedy, keeping you all to herself like that.”

“It’s all been so much.” Your stomach dropped at the mention of Ellie, whom you had exchanged very brief pleasantries with that morning. Or, as pleasant as Ellie’s “pleasantries” could be. 

“How about you tell me about it?” pressed Dina, her lips lifted into a smile. “Come over? After you’re done with whatever you’re doing? I’m off today, so I’m yours whenever.”

You sent her a grateful smile back. “Sure.” 

Your work with Maria finished up quickly—mostly cleaning and polishing the saddles and washing the bits. Before you knew it, you were sitting on Dina’s couch, your feet pulled up under you as you held a mug of hot tea.

Dina wanted to know everything about Terranova—a welcome change from Ellie, who only sparingly asked you about what your life was like. Her bubbliness made you so at ease that you found yourself telling her things that you’d never said out loud before.

“And that’s when I decided that I’m definitely not straight,” you finished.

She giggled and set her mug down on the table between you, leaning forward and giving you a look full of mirth. “You know, speaking of that…”

“Oh?”

“You know Ellie’s into girls too, right?” 

You froze, your smile plastered artificially on your face. The memories of her fingers between your legs last night drifted back, and you shut them down before they lingered for too long. 

“Uh, yeah,” you said lamely. 

“Interesting.” Dina nodded, her eyes unfocused. “Have you two—I dunno—talked about that?”

“Just a little,” you said, shrugging. It wasn’t a lie. It’s not like you two had extensive conversations about the general queer experience on the regular. And her fingering you didn’t involve much talking. 

“Well, I think you should go for it,” announced Dina. 

You choked on your tea. “Huh?” 

“I know she can be an asshole sometimes,” said Dina, making a face. “But I’m definitely picking up on something between you two. I think she really likes you.” 

“She—” You cringed, thinking of how she’d essentially kicked you out the night before. “I don’t really think she does.”

“But you do,” said Dina, her eyes sparkling. “Just tell her.” 

“There’s nothing there,” you said vaguely. 

Dina gave you a long, suspicious look. “Right. If anything changes, you know you can tell me, right?”

You wanted to tell her about what had happened last night so, so badly. But it felt like you’d be crossing a line, talking to someone you’d essentially just met before discussing it more thoroughly with Ellie. 

“Of course,” you said, willing yourself to send her a convincing smile. 

~

Dinner proceeded as normal, with you making casual conversation with Ellie and Joel. Though you two were sitting next to each other, there was no foot-kicking or thigh touches. 

Not that you should’ve expected anything, you thought, scolding yourself. Just because someone fingered you once doesn’t mean they were in love with you. You didn’t call yourself a chef after cooking one meal. 

That night, you lay awake after your shower, feeling your freshly washed hair dampen the edges of your shirt as you started up at the ceiling. Ellie normally knocked by now—hours earlier, in fact. She wasn’t coming. 

You rolled over, pulling your comforter up and trying not to cry again. Silly, stupid you. You’d gone and ruined it all just for someone who didn’t like you very much, She’d purposefully evaded the question of you asking when she’d seen you like that, you realized. This was probably more opportunistic than anything. 

She was all you had here. Of course, you had Dina and Joel and Maria and Jesse, but they were nowhere near the same as Ellie. Ellie had been the one to save you. Ellie had been the one to console you after your first patrol. Ellie had been the one to card through your hair while you were shaking and in shock from being shot. No matter what they did, you would never feel as pulled to them as you were her. 

There was a knock at your door. 

You paled, then brought your hand up to frantically wipe away at the wetness forming at the corners of your eyes. 

Quietly, as not to wake up Joel, you crept over to the door and opened it.

“Hey,” whispered Ellie.

“Hey.” 

She swallowed, looking down the hall before she met your eyes. “Are you—are you busy?”

“It’s 11 o’ clock at night,” you whispered. “My schedule’s not exactly booked.” 

“Right.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you, uh, want to see me for a bit?”

You gulped, feeling stuck in place. Was this all it was ever going to be? A midnight rendezvous that ended with you doing a walk of shame down the hall? 

“Your room or mine?” you asked, folding regardless of your angst.

Ellie blinked. “Uh. Mine? It’s further from—um, there’s more walls in between mine and Joel’s.”

For a moment as you walked alongside her down the hall, you wondered how you’d ever feel comfortable undressing and touching her again, given how awkwardly you two were interacting now.

But once she shut the door and wasted no time in clutching your jaw between her two hands like she was praying and kissing you like she wanted to drown in you, those worries slipped away.

It was much like last time. Ellie didn’t even give you the chance to get on top—you were tossed onto her bed and caged under her arms before you could even think to take control. 

She pushed you over the edge twice with her fingers, this time mouthing at your jaw as you writhed beneath her.

When you came down, you laid panting on her bed, watching the spots in your vision dissipate as Ellie rested on the pillow beside you. Tentatively, you turned so your nose pressed into her jaw, your lips pressing light kisses to her neck.

She shivered, but didn’t push you off.

You took the opportunity to drag your fingers up and down her bare arm, feeling the pads of your fingers catch on the texture of her skin.

Even in the dark, you could see faded marks scattered all over the pale expanse of her skin. Next to her, your skin looked pristine, untouched, like a doll just taken out of the box. 

There was a sting deep inside your chest.

“You’re such a good person,” you heard yourself say. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

Ellie tensed under you. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just—” You paused, thinking about how ridiculous you sounded. This was a hookup. Why were you getting all sentimental on her? “I wish that you didn’t have to go through everything that you have. You’re—you’re just so—”

She sat up abruptly, pushing you off her.

“I’m not ‘a good person’,” she said, her voice quiet. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You have no idea what I’ve done.”

You shrugged. “Maybe not. But I know you now. You’ve been so kind to me. I’ve known people who have grown up with silver spoons in their mouths for all their life who are much crueler than you’ve ever been.”

When Ellie was silent, you took the opportunity to reach up and let your fingers trace over her cheekbones, watching the constellations of freckles under your touch. You wanted to memorize everything about her. You never wanted to stop touching her. 

“What are you doing.” It came out in a flat, tired tone.

You tried to hide the way your face fell as you retracted your hand. Right. Hookup. You needed to remember.

“Sorry,” you said, gluing your eyes to your hands. 

“This isn’t…” Ellie paused, and you saw her curl her hands into fists. “This isn’t like that, okay?”

“I know,” you said, but the confirmation of the fact sent a pain so acute through your chest that it was all you could do to not wince. “But we’re friends, right?” But you still care about me, right? was what you really wanted to say. That would do as a poor substitution. 

You could feel Ellie’s stare despite not even looking at her. 

“I should go.” You swung your legs over the edge of her bed, wondering how you were going to make it to your door this time without bursting into tears. 

“Wait,” said Ellie. 

“I hope you sleep well,” you continued, begging, praying that your hurt wasn’t showing as obviously as it felt.

A hand curled around your wrist as you reached the door.

“Wait.” Ellie’s voice was firm enough to make you finally look at her. Her face was stony, but you could see something in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. “We’re—friends. We are. I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” you said lightly, plastering a little smile on your face. If you stayed in here for another minute, you’d be a sobbing mess. “It’s late, though. I need to go to bed anyway.”

She let you slip from her grip. The door behind you thudded softly shut.

That night, you curled up into a ball under your comforter, feeling your still damp hair stick to the back of your neck.

It was better than nothing, you reminded yourself. Better than nothing.

final a/n: I”M SORRY IM SORRY i know that this just complicates everything more but i’m trying to be realistic about ellie’s character...i promise i will patch things up soon! the second half of this chapter is coming out hopefully within the next few days depending on how quickly i get better from being sick! (also again i’m so sorry abt the smut i’ve never written anything like this before so i was feeling really iffy)

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x you #ellie williams self insert

[biteofcherry]

What story you would write for him - randomagnes0210.tumblr.com/701345413474729984/chris-you-inspired-me-and-i-didnt-know-i 👀

Holy fuuuck 😳🥵🥵

I'm sorry, my brain kinda short circuited. I need time to get it back to function. Damn. Wow. Okay.

that's a soft!dark Steve Rogers

An enforcer/mercenary Steve (maybe for mafia Bucky? idk), who can make things really bloody and still keep his slate clean of any evidence. From organizing a disposable group to do the dirty work, to a stealthy kill done by himself if needed.

He has a sleek beast of a bike, as well a bullet-fast camaro. There's always a weapon on him, even when he looks like he's there to chill only.

You don't see a gun? No glint of a knife? There's a garrote in the wristwatch, or in the beads he wears on his wrist. Not to mention the things he can do with his hands alone.

It's those hands that got you staring when you approached him with your little nephew at your side. The boy, being all moto crazy, couldn't stop tugging at your hand when he saw the Camaro. So you did what any good aunt would - you took his small hand in yours and approached a stranger, asking sweetly if he won't mind your nephew taking a closer look at the car.

Steve's eyes when they settled on you were cold and sharp like a blade. Almost made you take a step back. Then he glanced at the kid, who was staring at his car with pure awe, and back at you, his gaze softening.

"Sure thing, cherry."

His voice had a rich, raspy timbre, reminding you of how your own voice gets after a few good orgasms (which you gave yourself with the use of your toys, since your latest dates lacked in that area).

Steve's eyes shifted to your chest when he said that, a smirk curling the left corner of his mouth upwards. Your top had printed cherries on it. You found it cute when you bought it. Now you felt embarrassed wearing something so sweet it was almost childish.

You dropped your gaze, muttering a thank you.

You let out a breath of relief when Steve's eyes finally turned away from you. He bent over the hood again and your own gaze slid from his tight ass (you scolded yourself inwardly for even daring to look that way!) over the wide plain of his back to his hands.

Those damn hands that would be your undoing, you thought as you stared at them. Nimble and skilled fingers tinkering with something, a vine of dark ink starting atop his palm and curling upwards over the corded muscles of his forearms, to disappear in an array of color beneath the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.

You saw splashes of tattoos on his chest and reaching up to his neck. Your mind wandered through images of exploring hos the pattern looks over his back, his it moves over his ribs when he breathes.

If there are tattoos leading down his abdomen...

You were so lost in it, you didn't hear what Steve was saying, until you felt your nephew tug on your hand.

"Can we? Can we, please?!" The kid looked up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Um." You swallowed, uncertain of what exactly was asked of you. Feeling all the more embarrassed for it.

"Of course you can, buddy." Steve decided, not waiting for your brain to catch up with his proposition to take you both for a short ride in his car.

His smile was bright and charming, yet held a hint of predatory satisfaction. A cocky confidence you usually hated in men.

Steve's eyes held a mirthful glint as he caught your gaze, but also something dark that quickened your pulse.

"I'm sure your aunt craves a good ride, too."

You had to clench your thighs at the surge of heat that filled your belly and spread down, pooling in a small wet spot on your panties.

You should've said no. Your body may heat up for this tattooed, hot as sin stranger, but your instinct all but yelled at you to run away. There was something dangerous about him, in more than just sexy way.

But it's something you would find out much later.

Too late to run away from his possession, or to stop wanting him so badly.

If you only knew how lethal he was, you wouldn't say yes to getting a lift to your place after you dropped off your nephew at his parents.

You wouldn't follow Steve's raspy command and let him fuck you in the narrow space of his camaro - bruises from the steering wheel faint compared to the marks Steve's hands left on your thighs and around your neck.

If you suspected the dark web awaiting you, maybe you wouldn't like how he called you sweet cherry.

Maybe you wouldn't cream on his cock as he fucked you right outside of your apartment, in a dark corridor where any of your neighbors could walk, with his hand pressed over your mouth to muffle your screaming orgasm and hips snapping hard into you.

You wouldn't whisper a weak Yes, Steve when he told you where to meet him, scribbling down the address on a piece of paper and slipping it under the waistband of your ruined panties.

But you said yes to all of those things. You allowed Steve to do those dirty things to you. And you wanted more. Even if your instinct still alarmed of danger.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #soft!dark steve rogers #soft!dark steve rogers x reader #enforcer!steve rogers #it maaay turn into actual series sometime in the futur #*future #idk i make no promises yet but it's tempting #for now I'm titling it - Cherry #steve fic: cherry

[venturelovebot]

A/N: AAAAH This is the first piece of media I've written for Overwatch since like 2019! I wanted to so badly get back into writing but I just never felt like it! (´;ω;｀) I cannot believe this goober is what got me back into it. Bless their little rock eating heart.

Premise: You're a nerdy college student majoring in arts. Guess who you have a massive crush on. Guess whose popular and you're not. Guess who gets asked out anyway. ･*･:≡(　ε:) G/N!insecure!reader x Venture "Rock Eater" Overwatch ft. Illari the supportive friend!

Warnings: None! Just fluff.

You doodled another heart on a blank layer with your stylus. Beside that one you doodle a smaller one. You glance up quickly enough to get another look at their face and add small details to the main focus of your artwork. You move down a layer and add more shading. You zoom out. You're not happy with it.

"You push yourself too hard." Illari takes a seat next to you and sets down an unopened can of coffee. "You only see the mistakes. Everyone else will always see the bigger picture."

"That's what you keep telling me..." You softly sigh and open the can. Half of it nearly disappears in a gulp, so sleep would have to wait a little bit longer.

Illari looks over your work. "Oh! Is that S–" You cut her off with a harsh shush. Your head nods towards Sloane who sits not even twenty feet away from you laughing and talking with their friends.

"Not so loud..." You frown.

"Wow." Illari smiles softly and lowers her voice to a whisper. "That's like the third drawing you've done of them this week. Why not just ask them out already?"

"Stop!" You blush, hit the save button and close your laptop screen. You bury your face in your hands and feel the embarrassment begin to burn on your skin.

Even though no one has noticed, it feels like the whole world was staring at you. Tears softly gather behind your eyes but you blink them back before Illari takes notice.

"It's not like they know who I am. Plus they're cute... and look at me..." You sigh and feel a lump in your throat start to form.

Illari puts a hand on your shoulder. "Remember that you only see the mistakes. Everyone else will always see the bigger picture." She gets up quietly and grabs her book bag. "I'll text you later."

You watch between your fingers as she makes her way out of the building. After she leaves your line of sight you reopen your laptop and the familiar sting of failure settles over you again. You use your sleeve to dry your eyes before shaking your head gently to center yourself.

Right. Back to work.

The chatter of people around you dwindles as the time passes by and the sun lowers itself towards the horizon. You hit the save button for the twentieth time and decide to call it quits when the light makes it harder to see the finer details on your screen. You set your stylus aside and remove your drawing glove to let your dominant hand finally rest. The cramp pulses in your wrist and fingers as you massage them firmly. All was quiet for a brief moment.

"Hey! Is that me? That's so cool!" Oh, god... that voice. Their voice.

You had no time to react as a nervous heat strikes your body like lightning. You're frozen, blushing and panicking– and you just noticed you forgot to hide the heart doodle layer.

It cannot get much worse than this.

"I told you they were talented!" Illari smiles and sits across from you. "You should show them the other ones."

"I'll kill you." You mouth to her and her smile widens into a grin.

"Can you send them to me? I'll give you my number– wait a minute..." Sloane takes another glance at the screen. "Are those hearts?"

The feeling of helplessness overwhelms you as tears begin flowing from your eyes nonstop. You quickly cover your face in an attempt to save yourself and the small amount of dignity you have left. There was nothing you could say to defend yourself in this situation. This causes Illari to feel guilty and stand up to comfort you.

"Hey! It's okay! Your artwork is super good! I look really good! A lot better than I usually do, I think..." Sloane takes a seat next to you. "Wow, you even got my tattoos right. That's crazy! In a good way, I mean..."

You try your hardest to dry your eyes with your dampened sleeves. "You really think so?" You're hardly able to hide the choking in your throat.

"Actually... I think you made me look too good." They joke and you can't help but laugh a little.

"What are you talking about? You always look good regardless of what you do..." You glance over at them. Sloane's face lights up with a soft red glow from your compliment.

Illari takes a few steps back unnoticed, her plan beginning to unravel.

"Aww! Well, thanks!" There's a tone in their voice you haven't heard before. "You're not so bad looking yourself, ya know." They smile.

"Oh! That's not true... I could definitely look a lot better I think–" You look away with a grin on your face. "My hair is a mess... and–"

"No! I'm being honest! Your hair looks nice...! And you smell really nice! And you seem really nice!" You could tell they were embarrassed at this point. "Uh– anyway– You're definitely cute. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

A moment of silence passes as you look back at them. Both of you are grinning at each other uncontrollably like a couple of nerds. The tension in the air begins to fade.

"Wow..." You pause for a moment. "Thank you. Really."

"No problem! Say, can I ask you for a favor?" Sloane asks.

"S-sure!"

"I'm thinking about getting another tattoo for my birthday. Could you design it for me?" Sloane lifts up their tank top to point at their chest. "I was thinking about getting something cool like the eye of Horus! Or maybe something like a flaming skull. Or a frog. I haven't decided yet–"

Your face turns bright red as you eye their bare skin. It was everything you daydreamed about– except this time it was all real. You wanted more time to admire everything but they lower their shirt back down... a soft disappointment looms over you, but you're not about to squander your chance.

"I'd love to!" You answer confidently for the first time in a very long time.

"Nice! So it's a date then? Does this Friday work?" Sloane writes down their phone number for you.

"That sounds... nice." You reply happily.

"Cool, I'll see you around then." Sloane stands up and nearly walks off before turning to you one more time. "I almost forgot. What's your name? Illari didn't tell me."

"Y/N."

"Y/N..." They echo. "I like that name. See you Friday!"

You watch as they leave, not taking your eyes off of them for a second until they're completely out of your sight.

"You're welcome." Illari smiles and heads out afterwards.

You spend an extra couple of minutes gathering your things before giggling and kicking your feet like a little kid. You just got a date with one of the most popular people on campus! And this is what it feels like... a rollercoaster of butterflies in your stomach.

You head back towards home as the moon brightly shines in the starry sky above, wondering about this coming Friday... what you would wear... you needed to be prepared.

#idc if this gets no notes i'm writing a sequel to this... i have to... #venture x reader #venture overwatch #sloane cameron #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #overwatch fanfiction #f/o #romantic f/o #banner and divider by saradika-graphics

[coeurify]

yeah but knife kink ellie cutting her name on your legs or something because she got jealous of a guy flirting with you at a party??? like “now everytime someone tries to get in between your thighs they’ll see who you belong to” yeah

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ under the cut, knife kink.. obviously. also rlly possessive ellie and some biting.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh wow 🫣(this is slightly more tame, i didnt wanna take it toooo far)

“He was all fuckin over you,” Ellie muttered against your neck, biting harshly at the skin. A bruising grip holds your hip to keep it still as you try to buck up into her, the pain that made your head rush causing an involuntary response.

You can barely think, mumbling a few incoherent words before you finally get ahold of your tongue, ironing out how words are supposed to sound, something you had forgotten the moment Ellie pressed you against the wall of the bathroom at the bar in Jackson, and stuck one hand into your skirt, the other holding you in place against the wall.

“He didn’t-“ whimpering brings your words to a halt again as she thrusts a second finger into you, the wet sounds of your cunt welcoming the intrusion playing in your brain on a repeating tape. Blinking back into focus, your neck throbbing, you continue, “didn’t know we were t’gther el,” you pant, only making her grunt.

“He should have, everyone fuckin’ knows you’re my girl,” Ellie finished, eyes set on the fabric of the pretty skirt she had found you on a supply run moved with her hand at every press into your sopping folds. You are too blissed out to even notice the hand pull away from your hip and to thr pocket of her jeans. Nothing catches your attention until you hear the telltale sound of her blade flipping open, drawing a shiver from you.

It wasn't the first time Ellie had brought it out in times that were not exactly the most pure or needed, and flashes of the sharp tip pressing to the skin of your chest clouds your vision, sending you into a woozy memory. That night she had asked a million times if you were sure you wanted it, wanted the cool blade against your skin to tease, to nip at clothing threads. You had begged for it, claiming she could use it whenever she wanted.

Seemingly, she took that to heart.

“Guess they need a reminder, hm pretty girl?” Ellie questioned, skillfully curling her fingers in you as the other hand held the blade to the skin of your thigh that had been on display due to the bunched up skirt.

“I think you do too,” Ellie admits, pausing her fingers inside of you, smiling when you whine and bump your head against the wall in frustration. Your walls pulse around them, and you move your hips to find some relief. You squeeze again when the blade pushes gently into the fat of your thigh. Your girlfriend scoffs at that, mumbling a soft “whore,” under her breath before finding her way back to her original thought.

“You didn’t even turn him down,” She accuses, freckled cheeks moving as her jaw clicks at the memory of you at the bar, blushing a bright red as some new guy offered you a drink. Ellie had walked away one second, and the hungry wolves had already descended.

“I did El, I didn't answer him—“ you whine, trying to defend yourself, hoping it will get her fingers back to moving inside of you. You really didn’t give the man any mind, turning your head as you blushed at the straightforward remark he made. But it didn’t matter now, Ellie had made her mind up.

Ellie huffs in response, “No one else can have you, you know?” the blade drags down your skin, pressing enough to leave a scratch in its wake. A few beads of blood follow in its track, just enough to burn now, and turn into pretty red marks that would eventually fade later.

You feel the blade lift and turn, another sting follows, a new wave of wetness pooling around Ellie’s fingers at the ache. It should be embarrassing, how turned on you got from this. Ellie would surely point that out later when looking to paint your cheeks a pretty red.

When you look down and realize shes made a tiny “E” on the flesh of your thigh, your legs go completely weak, wobbling as your belly tightens. Your head spins at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to try and calm the way your eyes blur. She had carved her initial into you, left a personal mark on you. The bits of blood drip slightly, making you shiver.

“If someone else even tries to get between these thighs,” the blade is removed from your skin, tucked safely back into her pocket. “They’ll see who you belong to,” Ellie seeths, finger wiping to rid it of the bubbling redness, choking another whimper from you at the burn it brings.

The letter wouldn’t last longer than two weeks, but it still feels extremely permanent for you two, Ellie enamored by the branding on you, green eyes set firmly on the E for a long second before snapping back into it, your shaky breathing pulling her back in.

“My fuckin’ girl,” Ellie says every word with a push of her fingers into you, finally focusing on your needy center again.

“Yours, El,” you whine, hips moving with each thrust, pleasure pulling at all of your nerves, and shocking your whole body. Its only made to be better by the slight ache now on your thigh, paired with that of the soreness on your neck from all the marks.

“All yours.”

#rins reqs ❀. #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams

[crying-fantasies]

Love fantasy

Masterlist

It all started as a normal cycle, he swears on his spark that it was an innocent and normal cycle.

"I interfaced with one of the humans".

Until it wasn't.

No bot can verify the fact but all are equally flabbergasted at the statement, humans are still a novelty aboard, it has been only a few earth years since they arrived to the starship and while friendships and primitive market of products are normal to see nowadays it still doesn't stop one or two glass cubes from shattering against the floor of Swerve's or the high grade that has gone down the wrong pipe by the mere words formed by Fizzle's vox.

No bot asked, no one even knew, no one really noticed him gone from the ship or when he came back but now they all have their attention at him even when he simply said it to the bot next to him, but gossiping, no matter species, is a big deal among sentient beings.

"You're lying"

"No!", almost sensing the others receptor audials over him he can only try to cover his EMF as close to his frame as possible, spoiler coiled near to his armor in a display of nervousness, "it was- it was out of this world, okay? And- and then she was-"

"It was a human femme?!"

Again, some were at their seats end, some again chocking on their drinks, others feeling their fans activate, everybot has seen for themselves how soft humans are, and even heard from the same humans that some are most soft than others.

Human femmes- er, woman and alike, were supposed to be the peak of softness, even human primitive communication devices (porn and magazines) said so!

"Primus dammit- do you want everybot to hear about it?", oh yes, please say more was something resonating among the processors of the most curious in the theme and the most deviant of them that had also thought of some organic colleagues in such a way, of course, Fizzle didn't had to know, and in some way it was his fault to talk about such a thing like a sparkling sharing secrets in a public area when the Lost Light was so big.

"Okay, okay, go on, what did she do?", there was silence, one that preceded the proton storm while Fizzle's spoiler raised back again in excitement to remember the exchange.

"...she played with my wires and with my spark"

If the two bots didn't know they were being eavesdropped before now they knew after a few bots cracked their glasses full of energon at the mere mention of the interface related activity, making they almost scape even when some bots wanted to keep hearing and asked them to come back, because it was the discovery of the century, well, almost, but it was still of great interest nonetheless for most of them!

"Wow, that was crazy, huh, Roddy?", Drift tries to ignore the other bots still remaining in the bar and their obnoxiously loud fans, hardly covering the growing charge on their EMF and now heated frames trying to seem as undisturbed as possible.

Even Rodimus, who stops as hard as he can his cooling fans, servos being negated of the littlest possibility to even shake at how hard his spark is pulsing, "Uhum".

First of the questions running around his processor is who was it? Fizzle doesn't even have any game going on or perceived by his optics to be able to drag along another mech on his habsuit, let alone a human that knows nothing about interfacing, which get to the next question running wild in circles around his processor: can a human do sparkplay? The idea is impossible but it doesn't stop his imagination where, in fact, it seems more than possible with those little hands and fingers running wild on a bot's spark chamber, he remembers the humans being taught cybetronian medic techniques, how they were so focused in healing illness and it isn't so hard to change the purposes of the delicate and sometimes rough way those little hands made their way around a spark and all the sensitive wiring around.

He ask to himself if the human Fizzle was talking about were to be, by any chance, you.

And he negates it, scratches it, deletes as far as he can any trace of the mere idea of it because it will break his spark in million pieces would be improper in everyway.

It is also improper to remember it when he is next to you while you read a datapad about once living creatures of Cybertron, little finger moving the page once in a while in your hunger for more information that gets his optics focused on the way your eyes move along the light and the glyphs on the screen.

Will your curiosity also extent to other possibilities? He has seen you go "woah" and "ahh" over simple things like the subtle communication between frames with wings and spoilers or the fair quantity of differences of one frame to the other, the image of your face looking with interest whatever you're reading and how you take notes on your personal datapad, little fingers moving along and pressing different places in the sensible screen while showing your obvious interest, your possible awe over his bared spark in front of you.

It's almost too easy, he only needs to change a few things, his open spark chamber is now the source of light reflecting on your eyes, a perfect miniature mirror of your actions as your fingers touch the sensible glass cover of his spark, he can almost feel the electricity driving away to your body to his waiting spark that welcomes it with a tremor as hard as lightning that spreads to his whole frame in electric pleasure, wires tensing at the movement around and all the pressure, trying to make give accomodations to every little electric pulses your body can send to his most sensible component.

"Roddy"

It's way too real, way too hard, and it gets worse when your fingers get replaced with your soft looking lips and tongue, lapping above the connections before sliding to his tensed wires, making a wet trail to his spark while he debates internally in his own fantasy, he is supposed to concentrate, to not come undone or look because he is sure it would be JUST. SO. HOT.

"Rods"

It doesn't even end there, he can hear your voice along it, processor and cooling fans working overtime while he can only focus on the possibility, on the maybe that lingers above, it only takes so little to have you kiss with tongue his spark and he can't take it-

"Rodimus!" Oh, now, that's his designation, the fantasy is shattered in pieces and he soon realizes one of his digits is above his spark chamber, you are looking at him, maybe confused, obviously worried, it's enough to make him let go of the digit between his dentae and feeling his spike depressurize- "why are you so hot?", nevermind.

"... I'm hot?...", a wicked grin blended with happiness is forming on his faceplate as his words trail on slowly, almost as he is tasting it.

"I mean", you correct yourself, you really didn't need to, "heat is coming from your body, are you going flames on again? Are we under attack again?"

"What? Nah, just...", daydreaming about impossibilities, about a weak porn, like humans call it, without basis, heated romance and passion he isn't even sure you share with him, impossibilities that drag his bleeding spark over every movement and word of yours that he clings on with greedy servos, it's so embarrassing and he is sure he'll offline by pure mortification if you ever get a word about his attraction to you just to be faced by any degree of disgust coming from you, "it's getting cold in here, wouldn't want you to freeze those little fingers to dead", he doesn't even offer his servo but it is almost a natural response when he sees you approaching him with fear on your steps by any possibility of being another normal day aboard the Lost Light, he doesn't even stop and let's you settle on his lap like the security protocols indicated.

Fear washes away quickly when you register his words, there is curiosity on your eyes, looking between him and your hands, before finally look at him in the optics again, "Oh, didn't know you heard about the effects of excessive cold on the most distant phalanges, I mean, it's something that only happens while in extreme freezing conditions in harsh environments or controlled ones in closed lab experiments-"

Rodimus really didn't get what you were talking or the whole deal you were explaining to him, but seeing you feel secure next to him, taking seat above him showing the full confidence and trust you put on him while your hands move to explain your point, putting the warm palm against his armor from time to time.

"Everything you touch is bound to fail anyway", harsh words pang among his memory archives while he touches a side of yours to prevent a fall, but he silenced it, preferring the sound of your voice that now was about something called homeostasis.

He wouldn't trade this moment for anything, not when he offers you a digit and you hold it immediately, well, maybe a kiss if you could be generous enough, but he will get there soon, he hopes so.

.

I totally offer this one to @archie-sunshine and @pinkanonwrites by their glorious work of overheating and teasing Rodimus, I love it to the moon and back to hear about one of my faves even when he is mentally unstable and runs hot most of the time, it's his own charm, specially their newest works that relate to Roddy so much.

#reader insert #x reader #tf mtmte #transformers x reader #transformers #transformers idw #transformers x human reader #tf rodimus #rodimus x human reader #rodimus x reader #idw rodimus #rodimus prime #valveplug #sparkplay

[http-tokki]

bestfriend bkg tells you he can fuck you better that your shitty bf

omg YES YES YES!! also i’m so hungover omg

it’s your weekly catch up over dinner and movie and you’ve both picked something you’ve already watched so you can concentrate on the food and conversation at hand.

“so he stood you up?” katsuki asks around a mouthful of potato.

“yes but-“

“no buts. he said he would be there and he wasn’t” he swallows the food he was chewing. “he didn’t even realise until you pointed it out so it’s not like he turned up to your house instead of the restaurant. he didn’t show”

the intensity of his gaze has your cheeks heating and you looking away. “yeah but..”

the fork clatters to his plate. “what did i just say?”

“it’s different!!” your voice raises a bit. “he- we’ve… i don’t know. we’ve been through a lot. he… i don’t know Katsuki”

Bakugou mocks your incomplete sentences before spearing another potato. “Why are you still with him? and don’t give me anymore he-we-i. Give me a solid answer”

“I-“ you stop before anymore sounds of uncertainty leave your mouth.

“does he have a big dick?” katsuki asks.

“huh? what? why-“ the blush is your cheeks spreads to your neck.

“that’s the only reason I can think that you’re staying” he shrugs, setting his plate down on the table. “either he has a giant horse cock or he gives really good head. so which is it?”

you purse your lips, too embarrassed to give the real answer because your bf has neither. never once in your two years together had he made you cum but it wasn’t entirely his fault, you were on medication and it made it difficult and -

“so neither. wow honey, i’m disappointed”

“i never said -“

“but you didn’t answer so that said no”

you watch as katsuki stretches upwards, arms rising above his head which in turn lifts the bottom of his loose black tshirt, giving you a glimpse of the hard, toned skin that lay beneath. your attention is rapt, eyes glued to the sliver of skin, the small trail of hair leading towards the waistband of his sweats and as your mind wanders, you cheeks burn.

“has he ever made you cum?” katsuki ask bluntly.

“no” your answer is automatic.

“dude, what!” the confession has bakugou dropping his arms. “how are you still together?”

you roll your eyes at that and turn back to the plate of noodles in your hand. why did Katsuki have to look so good doing nothing? he was just stretching and you were drooling over a piece of skin! he is your best friend for fucks sake, pull it together.

“i bet i could make you cum”

huh!

“what?”

you feel the couch shift as bakugou moves closer. large hands slide over yours to move the plate to the table before the settle on either side of your hips. looking up your met with Katsuki’s gorgeous face inches from your own. vermilion eyes hazing over with lust as he shifts his body closer to yours. you can feel the heat of his skin, smell the spice body wash that he uses, taste the caramel of his lip balm, fuck he was too close.

“i can make you cum” katsuki repeats his earlier statement. “i wanna make you cum”

your eyes widen in shock. is this happening?

“do you want that?” he asks, waiting for your clear consent. “i need to hear you say you want it”

you nod. “yes, i want that”

one hand reaches up and grabs your jaw. fingers digging softly into your cheeks as he pulls your face towards his. “ask me to make you cum” the couch shifts again as katsuki settles his thighs on either side of yours. “say Katsuki, I want you to eat me out till I cream all over your face, please”

“I-“ words escape you as Bakugou ducks his head and presses a kiss to your neck.

“come on, pretty girl. use your words” he pushes your head up granting him more skin to kiss and bite and suck.

“ ‘Suki, please I wanna-“ you gasp as he bites down. “katsuki- please” your hands slide into his hair, tugging on the blonde strands as he works his way lower, tongue laving over your pulse point.

“can i eat you out, baby?” his question is whispered.

“yes, katsuki, yes. please”

#katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki imagine #katsuki x fem!reader #bakugou x reader smut #bakugou katsuki x reader smit #bakugou katsuki smut

[confiscatedpeaches]

A Pathetic Crush, William Afton x afab Reader

Confessing your feelings for your boss didn't turn out as good as you expected, or did it?

Minors DNI. TW: smut, verbal abuse, noncon/manipulation, SA, implied age-gap, generally not a good time for the reader. Reader is assumed to be 18+

You wait outside his office door, heart beating in your throat. Today is the day, you're finally going to reveal your feelings for your boss. Over the last couple of months you seem to have gotten pretty close to him, even making him laugh a couple of times. He always seemed like such a sweetheart, always kind and considerate towards you.

Late for work because somebody hit your car? "No worries love", have to call in sick last minute? "That's alright darling, I can find someone to cover for you." The pet names were a huge plus, especially with his accent. He never seemed to use them with any of your coworkers either. Maybe he feels something special for you as well?

A few moments pass, could he have not heard your knocking? He is always so busy, you pray you aren't bothering him. You raise your hand to knock again when the door opens.

"Oh hello love, come in, come in."

He gestures you inside before closing the door behind him. You turn to face him. He smiles sweetly and tilts his head.

"What brings you to my office darling?" He asks.

You can feel your pulse quicken.

"Well, honestly Mr. Afton I have something to tell you." You answer.

Your hands are clasped in front of your chest, your fingers turning white from being held so tight. This is your big moment, you finally get to say it.

"Well get on with it doll." He says.

You clear your throat.

"Look I really don't know how to say this, I have been trying to tell you for months now, but I have feelings for you."

His smile remains plastered across his face, but his eyes gain an intensity to them.

"Wow, you really think I'd go out with someone as worthless as you? You're barely worth a quick fuck."

You freeze, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. How could he say something like that? You thought you were friends, maybe something more. You hic, trying to suppress the tears that are now rolling down your cheeks. Who is this man?

"I.. am sorry?" You ask.

"Oh don't be sorry, I'm just surprised you had the gall to actually vocalize your feelings."

You look around, trying to find a way out of this situation, but his tall figure is blocking the only exit.

"I, uh... I don't know what to say."

He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Show me how much you want me darling, don't make me fire you now. I know you really need this job."

What? He's right, but how could he be doing this to you right now?

"Are you daft? Did you not hear me? Get on your fucking knees and beg."

The sudden raising of his voice scared you. Not knowing what to do, you drop to your knees.

"Good bunny. Now, beg."

You look down at the ground. Are you really going to beg? Of course you are, what else could you do?

"I... please.. I like you.. please."

His hand grabs your face, tilting it up towards him.

"Eyes on me love, and try a little harder. Gotta' stay employed right?"

You look up at him. His face twisted into a wicked grin staring down at you. You can feel how erect he is through the thin fabric of his pants.

"Please, I want you... to fuck me.. please."

He groans, petting your head with his hand. It feels so good to please him. You feel your panties becoming wet with slick.

"Mmm, good bunny... say more for me.""

"I.. I want to suck your cock... please... I'll do a good job."

You swallow hard. A mix of embarrassment and pleasure swirls within you. He lets go of your head and unzips his pants. He pulls down his underwear and lets out his fully erect cock. The tip is already wet with precum. The light from the window glistens on it.

"Go on then."

You pause and he smacks you with his erection.

"I said suck. You wanted this right? You little whore."

You place your hand on his cock and begin stroking. You part your lips and slide his member into your mouth. Tongue caressing his head, you notice how salty and warm he tastes. He tastes so good, you let out a small moan.

"You're so pathetic, you can't even suck dick right. Let me show you how to do it."

He grabs the sides of your head before forcing his cock further into your throat, making you gag and jolt. He's so massive, you aren't even sure how you're doing this right now. You feel the tip of his member hit the back of your throat, causing it to tighten. He groans and moans as he thrusts into you.

"God yes... good, fucking, bunny... mmmphh."

His hips smash into your lips over and over. The sound of slapping and the smell of sweat, hormones, and humidity fills the room. At first you remain tense. Part of you wishes to resist him, but eventually you relax and give in. It feels so wrong, but so good. You wish you could stay like this forever. Pleasing him feels wonderful, like you were made to bring him pleasure. You feel like he has broken you somehow, used your libido against you. Made you truly his one and only toy.

"Good, just relax. You're loving this aren't you? Pathetic slut, moaning on my cock."

His grunts intensify. He thrusts faster and faster with each sound he makes. You taste a large warm salty release as his seed begins spilling down your throat.

"Swallow, all of it."

You do as he asks and savor each drop. Your throat, freshly fucked raw, greedily takes his cum. His cock throbs inside you.

Once satisfied, he pulls out of you. Your jaw hurts and misses his absence. He lets out a huff.

"Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully okay? I expect you to be in my office after your shift every week, without panties, ready for me to fuck the life out of you. Understand?"

You nod. Feeling happy and full of him, you finally got what you wanted.

#william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf x reader #william afton x you #fnaf smut

[concussed-to-pieces]

Wolves At The Door; Part Four

Fandom: Resident Evil [Village]

Pairing: Eventual Karl Heisenberg/AFAB!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: "I…would you come to bed with me?"

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to our fourth installment! It’s good to be back. Enjoy!

Tag List: @cookiethewriter @amneris21 @topgirl17 @vodkafolie @a-smol-witch @clockworkmidnight @calwitch @silver-quinn01 @velvet-paradox @hijackser @mrs-wolfwood @nonstop-haikyuu @mic-sunderland @somethingthatsaysbubbles @fullofmoonsandstars @stargazerofgoldenwords @imthegreenfairy86 @karlskitten @nitrogennightmare @chunnies @thirstworldproblemss @tartimaar-bloggeth @thesmartbiscuit

Prelude

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains mentions of blood, canon-typical violence and depictions of mental duress. Stay safe!]

It wasn't a question of whether he was going to heal, he would be fine. The cadou saw to that. The question was more along the lines of whether you would even tolerate him. You had, bare minimum, let him clean the scrape on your shin, but the whole time he cradled your leg he could feel your calf was as tense as a coiled spring. You were insanely lucky to have gotten away from the lycans mostly unscathed, a fact that you voiced before he could. 

Heisenberg had to confess, he had not a clue how he had managed to catch that big bastard before it bit you. Maybe he had, in a desperate moment of stress-induced hysteria, somehow grappled with the entire planet's magnetic fields and halted time for a millisecond. 

Because that's how that works, right? He thought dryly.

You really ought to be dead. Shit, he ought to be dead a few times over.

Karl sighed as he turned this way and that, examining the back of his leg in the mirror of your cramped-but-empty closet. The skin was essentially healed, the only evidence of recent trauma some mild swelling and redness. As for his hand the…venom? Infection? Hyper gangrene? He was never quite sure what to label the effect the various anti-mold measures had, but whatever it was had also receded, so at least his arm's veins didn't look like a roadmap of Stockholm anymore. The back of his hand bore some slight discoloration and tingled a little, but if that was the price to pay for shoving his fist into a lycan's jaws then so be it.

You knocked on the closet door. "Come in," the man called, shifting back from the door so you could actually get it open. "Was just surveying the damage." 

"How does it look?" You asked cautiously. 

Heisenberg shrugged, tugging the leg of his pants back up so you could inspect the area. Truthfully he was a little surprised that you even wanted to know. "Not bad, considering how it looked earlier today."

"Wow, how the fuck-" Karl hadn't expected you to touch him and he nearly jumped out of his skin when you did, your fingers grazing the back of his thigh. You didn't seem to notice his reaction, carrying on to voice your disbelief further. "Hey, if you heal this quick then what the hell was I doing marinating you with that stuff from the Duke for months?"

"I don't really know." Karl admitted. He'd been thinking about that himself. "Maybe it's because I didn't really…remember that I could? Like a mind over matter kind of thing."

"Or you just liked having someone take care of you." You teased, going to leave the closet space. 

Karl moved before he thought about it, grabbing your wrist. You paused, looking at him curiously. Now that he had you here, though, Heisenberg didn't have any idea what he was going to do. And so, in an antiquated gesture, the man raised your hand to his mouth and touched a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Thanks for everything, sugar." He said it quietly, sincerely.

It was a little gratifying to feel how your pulse quickened beneath his fingers even while you waved off his thanks.

…

You stood in the doorway of your room, nervous hands worrying at the hem of your shirt while you tried to convince yourself that this wasn't a big deal and you could just go to sleep.

You'd been trying to sleep, that was the issue. You'd laid there for hours. It was nearly three am and you were still awake, your mind refusing to rest as it turned the events of the day over and over in a ceaseless loop.

You sprinting across the yard, you holding the knife, securing that last talisman, getting knocked down by the lycan-

Over and over, over and over. What if Karl hadn't been there, what if something different had happened, what if he had been too late? 

Then, what if I had refused to help? That thought gave you pause, recalling the distress on Karl's face while he yelled, "if something gets you because I'm out of it-!"

What did he mean by that? He hadn't finished the sentence, and there hadn't exactly been an opportunity to ask questions. Had he meant to imply that something 'getting' you would cause him grief? Was he just irritated that you had been reluctant to let him near? 

Over and over.

"Karl?" You whispered into the living room, feeling a little foolish. He was probably passed out, not a care in the world. 

"By the door," you heard to your surprise. "Can't sleep either?"

You groped forward through the dark, your eyes slowly adjusting enough for you to see Karl's tall silhouette leaning against the storm door. He appeared to be watching the rainfall and you noticed he was actually resting his weight on the staff you had made for him. 

"How'd you tell?" You asked, not really expecting an answer. 

He chuckled dryly. "You're awake and out here. I know, it's a bold assumption to make."

"Oh ha ha." You stuck your tongue out at him. "You're just a card, Heisenberg."

"That's Lord Heisenberg to you." He teased back, and you caught the faint flash of a grin. "What's on your mind?"

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. "Is it dumb to say 'everything'? I mean, I've never been afraid of being dumb, but…well, today was a lot."

"It was." After that incredibly helpful response, Karl went quiet. 

You continued tentatively, "it was almost like…like you were someone else back there." 

The quiet stretched on and on. You weren't sure if he would even bother to answer you so you resigned yourself to watching the rain. Off in the distance towards the mountains thunder rolled, heralding another fall storm brewing.

"The human mind isn't designed to take on so much trauma and stress, not all in one go. I had to–my body had to…change. Drastically. And once my brain reached its limit, it just…closed off everything in an attempt to prevent more damage." Karl exhaled heavily. "At least, that's what I figure happened to me, why I was…why I'd forgotten almost everything." You felt more than saw him tilt his head. "There's a lot of bad memories in here. Ugly stuff. Painful stuff. Things done to me, things I was driven to, but also things I did of my own free will. A lot to…come to terms with." 

"So you've remembered everything, then?" You weren't sure why exactly sadness was your most prevalent emotion, but after a moment you figured it out. He has no reason to stay. He had been waiting for the Duke's return, and now that he had what he was looking for…

"Not quite." Karl suddenly sounded exhausted. "Enough to fill in some of the gaps."

You dropped your hands, fingers back to yanking at the hem of your shirt. 

"I…would you come to bed with me?"

…

Heisenberg blinked down at you, stunned silent at this, frankly, out of character request. You continued your anxious fiddling, your own eyes fixed on the doorway.

"I'm sorry, I just–after today, I don't want to be alone in the dark, that's all." You tried to clarify, and Karl felt like a bastard when his heart sank a little. But…

He could live with innocent intentions, free of calculation and subterfuge. "Buy me dinner first, sugar." The man joked, hoping that it was too dim for you to have noticed the flicker of disappointment that must have crossed his face. He clapped you on the shoulder, feeling how tense you were through that touch. "Let me pick up my blanket. I'll meet you in there."

Karl's legs were leaden. It was a short eternity before he reached his cot, and even longer before he mustered up the courage to grab the bedding he had claimed he needed. Instead of rushing to your room, the man pressed his hands into the blanket, resting his weight on the cot. Shit.

Shit shit shit. 

Karl inhaled a bracing gulp of air, a flash of lightning casting a huge shadow up on the wall in front of him. The real tempest was coming fast, it would seem. He returned to the doorway, latching the storm door shut and then gently closing over the inside panel so he could lock it. That task accomplished, he moved to the sink to crank closed the window beside it. The rest of the windows had been locked earlier, the two of you having nervously checked and double checked them several times before darkness fell. 

Nothing left now but the hard part, Karl thought, loathing the dread that flooded his body. It wasn't even aimed at you for fuck's sake! He just didn't trust himself, that's all. But he could behave. He would behave. For you. For the version of himself that he had gotten a taste of, that you believed in, a gentler, safer Heisenberg.

You were still upright in your bed, the room nearly pitch black. Karl was only able to pick out the whiteness of your undershirt, hovering ghostly over the covers. "Hey sugar," he murmured, trying to keep his tone light. "Where do you want me?" 

"Just hop in wherever, we can figure out logistics later," was your curt reply. Lightning flashed again, allowing Karl to make his way to the edge of the bed unscathed, where he sat to unbuckle his boots and shuck them off. When he laid down, his leg brushed up against yours. 

You were stiff as a board beside him, your arms at your sides and hands clenched into fists. "Do you…uh…" Heisenberg propped himself up on one elbow, extending his other arm out. He wasn't exactly certain how to say it, but after a moment you slid yourself closer and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you turned into his embrace. You seemed oddly cold, your body even shivering slightly, so Karl began rubbing your back with firm, even strokes in an attempt to warm you. Must be the adrenal dump. They've had a hell of a day.

"I can't stop thinking about that thing." You confessed after a time, your voice muffled by his chest. Heisenberg hummed in acknowledgement. "I just…it was so big and I felt–I felt totally hopeless. Like I was alone and it getting me was inevitable." You dug your face in even deeper. Karl could feel the chill of your nose through his borrowed shirt. "Not much in this forest scares me."

"You're alright." Karl murmured in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "Nothing's gonna' touch you while I'm here."

"Yeah. While you're here." You echoed, sounding a little nasally. "But when you leave, I-" Thunder interrupted you and Karl felt you heave an annoyed breath out against his chest. 

He had to wait out the rumble of thunder before challenging, "Who said I'm leaving? Do you want me to leave?"

"No." Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt. "No, I really don't. And that's scary too."

Heisenberg, after having endured Miranda for so many years, was well accustomed to the emotional confusion that could occur when things got murky. He'd been called precious and strong and smart enough times to never again believe that those words were said in sincerity. My wonderful, powerful son. "You wanting me around is scary to you?" You nodded mutely against his chest. "And why's that, I wonder?" The man continued lazily, his fingers smoothing down the back of your neck.

"I don't trust myself not to do something stupid," was your blunt response. Karl had always appreciated a candid approach. "I don't want you to leave. I…I enjoy your company."

"Is that so?" Karl mused, doing his best to keep his tone light, teasing. "That hit to the head must have really rattled you, sugar. Saying all this…s'pretty bold, even for you."

"I know, dammit," you growled, "and don't make fun of me. I'm exhausted and terrified."

"Close your eyes, then. I can feel you staring."

"They've been closed!" You caught one of his hands, yanking it clumsily to jam his palm against your cheek. Karl felt the momentary brush of your lashes against his thumb. "See? Closed!"

"Excuse the slander," he chuckled, sweeping his thumb beneath your eye. "You must be tired to be this touchy-feely with me." You flinched, your arms stiffening, and Karl returned his hand to the back of your neck. "Easy now overthinker, I didn't say it was a bad thing." He whispered, his cheek now resting against your own while his mouth pressed to the shell of your ear. "As long as you don't think it's a bad thing, you can be just as…demanding as you need to be. Let me be your distraction, sugar."

…

You gasped before you could stop yourself and you hoped Karl didn't notice how warm your face had suddenly gotten. That hope appeared to be in vain, because a soft chuckle issued hotly against your ear.

"Interested in the proposition, sugar? I'll behave, I promise." Heisenberg murmured, continuing, "After all, you've tamed me, right?"

"I didn't say that!" You protested hastily, wondering if he was offended. "That was all the Duke, you can't pin that on me."

"Listen, I…" Karl paused. "I don't want you thinking that I'm just in bed with you to get my dick wet. This is all very spur-of-the-moment, even for me. We've had a hell of a day, and I–I don't know a lot of effective ways to cope. You say no and we stop this entire conversation."

Dick wet. Jesus. Jesus. It was unfair how attractive that sounded, considering how crude the sentiment actually was. But him saying it like that, his voice husky and earnest…

"What do you want to do?" You asked, proud that your words didn't shake. 

"Kiss you."

"Only that?"

"Yeah." Karl huffed out an exasperated breath. "I'm tired, sugar."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. "No no, I didn't mean it like that! I've just had other people try to do things that I wasn't ready to do. I'm not complaining, I promise."

Karl rumbled, the noise merging with the thunder that echoed outside. "Only that." He stated firmly.

"What do you want me t-"

"Just lay there and enjoy it." Heisenberg tipped your chin upwards, his mouth meeting yours. "Just relax." He breathed, gently nipping your lower lip.

You slid your hands into his hair, cradling the back of his head. You were working mostly blind, so there was a little fumbling on your part when you guided his mouth back to yours. Karl snickered at the bump of your nose against his cheek, but let himself be moved around. For your part you felt yourself slowly, slowly start to relax, the tension you had been holding in your lower back since the fracas earlier finally loosening as the seconds turned into minutes.

You liked kissing him, you had to admit. Not that there was anything wrong with that in the first place! This was, after all, just a mutually beneficial act between two people who had endured something, frankly, insane. He was offering comfort in (apparently) one of the few ways he knew how, and you appreciated his consideration. 

The rain hitting the roof began to pick up in intensity.

"Thank you," you sighed, then giggled when his facial hair tickled your cheek. You felt Heisenberg pause, the man seeming to hover over you momentarily. On either side of you, his hands balled up in the quilt. 

"Don't." The word was so low you almost didn't hear it, but he repeated it a second later. "Don't." His voice was deadly serious. "You…deserve a lot better than this, sugar. Don't settle for it just because you're scared or lonely."

"I can still be grateful." You replied softly, hearing him huff out an exasperated breath. "Oh be quiet, you're such a nerd. This means more to me than you'd ever believe, so let me enjoy it."

…

You eventually fell asleep to the lullaby of the rain and thunder, but Karl had no such luck. He laid awake until the somber gray of dawn, his mind uneasy with jumbled, disjointed thoughts. 

I could. They would let me. He shoved that particular thought away. There was no point to it. He had offered this as a one-off thing, a way to ease your nerves. His own as well, if he was being entirely honest. Karl had been thoroughly rattled by the day's events. Regaining the majority of his memories in a mad dash, mere moments before having to literally fight for his life, for your life…it had been a long, stressful, exhausting day. 

But it was over now. He could rest, for the moment anyway. He was safe. You were safe. 

So why the hell did he feel like he had started something he couldn't finish?! Why had giving you a few simple kisses ignited some low, persistent ache in his gut? Even now, hours later, his body throbbed and he was extremely, intensely aware of your presence inches from him. Not in the usual way, the amplification of his senses via the cadou, the predator chase. A different way. Softer and yet…sharper, a blade that cut without pain.

Karl had the strangest feeling that this could kill him. You could kill him. He wasn't even certain how, but the surety left no room for debate. Something about you was deadly to him.

The odd part was that he couldn't really bring himself to care. Karl had stared down the gaping maw of death more times than he could count and he had always relished the triumph of overcoming the ensuing carnage. This was no different, for all its lack of obvious threat. He would either be victorious, or fall headfirst into whatever snare had been laid. 

His eyes grew heavier the longer he thought, and at some point he ended up drifting off to sleep.

And he dreamed.

He dreamed of the fight with Ethan, the rain and distant thunder echoing from the waking world. He dreamed of the Duke leaning over him, none of his words making any damn sense. Then, he dreamed of you.

You, binding his wounds and nursing him with calloused hands. You, words always full of your dry wit even as you ceaselessly worked. You, beneath the tree, looking up at him with the shadow of a smile still on your lips–

Heisenberg jerked awake, horrified.

Oh no.

Oh fuck no.

…

Karl was in an absolutely terrible mood, not that you could blame him! He had dealt with a lot, he deserved a day to sulk and lick his proverbial wounds. You also guessed he hadn't gotten much rest, and you felt a little guilty over sleeping so well beside him.

He had three outbursts of varying degrees before you finally shooed him outside, telling him to walk the fenceline until he cooled off. "Go take a nap next to the river!" You suggested. "I always enjoy the peace there."

Heisenberg stomped down the porch steps, his hands jammed in his pockets. "Gonna' go check the snares." He said brusquely, as if you hadn't spoken at all. "See if we have dinner." 

"Alright!" was your cheerful reply, which made him mutter something under his breath before he was out of earshot.

Once he made it to the fenceline however, you dove into your lower cabinets, searching through your preserve jars until you located one that said 'apple'. It had been too long since you had made a plum spice cake, and (fingers crossed) the rare treat would perk up your long-term houseguest. The recipe had needed a bit of tweaking, but you knew it by heart at this point. It was always better with fresh plums, and you substituted out the eggs for applesauce. The tricky part was the sugar, since year to year you weren't sure if you would have it on hand. Worst case, you had just skipped it before and layered the cake with preserves instead. Luckily for you, this particular time you still had a little lump of brown sugar sitting in your sealed container, a tiny victory in and of itself.

Your streak of good luck persisted when you located an unexpected, unopened jar of lard mixed in with the preserves, and you performed a little hop of glee upon realizing it hadn't been simply opened and forgotten about. That would ensure the cake wouldn't stick to the pan! A mild annoyance, maybe, but you wanted this to be perfect. Karl deserved as much, and you did as well. 

After hoisting your flour container out from beneath the counter, you sussed out your measuring cups and the lone large bowl, then got to work.

Part Five

#karl heisenberg #lord karl heisenberg #eventual romance #fix it fic #au #resident evil #re 8 #re 8 village #resident evil village #resident evil karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine #re 8 karl heisenberg #slow burn #canon typical violence #a little kith

[impala-dreamer]

Showing You Off

~A casual zoom call with his buddy is the perfect place for Jeff to show you off...~

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader, Jensen Ackles

1,282 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Exhibitionism. Voyeurism.  Fingering. Masturbation. Yumminess

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works  ~  Buy Me A Coffee  ~  Feedback is Gold

Jeffrey was laughing so loudly that you couldn’t help but smile and sneak a peek. He’d been on a zoom call for over an hour, and while you weren’t sure with whom, the laughter was giving away a few clues.

The door creaked open and hazel eyes shot your way, framed by dark, thickly rimmed glasses and smile lines. He opened his hand your way, beckoning you over. “Come ‘ere, babydoll. Come say hi.”

Caught and exposed, a rush of warmth took over, flooding down through your body. Sneaking was not your strongest skill. Biting your lip, you moved to join him on the couch, but Jeff patted his knee instead. You perched and he kissed your cheek.

Jensen waved from the screen, his beard and hair a mess, eyes joyful. “Hey, Y/N/N.”

It had been forever since you’d seen him except on random social media posts. He looked good, happy. “Hey, how are ya?”

He smiled. “Can’t complain.”

“You look like a monster with that beard.”

He blushed; the apples of his cheeks turning bright pink as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know.” He scratched at his beard and shook his head. “It sucks.”

Jeff lay a hand on your knee. “Not that bad, brother,” he told Jensen. “Come on over and I’ll take the clippers to ya. Sheer you like one of the sheep.”

Jensen’s laugh was instant and beautiful, lighting up his entire face while shaking his shoulders. You couldn’t help but join in, watching the glee on his handsome face.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, calming down a bit. “I’ll think about it.” Jensen ran a hand down over his lips, his eyes clearly dragging over your bare legs. The shorts you wore were loose and short; just something to lay around the house in. You hadn’t really expected company, online or otherwise. “But you two,” Jensen continued, tongue grazing over his bottom lip, “you two are looking good. ‘Specially you, Y/N/N.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Just lazing about today.”

Green eyes narrowed. “Well, you look great to me.”

Jeff wrapped a possessive arm around your shoulder, his big hand hovering above the hem of your tank top. “She does, doesn’t she?” He leaned in and kissed the sweet spot right behind your ear and a shiver lit your spine.

“Babe,” you laughed, looking from Jensen to Jeff, “stop it.”

Jeff licked his lips and dipped his chin, eyeing you over his glasses. Distracted by the incredible gleam in his eyes, you didn’t feel his hand snake up to cup your cheek, and suddenly he was kissing you hard, dipping his hot tongue between your lips. You melted into him, moaning deeply as he breathed into you.

Jensen sucked in a heavy breath and your heart skipped.

“Jeff!” You swatted him away, the spell broken by Jensen’s presence.

“Hey, don’t stop on my account,” Jensen teased, holding up his palms in surrender.

The devil lingered in Jeff’s eyes and he grabbed your chin between two work-hardened fingers, holding your gaze. “See? He don’t mind.” His fingers dropped down to cup your breast and your body stiffened. “Do you, Jensen?”

“Not one bit.”

Jeff squeezed your tit until your jaw dropped, silently moaning for more. You fell back against his chest, head rolling to rest on his firm shoulder. He pinched your nipple and you gasped, eyes flying to Jensen’s on screen.

“See? He likes it.” Jeff’s whisper was hot in your ear and your eyes rolled just a touch. His right hand slid slowly up your thigh and goosebumps followed. Anticipation, fear, desire, excitement, they all pulsed through your veins and as Jeffrey’s hand moved closer to your sex, you arched your back lifting yourself and rolling your hips gently.

Jensen chewed his lip. “Wow.” He watched closely, leaning in, eyes locked to your face as Jeff began to gently stroke your pussy. The pressure through your clothes was too weak and you whimpered, begging him for more.

“Please…”

Jeff smiled against your throat and looked at his friend. “Love it when she begs.”

Jensen nodded, jaw slack with wonder. “It’s… fuckin’ beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Jeff agreed proudly. “She sure is.”

Dragging his left hand upwards, Jeff tucked your tank top in on itself, exposing your tits for the camera. You heard Jensen whistle softly and your nipples tingled, hardening under such appreciative attention.

“Mmm, fuck.”

They both grinned.

You bucked your hips against his hand, needing more.

“She’s all revved up, Jay. Look at that.”

Jeff’s gruff voice, the way he spoke over you as if you weren’t listening, it was all too delicious, but one look at Jensen, his eyes wide as he watched you squirm, was enough to drive you crazy.

Jensen cleared his throat. “Bet she’s all wet,” he said, teeth digging into his plump lip. “She get nice and wet for you?”

Jeffrey chuckled. “Oh, brother, she does.” To demonstrate, he slipped his fingers into your shorts and pressed his hand firmly against your cunt. The world fell out of focus for a second as his middle finger eased into you, guided by the slick pulse of your body.

“Jesus, fuck!”

“Oh, so fucking wet,” Jeff announced, pumping his hand nice and slow. He added another finger and you gasped, pushing backwards against him, your heart racing, eyes glued to the screen.

Jensen dropped a hand below the desk and sat back a bit, never once lifting his eyes from you.

“Please, baby,” you whined, breath ragged as Jeff thumbed your clit.

He leaned forward and bit down on your collarbone, twisted your nipple hard, arched his hand to curl deep inside. “You like this?” he grit, “Showing Jensen how nice you look cumming for me?”

The idea hadn’t even really sunk in, but there it was: the building pressure, the tightness, the ache.

“Yes... fuck. Please. Please, I wanna cum.” Your head fell back and you closed your eyes, feeling the orgasm grow. You were so close. You held your breath. Your thighs shook.

“Look at him,” Jeffrey growled, pumping his hand faster and dropping the other to rub at your clit. “Look at him as you cum.”

Your chin dropped and your eyes met Jensen’s through the screen. He was red faced and huffing, arm moving rapidly, hand lost beneath the camera’s view. His lips parted, shoulders turned inwards. He pressed his tongue between his teeth and your body shook, every inch of you contracting and relaxing as the pleasure burst.

Jensen groaned loudly and shuddered, his hand slowing to a snail’s pace.

His eyes never left your face.

Your cunt dripped, warm and slick onto Jeffrey’s hand.

“There’s my girl,” he praised; his whisper hot on your cheek. He kissed you gently and pulled his hands free. “Feel good?”

You nodded breathlessly and grabbed his fingers, dragging them up to your mouth to suck clean. “Yeah…”

Jensen exhaled deeply and sat back, running his left hand back through his hair. “Well, fuck me…”

Jeff laughed and your mind swam with ideas.

“Maybe next time you’re in town,” he said, grinning like a fool. His cock was hard, pressing against your ass, throbbing more with every pass of your lips over his fingers. “For now…” He pulled his hand from your mouth and leaned over, closer to the screen. “...I’ll say goodbye. I’ve gotta finish up here.” He winked and you bit your tongue, reaching around to cup his balls.

Jensen shook his head in awe and gave a little salute to you both. “Enjoy.”

“Oh, I will,” Jeff smirked, nipping at your ear. “I will.”

2022 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@aditimukul @agirlwithdemonblood @amanda-teaches @akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart  @b3autyfuldisast3r @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @because-imma-lady-assface @charred-angelwings @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @deanwinchesterswitch @deansyahtzee @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @idreamofdeanie @ilsawasanacrobat @impalaspixie @jawritter @justcallmeasmodeus @kazsrm67 @kittenofdoomage @lovealways-j @lyarr24 @mariekoukie6661 @mistressofallthingsgeeky @pandaxo79 @peachy-vans @samwellwinchesterthebrave @sexyvixen7 @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-wounded-healer05 @thoughts-and-funnies @vulgar-library

#spn fanfiction #spn rpf #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jensen ackles x reader #one shot

[lunchmeat-supreme]

Oh god wow I really enjoyed the Stan fic and how you portrayed him and the reader!! The pacing also felt super natural aaaaahhhh<33

Could I request hcs for Kyle (in hs) where reader is kinda like a spiderman for the town? Reader and Kyle are already friends but reader (as their superhero self) goes to Kyle for help with intel and stuff and is kinda flirty w him kinda like a chat noir type beat. And then there’s some attack on the town (maybe Leslie with some big robots or something) and Kyle gets hurt trying to protect reader while they’re in their superhero form and then reader gets mad at him for it and slips up and reveals their identity to him? Sorry if this is too specific haha take your time!!

OMG ANON I LOVE THIS

i love the idea of kyle being the guy in the chair for the reader lol like he totally would be. i debated on whether or not to have kyle be the human kite, but i decided against it because i feel like the idea is so much better with him just being some guy.

i originally planned to write a little drabble bc this gave me hella inspiration but that drabble turned into basically a oneshot oops so thats why the hc section is so short.

hope you enjoy this one :)

Out of the Chair

Kyle Broflovski x Superhero!Reader

Summary: By day, Kyle's a regular guy. By night, he's still a regular guy. Sometimes he's a valuable sidekick to you, the town's local superhero. Today, however, he gets swept into the action in the worst way.

Warnings: Mentioned injury

A/N: I honestly had no idea how to end this so shhhh

Okay, so Kyle being your “guy in the chair” totally inflates his ego and makes him feel soooo important.

He knows he can’t say anything about it to any of his friends (He likes feeling like he also has a secret identity) so sometimes he nearly explodes from trying not to tell them that he’s basically a sidekick to the town-famous superhero.

This is especially true when he’s around you (when you’re out of your superhero persona). He’ll ask what you were up to the other night, and when you lie and say “oh, not much,” he’ll stretch his arms out real wide and be like “Hm, yep, me too, just an ordinary night for ol’ Kyle here.”

He’s so bad at playing it cool lol

Every night he waits by his window for you like a kid looking to catch a glimpse of Santa on Christmas Eve.

When he sees your dark shadow in his window overtake the moon, he’ll scramble to sit in his bed or at his computer all cool like he totally wasn’t watching for you and hoping he’d see you.

It smells strongly of AXE and hair spray every time you sneak into his room, looking for intel on the latest neighborhood bad guy.

Kyle’s had straight A’s in English since elementary school, so that’s why you chose him as your go-to research guy. He’s great at organization and gleaning the most useful information from bloated, ad-riddled internet news articles.

He gives you his findings, and when you tell him a simple, “Good job, Red,” and pat his shoulder, he gives meaning to the nickname.

“Oh– yeah–” *nervous laugh* “it’s, uh, it’s– yeah. Anything for you– UH– anything for the town…” *more nervous laughing. And sweating. Lots of sweating.*

Bro is smitten

---

“Kyle?” You press a finger against your earpiece as you slam the bathroom stall shut. “Kyle, do you copy?”

A voice sizzles through the ear bud. “Yeah, I copy. What’s happening?”

You toss your backpack off your shoulder. “That’s what I need you to find out. Get to a computer ASAP. Tell me what’s going on.”

“The computer lab’s just down the hall. I’ll be there in a sec.”

You start to shimmy out of your clothes, trying to kick off your pants and pull your shirt over your head at the same time. There’s a rustling sound on the other end of your piece. You can hear muffled voices on his end, a jumble of noise talking loudly about something. Then, there’s a bang, and the background noise goes silent. After a few seconds of albeit unnerving silence, the comforting ca-chunking of an old mechanical keyboard rhythmically pulses in your ear.

“Tell me what you got, Broflovski.” You stuff the heap of clothes into your backpack and pull out a hefty, full-body concealing outfit with a flashy design that you came up with yourself.

There are a few clicks from the other end and a contemplating hum. “Some of my classmates caught it on camera. I can’t quite tell what it is…” there are a few soft thumps — most likely his thumbs on his phone’s screen — and then, a small gasp.

“What?” You pull on your outfit, fingers fumbling with the clasps and latches that decorate it.

“Leslie?!” He says the name like you’re supposed to recognize it.

You have to pause from lacing up your boots. “Who?”

The stunned moment of silence passes. “This weird kid — well, not really a kid, I guess — who showed up when I was, like, ten. She’s a living advertisement. I thought we killed her back then…?”

You don’t have time to question what the hell a living advertisement is. You finish the last bunny knot on your boot and kick open the stall door. Pulling a mask down onto your face, you leave your backpack and push the heavy bathroom door open to the halls of your high school. Confused students are shouting at one another and stumbling away from where they had just seen an innocent looking little girl rip the school's front door off its hinges. Thankfully, they’re too caught up in the panic to notice your entrance. You swim upriver through the pack, pushing aside students as you press your finger to your ear.

“What am I dealing with here?” you shout.

“Ads,” Kyle says quickly. “She can interrupt any sort of frequency — TV, internet, radio — and insert ads into it.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It can be very distracting, but it also makes it easy to track her. She has her own IP address.”

The crowd begins to thin out as you reach the stairwell. You slide down the rail and continue to run, double tapping your earpiece as a holographic interface appears in front of you. A red dot sits on the interface – a ping of her location. She’s in the school, approaching the science wing.

“Anything else? Any sort of weaknesses?”

“Punching a hole through her head should do the trick,” Kyle says matter-of-factly.

“Morbid. What about upgrades? You said you already killed her. Whatever created her must’ve updated the code.”

“On it.”

You turn the corner, the science wing in sight. There’s a flash of yellow, and you can hear light footsteps tapping down the hall. You yell after the flash, hoping to slow it down, but it disappears behind the door without so much as a glance your way. You sprint down the hallway and barrel into the door, catching another wisp of yellow and a fan of shiny raven hair bolting away.

Kyle’s voice crackles in through the earpiece. “I’ve got something.”

“Shoot,” you say, as measured as you can be while in hot pursuit of a girl half your height.

“There’s been several instances of explosions in and around South Park the past couple days. Looks like mostly at tech firms and labs.”

Rounding another corner, you catch a clear glimpse of the little girl, Leslie. She’s slowed down considerably, looking at each door as she passes them.

“You think it’s from her?”

Leslie does a double take at one door, then stops completely. She throws it open, and the door goes flying in your direction. You weave out of the way, feeling the breeze from the force, and skid to a halt. You clench your fists and square your shoulders.

“Yeah, these articles say the servers got overloaded by so much so fast that they completely broke and…”

The words fade out as the sound of your own heartbeat fills your ears. You honestly stopped listening after he said the word servers, and you definitely stopped when he started to read the tech jargon verbatim from the article. None of it would’ve helped, anyway. Nor would it have mattered, because behind a seething Leslie stood a tower of blinking lights and jumbled cables.

The school’s server closet.

“Kid,” you start gently, slowly reaching out a hand. Your other hand reaches to your earpiece, and your voice stays steady. “Kyle, get out of there.”

Leslie’s irises flare an icy blue, and electricity crackles around her hand.

Kyle stops midway through his reading. “Huh?”

“Get out—”

She slams her palm against the server.

In one moment, you’re opening your mouth to scream. In the next, you’re on your back with static crackling in your head.

You hardly register the sensation of opening your eyes and looking around. The world is moving beneath you as you instinctively lift your head and try to make sense of what happened. Great plumes of dust and smoke billow up from behind crumbled walls and jagged rubble. Wires, their innards exposed and frayed, snap like rabid dogs all around you, on the ground and hanging from what’s left of the ceiling. Your doubled vision slowly reorients itself, two fuzzy pictures combining into one that’s clear. The ringing of tinnitus in your ears fades, replaced instead by an uneasy buzz from your broken earpiece.

Leslie is gone. So is most of the high school, it seems.

Suddenly, your veins explode with adrenaline and you’re on your feet as though you weren’t just knocked out and disoriented a few moments ago.

Kyle.

You suck in filtered air through your mask as your brain surges alarm directly into your bloodstream. The computer lab is only a few doors down from the server closet. There’s no doubt the blast affected the area. You stumble forward into the smog as fast as your numb legs will allow.

It’s not hard to find him. Besides the puff of unruly red hair blaring through the smoke like an exit sign in the dark, his coughs reach your ears before you even see him. Kyle’s on his stomach, his right leg twisted at an uncomfortable angle. He’s breathing through his fingers, trying to snuff out the terrible cough that wracks his body. Between dry hacks, Kyle calls out for you. Not for your superhero persona. He’s calling your real name.

“Kyle!” you say, weaving through the rubble and crouching at his side. “Thank fuck you’re okay.”

Kyle’s eyes light up, and he exclaims your super-powered alternate’s name. “I didn’t know she could do that,” he says weakly through watering eyes.

Your hands ghost over his body, looking for the best way to lift him without disturbing his broken leg. “We gotta get out of here, man. It can’t be healthy for you to be breathing in all this shit.”

“No!” Kyle shouts all too forcefully. He repeats himself, softer this time. “I— no. Not yet.”

You retract your hands. “This building is going to collapse in on itself. You may be able to survive the outskirts of an explosion, but you won’t survive getting crushed by a thousand pounds of rubble, Kyle.”

Kyle looks at you like he’s a kicked puppy. “My— my friend—” he says your name, “is still in here. We need to find them first.”

Fuck. There’s no time to dance this tango right now. Your voice becomes less firm and more of a plead. “This wing was clear besides you, me, and the crazy child. Your friend is fine.”

“No, they were here with me, then— then they took off when the whole thing started. I don’t know where they went. Please,” a dry throat cracks and wet eyes spill, “I need to find them. I need to know they’re safe.”

You grit your teeth behind your mask. “I’ll come back and look, I promise. But we need to leave right now.”

You shove your hands under Kyle’s body and start to lift, but he struggles away from you with a “stop!” and a swallowed yelp of pain. You lose your balance and tip backwards, falling flat on your ass. Kyle tries to push himself up, but his broken leg gives out, and he crumples right back to the ground. He cries your name out into the ruin.

He peers back at you and your stunned state. “What if they’re hurt?” He flexes his fingernails into the cracked linoleum. “What if they’re scared?”

“Kyle…”

“I’m not leaving until I know they’re okay.”

He’s stubborn. The most frustratingly stubborn person you’ve ever met. You’d have an easier time separating Eric from a family size bag of potato chips. As Kyle waits for you to say something, to try something, and preps himself to fight back, he suddenly finds his stomach being squeezed with anxiety as you instead stay perfectly still. You’re weighing your options. He watches with a dry mouth as you gingerly reach for your neck.

You peel the mask over your head and fight back against the settling dust that scratches at your throat and stings your eyes. Now you’re both sitting still in the hazy rubble, your hair flat against your head and him staring at you with owlish eyes. You silently will him to say something, even if it’s snark. Anything would be welcome as you wait for him to break the heavy silence.

Kyle lowers his head to the floor. “Oh, god…”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you—”

“The two people I’ve been crushing on are the same fucking person.”

#south park x reader #south park x y/n #kyle brovlofski x reader

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - Freaky Friday Time Travel fic - Part 2

Okay so FFTT fic won the poll so here you go! I gave an extra amount bc I couldn't decide a reasonable place to stop. Picks up after this snippet.

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

While her vampire hearing might have been bogged down by the noise in the Square, she was annoyingly attuned to Klaus’ presence. His parting words reached her easily: “Someday, you will.”

She had gone to lunch grumpy and while fortunately Matt had accepted her grumbled explanation of having run into the hybrid menace–he agreed that would put anyone in a bad mood–she hadn’t quite been able to shake the vague itch that sat under her skin as she helped Matt struggle through algebra.

Even before Elena had been assisted into mind-wiping her whole personality, it felt like the only times she’d been needed were to attempt to twist Klaus around her finger, and those all had middling results that usually left her staring at her ceiling that night instead of sleeping. And now that Klaus wasn’t the worst monster in town–at least from her perspective–she hadn’t gotten a lot of calls recently. Maybe that was why she was so eager to help Matt: it was nice to feel needed.

And maybe that was the reason she had gone over to Klaus’ house when he’d blown up her phone with eleventy billion messages. Not that he’d freaked her out with his half-coherent voicemails. It was already a betrayal in several ways that she agreed to be friends with him. Admitting she cared? She tried to imagine what Tyler would say, his mom’s murderer friends with his girlfriend.

By the time she left the grill, Matt was consistently getting the correct answers on the tougher equations, and she’d worked herself into a ball of stress that only a hemoglobin juice pouch could sate.

Now, staring down at the small cardboard box on the porch swing, Caroline wondered what game Klaus was trying to play. Was he trying to make up for being a bit of a dick–okay, not really, but it’s the principle of the thing–the last time they spoke? If it was Klaus.

A ripped piece of sketch paper was taped to the top and she tugged it free. Her name was printed in Klaus’ bold handwriting, and she sighed. Picking up the box, she let herself into the house. Once in her room, she set the box on her vanity and told herself sternly she would deal with it later. Both AP Bio and AP Calculus finals were tomorrow and she needed to study. Really needed to study.

Pulling her books out of her school bag, she arranged herself comfortably on her bed, shoes off, color-coded notebooks at hand, rubber-banded stacks of flashcards at her hip. She put on soothing lo-fi as background music; she was ready.

Caroline’s resolve lasted an unfortunate seven minutes before she was pulling a pair of scissors out of her vanity and cutting the tape keeping the box closed. Pulling the flaps back revealed cottony packing fluff that she began pulling out until at last the real contents of the box were revealed. Nestled in more fluff, a thick chain with a chunky triangular prism on it sat in the box. It was old, the prism framed in gold. 

“Oh wow,” she murmured, picking it up by the chain and dangling it in front of her face. The stone was some kind of iridescent green with small cracks in it, and the frame of the pendant had markings on it. “That is… really ugly.” It rotated in the light from her lamp, and what looked like writing was down one side. Caroline put out a hand to move it back to get a better look at it, but the moment her fingers connected with the pendant, they stuck.

An odd whooshing filled her ears, and the light in her room must have popped because her vision went white.

“Oh shit!” She blinked rapidly, hoping she could see something, anything, while she shook her hand, trying to dislodge the necklace. Whatever magic bullshit was going on, she was going to kill Klaus when she got her hands on him, white oak stake be damned.

A pulse slammed through her and it almost felt like she fell past someone, and then she stumbled back and slammed into something that felt like bars. The necklace fell away from her hand and clattered to the floor; she left it there. Sparkles were dancing in her vision, slowly clearing into the view of an expensive-looking bedroom through a balcony door. She could see a large bed and a chaise lounge next to a bookshelf, another door that looked like it led to an en suite. It could have been an expensive apartment or a fancy hotel room, it was hard to tell. None of it looked familiar, and it certainly wasn’t in Mystic Falls. It didn’t even look American, that look that comes from being several hundred years old that few still occupied buildings had.

Pushing herself up against the balcony, Caroline turned around to take in the view and gasped. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower lit up the night horizon, the glow of a thousand lights brightening up the city. Some part of her was horrified, she’d clearly been kidnapped, she didn’t know how she was going to get home in time for her final unless Klaus could zap her back, and explaining this to her mother would probably ensure she was grounded for, she didn’t know, opening strange packages or something. Caroline should know better.

The other part of her was frozen, thinking how magical the city looked at night.

A soft noise came from behind her. “I would be open to giving the neighbors something magnificent to look at if you insist on the balcony, although I may have to kill them for the pleasure of it afterward.”

Caroline spun around at Klaus’ voice, poised to give him a piece of her mind, and froze. He stood in the door frame without a single stitch on, the lean muscles of his body on display for her like a feast, the tattoos she’d seen on his chest the one time, the trim waist leading down to his incredible co–she clapped her hands over her eyes. There was no looking, none. “Seriously, why are you naked?” She may have shrieked a little. “And why are we in Paris? Is this your idea of a date? Because you are taking me home right now, buddy. I cannot believe you kidnapped me.”

💗

#klaroline #klaroline wip wed #tvd for ts #'Kiry that's a terrible place to leave it' #YES I KNOW #they're ALL terrible in this portion but hey look i gave you more Klaus #he's even naked! #thoughts? >:]

[bakerstreethound]

We Almost Forgot Movie Night

Relationship: Steddie x reader 

Warnings: None (spoiler free)

Summary: A sort of continuation of the poly relationship headcanons between reader and Steddie, where the boys insist you stop working and just kiss them / give affection, being the needy boys that they are. Lots of fluff and kisses, because it’s what they both deserve. Also Dustin & Max show up for weekly move nights which you did not forget about at all.   

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT repost or translate my works to any other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username).

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: The Steddie ship is out in the harbor once more. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written them but I really can’t help but love their dynamic. This is probs post season 4 because the boys must be protected at all costs and this was self indulgent on my part. Graphic by @firefly-graphics​ I hope you enjoy. 

“Sweetheart, please. You’ve been writing there for hours,” Eddie pouts, sighing heavily as he rolls up some weed. You grumble in response, pen still scribbling dutifully along the crumbled pages before you. Steve mutters incoherently, caught up at the phone most likely giving some advice to Robin before he slams the receiver down.

“Babe, Eddie is right. You’ve been working on that report all damn day. We need you.” Steve grumbles, falling into Eddie’s lap, causing him to yelp, but he settles when he makes way to stroke Steve’s hair, lost in thought. Steve instantly melts into Eddie, murmuring in contentment. 

The briefest of smiles crosses your lips before you’re biting on it again, frustrated at the direction your ideas are going. Your pen cannot keep up with the constant stream of thoughts and ideas filtering through your brain. That’s when you have the briefest thought of crumbling up the work and tossing it, but you get up and stretch your arms, grumbling. 

Your frown disappears though when you see both of your boys sprawled out on the couch melded into each other, grasping at each other so tightly. They look so content, so peaceful, without a care in the world for once in their lives. Your heart thumps once, then twice again, skipping a beat, for you love these two idiots with everything you are. 

You find yourself curling up against Steve, inhaling his scent, wrapping a leg around him to anchor him to you, one of your hands reaching out to Eddie’s ring-cladded fingers. Soon enough your eyes grow heavy, your breath steadying as you nuzzle Steve, squeezing Eddie's hand before letting your worries drift away. 

****

"Did you call them?" Dustin clutches his walkie, biking quickly as he can to Eddie and Max’s trailer park. 

“Wow genius, you think I didn’t already? I called like five times.” Max’s voice cuts through the static and Dustin rolls his eyes. 

“We had this movie night planned for over a week, how the hell would they forget?” Dustin almost shouted, peddling faster, taking another sharp jagged turn, the entrance to the park visible up ahead. 

“They might be busy painting each other’s nails,” Max snickers again, “or they could be...” she opens the door, Dustin scowling as he pushes her aside. 

“Shut up, Max, I don’t want to hear about what extracurricular activities they are engaging in, ugh!” 

“You want to do the honors or should I?” Max unsuccessfully fights off another snicker. 

“If it’s bad, I mean really bad with their limbs all tangled, I will warn you and scream, how’s that?” he tosses her a grim unamused sort of smile, stepping further into the trailer, almost yelling, “Okay idiots, time to stop the fun times, it’s movie night!” 

The utter silence that meets him is deafening. His pulse races faster, mind racing with all the worst-case scenario possibilities. They had to be alright. 

"Dustin? What's wrong?" Max comes up behind him, shutting the door, leaving them both in the cavernous quiet increasing by the moment. The faint glow from a lamp on the side table illuminates a familiar form and still, Dustin doesn't breathe a sigh of relief, yet. 

"Holy shit, are they dead...is that?" He creeps closer and Max rolls her eyes, poking Eddie's sleeping form that Steve's wrapped around, with your chest pressing into Steve’s backside. 

Max's breathing steadies before she speaks. "They fell asleep Dustin, there's no Demogorgon around."

"Should we wake them?" 

"No, Dustin. We're raiding their fridge, warming up pizza, and eating popcorn and candy. You can pick out the movie. It's their loss after all."  Max rolled her eyes, reluctantly starting up the oven while Dustin made his way to rifle through the pantry that needs some serious reorganization. 

******

A crash then a rattle sounds from the kitchen and Eddie tenses, bolting up from the couch, a whine slipping from Steve’s lips. “Uh…guys…?” Eddie’s shoulders tense more as he shakes Steve who clings harder to the blanket, pressing up against you more causing you to stir. 

“Eddie…we’re safe you have us…” you mumble quietly, reaching out for him and he crawls over Steve settling into your arms. 

A few more minutes pass in silence before another resounding crash is heard and Eddie clings harder and you stroke his back gently, listening hard. Steve only grumbles again, nuzzling up against Eddie fully sandwiching him between the both of you. 

Your mind starts to drift a little before another noise rattles through the trailer, causing you to tense up, your brain jolting, finally remembering. 

“Shit, Eddie we slept two or three hours past movie night. We gotta get up and call the kids.” 

He groans in retaliation, clinging to you harder, until another rattling noise sounds from the kitchen and he wedges out of the comfort of you and Steve. 

“Eddieeee…” Steve whines at the loss, but Eddie’s on a mission and you follow close behind, only to bump right into Dustin Henderson who is carrying a bowl of burnt popcorn. 

“What the shit!” some of the popcorn flies through the air as Eddie brings Dustin into a bear hug and you snag the popcorn bowl away so no more kernels will fall on the floor. 

Eddie snickers, unrelenting in musing Dustin’s hair as he tackles him to the floor. “You’re a total butthead Henderson.” 

“I second the notion.” You nibble on some of the popcorn, balking at the taste and a package of candy makes way into your hands. 

Max rolls her eyes, offering you a grin. “It’ll taste much better. I also got a pizza in the oven for us.” 

“What’s for us?” Steve walks in, bleary eyed and eyes scrunching at the scene in front of him, “who let the kids in? We’re off duty today.” 

You roll your eyes, staring fondly at him as he huffs and walks over to you, pulling you into a kiss. You melt into it, groaning when he nibbles it. You can hear Max holding back a sound of disgust as she returns to the kitchen to retrieve the pizza since she couldn’t trust Dustin to not burn it. 

“EW Gross what happened to no PDA?” Dustin gasps again. “You agreed on movie nights to not do it.” 

Steve groans and rolls his eyes watching as Eddie lifts Dustin off the floor and ruffles his hair affectionately.  “How can we repay you for almost missing movie night, butthead?” 

“Actually watch the entire movie with Max and I without trying to makeout every five seconds.” 

“Hey it’s five minutes.” Steve retorts and Eddie huffs in amusement. 

Max strolls in with the pizza and sets it on the coffee table pulling herself off a slice and setting on the floor. “You mean , Dustin, we’re lucky that we can survive it regardless of the crap they do while they’re supposed to pay attention.”

You sigh and take a slice yourself, settling back onto the couch with Steve and Eddie following suit as they sandwich you, dutifully keeping their hands to themselves as Dustin puts the movie in. The beginning credits start to roll and lips are trailing softly along your neck, causing you to bite your pizza hard to suppress a groan. 

You were going to be in for a long night. 

******

@bakerstreethound​ @zombiesnips-blog​ @lilythemadqueen​ @frostandflamesfanfic​ @ironstrange1991​ @starks-hero​ 

#eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things imagine #poly relationship #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #steddie x reader #gender neutral reader

[ramshackledtrickster]

any cute headcanons about ezio and leonardo ? interactions or unknown things maybe 🥺🥺🥺

Sorry this has been in my inbox for a while !! I kinda struggled with trying to come up with things that haven’t already been said but I’ll try uhhh

Leonardo just. Really loves studying Ezio

He doesn’t flirt much or he doesn’t flirt intentionally (if he tries to force it he thinks too hard and it becomes super cringe fail). He gets frozen in place easily and it’s hard for Leonardo to express romantic feelings typically— he’s much more comfortable giving things or helping as his way of showing love (especially early on in their relationship)

More under the cut!

But close enough, he loves just,, studying and looking over him, committing everything about him to memory. He would praise him out of the blue or share what’s on his mind about him. For Leonardo this doesn’t really count as flirtation, but he loves to tell Ezio this bc he genuinely thinks he’s so wonderful.

They’d be laying next to each other and Leonardo would start holding his wrist, tracing over his knuckles and palms and wrist and silently admire the scars and callouses, taking his time with looking at the light, swirling patterns on the pads of his fingers. When Ezio asks what he’s doing, Leonardo would shrug and just say he’s just looking. In the same breath he’s marveling at how strong he is and how many scrapes he had made it out of. Maybe chastising him playfully about how he needs to get Ezio more lotion to keep his hands healthy and from cracking. But mostly musing to himself oh wow the human body can be so durable yet vulnerable at the same time

He’s tended to lots of his injuries before, so he doesn’t really have the leisure to explore him in that way when his life is at stake. But when they have time to themselves, he really just,, loves studying him. Sometimes it could edge into weirdly morbid territory though, especially when he gets inspired to share his own ideas on the workings of the human body via what he observed from Ezio. Ezio finds it amusing and humorous though (though some ideas keep him up at night)

Leonardo loves listening to his pulse and his heart beat, hearing blood course through him— he loves watching the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, he loves checking on his scars to make sure they’re healing proper and yet noticing the texture of the skin becoming different and raised , depending on how he was injured.

He would often share these thoughts with Ezio and honestly it helps him rest and sleep, even if he doesn’t understand half of what he’s getting at bc then Leonardo would go into tangents about comparing aspects of the human body and human nature to the natural world,, or the cow ovary he dissected the other day idk this guys train of thought is nuts.

This worship and study is how Leonardo shows a lot of his affection (physical especially), since it combines what he loves with being listened to, and it doesn’t force him to act outside of his own conventional manner and he doesn’t need to follow an internal script to impress Ezio.

Ezio meanwhile can get a little confused at times but he honestly doesn’t mind being admired, especially when hes being held or touched in the meantime. It makes him feel valuable and like a rarity, and he likes the feeling of being a muse for someone. Again, he has no clue what he’s on about some of the time but he can appreciate a man who has such an insatiable curiosity.

Of course, there’s more ways these two interact outside of this. Their relationship isn’t built on this, and Leonardo sees and loves so much in Ezio as a companion and a great friend, and he feels somewhat indebted to him for saving his life so many times— I’m just hoping I explained this one little facet of how Leonardo expresses some of his affection well <:)

#assassins creed #ezio auditore #ac leonardo #ezioleo