#i know no one really cares but it’ll put my mind at rest knowing this is posted

[corroded-hellfire]

Hi love!! I would love an Eddie request of him with inexperienced reader but it's not smut it's like the convo leading up to it like May be they start making out and it's getting steamy and she tells him she's a virgin and she's terrified bc what if she's bad at sex and then it's not good for him? What if he sees her naked and thinks she's not pretty?? And it's just Eddie comforting her and reassuring her

Oh, I would most definitely need Eddie to reassure me of these things, too. I hope you like what I've come up with 💕

Words: 1.3k

The old springs in Eddie’s mattress dig into your back, an occasional squeak emanating from them whenever your boyfriend shifts his weight on top of you. His tongue dances with yours, breath colliding and teeth grazing. Eddie encompasses all your senses, surrounding you wholly and leaving no room to think about anything else but him–if your brain can even manage to think at all with strong, calloused hands running over your body. 

His warm fingers trail up the outside of your leg, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The moment Eddie’s hand slips up your shorts on the front of your thigh though, your body goes from pure ecstasy to adrenaline-pumping nerves in an instant.

An involuntary jump of your body against his alerts Eddie that something’s wrong and he immediately pulls away to gaze down at you in concern.

“Are you okay?”

Though it’s clearly not the truth, you nod your head. Slowly, you scoot yourself out from beneath his body and sit up against the cheap mahogany headboard that’s caused a multitude of scratches against the dully painted trailer wall. 

“C-Can we talk for a second though?”

There’s worry in Eddie’s eyes. He’s terrified that he’s done something wrong or has hurt you in some way. Taking care to give you some space, your boyfriend situates himself to sit next to you on his bed, back also resting against the chipped and scuffed headboard.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “What’s going on?”

Tentatively, Eddie offers you his hand, resting it between the two of you. He’s leaving the decision up to you if you want to touch him right now or not. There’s no hesitation though, you eagerly lace your fingers with his. 

You give him a nervous smile, a million thoughts running through your head at once. It’ll be a miracle if you can speak coherently with the rate at which your mind is moving. Deciding to just bite the bullet and get it all out there, you take a deep breath.

“Um, I’m—I’m a virgin, Eddie.”

Whatever reaction you were planning on Eddie to have, he doesn’t give it to you. He seems completely unfazed by your admission. All you get is a nod of his head and a gentle squeeze of your hand. 

“Okay,” he says casually, as if your entire body isn’t running on nervous energy at the moment. “We can go as slow as you want, yeah?”

You know your body should feel relief, but the worry in your head tells you that you’ve only gotten through part of what you need to tell him. Might as well push through to the end.

“I’m…scared,” you admit. Shame floods your body, chilling your veins.

“Of me?” Eddie’s eyes widen and the alarm in them is clear.

“No!” You quickly assure him. “No, no, never of you.”

He heaves a sigh of relief, and you cup his hand in both of yours. Out of all the things that make you anxious about having sex with Eddie, Eddie is not one of them. But that means you have to tell him that you’re the problem. If your anxiety has one mortal nemesis in the world it is vulnerability. 

“I’m scared that I’ll be bad at it,” you admit. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What if you don’t like it? What if I mess up?” What if you don’t like how I look beneath my clothes?

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. The crease in his forehead shows his displeasure with the pressure you’re putting on yourself. “First of all, I don’t think you can really mess up sex, sweetheart. As long as you’re here and your clothes are off, I’d say we’re good to go.” He chuckles, but when you don’t join in, he sighs. “Are you honestly worried that I won’t like it?”

Unable to look him in the eye, you nod. His forehead furrows further as Eddie frowns. Usually, you’d rub your thumb over those wrinkles to smooth them out and calm him down. But usually, you’re not the cause of them. 

Gentle fingers grip your chin and tilt your face so you can look at him.

“Princess, it’s you. I love doing everything with you, you really think I won’t like having sex with you?”

When he puts it like that, you feel silly. Heat blooms in your face as embarrassment is scooped on top of the nerves. There are legitimate concerns, though. You’re sure of it. There has to be.

“W-What if you don’t like what my body looks like?” You ask it so quietly in the hope that he misses it.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t by the way his eyes nearly pop out of his head. He reminds you of one of those stress dolls that you squeeze and the small plastic eyes bulge out.

“Not like your body?” Eddie sounds almost incredulous. He pauses for a moment, eyes gazing into yours as he thinks of a reply. It feels like the understatement of the century to say he was unprepared for you to be worried about this; about something that he whole-heartedly knew to be untrue. A smile quirks Eddie’s mouth as his mind goes back to a day before you’d started dating. He licks over his lips before continuing. “Sweetheart, remember the pool party Jeff threw for his birthday last summer? You wore that low-cut, blue one-piece that showed off most of your back?”

Do you remember? You had agonized over what you should wear to that party and what Eddie would think when he saw you. 

“Yeah,” you tell him, voice quivering. 

“Babe,” he says with a shake of his head. “I still get off thinking about that. About how you looked. There was a reason I had to stay in the pool past the point of me freezing half to death in the water.”

Shock colors your face, and despite the gravity of the conversation, it makes Eddie smile wider.

“You…really?”

“Yes,” Eddie says with a breathless chuckle. “God, you’re so fucking hot. You’re gorgeous. It bothers me that you don’t see that.”

If there’s one thing you can say about your boyfriend, it’s that he’s very candid about his view on things–just ask anyone who’s had the pleasure of hearing him make a grand speech from atop a lunch table. Which is most of the high school-aged population in Hawkins.

Half of your brain is trying to convince you that now is the time he chooses to lie, that he’s just saying this to make you feel better or to shut you up. Meanwhile, the other half is telling the anxiety to put a sock in it and listen to Eddie.

“What’re you thinking?” Eddie asks quietly. A reminder of how well he knows you.

“Too much,” you say with a soft laugh. 

Eddie lets out a long breath and gently pulls you into his lap. He absentmindedly rests his hands on your thighs and his thumbs rub calming circles on your skin.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” he asks. Needing to show you physically how much he wants to help you, he snakes his arms around your body to hold you snugly against him. Your heart all but melts as he looks up at you with those large, puppy dog eyes.

With a small smile, you lean down and rest your forehead against your boyfriend’s. Sometimes he’s too cute for his own good. 

“You already have,” you say softly.

“What? How?” Eddie’s frowning again, but this time it's in confusion.

“Just by being you,” you tell him with a shrug.

“Well, I am pretty great,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. Your heart feels lighter once the stress lines fade from his beautiful face. 

You chuckle at his ego and sit back up straight.

“There is one more thing you could do for me, though.”

“What’s that, beautiful?”

There’s a hungry gleam in your eyes as you let your gaze trail up and down his lithe body. 

“Take off your shirt.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #request

[targaryenluvs]

OMG HUNGER GAMES!!!

Can i ask for a finnick odair with a winner female reader who she avoids but he is obsessed with and wants to marry in front of the whole capitol

Some dark-ish fluff

WANT AND DESIRE!

pairings: dark!finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: obession, stalking, nc kissing, forced engagement???

summary: you’d thought you’d escaped the capitol, and to some extent, him, the ever so sweet and charming finnick odair. but it seems your fate had been signed as it seemed you couldn’t get away from him no matter how hard you tried.

a/n: i actual hate writing dark stuff cuz i never know if it’s decent, I DO FLUFF GUYS WE CAN TAKE THAT ROUTE 😭 NOT PROOF READ

you wondered what you were going to get.

all the pastries infront of you were mouthwatering and the aroma had your stomach growling.

“i’d recommend the dark chocolate cakes, they practically melt in your mouth. but maybe something as sweet as you wants a change?” and there it was, the voice and person you’d hoped to avoid. at such a large capitol party your hopes were high but it seemed as if the man had a radar, with your name on it.

“finnick, how are you?” you feigned interest as you turned his way.

“better, now that i’ve seen you.” he beamed at you, undeniably happy. it’s not as if you weren’t interesting at all, or ugly, but you truly had no idea why he was so infatuated with you. you’d never given him any signs, or at least you didn’t think you had, you’d hardly ever talked to him. even if everybody loved him, you could tell something, was off.

“how sweet of you. there are so many people here, best if i try my best to meet as many as possible, have a nice night finnick.” you dismissed him as you placed the cake down, yes it was petty but the fact that he’d suggested eating it deterred you even more-so than it’s insanely sickening contents. “i’ll come with you, the people would love it. the capitols diamond and darling. there’s not a single pair of victors as great of a duo as us sweetheart.”

and as he linked your arms together, you were off. you thought it’d be better to just go with him, stand and smile as he talked. it would give you a slight break at least, but after so much time greeting people your face was threatening to fall apart. so after an hour or so you’d excused yourself to the bathrooms, unknowing of the blonde on your trail.

“are you okay y/n?” finnicks voice asked sweetly as you lowered the towel you were using to pat down your face. “what’re you doing in here? the party’s down stairs finnick.” what did he want? you are so fucking tired of this party and just wanted to leave, you’d been here for hours already, long enough to know that it’d be appropriate to do so. and you may or may not have wanted to put as many kilometres between yourself and finnick. “i just wanted to make sure you were okay, everyone’s asking for us.”

“you, they’re asking for you. i’ve been here for a while, everyone’s seen me. you haven’t, they want you. and if you’d mind letting me exit.” as you tried to move past your wrist was caught in his tight grip. “they want to see us both sweetheart, trust me, we’re much better together. can’t you see? all of the capitol loves us together, even the districts.”

“i don’t care, if i’m going to marry someone it’ll be someone i actually like.” the door slammed shut as you walked away from him. finnick laughed, if there was thing he loved about you, it was your short temper. he walked after you, his hand clutching the velvet box in his pant pocket, he was going to propose one day, why not now?

as you made your way through the place, fake smiles aimed at everyone, finnick caught up to you. “y/n, please.” you turned around, “what? what is it?” you shouted as the party’s attention zeroed in on the two of you. you could her muttering of the people and shuttering of cameras.

this bitch.

he was down on one knee, a huge diamond ring rested in the middle of a box. his eyes glistened, teary eyed. was this dickhead really crying? as if he’d waited his whole life for this moment. “finnick-” you warned as you raised your hand, only for him to grab it and pull himself up. people were cheering and clapping as he wrapped his arms around you.

“i have loved you, since the moment i saw you. everything about you is my favourite thing, your smile, your laugh, your eyes- your gorgeous, gorgeous eyes. there’s no part of me that could go on without you. i love you so much sweetheart, so please put me out of my misery and marry me, you’re the only person i could ever imagine myself with.”

say yes!

what a lucky girl!

i knew they’d get together.

the crowd around you egged you on to accept. how could you not? finnick odair, tribute, youngest victor, terribly handsome and the capitols darling. a catch in everyone’s eyes but they couldn’t be further from the truth. a man who’d purposefully proposed infront of the capitol, knowing you could never say no. god knows what snow would do to you, let alone the capitol for breaking their favourites heart. you weren’t worried for yourself too much, you’d been a hollow shell ever since your games, but your family? your parents and siblings didn’t deserve to be killed.

“i know you’re in shock sweetheart, but i’ll take that as a yes.” finnick kissed your forehead and then slid the ring onto your finger.

the crowd is deafening and the flashes blinding.

and as he kissed you again, you couldn’t help yourself from crying. as everyone viewed it as tears of joy for being in love but you knew the truth about finnicks love for you. there was none.

just want and desire.

#finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #thg #hunger games x reader #dark!finnick odair x reader

[fxrmuladaydreams]

the sensible decision (sv5) (dr3)

pornstar!seb x camgirl/pornstar!reader , pornstar!daniel x camgirl/pornstar!reader

summary: although your heart is split between decisions, your mind finds the sensible one easily

notes: i promised you guys seb was going to have to grovel and grovel he will

prev part next part

You don’t know why you expected to wake up with a clear answer, with an obvious sign that told you who you should choose. You don’t want to look at your phone, afraid of a text from either of them asking about the other.

You do manage to avoid your phone for the most part of the morning. You make your breakfast, shower, get ready for the day, but the nagging in the back of your head is incessant. You groan when you finally do grab your phone and look at your messages.

From Seb

Last night was fun schatz. If you still want to do a livestream together I’d like that

You sigh and text him back.

To Seb

I don’t know if I’ll have the time, I’ve been spending so much time with Daniel lately

Yes, it’s a low blow, but you know it’s what he deserves. You leave your chat with Sebastian and open your chat with Daniel.

From Daniel

How is it possible that you made me miss you after only being gone for a few hours? And that livestream was pure torture sweetheart

You smile at his message, practically giggling.

To Daniel

Well I think the torture is just what you needed after what you did to me in our video

You see him typing, then his message pops up.

From Daniel

I’m pretty sure you asked for it sweetheart

You can practically hear his voice. His Australian accent with a teasing tone, it sends a thrill through you.

To Daniel

Wanna hang out today? I don’t have any plans, and if it’ll make you less lonely I’m willing to sacrifice my time for you 😉

His response is almost immediate.

From Daniel

Sure sweetheart. Come over to mine whenever. And bring a swimsuit

You find a cute bikini that you think Daniel will like and pack a bag for your day. You pack basic pool items, sunscreen, a book, a towel.

You drive over to Daniel’s house once you’re finished getting ready. He greets you at the door in a dark blue sweatshirt and green swim trunks. He gives you a toothy grin as he pulls you inside.

“Hungry?” He asks.

“No, I’m alright, thank you though.” You tell him, but your stomach grumbles in protest.

“I’ll make us some lunch.” He says.

You follow him to his kitchen and take a seat on a stool he’s got at his bar top. You watch as he gathers a few things, from his cupboards and fridge. He asks what kind of sandwich you’d like then gets to work putting it together for you. He passes you a glass of water with your food once he’s finished.

He slides onto the stool next to yours with a sandwich of his own.

You glance around his kitchen. It’s a good size, the bar top you’re sitting at is fairly large with a few seats down to the end. You know his living room is quite big as well.

“So what do you do with all this space? What do I have to do to get on the guest list for all the ragers I’m sure you throw here?” You nudge him with your elbow.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Trust me, there are no ragers.” He takes a sip from his glass. “I want to be able to have people over. I like the idea of being able to hang out, spend time with the people I care about.”

“That’s really nice. I’m sure they appreciate it.” You smile and nod.

He looks down at his lap as if he’s hiding from you. “Well I haven’t really found them yet, so…”

“What do you mean?”

“With our line of work it’s hard to figure out who actually cares about you, and who just wants something from you, you know?” He looks over at you.

You know that feeling all too well. “I do.”

He hums and takes a bite of his sandwich.

You lean closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. “Well, then I’m happy to be the first one here.”

He smiles softly as his cheeks flush a soft pink.

Once you finish your lunch, Daniel guides you outside to his pool deck. You toss your bag on one of the lounge chairs and pull the dress you’re wearing over your head to reveal your swimsuit.

Daniel can’t take his eyes off of you. Sure he’d seen you in much more compromising positions, but this, with the lack of a camera, felt intimate.

“See something you like Ricciardo?” You ask him, winking.

Oh, two can play at that game. He thinks as he tugs his sweatshirt off, tossing it onto another lounge chair.

You can’t help but stare at his bare torso. The tanned skin becomes taut when he stretches his arms. His swim trunks riding up to reveal a gorgeous tattoo that had been peeking out on his thigh. You notice he’s got tattoos scattered everywhere. Some on his arms, his legs, even his hands.

You have to hold yourself back from stepping forward to run your fingers along the designs.

“See something you like sweetheart?” He smirks.

You scoff and dig around in your bag for your sunscreen. Pulling it out you turn back to Daniel. “Help me put this on?”

He takes the bottle from you and empties pours some into his hand. He massages it into the skin on your back and shoulders. You can feel just how big Daniel is as he stands behind you, practically looming over you. His hands cover a good portion of your back, and his thick fingers fiddle with the flimsy strings holding your bikini together. You remember just what those fingers can do as you let your eyes flutter shut.

He steps away from you once he’s finished, taking his warmth with him.

You finish applying the sunscreen on yourself and lay out on your lounge chair. You pull your book out of your bag and open it with the full intent to read, but you can’t stop yourself from watching Daniel in the pool.

The muscles in his back flex as he does laps around the pool, his arms look deliciously strong. He keeps swimming around and around for a while, before he groans and swims over to the edge of the pool.

“You know, I thought you’d actually end up in the pool with me.” He says.

You sigh. “I’ll sit on the edge, is that enough for you?” You ask giving him a teasing smile.

He lets you get comfortable on the lip of the pool as he stands next to you, looking up at you. The sun sits perfectly behind you, creating a glowing effect, giving you a halo.

“Happy now?” You ask.

He grins as he wraps his arms around your legs and pulls you down into the water. You both end up submerged, you cling to him as you struggle to regain your sense of balance. You gasp when you come up from the water, giving him a smack on the chest.

“What the hell Daniel?” You shout.

He’s laughing too hard to give you an actual response. You can’t tell if he’s got tears running down his face or if it’s just the water dripping from his hair.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face!” He manages to get out in between laughs.

“It’s not funny! I could’ve drowned and died!” You try to pull away from him, crossing your arms over your chest.

He quickly reaches out for you and grabs onto your thighs, easily pulling you up and wrapping them around his waist. Your arms wrap around his neck so you don’t fall backwards.

He bats his eyelashes at you and softly says “I promise I won’t let you drown and die sweetheart.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Fine, you’re forgiven.”

When your eyes meet his you realize just how close you are. You can see all the little details of his face. The slight bump of his nose, the freckles that decorate his cheeks, the specs of gold in his eyes.

He seems to be doing the same to you, trying to commit your features to memory, then his eyes stop at your lips. He looks like he’s having an internal debate with himself.

“Can I- can I kiss you?” He asks, his eyes trailing back up your face to your eyes.

You don’t answer him, instead you lift a hand to the back of his head and press your lips against his.

#daniel ricciardo x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #sv5 x reader #dr3 x reader #formula one x reader

[farfromharry]

new year, new man 🏎️ ln4

Summary: you meet Lando for the first time after being dragged to a new year’s eve party. safe to say you didn’t hate this new year as much as the rest.

W/c - 1485

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You were far from a fan of celebrating the new year. It wasn’t much of a holiday for you, rather than a period of a couple days that made you sad. You spent too long focusing on how it felt like time was moving too fast and you were getting old and by the time midnight arrived you’d successfully brought down everyone else’s moods.

For that very reason you were planning to stay home and mope in your room to greet 2024. But it seemed your friends had other plans.

“I don’t want to go to a party,” you huffed.

The brunette at the end of your bed rolled her eyes. “And I told you, I don’t care what you want, you’re going.” She tossed a dress at you and stood there expectantly.

From out in the hallway you could hear one of your other friends calling for you. “Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fun.”

You knew there was nothing you could do. They wouldn’t leave unless it was with you following behind them. Part of you was warmed by the fact they wanted you around, but another part of you was irritated that they couldn’t just let you be in your misery. You wished you would have been more stubborn.

An hour or so later and you were stepping into a complete stranger’s home where a party was in full swing.

A drink was quickly passed into your hands and within minutes you were left alone sitting in a quiet corner. Your friends had failed to let you know that this party was being hosted by a friend of theirs, with some of their other mutual friends in attendance. Maybe you would have put up a bigger fight if you’d have known you wouldn’t know anyone here and yet they would know everyone.

It was awkward, you standing there, drink in hand and eyes darting around the place at all the strangers. You must have looked so out of place.

“Do you mind if I join you?” A voice startled you out of your daydream. You were getting ready to turn them away when you locked eyes with one of the most attractive men you swore you’d ever seen. Your heart began to beat a little faster. “All the other seats are taken by couples basically swallowing each other. Figured this is the least awkward place to sit.”

You managed to laugh, like a real laugh. You were surprised that a random guy had managed to make you feel even slightly happy for the first time tonight.

“No, you’re fine. I sat here to get away too.”

It was silent for a brief moment and you cursed yourself for being so antisocial.

“Not enjoying the party?” he asked.

You perked up at the chance to talk to him again. “Uh, not really. Unless it’s your party, then it’s great. I’m having so much fun.”

He chuckled. “It’s not my party. Friend of a friend. I don’t really know anyone here.”

There were butterflies in your stomach. Could this man get any better? “Me either.”

He seemed pleased by that, like he’d needed to know he wasn’t alone in feeling awkward and uncomfortable in order for it to dissipate. “Well now you know me.” He held his hand out for you to shake. “I’m Lando.”

You smiled. “Y/N.”

The pair of you were only talking for a short while when he was approached by a clearly drunk man. “Lando Norris!” Was all he said, rather cheerfully, shaking hands with the man beside you. Lando smiled, nodding to the stranger before he left.

You watched the interaction with a furrowed brow.

“I thought you said you didn’t know anyone here?”

He looked at you with a shy grin. “I don’t. I have no idea who that was.”

The revelation made you laugh, louder than it probably should have, but you would blame the alcohol for that one. He quickly joined in, the 2 of you trading giggles in a secluded corner as everyone partied around you.

When your laughter died down and you wiped a few stray tears, you took a long look at Lando. “I’m actually really glad I came tonight.”

He took that to mean you were happy to have met and spent your time with him. “Me too. Maybe we could do this again sometime, but in an environment we both like. Somewhere quiet, like dinner?”

“I think I’d like that.”

Going into the new year it looked as though you’d be getting a shot at love, or at the very least a nice, new friendship. Maybe new year did bring good things sometimes.

As you noticed the minutes ticking closer to midnight and the party getting rowdier, you ached to convince Lando to move somewhere that wasn’t right in the middle of the busy crowd. You were unsure if he would, given that the atmosphere would change so drastically, but what was the harm in asking.

He looked at you as you stood from your seat, worried that you might be about to present him with an excuse to leave early.

“Come with me,” you instructed, holding your hand out for him to take. He eyed it, feigning hesitance.

He hummed. “I don’t know. My mum’s always telling me about stranger danger.”

You rolled your eyes. “Come on.”

Lando didn’t waste another second, slipping his hand into yours and allowing you to blindly lead him through the maze of people. He didn’t expect you to take him outside into the garden where it was much quieter. There was no one out here but the 2 of you and a couple stray drunk people.

“Much better,” you sighed. “I finally feel like I can hear myself think.”

As the moonlight fell upon you he believed you looked even more beautiful than you had inside. He was slightly in awe. His daze was momentarily broken when he noticed you shiver, the cold chill of the December air being unforgiving to your bare skin. There was only one thing that would be right for him to do as the gentleman his mother raised.

“Here, take my jacket.”

Your mouth opened to protest but the stern look he gave you told you he wasn’t willing to hear any of it. So instead you let him place it over your shoulders, his warmth and scent immediately making your body heat up to a comfortable temperature.

“Thank you.”

He brushed it off. “Not a problem.”

Now that there was no overly loud background chatter from those inside, a lull in conversation meant things got awkward, fast. Or at least on your part. You weren’t sure what you could say now and that led you to a panic about whether he was thinking about how silent you were being.

In reality, he was working up the courage to ask if he could kiss you. In the end it was the lack of time to deliberate that led him to just blurting it out.

He was afraid you’d be mad, considering you hadn’t met that long ago, but actually you were just happy he’d pulled you out of your nervous thoughts— even if his question gave you nerves for a whole different reason.

“Would it be presumptuous of me to ask if I could kiss you at midnight?”

You pretended to think it over, taking a step closer to him so that your fronts were pressed together. His eyes were rapidly looking over your features. Between your eyes and your lips, like he couldn’t make his mind up about where he wanted to focus. In the end he settled for your eyes.

“I might be persuaded.”

And then the countdown began.

As the clock struck midnight Lando made his move and closed the gap between the 2 of you. His large hand on your jaw was more or less guiding you through the sweet kiss, a gesture which made your knees even weaker than they already had been.

The cheers of the party inside were what brought the 2 of you back to the present.

Your face burned as you eyed the crowd, wondering if any of your friends had noticed you sneaking off with the handsome stranger to steal a kiss. You hoped they didn’t, because truly you wouldn’t be able to escape the mountain of questions they’d have for you.

He must have noticed you were slightly distracted, taking the initiative to gently guide your gaze back to him. The corner of his mouth curved upwards when your eyes met.

“Happy new year,” he mumbled, brushing his nose lightly across yours. It was a tender move for a man you’d met only a short hour ago.

You beamed, maybe you’d get the chance to know him a little more this year. “Happy new year.”

It looked like 2024 was already going to be a good year.

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#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris fic #lando norris oneshot #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 x reader

[bunnylovesani]

Sleeping Beauty

Summary: Your roommate Anakin will go to any lengths necessary to get close to you, even ones you don’t know about.

Content warnings: dead dove do not eat, somnophilia, dubcon/noncon, drugging, violence, oral sex, p in v sex

WC: 3.4k

Work had been wringing you dry lately- so much so that when you’d finally claw your way to bed in the evenings, not even a tornado could rouse you. Your roommate, Anakin Skywalker noticed this- as he noticed everything else. Your mannerisms, your daily schedule, and all your little habits and quirks were committed to memory.

His prolonged glances and lingering touches raised no alarm bells in your mind, putting it down to his affectionate and slightly odd disposition. Sure, he was a little peculiar but your Ani was one of your best friends- always thoughtful, always caring and always there.

On one particularly exhausting evening, you sighed heavily as you traipsed in through the front door of your shared apartment. You always wondered why Anakin had any use for a roommate considering his prestigious job and the doubtless wealth that came along with it- but you just assumed he had a proclivity for modesty.

“Tough day?” He called out as you dropped your bag by the door with a heavy thud and followed the sound of his voice.

“You don’t know the half of it.” You sighed, slumping down onto the kitchen chair as you observed Anakin cooking, dirtied apron clinging to his toned abdomen. “What’s on the menu?”

“Your favourite.” He replied calmly, tipping the pan over slightly to show you a thick steak swimming in herbal butter.

“Wow. That looks- but…I’ve never told you that steak is my favourite.” You furrow your eyebrows and peer up at him in confusion.

“Well of course you have, silly.” He chuckles dismissively.

“No, Ani, I’m sure I haven’t. Have I?” You question, trying to recall a conversation in which you revealed your favourite meal but nothing was coming to mind.

“What have they been doing to you in that office?” He shakes his head and tuts. “Around when we first moved in, you told me how your dad always made steak on special occasions and how you came to associate the meal with good news.”

“I did?” The story is true, though you can’t for the life of you remember saying it.

“How else could I possibly know?” He smiles calmly and you relax. This new workload must really be doing a number on you.

“It’s so nice of you to make dinner but I was kinda thinking of going straight to bed- the exhaustion is killing my appetite. I go to sleep early but I still don’t feel well-rested for some reason…” You ramble on as he puts the sizzling pan to the side and turns to face you, leaning on the kitchen counter with his usually intense glare.

“Why don’t you take a sleeping pill?” He cocks his head to the side and you contemplate his suggestion. “I’ve got some low-dose ones, they’ll knock you right out and you won’t even feel it- I’ll go get them for you.”

“Wait, Ani- I don’t know-“

“They won’t make you drowsy in the morning, I promise.” Before you can object, he’s returned with a shiny tab of small white pills and is pouring you a glass of water.

“Alright, I suppose I’ll do anything to get one good night’s sleep.” You sigh, popping one of the tablets out of their foil casing and swallowing. “They’re the low-dose ones, yeah?”

“That’s what I said.” He smiles, watching you knock back your last sip of water intently.

“Thank you. Oh, but the steak- I feel really bad-“

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll put it in the fridge, it’ll still be good tomorrow. You just go straight to bed.” He rests his calloused knuckles against the marble worktop, angry veins snaking up his smooth forearms.

“Really? You’re the best, Ani.” You rub his arm gratefully before wading over to your room, yawning.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He whispers once you’re out of earshot.

Just like he said he would, Anakin neatly put your dinner away, scrubbed the stove clean and did the dishes. Upon completion, he glanced at the ticking clock on the kitchen wall before swiping the tab of pills sitting on the counter and stuffing them back into their original packaging. Taking the box out of his pocket, he read the front of the pack: Diazepam- full strength.

Satisfied that enough time had passed, he walked over to your room and pressed his ear against the wooden door, waiting to hear signs you were sound asleep. Once he was happy with your soft snores and hums, he treaded the shaggy carpet and crept in.

You were swaddled in your covers and lying on your back, the teddy bear he bought you for your last birthday tucked lazily under your arm.

He stood there and admired you for a moment, heart warmed at how you cuddled his plushie every night without fail.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he approached the foot of your bed and cautiously peeled off your frilly duvet, leaving you exposed in your pink pyjama shorts and bralette. He’d seen it several times but the sight of your bare skin never failed to drive him wild; his self-control and morals flew out the window as soon as you were together like this- the cloudy stillness and quiet of your placid bedroom insulating you both from the outside world and its restrictions.

He reached out to lift your bralette, raising it just enough for your nipple to pop out and harden in the cool night air. His mouth watered at the sight, wanting so badly to lock his lips around it that his cock grew painfully hard and strained against his trousers.

Tracing his fingers down your hips, he hooked them around your little shorts and pulled on them gently, your cotton panties coming off with them.

He has to cover his mouth with an open palm to stop the groan from slipping out when he sees the glistening wetness nestled between your plush thighs.

“What are you dreaming about, princess?” He mutters as he rubs his thumbs against your inner thighs before carefully spreading them, ensuring your legs are wide open but comfortably supported by the surrounding pillows. He lowers himself so that he’s only a few inches away from your heat, taking in the glorious view before him.

He’d fallen in love the very moment he laid eyes on you- but he instantly got the sinking feeling that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. You saw him at most as a friend, a convenient guy to have around, a perfectly suitable roommate. He was under no illusions that you would ever requite his love- how could you when his feelings were so intense?

Deciding he couldn’t take it any longer, he unzipped his trousers and lowered his boxers, letting his heavy cock spring out and slap against his abdomen. Try as he may, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your lips, which fell into a pretty o shape as you peacefully snoozed. Some dribble gathered in the corner of your mouth and he couldn’t help but kneel and hover above you, staring. He needed to feel your lips on his cock.

Wrapping a hand around his veiny shaft, he pumped it with a couple of rough strokes before resting his blushed tip against your pink lips. The precum oozed out and smeared against your plump bottom lip, moistening it just enough for Anakin to slide his cockhead smoothly past it. He let out a soft moan as your mouth enveloped his throbbing cock, languid wet tongue brushing past it as he slowly glided in and out- the sight of his cock on your lips too much to bear.

Gently pushing his hips forward, he guided the tip to the back of your mouth, the ridged roof sending shivers down his spine. You moaned dreamily, the vibrations from your hums making his cock twitch. When you began to toss and turn, he quickly pulled out and took a step back- the thrill turning him on beyond belief.

Setting his sights on your unfurled legs, he creeps onto the bed and positions himself between them.

“What a pretty little pussy.” He shakes his head in disbelief, knowing he has never before and would never again see anything so beautiful.

Pushing his swollen tip between your folds, he gathers your slick and coats his length in it as he glides along your slit- your thighs involuntarily contracting a little every time he brushes past your clit.

The pained expression on Anakin’s face was apparent- he had never gone this far before. His chest tightened at the thought of violating you in this new way, both out of guilt and excitement. He relieved himself of culpability by assuring himself it was okay- he loved you and was just taking care of you. It’d been a while since you’d been with anyone and your frustration had begun to show- what kind of friend would he be if he let you suffer like that?

Spreading your folds apart with his thumb and forefinger, he gathered a glob of spit and let it dribble from his lips to your entrance before smearing it messily with his cock.

Lining the leaky tip against your opening, he delicately pushes in, stretching you out inch by inch. Even though it feels like torture to deny himself, Anakin sets a meticulously slow pace, paranoia chasing him. His girthy cock plunged into your cunt, bullying it into submission with painfully laboured thrusts.

Anakin bit his lip and scrunched his eyebrows at the sight of your tiny hole being stretched to full capacity, clenching needily around his length. He took this as confirmation that you needed him just as much as he needed you, deluded into believing your desire was apparent with the way your pussy gripped him.

Your breathing sped up and your heart rate rose- your body’s attempt at rousing you- but still, you remained asleep.

Anakin couldn’t believe his luck- he had been dreaming about what it’d be like to be inside you and now that your warmth had finally enveloped him, it was better than he could’ve ever imagined. He often scolded you for how naive you were but it was his favourite thing about you- the trust you felt for him was palpable in the way you gazed at him adoringly. The warm, wet comfort of your heat made him feel electric and he couldn’t help but want more- he wanted to lay hold of everything you had to give. He lifted you by the hips and impaled you onto his cock, forcing it even deeper until you were flush against him, the imprint of his member bulging through your lower stomach.

“Oh, baby…fuck.” He whimpered, barely above a whisper. “I wonder if you could take me this well when you’re awake.”

The room heated up with Anakin’s heavy breathing and your stuffy, sleepy moans. As roughly as he thought he could get away with, he pounded into you little by little, using your pussy like it was his to ruin. Your shared arousal gleamed in the dim moonlight, illuminating how his thick shaft disappeared into you with ease.

He tried not to grip your hips too roughly but with the way your pussy moulded around his cock like it was made for him, he couldn’t help but dig his fingernails into your flesh. The sight enraptured him so much that he didn’t even notice when your pretty eyes fluttered open, widening in shock.

The second your gazes met, he leapt to cover your mouth with his heavy palm.

“Don’t.” He breathed, crazed eyes daring you to scream just to show you what would happen.

You shook your head frantically, eyebrows swooping in distress.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” He continued thrusting into you, maintaining eye contact as he sunk his cock into your used-up pussy. You nodded hectically, wondering if you were still dreaming.

“Good, ‘cus I really wouldn’t wanna hurt you, baby.” He whined.

Now that he didn’t have to worry about waking you up, he could take you as roughly as he wanted. Stooping down to your chest, he popped a nipple into his mouth and sucked it forcefully, red marks streaking your breasts as he bit and drooled all over them.

“A-ani…what are you doing?” You cry out in utter disbelief after he releases the hand silencing you to knead your breast.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I jus’ couldn’t hold back anymore.” He moans as he brutally stuffs your pussy, the sound of lewd smacking reverberating around your cosy bedroom. “I couldn’t wait any longer.” He pulls away from your chest, drool hanging off his swollen lips.

“But I’ll make it up to you, baby.” His voice falters as he slams his hips into you sharply. He’s so deep your entire body feels overwhelmingly full.

“Just let me use you.” His husky voice makes you break out into a flurry of goosebumps as you clench frightfully around his girthy cock.

“You understand, right?” He questions but his hand has already snaked its way back up to your mouth. All you can respond with are muffled cries and whimpers, hushed by his thick palm. “I know you do, you’re my good girl.”

You look down to observe the frenzied way in which Anakin shatters his cock into your tiny cunt, wetness dribbling down your thighs and making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“I’m gonna stuff this pussy full of my cum.” He growls to himself as beads of sweat roll down his forehead, blonde curls dampened.

“Nmmh!” You squeak, shaking your head in disapproval as best you could with the way he was restraining you.

“Oh yes I am. And you’re gonna love it.” He rolls his hips and sinks into you impossibly deep before pulling all the way out. “Look at that, doll. How are you so wet?” He gestures for you to look down at the way gloopy strands of arousal hang off his throbbing cock, the base soaked with your slick.

You observe with shock, writhing in confusion over how your body had betrayed you. You whine and sob as he slides back in, dragging you impossibly close to him as you claw at the pink sheets.

“Shh…I know, baby. I know.” He whispers as he wraps his hands around your jaw, thumbs rubbing against your dampened cheeks comfortingly.

“I’m almost done, baby.” He rests his forehead against yours and you feel lightheaded from the sudden wave of body heat. His hands travel back down to your hips, raising your ass as he fucks up into you with dizzying speed.

“Come on, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He mutters breathlessly. “I know you want to.”

You try to fight it but your back arches instinctively and your fingers dig into his shoulders as his cock stretches your aching pussy wide. He bottoms into you mercilessly and you feel as though you’re about to slip out of consciousness. With one last thrust, your body explodes into flames and the searingly pleasurable sensation travels to every last one of your nerves.

“That’s it, baby.” He speeds up, chasing his own high. “I knew you’d love my cock. Should’ve let me do this sooner.”

You pant as your heartbeat tries to regulate itself, sprawled and utterly fucked out. Anakin hovers above you, raising your thigh and pressing it against his chest as he ruts into you with feverish intensity. Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, he comes undone in a loud climax, throwing his head back as he shoots ropes of hot cum into your sore pussy.

Catching his breath, he shoots you a grin as he combs the messy curls out of his face, pulling his cock out and allowing the gloopy mess to run.

“Sorry about this, doll.” He shrugs before reaching for the lamp on your bedside table.

“Wait, Ani-“ You put your arm out but he pins it down by your side before knocking the metal base against your temple, rendering your whole world black.

The blinding light shining out of your bedroom window finally wakes you. You shield yourself from the sunny glare with an arm draped over your eyes, scrunching your face up when the pain radiating from your head suddenly hits you. Glancing over to the alarm clock on your bedside table, your heart almost jumps out of your throat. You were supposed to be at work hours ago yet here you still were, in your pyjamas and cosily tucked in.

You crawl out of bed as you try to piece together the broken fragments of your memory; did you forget to set the alarm? It must’ve been those sleeping pills Anakin gave you- so much for his promise that they wouldn’t make you drowsy. Before you can even reach the door, there’s a knock.

“Hey, you awake?” Anakin pops his head through and gives you a look of concern.

“Just woke up now. Somehow managed to completely sleep through the work day.” You shake your head, confusedly tapping at your bruised temple. “Those pills of yours have given me a killer migraine.”

“What? No, it can’t be from them- I’ve taken them a million times and never had any side effects.” He steps into the room and holds a flat palm up to your forehead. “Oh, honey. You’re burning up.”

“Am I?” You go to feel but he swats your hand away.

“You must have a fever.” He tuts. “Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll get you some painkillers for that poor head of yours?”

“I won’t be accepting any more drugs from you, thank you very much.” You laugh as you let him guide you back under your duvet.

“Completely understandable. My bad, doll.” He chuckles, folding in the edges of the blanket. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Get some rest.” He tries to take a step back but you instinctively grab onto his wrist.

“Wait.” You groan pathetically. “Can you stay with me for a little while?”

“Of course.” He flashes you that beaming smile of his and you’re struck by a sense of familiarity. He treads over to the other side of bed and joins you under the covers, wrapping his arms around you and letting your head rest on his chest.

“This is gonna sound strange, but…” Your mind races at a mile-a-minute as you come to grips with the sudden onset of images that have flooded your brain. “I think I might’ve dreamt about you.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrow and smirks. “What was it about?”

You struggle to put the pieces together; all you can see is a hazy vision of Anakin between your legs, bullying his cock into you as you lay there helpless.

“I can’t even say, it’s so messed up.” You shake the thoughts away, a shiver running through you.

“Sounds more like a nightmare, doll.” He tucks an unruly piece of hair behind your ear. “But it wasn’t real. Just a dream.”

“I know. You’d never do anything like that.” You scoff assuredly and he kisses the top of your head. His gentle touch seizes your chest and you have to focus on regulating your breathing. He’d never guess it but you’d had a fervid crush on Anakin for as long as you’d known him.

“You’re safe here with me.” He brings you closer and you snuggle deeper into his chest, subtly inhaling his sweet, musky scent, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Now get some rest, darling.” He strokes your hair comfortingly.

“Mmm…love you, Ani.” You unknowingly slip out in a quiet hum before drifting off to sleep.

Anakin seizes up in shock at your admission, total surprise consuming him. You loved him? He couldn’t stop the wide grin from unfurling across his blissful face nor the way his heart leapt with joy from the two simple words. He hadn’t ever allowed himself to treat this as a possibility- it was an undisputed fact that you were too good for him and he never let himself be deluded into thinking otherwise. The elation he felt in holding you in that moment, knowing you wanted to be held back was beyond words.

But just as quickly as the ecstasy flooded his veins, the solemn realisation of his sins hit him like a hammer. A nauseating sense of guilt and regret crept up on him like a maggot into a rose, casting a dark shadow on any future you could’ve had.

What had he done?

Taglist:

@bearryyy @w0rsh1psells @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall @bby-imasociopath @emmalandry @slut4starwarssmut @ghostlycrystobalove @iamjustaholeforyousir @billy-stu-wh0re3 @mousie101-blog @sweetcheesecakesblog @bardotsmuse @doestalker @kentaviax @slut4ani @cultofsin

୨୧ If you want to be removed from the Taglist or only want to be tagged for certain fics, please let me know ! ୨୧

#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin fanfiction #star wars smut

[romanestuffsposts]

Hi! I like your stucky x little stories. And I was wondering If I can make a request?

Maybe the reader got into trouble and the and bucky and Steve are extra mad at her and punish her. And when they come check in her, she avoids them for a long time, even if they aren’t mad anymore.

I like these sorts of stories of yours, but I feel like they get off to easy (in my opinion). So, maybe some extra angst for them cause I’m not the kind of kilter that forgive easily.

Hi there love! 💜

Yes I know some of you don’t like when it’s too much while others want to see more so don’t hesitate to ask! I’m here to write what you wanna see! ❤️

I hope you like how I wrote it, sweetie! <3

Enjoy <33

****

Warnings : snapping, argument, yelling, cries, punishment, apologise, making up, comfort, mad, pet name

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : you just wanted to relax after a day inside

****

You just got out of work, it’s the end of the day and you’re surprisely still in a good mood. You were inside a little room the entire day and feel like you hadn’t seen the world today so you decide to walk through the parc on your way home.

It’ll take you more time to go home but at least you would’ve clear your mind in the nature.

You hadn’t saw the time passing as you sat on a bench to watch little ducks on the water in front of you. It’s been already two hours that you finished your work and you hadn’t said anything to anyone as to where you were.

You decide to cut your walk short and go back home, you have the rest of the week home so you’ll have lots of time to come to the parc.

Not too long after leaving the parc, you open the door and step inside of your house. You thought you’ll be greeted by the smell of food or at least your men but none of those are home apparently. You don’t see their shoes inside nor their coat so you assume they’re still at work or something.

You decide to go relax in a warm bath, you put in your favorite soap and don’t lose a time before stepping inside. You groan at the hot water that’s warming up your cold body.

You enjoy your bath for a long and when you get out, your Daddies still aren’t home. You decide to call Sam to ask if they’re almost finish with work and when this one answer the phone after the first ring, you hear relief in his voice

‘’You’re home ? Please tell me you’re home little bird ?’’ He asks. You frown and explain that it’s been an hour now that you’re home and you wanted to know if their work will take them times or if you could prepare dinner.

You don’t really understand what happened after, you just know that Sam screams at someone that you were home and then there were nobody behind the call anymore.

A few minutes later you hear the door opening violently and loud and quick steps on the ground. You watch as your Daddies run toward you and it doesn’t take long for them to wrap their arms around you and hold you tight against them.

Their heartbeats were really fast and they felt out of breath, what happened ?

Before you could even ask questions, your Daddy pulls back, keep an hold on your shoulders with his hands and stare down at you with many emotions in his eyes that you don’t understand

‘’Where the hell were you ?’’ His voice is harsh and it made you flinch, you didn’t noticed they were mad at you ‘’do you know what a phone is used for ?? It’s for when you’re going to be late at home. You text, call or send an email, I don’t fucking care but you tell us that you’ll be late’’ he practically yells now.

‘’You know how worry we were ?’’ Your Papa adds ‘’it’s been hours that we’re looking for you outside. We disturbed the entire city just because you can’t using your goddamn phone!’’

You open your mouth to talk but nothing comes out, you know what you want to say. You didn’t wanted to worry them, you just needed to be outside a little and got lost in time. You wanted to apologies because you know you’re in the wrong here but it’s like the words are stuck in your throat.

‘’Next time think less about yourself and text us so we don’t worry’’ your Daddy snaps making you tear up.

Were you selfish ?

You really did worry them but that was an accident. You didn’t mean to.

‘’Go to your room’’ your Daddy says, his voice is calm now but he sounds really disappointed and it made things worst.

‘’But Daddy I-‘’ he cuts you off with a harsh movement to melt you stop walking to him ‘’I said go to your room. Do you understand or do we have to explain how to go upstairs in silence like we have to taught you respect ?’’ He snaps again this time.

You swallow your pain and go upstairs, they watch you until you close your door.

You look around your room and shiver in fear, it’s been a few nights now that you don’t sleep here because one night you had a nightmare and you are scared to be in this room alone.

And he knew that but he still sent you here.

You had spent the evening and the night in your room. They brought you dinner but they didn’t even glance at you or dried your tears. They just give you your food, your water and they came to get it back.

Not even a good night kiss or a glance of reassurance. You had to fall asleep with the only comfort of the memories of the little bird singing in the parc earlier.

The next morning you woke up with a note on your nightstand, they had to go to work but they wrote that the punishment was over and that you did good. They said they loved you and that they’ll be back later.

Seeing this writing instead of hearing it from their mouths feel fake. It feels like they didn’t meant it. You throw away the paper and walk downstairs, a second note in the kitchen tells you that they left your favorite breakfast for you in the fridge. They tell you a second time that they loved you before signing.

You don’t touch the breakfast, you take a glass of water and go in the couch. You spent your whole day laying in the couch and thinking about yesterday. To make it short, you had a bad day.

You wanted to go outside but since how it ended up yesterday you decide to not take the risk.

After a few hours you hear the front door opening and closing. Before you can see them entering fully in the house you get up from the couch and run upstairs.

You know it’s your Daddies but you don’t wanna see them just yet. You need to show them that you’re still mad.

What hurt you the most is not the fact that they yelled at you, you understood that they were scared and worried and from all of their emotions mixed up together they ended up yelling but you knew they were more relieved than angry.

But what if something really happened to you ? What if you were lost or what if you were held something against your will ? What you needed wasn’t hearing scream, what you needed was comfort if that happened. They didn’t even asked.. that’s what hurt you the most.

You close the door shut and sit on your desk to keep drawing your draw. After some minutes you hear a knock on your door. You don’t answer which cause you to hear a second one ‘’sweetie ?’’

‘’No’’ you say loud enough for them to hear. You don’t hear anything after so you thought they left but after some second of silence they knock again ‘’please baby, can we talk ?’’

‘’no’’ you say again, going back to your drawing. You hear muffled talk and then nothing. You sigh in relief that they respect you by letting you alone like you asked.

You almost finish your drawing when it’s dinner time and you at the same time, you hear knock again ‘’sweetie ?’’ Your Papa gently says

‘’We- dinner is ready’’ he waits for a second to see if you’re gonna say something but when it’s silence, he talks again ‘’we made your favorite food’’

After minutes of nothing, he was going to leave even tho he doesn’t like the fact that you don’t wanna eat but he hears and sees the door of your room opening.

You don’t look at him nor speak to him, you walk past him and down the hallway. You make your way downstairs, followed by your Papa. Your Daddy is waiting on his seat and his eyes light up when he sees you, he thought you wouldn’t got out of your room but apparently you’re too hungry for that.

You do the same to him that you did to your Papa, you don’t give him attention. You grab your plate, put food in it and then go back upstairs to your room.

You know your Daddies don’t like it when you eat upstairs but today you don’t care. You thought they would’ve said something to you about it but you hear nothing.

After eating you lie in bed and close your eyes.

~

Gentle touch are felt on your scalp causing you to coming back to reality. It took you a moment but you finally opened your eyes.

You turn around and see your Daddies sitting on your bed. You turn back around as soon as you see them and get up from bed quickly.

You hear your Daddies standing up too as you approach the door ‘’wait please’’ the sad voice of your Daddy make you stop. You’re facing the door but you stopped walking.

‘’We’re sorry about yesterday’’ he says ‘’we were worried sick from the second we saw you weren’t at home and when we couldn’t find you we-‘’ he takes a shaky breath ‘’I thought my heart was ripping apart’’

You look down but keep your eyes wide open as you listen to them talking. "we shouldn't have yelled at you yesterday but we didn't thought about our reaction, we just let all out and i think we wanted you to understand how we felt."

"but it was in a bad way" your Papa adds after your Daddy "we should've said it in another way. We're sorry we went too far and yelled like that, we're really really sorry"

Nobody talk for some seconds but then you start to turn around, with tears in your eyes. They stand up and go to comfort you but stop because they don't know if they can come to you or not

"can we... can we hug you ?" your Daddy asks with an hesitant voice "please" your Papa adds.

You stroke your eyes causing the tears to fall and lift your arms up, nodding your head.

The next second, you feel two pairs of arms wrapping around you and you feel nothing else but the warmth of their bodies and the comfort they send to you.

"what were you doing before coming back home yesterday ?" Your Daddy asks as he stokes your hair.

"Parc. Watching bird" your mumble, as you snuggle closer into them.

"you want to go back to the parc tonight ? We can grab some bread to give to birds and ducks if we saw them" Your Papa proposes.

You sniff and nod your head, you wanted to go back there all day and maybe going back with them can be as relaxing a than going alone.

"Alright, let's get prepared then" Your Papa kisses your forehead and helps you standing up "we can even go take a breakfast outside, what do you say ?"

You nod your head and take their hands in yours to lead them toward your closet to get prepared. It'll be a great day, you're sure about that fact.

#@aagn360 #little!reader #bucky barnes x steve rogers x little reader #daddies!stucky #daddy!bucky #papa!steve #little space #steve rogers #stucky x little reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x steve #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #steve x bucky #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #steve x little!reader #steve x female reader #steve x you #steve imagine #steve fluff #steve rogers fic #stevebucky

[bookshelf-dust]

loving you

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 961

warnings: um, literally none? let me know if i missed something though

a/n: wanted to write something for baby’s birthday. don’t bully me about the age i’m being self-indulgent, okay? but anyways, posting this now so it’ll be up all day on his birthday. also tagging @clovermunson for helping me out with a certain fuzzy fellow. love you guys!!! <3

————

Billy is warm beside you. That’s one of your favorite things about him. 

Even if there are times where you get hot and have to push him off because he’s making you sweat, there are still the times that you get to cuddle up to him when you’re cold. And he’ll tuck you into his side to warm you up. Just like he’s doing now. 

His socked feet are propped up on the coffee table, the rest of him covered by a blanket that the both of you share. His arm is wrapped around your back, fingers spread across your stomach where his hand has slipped underneath the fabric of your shirt. 

Every once in a while he’ll scratch over your belly, dull nails sending chills up your spine. Your hand is tucked underneath his thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth over his leg. 

Billy’s eyes are on the tv, yours glancing back and forth between him and the clock on the wall. 

You’re starting to wonder if you’ll disturb him with your little plan, just based on the way his eyes are starting to flutter shut, the way he’s melting into you. 

But you don’t think he’ll mind. Not really. 

The clock hand moves that little bit and the microwave numbers change, their light leaving a green cast over the kitchen counter. 

12:00 am.

You sit up, twisting some so that you’re facing Billy, and your movement wakes him up a little. 

He straightens, looking at you. He quirks a brow, trying to figure out what you’re up to. It’s always something. 

You reach out to touch his face, and he automatically leans into it. You cup his cheeks with both hands, and then you’re pressing your lips to his. 

Your mouth is warm, and he can both taste and smell the lip balm you’d put on earlier in the night. It’s a sweet kiss, long and heartfelt. 

Billy brings his hand up, holding onto your wrist.  

You’re thinking: I love you, I love you, I love you, and hoping you can somehow transfer the message directly into his brain through the kiss. He kisses you back, knowing exactly what you’re trying to say. Billy hasn’t shaved in a few days and his skin scratches against yours. You don’t care. 

When you pull away, his lashes are fluttering and if it weren’t so dim in the living room you’re sure you’d find a blush spreading across his face. 

“Happy Birthday.” 

Billy smiles at you. When he speaks, his voice is tired, lovesick. “Was that my birthday kiss?”

“Only the first one,” you tell him. 

“Oh, so I get more?”

Billy presses his forehead against yours, still holding onto your wrist. Your hands never leave his face, thumbs sweeping underneath his eyes. 

“You want another?” You ask. The question makes him chuckle. 

“Pretty please.” 

His lips tick up at the corners, enticing you. You press a kiss to both, to his cupid's bow, his chin. He pouts at you. 

“Come on. It’s my birthday,” Billy whines. 

“I really set myself up for this one.” You kiss him. “Should’ve known you’d use that to your advantage.” You kiss him again. 

Billy hums against your cheek where he’s now pressed his own mouth. He knows that makes you go all warm. 

There’s a noise behind you, a subtle added weight to the cushion you've settled on, and you know what it is without having to turn. The mewl makes Billy aware of the presence, and he grins against your face, a slow laugh leaving his throat. 

“I think he wants us to come to bed, B.”

Billy hooks his chin over your shoulder, meeting eyes with a little brown cat. 

You hear the first meow your cat lets out in greeting. The second is almost like a question. Why are you still up?

Billy reaches around you, scratching behind his ears. You can hear his purring. It’s always so loud. 

There’s a clambering, and Billy leans back, allowing for the young cat to squeeze between your body and the couch and up into his lap. 

“Night, Cosmo,” you say. Billy snorts. “What? It’s too late to be evening.”

Cosmo ignores your words, preferring to stare at you, waiting. You scratch his chin and he mewls. It’s not unlike the response Billy might have for getting the same sort of attention.  

“What do you wanna do in the morning, birthday boy? How would you like to celebrate your release from teenagedom? The big 2-0?”

Billy rolls his eyes at you and kisses the palm of your hand, having snatched it from where it was flailing midair. 

“Don’t care,” he says. “We could sit here all day and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

You lean in like you need to whisper, as if you’re not in your own home. “I think Max is gonna come see you. Don’t tell her I told you, but she bought you a sash.”

“No.”

You start to laugh. “Yes. A birthday sash.”

“I’m not wearing that.”

You kiss him again, though you’re laughing and can’t take it seriously. 

“Sure, baby.”

He pecks your lips once, twice. “No, I’m not.”

The polaroid you stick in the frame of your vanity mirror the next evening says otherwise. Billy is sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, though loosely enough that you can see the words “Birthday Princess” in sparkly lettering on a pink sash. 

He’s not looking at the camera, he’s looking at Max, listening to something she’s saying. Lucas is on the floor, back between her knees.

Billy looks so happy, cheeks flushed from all of the attention he’d had, the start of a laugh on his face. 

It’s a pure, candid photo, for a true birthday princess. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove one shot #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove ficlet #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #billy stranger things #savannah’s fics

[carmenberzattosgf]

Doing a self care night w carm 🥺 he gets home after the lunch shift to find you bought a bunch of face masks and scrubs for you guys. You giving him a back massage and washing his hair. Ofc you take one of those classic coupley face mask mirror selfies™️. He lets you sit in his lap and trim up his eyebrows 😭

Jesus I just want to take care of him 🧎‍♀️

-🧸

Oh God you get it. You get IT.

The amount of times I have imagined doing my hair routine on Carmy… AH

Like walk with me here. He’s over at your apartment after work and you’ve convinced him to let you do all of your self care things on him.

You tell him the first thing you’re going to do is wash his hair. He’s already getting excited because he thinks you two are about to shower together, but that’s not what you have in mind.

“Come in the kitchen and lay on the counter by the sink. Imma go get the stuff I need from the bathroom.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m washing your hair in the sink. My mom did it for me all the time. It’s a lot easier this way. I already cleaned off the counter for you.”

You return from your bathroom with an arm full of hair products. Carmy is sitting on the countertop, waiting for your next instruction. “Okay, what is all of that for?”

“It’s hair products, Carm. I’ll explain it to you as I go.” You roll up a bathroom towel you brought with you and place it at the edge of the sink. “Can you lay down now?”

Once he’s settled, you turn the faucet on, feeling the temperature of the water with your finger. You use the sink sprayer to wet his hair. You begin by shampooing his hair. “This is a clarifying shampoo. It’s going to cleanse your scalp and your roots.”

“Are you saying my hair is greasy.”

“You do work in a kitchen, you know. Also let’s not ignore the fact you use two in one shampoo and conditioner.” Carmy doesn’t bite back, knowing you’re right. He closes his eyes while your fingertips massage his scalp.

“That feels really nice, baby.”

“Perfect. That’s the goal,” you reply, smiling at him as you rinse out all the shampoo. “Now I’m going to use a deep conditioning treatment. It’ll make your hair feel soft and healthy. It needs to sit for ten minutes, so why don’t you tell me about your day?”

Time goes by quick as Carmy tells you about work. Before you know it the timer on your phone goes off, and you rinse out the conditioner. “Thats it right?” Carmy asks.

“I gotta style your curls! I’ll be quick I promise.” You start to layer on different products, trying to be speedy.

“Okay what is all of this?”

“Oh, well I just put on a leave in conditioner. It does exactly what it sounds like. Right now I’m putting in a styling cream. That’ll keep your hair from being frizzy. Finally I’ll put in a mouse, which will help hold your curls without loosing any volume.”

“I’ve never used any of this before?”

“Carm, it’s a mystery to me how your hair looks so nice. If only you knew the daily struggles of a girl doing her hair.” You put the last touches on his hair, scrunching the product through his locks. “You’re all done now. It just has to dry. Ooo! Let’s do a face mask now!”

Carmy hops off the countertop and follows you to the living room where you already have a variety of sheet masks laid on the coffee table. “So do I just pick any of these?”

“Yep! Completely your choice.” Carmy instantly goes for the panda bear sheet mask. “I had a feeling you would pick that one,” you laugh.

You spend the rest of the night with Carmy watching his favorite shows while you do all of your skincare routine on him. He doesn’t even fight you when you sit on his lap to trim up his eyebrows.

I like to giggle and think that the staff notice the next morning that Carmy’s hair looks really nice and curly AND that his eyebrows are perfectly trimmed. He folds at some point and admits that it was all you, and he played zero part in it.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto #thoughts

[cerise-on-top]

hellooooo! can you write on how you think Laswell and Valeria would react to their wife’s randomly bringing home a small kitten she found on the side of the road/in a ally? Also I hope you are feeling better lovely!

Hello! In all honesty, I'm not doing too great right now, I should really be resting up, but I can't because of work! Oh well, it happens!

Valeria and Laswell’s S/O Bringing Home a Kitten

Valeria: She would not care for the little thing in the slightest, in all honesty. Valeria knows that she’s absent very often, so she can’t exactly blame you for wanting a small animal companion to keep you company. Besides, she’d rather have it be a small animal than some other person. Still, she’s not the biggest fan of animals. While she may not hate them, she simply doesn’t care about them, regardless of what they are or how cute they may be to anyone else. You can keep your little kitten, she doesn’t care too much about it as long as she gets you to herself when she is at home. However, if the cat gets more of your attention than she does, that’s when she’s starting to get a little bit jealous. If you’re not looking, she’ll shoo the little critter away, hoping it’ll get the message and leave you and her alone. That’s when she’ll come to dislike your kitten a little bit. However, if you bug her enough about it, she might begrudgingly apologize to it, but only when you’re around. She won’t be outright mean to it, but she will put it away from your lap and place it somewhere else if she thinks you’re paying too much attention to it. The little critter can meow all it wants, it’s not getting any extra treats from her. Valeria will only feed it when you don’t have the time to do so, and even then it’s on thin ice. Although she usually prides herself on being a competent and confident woman, it’s so evident that Valeria’s as jealous as it gets, and of a cat as well. You can tease her about it too, she won’t really do anything about it because she can’t. She loves you and doesn’t wanna hurt you, which includes not hurting your stinky furball. It’s obvious it makes you happy, and that’s what she wants to see in this otherwise rotten world.

Laswell: Although she isn’t the biggest animal lover, she can appreciate a cute animal when she sees one, but wasn’t sure she heard you correctly when you claimed to have rescued that kitten from an alley. Laswell knows that cats are independent enough when they’re older, at the very least, but you can’t really leave a kitten all alone for now. Besides, what if it’s got some sort of disease? As long as you take good care of it, Laswell won’t mind having a kitten be brought home, but she won’t have too much time to take care of it either, so you’re gonna have to be committed to taking care of it. She may not be a fan of having a cat around at home at first, but she grows fond of it anyway. Think of all the “My dad and the cat he didn’t want at first” memes, that’s literally her. Either way, she does think you have a heart of gold for wanting to rescue a small and defenseless animal that had nowhere to go. However, don’t make it a habit to continuously rescue animals, she doesn’t have the time or space for all of them, so please just keep it to one, maybe two, at most. Laswell, when she can, will feed the kitten and play with it. Sometimes you might even catch her sleeping with it. Especially when the kitten is more mature and has calmed down from all the playing frenzy, that’s when Laswell might hug it more often and sometimes even take naps with it. Will help you out whenever you need anything from her. Your cat needs to go to the vet? It needs some more food? The last few toys you got for it are broken and or torn? Don’t worry, Laswell’s got you covered. She’s got enough money to make your cat’s life very luxurious, as luxurious as it gets, even. The food will be of the highest quality, it will get all the meds it could possibly need, if it needs them, and the toys will always be provided for. The little kitten probably couldn’t have asked for better owners, in all honesty.

#cod #cod x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #the girls are so incredibly popular on this blog it makes me very happy #oh before I forget #fem!reader #although there's no mention of reader's gender #I don't really have much to say as of right now #it's insane to me how it's the end of february soon enough already #the years just seem to get shorter and shorter the more time pases it seems #interesting. I once talked to my co worker about this and he said I can't even imagine how he feels with how quick they go by #I took him by his word. the passage of time is so odd. some days won't pass and others seem to last an hour at most #but that's not what anyone is here for #please enjoy!

[ddollipop]

I DIG MY NAILS IN DYNAMITE. . . ! — ( MOIRA O'DEORAIN. )

#. synopsis! — if moira’s going to be forced to work the clinic, she’s going to do things her way: no matter how unconventional her methods may be. (malicious fucking compliance) .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , lesbian smut, female on female, dirty talk , slight begging , implied age difference , slight power imbalance , subtle medical setting , oral sex , cunnilingus , fingering , dom!moira , sub!reader , nipple sucking , some wall action , one-sided stimulation , giving preference (moira) , slight praise , sex in the workplace , finger sucking , sort of revenge sex .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

The clinical wing is hardly any of Moira’s responsibility. It wasn’t her idea, she had no intention of utilizing it herself, and the fact that she was being forced to work it alone for no less than ten hours a week was something akin to infuriating. If she didn’t already loathe Angela Ziegler and her fluffed up ideals about peace and prosperity, —she certainly did now. Because this was cutting into her time, and if there was one thing Moira couldn’t stand more than working with incompetent people: it was squandering her waking hours on fruitlessness. It was always the same things over and over and over again. You’d think a building full of well-educated men and women of science would have a better understanding of their own petty ailments by now, but no. . . 

Every slim bout of nausea, every headache onset, every tiny papercut, it seemed, was good enough a reason to come crying to her. And she’d had enough. It’s not to say that you were any more or less annoying than anyone else who’d stopped by that day, but there was something so nerve grinding about your presence, about the way you glanced around the white-walled exam room, that set Moira off.

“What’s wrong with you, exactly?” She questioned, —though it was painfully clear she was only asking out of obligation and was none too pleased to be doing so.

Her stern, uncaring expression almost had you forgetting the lie you’d cooked up while sitting there alone for a good ten minutes.

“I’ve got um. . . A headache and I’m feeling a little dizzy,” you reply.

She notices how uncertain you sound of it, and her eyes narrow at you, regarding you suspiciously.

“Is that a question or a statement?” She asks bluntly, mincing no words in the process.

“A statement,” you answer, tacking on a soft apology that she doesn't care enough about to acknowledge.

“How long has this been going on?” 

“A few hours, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

You’re really starting to wish you could just sink into the exam table and disappear. Even more than that, you’re cursing Doctor Ziegler for putting you up to this, —for deciding that you were just innocent looking enough to play a fools game with this woman before you. You’re certain now that the extra pay is hardly worth putting yourself through this just to see if Moira is really taking her position in the clinic seriously.

“A few hours,” you repeat, dropping the rest; but you know it’s already too late.

She’s annoyed with you. She’s sick of it here in this tiny room, and all she wants to do is put a stop to this ridiculousness and make use of her time her way. . . Which gets the cogs turning in her mind. If she has to be here, Moira’s going to make the most of it, —and what better way than to indulge herself in the sweetest little patient that’s set foot in here all day? It’ll be a bit before her clinic hours are up for now, and she’d much rather spend that time tying up some of her own loose ends than playing into Angela’s surprisingly spiteful hands.

“It’s a bit warm in here, no?” She says suddenly, straightening her back and standing to her full height as she shrugs off her lab coat.

“Uh. . . Yeah? A little, I guess,” you reply uncertainly, trying your best not to stare as she drapes the shed garment over the back of a chair and masterfully unbuttons the top of her white dress shirt.

The fabric is loose, and it sits against her pale skin like silken sheets atop a mattress. For all Moira is known for being: —cruel, sarcastic, brilliant, blunt— you can’t help but wonder why attractive doesn’t tend to make the shortlist. It’s far from the first time something like that has ever crossed your mind, of course, having worked in her vicinity for several months now, but it is the first time you’ve ever felt your insides twist themselves into pretzels at the sight of her.

She’s so tall, and even without the height, her personality alone commands the space she physically takes up. Moira is the kind of woman who doesn’t ask for what she desires, but simply demands it, and there’s something very stirring about that in a way you can’t quite seem to put your finger on.

“You guess, do you?” She raises an eyebrow, throwing you a blank glance.

Her hands come down to grip the edge of the exam table, the crinkly paper shuffling under the new pressure. She’s close enough now that you can feel her breath ghost against you, and somehow, her unchanging expression feels ten times more spine-tingling now that she’s less far away.

“Is there anything you’re certain of, y/n?” She questions, —and heaven help you, the way she says your name has your thighs itching to squeeze together where you sit.

“I-I. . .” You stutter pitifully, lost for words now that she's this close, eyes ghosting around her face, then around the room, just hoping to avoid her gaze.

“You. . .?” She prompts in a surprisingly gentle tone, removing one hand from the exam table to grab your face.

It's not a violent gesture, nor much of an unwelcome one, as her thumb sits on one cheek and four fingers press against the other. She steadies your head with the grasp, forcing the direction straight ahead, and your eyes naturally follow in suit. Moira can feel the way you swallow, watching as your throat moves to push the saliva down, and something akin to dangerous blossoms within her.

“You're a pretty girl,” she tells you. 

Somehow, the tone she uses when she says it makes it feel less like a compliment and more like a statement of fact.

“It's too bad you're such a quiet thing. I'm sure under the right circumstances, your voice is quite sweet.”

Anything you could have thought to say in reply seems to all but die on your tongue or lodge in your throat. A shiver creeps up your spine, tingling under your skin, scattering goosebumps all across your body.

“Do you have any idea how tiring this is?” She asks, standing to her full height again, clarifying quickly: “Working in this clinic? When I, of all people, should be doing something of actual substance. Forgive me if your headache isn't as interesting to me as my own endeavors, —but you must realize how pathetic it is to come crawling to me about something so minute.”

Finally, you work up the nerve to speak back again.

“I'm sure it must be frustrating,” you answer. “I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, Doctor, I just. . .”

I didn't have much of a say in the matter. 

She sighs. 

“Did nobody ever teach you how to finish your sentences?” She asks, sounding rather incredulous. “Either out with it, or let me put your mouth to some proper use.”

You're not really sure what that's supposed to mean, but it's not as if you have much to say at the moment anyway. Anything you could have mustered up has gone out the window, drained like a pin-pricked egg.

A smirk tugs on her lips at your silence.

“Open,” she directs, a folded index finger sneaking under your chin and a thumb dragging your bottom lip down a bit.

In the moment, you hardly register the command, but somehow you manage to blink yourself back to reality fast enough to part your lips without her having to ask again. (Though asking wasn't really what she'd even done in the first place.) 

“Good,” Moira hums, appearing all too pleased with herself, “it seems you’re capable of following directions.”

Having acknowledged that much, she sneaks that thumb up, letting it pass your lips and nudge at your tongue, feeling the warm wetness of your mouth. You feel yourself burning up, and Moira presses in until the pointed middle knuckle of her thumb is barely ghosting below your cupid's bow.

“Close,” she demands, —and you do, suckling on the heat of her hand, eyes scaling up to her face.

She seems much too delighted by this, albeit in a subdued sense of the word. There’s always been an air of cockiness about her, but this really took the cake and ran with it, like she was so proud to have suckered you in even this deep. It’s then that you’re forced to question whether this is some kind of sick joke, or if she’s truly just that bored here in the clinical wing. It’s obviously not her favorite place to be, but doing all of this on the clock to make the time pass by faster is a little bit of a stretch, even for someone like her.

Moira glides her thumb to and fro, watching the way your lips move with her, still clasped around her digit so beautifully. She thinks to herself that you really are just such a pretty girl.

“Aren’t you just a sweet, obedient thing?” She muses, finally letting her lips curve upward completely.

You hum instinctively, and she can feel the vibration as it resonates from the back of your throat.

“Oh?” She cocks her head to the side, raising a single eyebrow, “was that meant to be defiant? Or perhaps just a correction, —that you’re only this malleable for me?”

She loves the way you look so dazed by every word she speaks, like you’re trying to interpret a foreign language. You’re so mystified by her very presence this close up, as if you can’t decide if she’s real or not.

Eventually, Moira decides she’s had enough and utters “open” again, to which you comply quickly, letting her thumb make its way out from between your lips. Ever the inquisitive woman, she rubs her thumb against her index finger, tapping them together, letting your leftover saliva string between them.

“Y/n,” she murmurs, turning that duel-colored stare directly on you so intently, “—don’t play so coy. There comes a time when every woman must stop begging for the things she desires, and I’m tired of your eyes begging for what your mouth refuses to ask of me.”

Your lips part now, brain convinced you have a solid idea of what you’re supposed to be requesting of her. Though your head is still swimming and a part of you just knows you’re better off leaving things here, as they are, you’re only human. . . So you let your shaky hands come up to grasp at the fabric of her partially unbuttoned shirt, and you pull her inward, not once, but twice, until her face is so close to yours that you’re practically sharing the same breath.

There’s a pause when you don’t make the final move to kiss her, half expecting that she’d have taken over by now, but she offers a low chuckle and snakes a hand up her torso, grasping at your own. It’s gentle for a moment —but only for a moment— before she forces your grip away in a single motion, the other hand wrapping around your free wrist, and pinning either of your hands down against the examination table.

“Go on,” she presses, “stop being so polite. Take what it is we both know you want. Do lions ask nicely before they tear their prey apart?”

You wonder which one you’re supposed to be in this scenario, —the lion or the prey. With the way she’s staring at you, you get the feeling it’s the latter. . .

Closer, closer, you lean, until Moira’s mouth is barely touching your own in a sort of off-handed, almost kiss that isn’t quite coming to fruition. Your neck is craned as far as your body will allow, and you feel the little tuft of amused breath that passes her nostrils ghost against your skin.

“You really are just incredibly novel, did you know that?” She asks, pressure increasing on your pinned down wrists as she finally goes in for the kill.

Her lips are surprisingly soft, and slightly sticky from the remnants of her off-orange lipstick. Even the way she kisses you commands a certain level of respect, and you hope to honor that by keeping up, letting your body react naturally to any and all of her ministrations. When her tongue slips into your mouth, you hardly startle at the feeling, letting her lick and taste as she pleases. The way she does so is like she can’t get enough, —and it crosses your mind very briefly that you may be the first person she’s come on to in quite a while.

Her job is demanding, and overwhelmingly isolating, after all. ..

Having stained your lips enough, both with her bruising kisses and the tangerine-ajacent cosmetics on her mouth, she pulls away for the briefest of moments, only to descend upon your neck like it was glazen with sugar. You can’t help the little gasp that escapes you, or the soft moan that follows, —or the way your hand reaches up to bury the fingers in those fiery strands of hair now that hers are no longer pinning yours down.

“Moira,” you hiss lightly, “—ah.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have never uttered her name so plainly in lieu of her title, but with the way she was wearing you thin and prying you open with such apparent ease, you doubted she’d care much if you stepped over a line previously drawn in the sand. As far as you could tell, you were already lost at sea anyhow. 

It’s not much of anything, but you feel her smirk against your skin, then murmur: “She does speak.”

You’re on fire, inside and out, burning up so badly you fear there’ll be nothing left but ashes by the time she’s finished with you. Silently, you think it might be best for you to put a stop to this before it ends up going too far; before each of you are drowning so deep there’s no way to break the surface. Your lips part, ready to put an end to it all, —knowing you should. . . But you can’t. Not when she looks you over like you really are just her prey for the taking, for the feasting, the devouring.

“Darling,” she murmurs, tracing the back of her finger down your cheek, caressing you softly, “don’t be so shy. Learn to take what you want without pleading.”

Even then, it’s less of a suggestion and more of a subtle demand.

“I—” you start, but swallow just as quickly.

Sucking in a breath, you let your hands do the talking, gracing the flushed skin of her neck, then ghosting just above her sharp collar bones that peak out from her unbuttoned blouse. Before you have the wherewithal to tell yourself to stop, your shaky fingers begin fiddling with the rest of the clasps, going further down until you see the top of her bra (a simple, black garment, in true Moira fashion.) There’s something so stunning about the way colors lie against her, as if melding into her flesh, bending to her will.

She doesn’t stop you from unfastening the buttons, revealing more of her as you continue downward. She’s got no complaints to utter, no reservations present in her body language, and she sheds the top entirely when the last one has come undone. Moira takes a step back, tossing her shirt onto the small countertop, one of the sleeves dangling over into the sink. You take her fleeting absence from your body as an opportunity to admire her, —the sharp, almost jagged edges she carries around like swords. She’s so tall and slender, so striking in the way she moves as if everything is calculated and she doesn’t doubt for a moment that the world is ready to mold to her every wish and whim.

“Something to say?” She cocks a brow, tone smooth and almost melodic, that hint of an Irish accent clinging to every word.

Your mouth still feels dry, but you force yourself to say what’s on your mind, —even at the risk of coming across like some lovesick schoolgirl.

“I just think you’re pretty,” you answer.

Her lips quirk into another smirk at the compliment, and she runs a hand through her hair, letting you admire the motion.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” she replies.

It didn’t feel kind when you said it, really. . . It just felt true.

“Come,” she beckons, coaxing you off the exam table and closer to the wall, pressing your back against it.

It’s cold to the touch, but it does little to quench the fire still roaring in your guts. What’s more, you’re not entirely sure you want it to stop now anyway. From the corner of your eye, you can see one of Moira’s lengthy arms reach out to tap the middle of the doorknob with a long-nailed finger, popping the lock into place. You assume that signifies a sealed deal of sorts. . . That there’s no going back now; and heaven knows you’re not trying to.

Moira’s hands find their way to your waist, pressing firmly for a bit as she kisses you again; albeit somewhat slower and more intimately than before. It feels more like the kind of kiss you’d give a lover to show affection than one you’d throw at a midday fling. There’s little time to dwell on the thought, however, as she snakes herself between your thighs, dancing over the fabric of your dress pants.

Your breathing hitches a little at the feeling, your skin heating up, and Moira grins to herself before letting her fingers trail upward and curl inward, grabbing at your sweater. Untucking it from your pants, the elder woman pulls it up, looks to you for approval, then finishes the job as she yanks it over your head and tosses it back onto the examination table. The crinkly paper shuffles for a moment, and the sound is almost thunderous over the duet of breaths and heartbeats across the room.

She murmurs something about how lovely you are that you don’t quite catch, —but the real compliment comes from the way her eyes trace across your body, soaking up every inch so earnestly.

When you reach behind her slim back, fiddling with the clasp of her bra, she gives a hum of amusement.

“Eager one, aren’t you?” She asks, voice dripping with the only kind of condescension that tastes so sweet.

“I can’t help it,” you breathe quickly, almost in embarrassment, but still lacking the humility it would have otherwise carried.

You manage to tear the clasp open and the straps on her shoulders slump off. Moira readily tugs them down and sheds the last garment on her upper half, letting your eyes rake over the slight curve of her breasts. They’re not large by any means, but they suit her body so nicely, sitting perfectly on her chest with pinkish nipples you can’t help but think about clasping your mouth around.

She seems pleasantly surprised when you make the first move to do just that, even placing a long-nailed hand on the back of your head, guiding you to her body. As you offer a lick to the left one with the flat of your saliva-laden tongue, she lets out a soft breath, stroking your hair softly as if to encourage you to keep going. You do as she silently asks, parting your lips again and taking her in your mouth, suckling on one, then giving the same attention to the other. She seems to like the way you swirl your tongue, so you do it again, and again, and again, until Moira decides that this just isn’t suiting her fancy any longer.

“Good girl,” she mumbles, even when she’s pushing you away and tugging your bra off with ease.

This time, she doesn’t bother tossing the article of clothing onto the exam table behind her, she simply lets it hit the ground to join her own. Thankfully, the sanitation of the labs, and subsequently the clinical wing, has always been solid as can be.

With a clawed hand, she covers your mouth and keeps your head pinned back against the wall, ducking down to repay the favor. She takes her time reaching your breasts, but it’s hard to mind when she’s busy sucking love bites in a trail down your neck and upper chest. She bites your shoulder, feels you moan against her palm, then does it again to draw the sound from your throat once more.

When she finally takes a single nipple between her teeth, the sensation alone has you seeing stars. Her mouth is so wet and warm, so surprisingly inviting, and she’s so skilled with every little flick. Her free hand works what her mouth doesn’t, careful not to scratch or jab you with her nails. She stays attached for much longer than she allowed you to be, and it crosses your mind that Moira may not be much into the whole receiving end of things. Whatever the case, she looks too pretty like this, with her mouth leaving the rest of her faint lipstick around your nipples and on the column of your neck, for you to think too much of it (or be disappointed by it.)

You really couldn’t tell if all this passion and fervor was born of spite against Angela for setting this clinic up in the first place and making Moira work in it, the general frustration of being away from her own endeavors for so long today, the pent up ardor releasing after a dry spell, —or maybe some mixture of all of that and then some. Whatever the case, Moira wasn’t skimping on a single detail, and you were going to be the last person on the face of the planet to complain about that.

As she unbuttoned your pants and began to tug them down, allowing them to cling around your thighs, you were quick to take over and shed your own clothing at her silent demand. You were thankful you’d worn open-toed heels that day, knowing it wouldn’t have been as sexy if you’d had to have taken the time to slip your socks off during this little process. Moira doesn’t make any moves to mimic you, instead resigning herself to watching and holding herself back from touching.

When everything’s shed, you unconsciously cover yourself with your arms a bit, not necessarily to hide away from her gaze, but out of little more than whatever few shreds of humility you have left.

“Don’t be bashful,” she says firmly, grasping each of your wrists and planting your arms at your sides.

The transition back to the table feels like a blur, —a rush of so much at once that your mind goes a little foggy and the sound of that damn crinkly paper being pushed back to the top, along with the stray clothes, hardly registers above the ache in your core and the coolness of the floor beneath your bare feet. She instructs you to sit, and you do, and when she tells you to come closer to the edge and spread your legs, you do that as well.

“You’re so obedient,” she comments with a half-smile, trailing a finger down the barren skin of your inner thigh, sending shivers across your skin. “We could use more employees like you around here.”

A part of you can’t help but hope, in the moment, that those people never come around, that they never land positions in the lab, just so this endeavor can be your burden to carry alone. This side of Moira is still intimidating, but there’s a softness to be found in the way she looks at you, the way she mumbles little compliments against your skin, —the way she treats you like you’re made of something fragile.

She parts your lips with two of her long fingers, taking a moment to admire the way arousal has slicked your folds up so beautifully. It’s been a while since she’s seen firsthand the impact she can have on a woman, and your wetness strokes her ego more than it probably should have.

The moment the flat of her tongue pressed against you, your toes curled inward and your head fell back, a few breathy moans making your chest stutter. Through half-lidded eyes, you could only watch in bliss as Moira glanced up at you, her mouth suctioned around your needy little cunt, feeling every twitch and licking up every bit of juice.

“Oh my God,” you huff, reaching forward with one hand to grasp at Moira’s hair.

She seems to like the way you vocalize, and the way you grab at her like it’s something natural, even when it really isn’t. Her tongue works in circles, then lines, then a million other shapes and directions in a single moment, and you feel your body quiver from the tension.

A part of you feels pathetic, but it really can’t be helped that she’s already pushed you to the edge. Weeks of work had given you little time to yourself, and what time you had managed had been spent sleeping, eating, or trying to catch up on things you enjoyed in your personal life. Taking care of your more intimate needs just hadn’t really entered the equation as of late, but now all of that build-up was really showing its true colors (and so quickly at that.)

“I—” you suck in a breath, “I’m gonna cum—”

And she reaches around from the top, her arm hooked under your left thigh, pressing the pad of her thumb ever so carefully against your swollen clit.

You toss your head back and bite your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. Your free hand grasps for one of your breasts, pinching a nipple between your fingers, letting her drive that stake in so fucking deep that you can feel your insides melting away into ecstasy. Her thumb massaging your clit, her tongue swirling around just below, and the utter depravity of having sex with your boss’s most disgruntled co-worker leaves you cumming on her face, muscles releasing all their tension and melding away into this fantasy world with her.

Oh, but she’s not done, —because of course she’s not. The quiver in your thighs isn’t steady enough, and she hasn’t felt you clench around her fingers, hasn’t felt you tug on her hair hard enough to rip some of the strands from her scalp, hasn’t quite had her fill of you just yet.

Moira brings her hand to her mouth, tearing the middle two nails off with her teeth and spitting them onto the ground beside the examination table. That’s probably a lot hotter than it should be right now, but there’s something about the way she tugs them off so effortlessly, grasping them between her canines, that has your core sopping at the sight of it.

“Just lay back,” she requests.

You do, without question, and you hear her offer up a low chuckle that resonates from the back of her throat.

“You’d just do anything I asked of you, wouldn’t you?” She asks, amusement clinging to every word.

“Yeah, probably,” you reply breathily, —and perhaps a bit too honestly.

But she likes that.

Moira pushes your thighs apart like they’re less so parts of your body and more so obstacles getting in the way of what she wants. She stands to her full height for a moment or two, but her back curves downward and she lowers herself over top of you as she flips her hand palm-side up and sinks those two de-nailed fingers inside your cunt. Your accumulated wetness allows for such an easy entrance, and she pauses for a moment at the hilt of her hand to relish in the way your walls thrub around her digits, almost pulsating, begging for more.

If there’s ever been something Moira has been happy to comply with, —it was this. She lets you adjust, but just barely so, and then pulls back a bit, letting the friction elicit a few soft moans from you.

“Fuck,” you whimper, eyes rolling back a bit, cunt clenching around Moira’s lengthy fingers, the ones she knows how to work so well inside you.

It once again seems like every move she makes is calculated and precise, evoking something so primal inside you, unleashing some kind of desirous beast that just can’t get enough of her.

And there you are on this uncomfortable exam table in this God forsaken clinical wing that neither you nor Moira have ever been very fond of, bare back pressed against the weirdly textured leather, dripping and convulsing around the lecherous fingers of the same woman you’ve heard nothing but complaints about from your boss since you first began working under her. You’re sure that if Doctor Ziegler could see you now, she’d have you fired on the spot, —and something about that makes this so much fucking hotter.

You’re whimpering at every touch, so vulnerable for her eyes only. She prods at every inch of your insides she can touch, moving her fingers in time with every little noise that’s ripped from your throat, leaving you moaning like a slut in heat; and the cycle continues until your body has just had more than enough.

“Moira, I—” a breath cuts you off, nails scraping against that odd-feeling leather beneath you. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, holy shit—”

She doesn’t stop. She wouldn’t even dream of it when you’re begging like that, when the pretty pussy she’s hammering out with two fingers is just begging for every ounce of her desire and attention.

The knot inside you unravels, and she basks in the way you spasm around her digits, back arching up off the table. Moira lets you ride it out before slipping out, drawing a few lines up and down your glistening slit before pulling her hand away and reaching for the paper towl dispenser that hangs on the wall. She pats her hand dry and silently collects the clothes strewn about the room.

It takes a moment for you to get your bearings, but you manage to redress without making a fool of yourself.

“A word of advice,” Moira finally speaks, “you’re a good time, and I’m sure an adaquate employee, —but acting isn’t much your forte. Next time Angela sends you here to spy on me, spare me the pleasantries and let’s just skip to the good part.”

You can feel your ears burning, but you force a nod anyway.

“Yes, Doctor.”

#overwatch smut #overwatch #overwatch x reader #overwatch x reader smut #moira o'deorain #moira #moira odeorain #moira odeorain x reader #moira odeorain smut #moira o'deorain smut #moira odeorain x reader smut #moira o'deorain x reader smut #moira x reader smut #moira x reader #moira o'deorain x reader

[friendship-ditch]

Compromise

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: A little drabble of you doing Katniss’s makeup.

Warnings: None! This is pure fluff.

Word Count: 836

“Stay still–what did I just say? Stop squirming around!”

Katniss giggled, wiggling out of your grip. Your makeup brush left a nice red (unintentional) line across her cheek and down her jaw.

“Oh great, that’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but chuckle as you set the brush aside.

Katniss laughed too. “You really want to put that on my face?” She eyed the bright red blush with unease. “It’ll make me look like a clown!”

“A beautiful clown.” You replied. She smiled. “And I’ll blend it in. Afterwards, you won’t even be able to see it, I promise.”

“I don’t know. What is the rest of the look supposed to be?”

“Red eyeshadow, that’s all I’m going to tell you.” You said with a smug smile. You gently cupped her face, wiping the misplaced makeup away with your thumb. Her cheeks still remained pink beneath your touch. “But it’s going to look beautiful on you. So stop moving and let me put this on.”

She hardly ever let you mess with makeup like this, finding the feeling of too much on her face to be appalling. But after weeks of you begging, she finally gave in. Though she was starting to regret it…

Katniss groaned in protest but stopped moving. Having just come back from training, she was looking forward to taking a nap but you pounced on her with the earliest opportunity to fulfill her promise.

She couldn’t help but giggle again as you rubbed the makeup into her face with your thumbs, tickling her sensitive cheek.

“Y/n.” She whined, gentle hands flailing out to try to push you away. It was a failed attempt.

“No way.” You pushed her onto her back on the bed. “You’re staying right here until I’m done.” Climbing on top of her, you sat on her stomach and made sure she couldn’t fight out of your grasp. You grabbed the eyeshadow pallet.

She fell limp beneath you. You’d finally trapped your prey.

When you finished applying the eyeshadow and the eyeliner, you carefully glued a few jewels to her face, around her gray eyes. Then you sat back and admired her with a proud expression.

For a moment you wondered if you’d put too much blush on her face as she was now a bright red color. When you felt her cheek and realized how hot it was you snickered.

“Well, now the blush is too much.” You set your hand on the side of her face and leaned in closer, using your thumb to gently flick an eyelash away. “I’m trying my best to not make you look like a tomato, love, but you’re as red as one.”

“If you weren’t sitting on top of my stomach and slowly suffocating me I wouldn’t be this red.”

“I don’t know… I think you’re just embarrassed.” You cooed and she flushed even brighter. You leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

Katniss reached a hand up and blocked you from going in for another, eyes sparkling. “Come on, get off of me, I can’t breathe.” She complained and squirmed again.

“I don’t trust you, you’ll try to escape my loving touch.”

“Can we compromise?” She groaned with a smile and you felt the corners of your lips perk up.

“What do you have in mind?”

About 5 minutes later, you were sitting in Katniss’s lap, legs gingerly wrapped around her torso as you applied a soft layer of gloss to her lips. Her eyes were closed as if she couldn’t bear to look at you being this close to her face—or if she was just messing with you. When you spoke her name she offered no reply, playing dead.

You decided to make sure she was still with you.

You pressed a quick, gentle kiss to her shiny lips.

Katniss’s eyes flew open and she let out a soft noise of surprise. She blushed once more. “Now you’re running my makeup.”

“Now you actually care?” You teased as you applied a new layer of gloss to her lips. “There, problem solved.”

Katniss just laughed softly. She wrapped her own arms around you and flipped the two of you over so she was on top of you. Her soft eyes shone with mischief and her glittery lips were spread in a wide smile.

“You should let me do your makeup next.”

You laughed again. “No way. I still have to do your hair.”

“My hair is perfectly fine.”

You reached a hand around her head and ruffled her fluffy hair, messing it up. “No, actually, it’s not. Now I have to fix it.” You fussed with a mischievous chuckle.

Katniss sighed dramatically. She couldn’t help but smile and she leaned down and kissed you once more. She smudged her lip gloss again. “And that too.”

Your hand was still gently curled around the shape of your head and you tilted her head down again for another kiss.

“Maybe we should save that until the end.”

#katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen #katniss everdeen x fem!reader #katniss everdeen x you #catching fire #the hunger games #the mockingjay #x reader #this one is really short but I still love it

[whirlwindimagines]

'Just trust me you'll be fine'

Vash x Reader

Warning CHEESY AS FUCK ONE BED TROPE

Exhausted couldn't even begin to explain the state you were in; you could tell Vash was as well by the way he was dragging his feet. The two of you had gotten out of a pretty serious gunfight with a persistent bounty hunter, you were both unharmed thanks to Vash’s quick thinking. 

“Maybe we should settle down in a hotel for the night.” You said nudging Vash with your elbow into his side, it caused him to lean dangerously to the other and you grabbed his arm to keep him straight. “Are you alright?” you asked, forgetting about your own tiredness for Vash’s.

His metal arm went up to rub the back of his undercut, a sheepish smile on his face. You frowned the smile didn't reach his eyes, “I’m fine, but yeah I think a nice warm bed will be just great!” he seemed so weary, but before you could comment he pulled ahead of you. It gave you know choice, but to follow. 

Reaching the hotel, Vash talked to the man at the counter while you stood by. They only had one room for the night. You didn't care, just lucky to even have one, following Vash to the room. You watched him struggle to put the key in, you laughed softly taking it from his hands to unlock the door yourself.

He pouted playfully at you, while you grinned. Your grin fell, once you entered the room to one small bed. You heard Vash sigh, “I can take the floor-”

“No, I'll take the floor.” you interrupted, something seemed off about Vash tonight you’d rather him be comfortable than you. He looked like he was going to argue you brushed him off with a wave of your hand, “Honestly Vash it's fine.”

“We could share.”

Your brain short-circuited at that, only able to stare at him your eyes wide, you recognized the frantic look in his eye when he put his hands up waving them around. “I mean only if you are comfortable! I don't want you to think- I... Never mind.” 

Your gaze softened as you let out a light laugh, “Vash it's fine, and yeah let's just share.” he smiled gently at you, the two of you just staring at each other, until you could feel your face heat up, “I’m just going to change!” you squeaked out, rushing to grab your stuff and hide in the bathroom. 

Once you had a closed-door in-between you in Vash, you placed your head in your hands. God you were so stupid, yeah let’s share a nice small bed with the man you're hopelessly in love with! Nothing is going to go wrong there. You changed quickly but hesitated leaving it’ll be fine you’ll be fine. Stepping out you noticed Vash struggling to take his jacket off.

“You need some help.” You startled him, he turned around quickly, a slight blush on his cheeks. “It's just my arm...” you stepped forward, staring at his prosthetic, you weren’t sure how it worked and you’d never seen him without it. You paused, weren’t you supposed to take those things off?

“Do you… want help removing your arm?” You said it carefully, unsure, were you crossing a boundary? He looked at you oddly, and you feared you overstepped before Vash sighed, moving to sit on the bed, his hands on his lap. “I don't really like taking it off, I feel to…” his voice trails off but you have an idea of what he is saying.

“Vulnerable?” you asked quietly as he nodded, you moved towards him stopping in front of him. He opened his legs for you, letting you come closer to stand in between them, it made your heart race. You placed one of your hands on his metal arm, “I think we can survive for one night.” 

He looked up at you shyly, but nodded. Quietly walking you through the process, you followed his instructions silently. Once you removed the arm, you moved it to the nightstand to leave it there for the night. You joined his side again, moving to stand back in front of him, leaning forward you removed his glasses and begin to help him out of his coat. He placed his hand on your waist, the touch light and hesitant. 

“It's fine, I can do the rest.” You met his gaze and smile softly, “Vash, let me take care of you.” You watched his whole face heat up, but nodded, removing his hand from your waist as you helped him out of his coat. You folded neatly and placed it off on a chair to the side. 

You turned as Vash moved to lay on the bed, you turned the lights off as you joined him on the other side. He lifted the covers for you, and you got right in, the two of you laying on your backs. You could feel the heat rising to your face.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” You asked softly, turning on your side to look at him, Vash turned his head to look at you. He looked a little surprised by the question. At first, you think you say the wrong thing as the silence stretches out between you two. 

“Not as much as it used to.” You frown at Vash’s quiet but honest answer, you hesitate for a moment but then decided fuck it and reach your hand over to rest it on his chest, he looks startled from the movement but doesn’t say anything as you speak. “I’m sorry.” and you mean it, you're sorry that people only return his kindness with pain. 

You wish you could do something to help ease his pain, even if just a bit. Your face flushes when you feel Vash place his flesh arm over your hand, squeezing it. “You don’t need to feel sorry for yourself.” He says it so sadly, you only huff in response, sitting up on your elbow, to stare down at him.

“I don’t feel sorry for you Vash.” You start as he averts his gaze from yours, he looks soft in the moonlight. “However, I am sorry that this world keeps throwing painful things at you when you don’t deserve it.” 

You want him to understand, you need him to feel his hand tremble as if grips your hand tighter. “You understand, don’t you? You don’t deserve hardships all the time.” You being pushy you know you are but, you want him to listen. 

Vash takes a stuttering breath, but you wait not rushing him to speak, “deep down a part of me knows that but it’s hard.” His voice is small and it makes your heart ache, how can this wonderful selfish man even think that? “I know it's hard… but you have me, okay? I'll knock some sense into you every once in a while.”

Your words get a slight chuckle out of Vash as he grips your hand again, a light squeeze of his fingers but most likely a silent thank you. Your face begins to heat up as you stare into his blue eyes, they seem softer somehow. “Thanks… you make it easier.” now that just wasn't fair on your heart!

“I want to make things easier, for you I mean…. we are friends, aren't we?” Even if the word friend burns your throat, it’s the truth, he is probably your closest friend and you’re not going to make him uncomfortable by putting a move on him or something…

Vash smiles a real genuine smile that makes you smile along with him, “Yes.” he says it with such convection but you notice a flash of something in his gaze… you don't know how to interrupt right now in your tired state. “Well as I am such a *good friend* I think you deserve a reward for saving us back there.” Vash rolls his eyes; he could only imagine what you are implying. 

You open your arms to Vash, “Come here.” Your heart races at his puppy dog look, you’ve already exposed so much to each other tonight what was one more thing? You watch his eyes light up, as he sits up and looks at you. “Really?” his tone is a little too eager you roll your eyes, “Yes Vash come here and cuddle me.” 

You barely finish the sentence when he drops his weight on you, his head leaning against your chest and his body settling in between your legs. You were glad Vash couldn't see your face, or he'd see how bright you were. But his weight was welcomed against you; it made you feel secure, and warm. You wrapped one arm around his shoulder, while your other hand settled in his hair running your fingers through it gently. 

Once you started scratching at the back of his head, he practically melted into you with a very content sigh that just made you feel so warm and light. If possible, you'd want to stay this way forever… even if Vash probably doesn’t return your feelings, it's fine as long as you can make him feel safe and comfortable in your arms, you are happy. It’s selfish to ask for more… so you will be content Vash needs someone to lean onto without an expectation and you will gladly be that person for Vash.

#trigun stampede #trigun stampede x reader #vash x reader #vash imagines #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun x reader #vash x you #vash imgaine #vash trigun #trigun imagine #trigun fic

[twelvegods]

brutal. kageyama tobio

the sour collective; ❝where's my fucking teenage dream?❞

pairing/s; kageyama tobio x fem!reader

warning/s; none

word count; 815

summary; confess, they said. date the king, they said. he’d treat you better, they said. but no one told you it was going to be this brutal.

a/n; this one’s pretty short since i’m coming back from a very long hiatus and am v v rusty and didn’t really know where i should take this so i stuck as close to the premise as i could and found myself here. let me know ur thoughts!!

“listen to this shit someone tagged me in; ‘isn’t it practically confirmed that [y/l/n] actually got to play for the red rabbits by slutting it up with kageyama?’” amanai kanoka read out loud some tweet on her phone.

the hikari pharmaceutical red rabbits were all gathered in the locker room at five in the morning to prepare for this morning’s training session and you’d just clocked in after a tiny squabble with your boyfriend over breakfast. amanai looked up at your scowling expression as you changed out of your attire and into the team uniform.

“can’t believe you’re still getting hate, hasn’t it been a few months already?” she took a few sips from her water bottle.

“if i knew this would happen, i wouldn’t have talked tobio into going public.” you sighed, clicking your locker closed.

hirugami shoko glanced over amanai’s shoulder to peer at the screen of her phone, frowning. “they clearly don’t know what they’re talking about, [y/n]. don’t listen to them.”

that was easier said than done.

you wanted to say you expected this, that you knew what you were signing up for when you and kageyama mutually agreed to go public after dating for some odd three years. prior to that, you pined after one another in high school, but ultimately thought it best to avoid a steady relationship, keeping in mind that you both wanted to put your careers first.

but you hadn’t anticipated the onslaught of hate and complete carnage when that stupid post took to the internet, not knowing your little instagram story had the biggest snowball effect.

it suddenly felt like you were placed under a microscope and that the public assumed the right to pick you, and your relationship, apart. at first, you couldn’t give two shits about what they were saying online, that it only mattered that you and kageyama were happy and not at the expense of anyone else's happiness. but as the months went by, all those comments were starting to get to you and doubts began to arise.

it didn’t help that kageyama didn’t seem to care, he had never even bothered to bring it up after that first month of announcing your relationship. you have never felt smaller in your life, thinking that he found your relationship insignificant.

“you have to say something!” you pushed, your arms tight around your torso. “you wanted to go public and they’re degrading me, tobio!”

he rubbed the bridge of his nose, putting down his chopsticks as he calmly assessed the dinner you pushed away. “it’ll die down in a few days, you know they always find something else to talk about eventually. don’t take it to heart, [y/n].”

“and you’re not even going to bother defending me?” you scoffed, pushing back your chair as you didn’t have it in you to finish the rest of your meal.

“why should i defend you towards people that don’t matter?” his cold blue eyes flicked up to meet yours as you retreated from the dining area.

you had to avert your eyes. “god, why don’t you get it, tobio?”

“stop being so sensitive, [y/n].”

and just like that, he picked up his chopsticks and resumed his dinner, the conversation over.

these days you couldn’t help but think that your love for one another was dwindling, because even the one you thought would be by your side was also picking apart each and everything you did with a touch of hostility. and so that night as you lay in bed with your back turned towards your lover, you gave in to temptation and opened twitter, beginning to scroll through your feed and mentions.

‘kageyama deserves better than some fame whore’

‘pretty sure [y/l/n]’s only after his money’

‘he doesn’t even look happy when they’re together? #freekageyama’

‘this is just another pr stunt! they’ll break up sooner or later after [y/l/n] leeches enough of his money’

apparently, not only was there a hashtag trending due to the public being completely against your relationship, but not even a single tweet was in your favor. before you knew it, tears had welled up in your eyes as insecurity gripped your heart.

you turned to face the love of your life, tracing whatever of his features you could see in the dim lighting of your shared bedroom.

“hey, tobio?” you whispered, not sure if you were really expecting, or wanted, a response. “do you hate me?”

the silence seemed to stretch on forever.

his eyes remained closed shut, an ethereal look on his face as he went on sleeping, not knowing you were falling apart right next to him. you choked on your tears, turning towards the ceiling and willing yourself to rest, allowing your breathing to calm down and labor out, before finally feeling yourself begin to drift away.

but not before kageyama muttered something under his breath that you had no energy to decipher. “...you.”

what am i even doing here? you thought, just before a dreamless sleep held you in a comforting grip.

tags; @hanayanetwork @planetonet @anime-central-archived @hqintheclub @tahonet

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #kageyama tobio imagines #kageyama tobio one shot #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio x you #kageyama tobio angst #kageyama tobio fluff #kageyama tobio smut #mine* #hanaya network #planeto🪐 #anime-central #hqintheclub #tahonet

[ofallthingsnasty]

Pretty please could you do F, H, N, or Y for crocodile one day! I’m curious on your thoughts about him and I love when you talk about him 😭 my new obsession is the pug who he hates but tolerates just for you, so sweet 🥺

Yandere Alphabet letters a, i and q for crocodile hdsjahj anon I'm glad you like my rambles because they are so much fun to write 💕💕 regarding the little dog - don't be fooled, it's 50% him wanting to see you happy and 50% having even more leverage over you 🤭 mean man...

tw.yandere, violence, minors dni

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Uh oh, you might want to reconsider doing that. You call it fighting back, he calls it being an ungrateful, whiny little brat and it pisses him off. There are few things that make his blood boil when it comes to you, and being defiant and insulting him is one of them. Does he know that you’re here against your will? Sure. Does he care? No. You see, he views himself as some sort of provider - he’s giving you a life a million times better than your old one. You’re cared for, well-fed, nicely dressed, don’t have to work - really, your only job is to play house when he’s around (which he isn’t all that often, busy as he is). He doesn't even expect you to fuck him for it, he just wants someone to come home to, who will let him rest his head on their lap and caress it. (Of course, he oh-so-graciously ignores the gigantic power imbalance between the two of you when it suits him, especially when it comes to the bedroom. But generally speaking, I think he can be rather mellow compared to others, can even be reasoned with to a certain extent. Just be good for him.)

He thinks he’s being more than generous, more than fair - for the position you're in. A lesser pirate would have killed you by now, he tells you, would have gotten a new toy already. No, no - he is here to stay, he wants to see you thrive, even.And if you throw it all in his face, spit at him, dare to fight him - oh, what he’ll feel will be beyond good and evil. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, darling.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Okay, good news first: When it comes to Crocodile, I’d argue that the worst experience is really limited to just one. I’ve talked about him physically lashing out at you in a moment of rage and in the weeks that have passed that thought kind of stuck with me. At his core, this man doesn't want to hurt you (deeply). Manipulating you with visual threats and possibilities is one thing, but genuinely injuring you to make you bend to his will? Not really his style. Yes, he does corporal punishments - but only because they’re so effective and can be done so quickly. (A classic action - réaction, if you will.) So, what exactly is that nebulous worst experience? It’s him either using his Devil Fruit powers or his hook on you. To even get to that point, he’d have to be beyond angry with you. It’s probably something that happens early on while you’re not yet acquainted with your new role and you dare to insult him, try to escape - maybe you spiral, his temper simply cooks over and- Trust me, he’ll never do it again. It’ll leave permanent physical damage. But it’ll also traumatize you into submission, which is the only good thing to come out of this, at least to him. You’ll both regret it. And you’ll both learn from it.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Spankings. Lots of them. It’s quick, efficient, shows you who is in charge, makes you sit a little straighter, makes you sweeter - he isn’t beyond mind games in general but when it comes to punishments, a quick correction is just more convenient. Manipulation and the likes are the long con, the work he puts in to undermine your self-esteem, to make you doubt your own feelings for your captor. But the spankings are the here and now, the thing that keeps the cat from sharpening its claws on the sofa.

You’ll learn to associate that telltale-look of tired disappointment with a sigh and over my knee, darling. He’ll ask what you’ve done wrong, will make you count, will leave you feeling so small, like an unruly child and not a fully grown adult - it’s a great way to keep you edge, to never let you forget who is in charge here, no matter how much time passes and in how many gifts he showers you.

And if it’s really dire - you get the belt. 

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

I always waver on this one. We know from the story that he isn’t afraid of planning, slowly building, waiting - Operation Utopia was a goddamn mammoth and he has the patience to wait on you for years and years to make it perfect - but. Doesn’t he deserve something soft? Someone to come home to? And what good is all that plotting and lying in wait and watching if he could have had you by that point already?He definitely won’t go ‘alright, that one’s spouse-shaped, put them in the bag’ when he sees you for the first time but he won’t wait too long for you either. Just long enough to gain sufficient intel, to get to know you a little better, to make your disappearance as smooth and seamless as possible. I’m not trying to sound harsh, but not only does he not want to wait too long - there are also other, more important things to do? He can’t spend months upon months learning about you inch by inch, he has an Ancient Weapon to seize and a country to overthrow. You can’t be mad at him when he pulls the plug at a certain moment and simply takes what he wants. It’s really only logical.

#omg that was waaaaay too much fun. thank you for indulging me!! kiss for you... 💕 #tw.yandere #/crocodile #/one piece #yandere one piece #crocodile x reader

[tadpolesonalgae]

Lie to Me: Part 2[***]

Dark!Cassian x reader

Summary: With plans for your husband and dear friend, Eris, to take the throne, you’ve kept Cassian’s secret to yourself. With the turbulence of navigating Court politics, your husband’s private alliance with the Night Court needs to be maintained more carefully than ever, meaning that at least for now, no one will know that their General ever put his hands on you.

Warnings: Cassian gets forgiven, dub-con but it’s pretty soft, mentions of past non-con, smut, tiny sequin of angst, emotion hurt/comfort?

Word Count: 7,424

-Part 1-

“I’ll go,” you answer simply.

Sharp caramel eyes run over you appraisingly, and you hold still beneath his attention. He leans forward on his desk, discarding the reports and instead propping his chin on interleaved fingers. “That’s much too dangerous,” he replies after a pause, “now more than ever I need you by my side. Even if it’s for the sole purpose of having my court see us together, we need a united front. You’ll stay here.”

“Eris, this is likely a pivotal moment in your lifetime. In the history of the Autumn Court even. I don’t believe this is a task that can be delegated to someone we don’t trust entirely,” you reason, keeping your spine straight, eyes locked on his. “If their General will be travelling too, we need to show our trust. I am the perfect person to send—they know we trust one another, so sending me will be a show of good faith. On top of all this, I know what to look for. Excluding us, only one other person knows, who we trust, and he needs to stay here. It is far more important that you are shown to be well protected and untouchable than for your wife to be at your side.”

He levels you with a hard look, decisions passing through his mind, taking in your arguments. Eris sighs, at last leaning back into his chair, crossing his long legs at the ankles. “It is the more sensible solution, isn’t it?” He relents, at last allowing the exhaustion to show on his features, head tipping back into his chair. A sad smile curves the edges of your mouth, stepping forward to rest your hand on his shoulder. “It’ll likely only take a week or so, no longer. I’ll be back before you know it.” Eris scoffs, but doesn’t try to remove your hand. “I’m not some moony eyed husband,” he reminds sardonically, “I will manage a few days relieved of your presence.”

“Mhm,” you reply skeptically, “sure.”

Eris shoots you a glare, but it’s lacking the sharp flame that he usually puts into it. He relents, hand settling atop your own, one of the few displays of open affection he allows, rare but appreciated. “Be as efficient as possible,” he reminds, watching you quietly. “I don’t like having to share you with that brute so often.”

Fighting the discomfort that’s squirming beneath your skin, you force a smile. “I assure you, husband, you have nothing to worry about.”

————

“You’re late,” you say neutrally, eyes sliding open to mark the approaching figure.

“You were early,” Cassian counters, grinning broadly as he saunters into the clearing, sharp hazel eyes checking likely for the fifth time there are no unexpected guests. “I arrived at the minute we agreed on, so really you’re the one who wasn’t on time.”

“This alliance is important,” you reply, watching him warily from your seat on the ground, back propped against a tree, arms outstretched to perch upon your knees, bag leaned beside you on the broad trunk. “It’s discourteous and inconsiderate to not arrive at least a few minutes early preemptively. It sends a message.”

“You think I have all the time in the world to simply accompany Eris’ whims?” He asks rhetorically, an easy grin on his mouth as he approaches you, stopping a sensible distance away. “I have my own duties that had to be taken care of for it to be possible for me to accompany you. Isn’t that enough?”

You get to your feet, watching him distrustfully as you stretch your arms far above your head, loosening the taut muscle. “Illyrians giving you some trouble?” You ask neutrally, an edge to your voice, marking his hazel eyes that seem to be pointedly remaining locked on your own, not for a second dipping lower as they once used to. In a way you once enjoyed. “As troublesome as usual,” he answers vaguely, caution entering his gaze despite the curve of his soft mouth.

You hum in response, shucking the bag back onto your shoulders, easing out the straps and tying them across your front to evenly disperse the weight. “That’s good to hear,” you say blandly, and he walks closer once you’ve finished, preparing for the long journey ahead, travelling to the unclaimed land of Under the Mountain. Seeking the Weaver’s cottage that has been left hopefully abandoned for some time, remaining uninhabited.

“Nobody saw you?” You ask, and even to your ears it’s a low jab. Of course he wouldn’t have been followed, it’s just a cheap shot to remind him what he’s done. Of the betrayal he’d forced you through.

Cassian recognises this, something shameful flickering in his gaze, chin lowering by an almost invisible angle. “Nobody saw,” he replies quietly, eyes locking as acknowledgement passes through his features, regret inseparably intwined. “All it takes is one person, General,” you remind lowly, staring him down.

His throat rolls, but he nods, dipping his head. Understanding the conversation is no longer about his journey, simply that it is a superficial front for more serious topics. “Maybe one day it’ll come to light of its own accord,” he says quietly, hazel eyes swirling and deep.

“Until then,” you reply, pushing flame into your gaze.

“Until then,” he repeat, nodding.

————

It’s the second day, and you’re waiting silently in a clearing for Cassian to return from the marketplace with food for supper.

Between the two of you, you mutually came to the conclusion he would be less recognisable, both for his familiarity in subtlety, and the likeliness that the Fae filling an exchange hub would hopefully not be the kind to be well acquainted with warlords. You pull your cloak tighter, air still heavy with the crisp ice of the Winter Court, and this will be the last time you pass through a town before reaching your destination, hence replenishing food supplies for the next forty-eight hours.

Privately you had hoped to be the one to go into the market as you have visited before, and would have liked to pass by a few familiar destinations. As well as some newer establishments.

It feels strange to think you would be entitled to a bed in the asylum.

During Amarantha’s reign, Viviane, who had temporarily assumed control of the Court in the High Lord’s absence, had opened a shelter for any who could make it, irrelevant of the Court they hailed from. Anything from grieving the loss of a loved one, to have been taken advantage of—everyone was welcome.

Despite what had happened with Cassian, it didn’t feel right. It was different. How could you compare your own experience with some of the traumatising stories others had been put through during Amarantha’s dominion? It was wrong, but… It hadn’t been that bad. You’d lived, come out of it without scars, or any deformations—that was enough to separate you from the people within the asylum.

A twig snaps, and you remove your attention from the white dove perched upon a frosty branch, to the towering Illyrian approaching you. The fire continues to crackle away, having used your magic to set it ablaze without need for fuel—lucky, seeming as you would’ve had a hard time finding dry kindling, given the snow that’s thick on the floor. While he’d been away you’d also been tasked with clearing patches for each of you to sleep, a noticeable distance apart, though each are sizeable enough to comfortably accommodate your respective body masses.

After supper—that he prepares, and you notice he gives you the larger portion of—the two of your drift to your cleared spaces, setting up the bedrolls and unfolding the thick blankets that were specifically fashioned with Winter Court temperatures in mind, fleece thickly layering the insides with insulation spells woven between the thread. Yet even with every advantage, the cold seems to be finding ways to infiltrate, despite the warm clothes, the heat contained within your body, the crackling fire that should be providing some level of warmth.

Before long your teeth are close to chattering, stomach spasming with cold, toes and legs curled and pressed flush together as you huddle tighter.

With an irritated sigh, you shove the blanket off, the icy temperature instantly setting deeper into your bones. “Cassian, move over,” you mutter reluctantly, sending a wave of heat to melt a pathway in the snow so you can tread across without freezing your feet off, carefully moving your bedroll to tuck beside his.

He makes no comment about the use of his name at last, just shifting over as much as he can, opening his blanket to overlap with your own, and you settle down, putting as much distance between you as possible. Still, the cold doesn’t abate, unable to siphon his warmth from the proximity. “You know,” he tries quietly with forced lightness, strain evident, “you should probably come closer. You’ll get frostbite.”

“I’m fine,” you bite out stiffly, curled tight, able to see as your breath fogs before you. He’s silent, but you can practically hear his hesitance, the pause in his voice, both of you knowing he’s right. “I won’t…I’m not going to do anything,” he whispers, voice thick and heavy. “So you can come closer. You need to warm up.” You grit your teeth, blowing out a breath, before rolling over to his side, Cassian having already pulled his winter blanket over more, allowing you to take in the heat he’s warmed it with.

“You’ve given me too much,” you manage quietly, disliking the proximity you have with the male, the possibilities at last dawning on you as a potential reality. It’s unlikely he would be able to succeed, but… “It’s fine,” he replies stiffly. Your brows narrow, pushing up from the bed, seeing his left wing exposed the other side of him, sticking out from beneath. You glare down at hazel, simultaneously angry at him for so blatantly causing himself to suffer, as if it will serve as penance, and frustrated at him for doing something so foolish. He’s always been the kind of male to put people he cares about first, even if it hurts him sometimes.

You pull his blanket further onto your side, and he hisses as the icy wind kisses the sensitive skin of his wings, flinching at the cold. Still he doesn’t complain, and you don’t doubt he would allow you to take the blanket entirely, feeling he deserves the night of pain. But despite everything, you know he isn’t that bad. You’re the only one he’s wronged in that way, and you can excuse it for one night, reminding yourself forcefully of the good he’s done until this point. You’re old enough to know life isn’t black and white, no matter how desperately you wish it was—how much easier things would be if there was a straightforward answer to your enigmatic relationship.

So despite having dragged his blanket away, so his left wing is entirely uncovered, trembling slightly as it tucks tight to his back, you shift your own blanket to cover it, leaning over him to make sure he’s sealed in, while remaining wary of touching the intimate expanse. Silently, you settle back beneath the thick duvet he’s already heated, wordlessly shifting closer, fighting the tightness that seizes your muscles as his arms tentatively wrap around your body, shifting beneath your rib cage, gingerly pulling you to his chest, your head ducking beneath his chin.

Aching familiarity pierces your breastbone, nostalgia for the times before he’d chosen his path, destroying centuries of friendship, bordering on something greater; something deeper. How many nights had you fallen asleep haphazardly on his bed, only to wake repeatedly in this very position, having subconsciously slotted together in your sleep, a strange magnetism that would connect you.

“These blankets are less that satisfactory,” you mutter, silently pointing your finger in foolish attempts to soothe the conflicting feelings burning in your gut.

“The shop owner must have lied about their insulation,” he replies thickly, and you can’t decide whether you believe him or not. A month ago, you wouldn’t have doubted him for a second, but now you’re not so sure. You hum, and it’s clear he can detect your indecision, body shifting ever so slightly. His scent wraps around you, at once comforting and unsettling, the contradiction of emotions he seeds in you feeling like whiplash.

“Did you manage to find the store I mentioned?” You ask, needing a distraction from his encompassing touch, hyper aware of every place your bodies are connecting, skin tingling beneath his heat. “Sure did,” he responds stiffly, “your directions were spot on.” You don’t know if you imagine his fingers inching higher, his palm flattening over your spine, his head dipping so he can nose at your scent, but it sparks an ember of intensity across your chest, emotions concentrating into something difficult to contain, but you can’t figure what.

“You saw the asylum, then?” You ask shortly.

His body tenses at your back, pounds of muscle locking, breath hitching briefly before easing out. “I did,” he murmurs hoarsely, but you can’t quite muster the energy to feel bad for what you’re doing, even if for all purposes of the trip and alliance you had sworn you wouldn’t bring it up again unless you were in danger. You hum, settling tighter in his hold, “I wanted to visit.”

Cassian freezes, large frame stiffening, head dipping to peer down and you can feel the light tremble in his hands. You wonder if perhaps he’s finding this as torturous as you are, though for a different set of reasons. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, the apology weak and broken. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats, shaky hands holding you carefully, as if you’re going to shatter and dissolve in his arms should he make a single wrong move.

The confession catches you off guard, anger burning in your veins, hands flattening against his chest to feel how his heart is pounding wildly, inclining your chin to stare up at him, so close together. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispers, one hand tentatively rising over your arm, moving to cup your jaw, scared you’ll jerk away. You don’t, too frozen stiff with shock, and his palm settles across your skin. “I swear it,” he breathes, brows curved with pain, “I regret doing it. I don’t know what came over me. You know— You know I’m not that sort of person,” he tries to plead, while you remain speechless.

“I hate to break it to you, Cassian, but you made yourself that sort of person,” you spit lowly, bottom lip wobbling. “It was wrong. You clearly understand that if you’re apologising, but chose to do it anyway.”

“Then why did you agree to come on this mission with me. You can’t have not known,” he whispers.

“Because I have a duty,” you hiss. “Everything I do is to help Eris, to help the people who are forced to suffer in my Court. You know this. Don’t pretend it’s a surprise.”

He stares at you, eyes marginally widened, lips parted and you stare back.

“You thought I’d forgive you?” You breathe hoarsely, utterly disbelieving.

He’s silent, rendered temporarily mute by shock and despair. Then: “was it really that bad?” He asks weakly. And yet fury fails you, the broken dissonance in his question, asked so sincerely. “I trusted you,” you whisper, too taken by emotion to shield yourself. “You led me on,” he breathes pleadingly. “For years, decades, you led me on.” His brows curve, lips carved in a regretful line as he stares at you with hot eyes. “You didn’t trust me,” he whispers brokenly, “you just liked knowing when the day came for that— that piece of shit to take the throne, you’d have Rhys’s ear through me.”

Your eyes widen, lips parting in devastation but he gives you no room to speak.

“I thought you felt the same as I did,” he bites out, “I thought there was time to figure something out, to get you away from him, so you could be with me. We could be together.” His hold has tightened on you significantly, and you know you should be terrified of his loss of control, but instead you’re paralysed as his heart shatters before your eyes. “But that wasn’t the case, was it?” He asks, voice breaking. “Did you find it funny? Did the two of you laugh together when you told him how blindly in love I am with you? I bet your conversations were rife with jokes about it. About the mongrel bastard who thought a purebred lady might see something in him that was worth a damn.”

Hot wells gather in his eyes, ready to spill over no matter how he tries to master himself, how much he tries to blink them away. “I was so stupid,” he breathes brokenly, forehead pressing to your own as his lids squeeze shut. “So stupid for even thinking you’d pick me over him. For trying to be better—”

“Don’t do that Cassian,” you manage to hiss, sadness and rage twining together into something wicked and inconceivable. “Don’t hide behind your poor self-esteem like that. Don’t try and manipulate me into feeling sorry for hating you.”

The General flinches, breath stuttering as if you just jabbed him in the throat, like you’d just smacked him in the face.

“I trusted you,” you whisper, eyes feeling hot, “and you broke that trust. If you had just waited—”

“I waited decades,” he hisses, unaware of the bruises he’s putting into your skin from how desperately he’s holding you. “I waited centuries for you, and even when I thought you felt the same I never made a move because I knew you wouldn’t give yourself that freedom out of some fucked-up sense of loyalty to him.” You practically recoil in his arms, but he brings you tighter to his chest, hearts almost pounding against one another from how flush you are.

“And that somehow entitled you to me?” You breathe. “Your actions are your own, General, no matter what you try to tell yourself. You knew what was going to happen, that I was already married, how else was it going to end?” Tears slip out but you shove them away with the palm of your hand. “Maybe things wouldn’t have gone anywhere, but they could have ended better,” you say shakily, “because we were good together. There was something between us. I did love you back.”

“Then why didn’t you come with me?” He groans in pain, hot water splashing on the bedroll.

“Because that’s not what I’m needed for,” you cry. “For fucks sake, Cassian, put yourself in my position. I love my Court, and I can see it becoming a place of safety and wonder, and I truly believe Eris can do that, but I need to be there for it. Surely you can understand that. If not my loyalty to him, then loyalty and love for my home, and a dream for a better world.”

The words hang taut between you, bare and bloody, beating with a faint fleshy pulse, ripped and torn from the warm heat of wet tissue.

“Why did you do that Cassian?” You whisper, staring up at him, searching for an answer in the male you once trusted and loved.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, clutching you tighter like you might leave him right then and there, turning without looking back.

“I’m sorry.”

————

The next day passes slower than the previous two combined, words from the night before haunting your travels as you breech the lands Under the Mountain.

Having found the Weaver’s cottage, thankfully vacant, you’d been unable to summon even a spark of relief upon locating the object you’d entered this mission to find. No matter its importance, your heart was silent in your chest.

You’re able to make a good pace, and reach a small cabin contained within the unruled lands, having been standing longer than you can remember, seemingly as belonging to the sinister forestry as the strange creatures that lurk there. There’s hardly enough energy for talk, spent from a long night of arguing, emotions flayed raw.

From the other room you hear Cassian swear, the entirety of the small hut comprised of two tight rooms. You instinctively follow to the sound, spotting the single bed that’s the object of his startled aggravation. Hazel eyes hesitantly turn to you, but you hardly have the energy to care, just shaking your head, turning to make for the kitchen.

“One more night,” he hears you mutter bitterly under your breath, his heart fracturing a little more from the harsh words, so clearly resentful.

Supper comes and goes, and eventually it’s time for rest. The numbness has been given time to thaw, and once again you find yourself dreading his presence, being in such close proximity to the male who’d so brutally betrayed you. But it’s just one more night, then you’ll go your separate ways: him back to his Night Court, and you back to Eris.

Eris, you remind yourself, the Autumn Court. Your reasons for why you’re on this mission, facing him again. It’s for your Court.

“I’ll be on guard,” Cassian says from behind you, leathers removed, leaving him in more domestic clothing that tugs at your heart strings. You’re ashamed to admit you’d once dared to fantasise about running away with him, living together in a cabin that would have ideally been larger than this, but you wouldn’t have complained.

“Don’t bother,” you reply dully, pulling the covers back, unable to look at him. “You’ll wake up anyway if there’s a hitch. Rest.”

He doesn’t argue with your reasoning, whether because he’s privately glad to have one more night beside you, or because he knows you’re much too tired to deal with more abrasion, you can’t tell, and realise you don’t particularly care.

Once again he presses up against you, arms wrapping around your body needlessly, no longer in need of being kept warm. Neither of you comment on it, despite how strange it would seem were either of you consciously recalling the recent events. But it feels natural and familiar in a way both of you crave in that moment, wishing to be returned to how things were so you don’t have to deal with how things are.

Cassian’s head dips slightly, nose brushing the crown of your head and you hear him inhale quietly, as if ashamed to still be needing you so greatly in spite of everything that’s happened. Feeling undeserving to even be indulging in your scent, but it’s been a month since he’s seen you, and he somehow doubts the meetings will increase at all in frequency. This very well might be the last time he sees you for a long time.

He wonders if he’ll be expected to attend the ball that will inevitably be thrown once Eris becomes High Lord and you his Lady of Autumn.

Not quite a Queen in their eyes, but something similar.

He peers down at you then, huddled reluctantly to his chest in order to both be able to fit on the bed, and laments with his entire soul.

Do you think you’ll be able to forgive him one day?

The silence of the cabin stretches between you, and he feels your muscles begin to lose their tautness. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I hardly know how I feel about you now, even having had a month to sit with it.”

Horror rushes through him, realising he’d spoken aloud, but you raise your head to look at him, silencing his words with a single glance. “No matter what you’ve done, I never meant to lead you on,” you murmur, “I’d thought the end result would be obvious.”

“Some people get happy endings,” he whispers, chest tingling beneath your touch. You remain silent, and he feels his stomach drop through the floor.

“You know I hate myself for it,” he says thickly. Honestly.

“I don’t want…” Your expression shows conflict, brows scrunching together in a pained look. “I hate you a bit, too.” Ice slices through his heart at your words, his torment reflected in your own features. “You know I never meant to hurt you,” he whispers, and you can feel the words echo across your mouth. “But you did hurt me. And you hurt yourself more in the process,” you reply, “so what was the point?”

“I didn’t want him to have you,” he breathes at last, the true motive finally being brought to light. “He has everything. He doesn’t need you.”

“So that’s what it comes down to,” you muse bitterly. “Possession.”

“I wanted to love you,” he whispers, lips brushing your forehead, and you’re startled by how close he’s gotten, hazel bearing down on you. “I still do.”

“I’ll burn you alive,” you threaten, voice cracking at the imagery, hands heating on his chest.

Cassian dips lower, brow pressing lightly to yours. “You could burn me to cinders,” he answers, hands sliding over your own, keeping your palm over his heart. “If you told them—any of them—they wouldn’t be angry. Not with you, at least. You could get away with it.”

“It would tear them apart,” you whisper, hands increasing by degrees along with the pace of your heart. “If it would even begin to fix anything between us…” he murmurs, hazel locking deeply with you. “Let me burn.”

His mouth grazes yours, then he’s pressing down firmer, committing like it’s his final act, hands losing their tremors, holding you like you’re the one made of ashes. Like you’re the most precious thing in his world, about to be set ablaze and forever lost to the wind. The decision is passed over to you—he’s made his stance. As twisted as it is, he’s showing willingness in his own way, resigning himself from the torment of choosing, of navigating all the endless angles and spikes that seem to perpetually be dragging you apart.

Heat stings at his chest, singeing his clothes, and he hisses into your mouth, heart pounding wildly in what’s possibly the most reckless move of his life, waiting for the fire to consume him whole.

Your mind whirs with conflict, he’s committing the crime right before you, but it’s so soft and tender, and something you’ve yearned for almost as long as he has. His eyes have slid shut, but you watch him, skin flushed as he plies your lips apart, brows narrowed in concentration, taking every last detail in, down to the stitching pattern that’s running beneath his fingertips.

The smell of singed cloth filtrates through the room, smokey and burnt, and your hands have broken through his shirt, bare palms burning against scar-slashed skin, packed with muscle and the heat of life—heat that’s barely an ember in the face of your flames, licking from your fingertips with desire to devour him. His heart is beating against your own, mouth opening with wet heat, latching flush with you as his hands stroke your sides reassuringly.

It’s okay to let him go.

Your hands jerk away, trying to shove at him but the tender hold is deceptively overpowering, and he keeps you tight to his body, tongue dipping in as he angles your mouth, diving deeper. You squirm, desperate to wriggle free, to run from the choices he’s presented you with: either choose him or follow through with your protection. An impossible conundrum.

His hand glides up your spine, arcing beneath his touch, palm tilting your head back as his lips leave your mouth, lowering to your throat. “Cassian,” you gasp, blood pumping through your body with fear. “Don’t do this again.” Yet he simply guides your hands to return to his chest, as if reminding you of your power to stop him, the power you have over him. “No matter what happens,” he whispers hoarsely, kissing down to your collar bones, “I’ll continue to love you after tonight. No matter what you do, or who you pick.” His mouth reaches the neckline of your top, and his palm skates across the bare skin of your abdomen, ducking beneath the fabric. “You’re strong enough to survive on your own, now.”

“Cassian,” you cry softly, not wanting to force the betrayal upon Eris in order to survive it yourself, yet seemingly unable to return it to the male before you. You’re certain he can feel the violent trembling of your fingers, the way heat surges and flickers as your power spasms with indecision, emotions flashing through you with such forceful velocity real sparks zap against tan skin. His hot mouth latches over a space below your jaw, tingling with feather-ish energy, his roughened palm sliding over the bare skin of your waist, trailing up your spine as he gently brings your shirt with him, the fabric catching beneath your breasts.

“Don’t make me choose,” you whisper, shaking as his touch returns to your front, dipping beneath your arm to graze intimately across your rib cage. “I can’t kill you, Cassian,” you breathe, tears welling even as frustration warms your body at your own inaction. If you’re stumbling here, how will you ever survive as Lady of Autumn? But this task is far more difficult than anything you’ve ever been forced to deal with, finally coming face to face with his emotions, feelings that have been quietly left to themselves for centuries, gently shunned back into the darkness so they wouldn’t have to be acknowledged. Now they’ve developed, having only grown stronger with neglect, learning to thrive off what little he’s been given, concentrating into something verging on poisonous. Proving potentially deadly now to both of you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, palm rising higher, and you gasp as he cups your breast, thumb softly grazing your nipple. “You’d be right to.”

He pushes your top up the final way, pulling you indulgently closer, shuddering slightly as he feels the softness of your breasts flush to his chest, pressing with delightful fullness. Your heart stutters, tremors fluttering through your body, an unfamiliar heat traitorously gathering in response to the soft touches.

You slide your left hand away from his chest, right palm remaining over his heart like a safety net, shaky fingers stumbling higher over the muscle of his shoulders, rising to thread through the black, silky hair he’s at last let down for the night. Cassian’s lips falter on your throat, temporarily rendered immobile by disbelief, unable to understand the meaning of your touch.

“Sweetheart?” He breathes shakily, brow resting on the crook between your shoulder and neck. Heat surges across the skin of his chest, stinging with short, burning pain at his pause, and he stutters back into action, heart pounding wildly, fingers taking the tumbling trip down the trail of your sternum, passing lower, digits grazing the soft skin of your abdomen.

Your hand grasps his hair tighter as he slides lower, shifting in the bed so you’re once again tucked beneath his chin, and you gasp as he cups your heat, having silently slipped beneath the band of your nightwear.

For one night, you realise you’ve decided. For one night, alone together in unruled territory, where there is no higher power present save for the Mother, no laws to obey nor unspoken rules to follow. In terrain where creatures and beasts from folklore and fairytales cohabit organically, through violence or coercion, you allow yourself to join them in their brutal form of existence. To alleviate the burden on your shoulders, relieve yourself from the pressure of seeking a right solution, and resign to a night of freedom.

His fingers prod lightly at your entrance, and your hands connect at the nape of his neck, releasing him from the worry of pain, allowing him to move without the hindrance of burning fingertips. For the first time since he’s put his hands on you tonight, he fumbles, caught off guard from your acceptance after centuries of being lead to believe you would never allow this to happen.

“Cassian,” you breathe tersely, and he stumbles again at the heat in your voice, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes. “I might not’ve been able to do anything before,” you whisper, maintaining enough distance to hold his gaze as your right hand slides from his back, brushing against his throat, and you can see from the strain in his features his instincts are roaring for him to defend himself, having already been burned by your fire. “But if you lose interest now because I’m willing…” Your palm heats, enough flame rising to your skin to bite at his windpipe, eyes prickling as his throat stings. “I’ll cook you from the inside out and have you served as a coronation dish.”

The General shivers, though it has nothing to do with fear. He can see the bleak conviction carved in your eyes, the grim strength rolling from your palm, ready to follow up on your threat should he prove himself to be morally irreparable.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathes, lips brushing, nose grazing against your own, close enough he could swear he feels the flutter of your lashes against his skin. The heat recedes, throat feeling cool as you release him, hands threading through his hair, eyes locking heatedly and you incline your chin. Cassian groans softly, at last lowering his mouth to yours, latching over top it with sweet relief, pleasurable aches blossoming in his lower body as you respond.

His fingers slide between your legs, thigh raising to swing over his hip, and you pause when his digits press inside, lips parting, allowing him to dip his tongue in and taste you. Arousal coalesces in the pit of your stomach, a soft sound of pleasure fluttering into his mouth as he curls inside of you, having you roll down onto him, sweet noises of intimacy being swapped between your bodies.

One hand trails down his chest, wrapping around his wrist, wanting to pull him away. Cassian pauses, drawing back from your mouth, tan skin hot and flushed as he peers at you quietly, irrationally worried you’ve had a change of heart. “I want to feel you Cassian,” you whisper, unbothered by the blunt words. He reaches forward, swiping across your glossy clit, circling lightly. “We’re in no rush,” he reassures, “we have all night.”

“Maybe you aren’t,” you mumble, eyes remaining locked on his as your fingers begin deftly untying the strings of his leathers, marking the roll of his throat.

He exhales heavily, almost a hiss, finally pushing your hand away so he can free himself faster—his need was manageable until you gave him that look, all heat and bedroom eyes. “Alright,” he whispers, watching as you remove your clothes with equal haste, hunger making his breathing irregular, the scent of your arousal wrapping around him so thoroughly he feels dizzy.

Cassian moves to be on top of you, but your muscles lock, refusing to relent, causing him to ease up, peering at you with heat in his eyes. “I don’t… Not yet,” you murmur, heart pounding and through the arousal he catches a glimpse of the wariness. Fear he’s put into your body.

The General swallows thickly, but nods, rolling onto his back so his wings are pinned, a small discomfort he’ll gladly undergo for your safety. Rough palms gently settle over your thighs, simply resting without pressure or guidance as you climb atop him, legs parting over his lap. Your breath stutters as you feel him between your thighs, the thick weight of him resting against his stomach, moisture beading at his tip. Your tongue swipes out over your lips, gripping him carefully, raising your hips to guide his head to your entrance, Cassian relinquishing all control to allow you your comfort.

“You know this won’t fix anything,” you breathe, holding him just away from where you both want to be joined. Hurt and regret flicker in his hazel eyes, but he nods. “I understand.”

“You know this might not happen again,” you whisper, skin pebbling in the cool air of the cabin. He hesitates, before swallowing and nodding. “I know.”

“I can’t give you any more than this.”

Again pain flickers in his gaze, features twisting into a carving of sadness. You sigh, palm settling flat over the firm planes of his abdomen. “Cassian,” you say, quietly, “maybe we just weren’t meant to be together.”

“Don’t say that,” he whispers hoarsely. “What I feel for you…it’s not coincidental. It’s intended.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you sigh, lips curving down. “I’m needed in Autumn, how you are in Night. To both serve, and rule. Tonight is the only exception to that, and after this—”

“Don’t,” he begs, “don’t.”

“This needs to be mutual,” you reason quietly. “How things were before…they can’t continue. How I’m perceived, the things I do…a Lady of Autumn won’t be able to have casual dinners with you, or nights in drinking. So we need to… It’ll only hurt more if we can’t agree on this.”

“You’ve been his wife for decades,” he manages roughly, pushing through the words. “I won’t suddenly stop loving you just because of your title. I know it can’t be as frequent, but it won’t be never.”

Your brows tie together sorrowfully, and his heart trips up.

“This past month,” he hedges, fighting the worry in his blood, “have you…” He shakes his head, eyes sliding shut as he eases in a breath, returning his gaze to you. “Do you love him?”

You watch him silently. Noting the vulnerability in his features, emotion spread raw, and you know without a doubt you could repay him tenfold for the brief pain he caused you with a few well-selected words.

But…

“No,” you whisper. “Not how I love you.”

His body reacts as if he’s at last been released from a torture bed, slumping and turning organically pliable, rested and well-used, like freshly oiled hinges. Maybe you hadn’t quite understood the depth of his insecurity, how ingrained in him that sense of worthlessness had been implanted, and if created wholly from inadequacies.

“That’s all that matters,” he breathes, hand reaching up to cup your jaw. “That’s all I care about.”

“Cassian…”

You lean into his touch, eyes sliding shut momentarily. Mourning the loss of normalcy. “We’ll find time,” he says softly, thumb brushing your cheek, your kiss raising to lock with tender hazel. “We’ll be together.”

And in a lapse of sense, you allow yourself to believe him, believe things will be okay, believe that there will be time, believe that things can work between you. “We’ll be together,” you repeat quietly, and at last the two of you connect.

You lower down atop him, Cassian sucking in a sharp breath as his hand drops from your cheek to your hip, then away again to fist at his sides, reminding himself that you’re the one in control. He won’t take that away from you again. Your lips part, pulse increasing as you take him in, feeling as he slowly fills you up, stuffing you full, until the backs of your thighs are flush with his hips, pressed tight together.

The silence is filled with heavy pants, breathing deeply as pleasure warms your skin, bubbling and sizzling between you. But he’s so big, so large that it feels as though you’re winded, unable to absorb the air in your lungs despite inhaling intentionally. A fluttery moan spills from your lips, and you scent as his arousal concentrates at the sound, your spine arching against him so he touches different spots inside of you.

“Oh gods…” you breathe, at last joined together in the way you never thought would happen. “Oh gods, Cassian…”

“I’m here,” he breathes, hands still clutching the bedroll. “I’m right here sweetheart.” Heavy pants puff from your chest, but you manage to grapple for him, hands stuttering across his chest, urging him upward. He follows almost immediately, sitting up on the bed, arms wrapping close around your waist, palms splaying up your spine, settling between your shoulder blades as your own lock at the nape of his neck.

“Cass…” you pant beside his ear, practically trembling in his arms. “You’re so big…” He twitches inside of you, groaning softly as the pads of his fingers press into your skin, desperate to keep you with him after the turbulence of the past month. You already feel so near the edge, finally being given what you’ve been in desperate need of for years, confident a single move on his end will have you shattering.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, brushing your hair away from your face, nose bumping tenderly with your own. “You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re here with me. You’re safe.” You shift to look at him properly but gasp with the stimulation. His hazel eyes lock with yours and you can make out the raw intimacy in his gaze, what it means for the two of you to be slotted together in the way you are.

“You’re so perfect,” he breathes, cupping your jaw, peering up at you. “How do you do it?” Your own palms raise to his hair, threading through the silky locks, loving the feel, proof of the new level of affinity.

“I want…I want you to move,” you pant, stroking his hair with shaking hands. “Please, Cassian…I need you to…”

“It’s okay,” he reassure quietly, “I understand. Just sit back and relax. I’ll take care of you. Such good care of you.” His hands find your hips and you weakly grip onto his shoulders, shuddering as he begins moving, just soft grinds of his hips against your own, gently bucking as he moves you atop him.

Moans spill from your lips, quiet breaths gasping as your back arches, breasts pressing fully to his broad chest, and your hands tug on his shirt, needing to push your nails into the ripe skin of his back, underlined with healthy muscle to power his warrior’s body. The fabric is gone in a flash, and his hot mouth has opened over yours, exchanging sounds of pleasure as his hips buck, hands touching and grasping everywhere they can, starved from your body.

“Gods sweetheart,” he groans between kisses, lazily swirling against one another, stimulating the spots you like with sweeping movement. “There’s nothing in this world that compares to you.”

Heat unspools in the pit of your belly, and you can feel you won’t last much longer. Curses slip out, and you gasp when Cassian’s hand slides between you, his thumb settling over your clit, swiping tentatively across the sensitive bud. Your hips buck into his touch, eager for more, so overwhelmed you think you let out a sob. “Cassian,” you gasp, gripping him tight, wonderful arousal tingling hotly between your legs. “It’s okay sweetheart, you can let go,” he pants roughly, seemingly as intensely affected as you. “Gods you’re perfect. So fucking perfect,” he grits, biting a bruise into your shoulder.

Nails prickle across his back, and your breathing temporarily pauses as pleasure breaks across your skin before stuttering to life. Your eyes roll back with heat, hips bucking sporadically, encouraging him to make the fall with you, clutching tight to his inherently familiar body. You moan his name breathlessly, panting heavily and it’s the final straw before he crumbles. He bucks sharply up into your wet heat, sounds squelching as you clutch onto one another desperately.

You can feel as he spurts inside of you, filling you up with thick, hot liquid, urged to give more as you flutter around him, orgasm prolonged with the jittery movements of his hips, repeatedly stimulating spots that reawaken fresh pleasure, and you think you might pass out of it doesn’t fade soon, so utterly possessed. Somehow it does come to an end, slowly dimming, leaving you pulled tight together, seated fully in his lap, shaking from the intensity, cheeks damp from tears.

Hot breaths pant between you, but Cassian manages to pull away, hands cupping your cheeks, noses almost brushing as you stare at one another, staring thoughtlessly, too overstimulated to do much.

“I’m never letting you go,” he breathes reverently, “never leaving you.” And even though it’s unrealistic, you nod.

“Good,” you whisper, deep hazel having captured you thoroughly. “I don’t want you to leave.”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

#dark!cassian x reader #dark!cassian #dark!Cassian smut #dividers by cafekitsune

[mortiferumsomnum]

Soup Kitchens and Runaway Ghosts (Part 2)

Part 1 could be read here! Part 3 could be read here!

ASDGLHKASLGKHSDGK

thank you for liking my other post 👉👈 

 ***

It was night outside, with the owls hooting and bats flying under the light of the moon.

Jason had a hand on Dani’s shoulder as they sat in the (illegal) Doctor’s kitchen. Although she was putting on a brave face, she was trembling and pulling at the ends of her sweater. Her eyes never left the open door to the room Danny was getting medical help from. They couldn’t see his body, but they could see the Doctor walking to and fro’ the bed Danny was placed on.

“Hey,” Jason whispered, soothingly, hoping it’s the same comforting way Dick does.

Slowly, her gaze turns to him. Her chin was trembling, and she looked like she was on the verge of crying. Shit. What would Dick do? Jason didn’t think this far in the comforting thing.

So, he tugged the little girl closer, hugging her with his arm. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered to her. “He’s in good hands.”

She sniffed, and huffed through the sob that tore through her lips. “I... I don’t know how I could keep Danny safe...”

Jason glanced to her, but she was looking back to the open door. ‘What do you mean?’ he wanted to ask. ‘It’s not your job to take care of him,’ he wanted to say.

Instead, he whispered, “You did your best.” Because she did. She did her best to get food from his soup kitchen for both her and Danny, not at all stopping to eat in the cafeteria, only thinking to have her containers filled. She stole from drug stores. She tried bandaging Danny even if she didn’t know how to do it properly. She took care of him with everything she could.

(A passing memory of his mom, Catherine, flashes in his mind.)

That only made her chin tremble more, which prompted Jason to hug her closer. 

Finally, the Doctor stepped out.

***

- The Doctor tells Dani that Danny’s okay now, and that he’ll be telling the Red Hood everything that needs to be done to keep up with the treatment. Then, he tells Dani that she could go and see him. She didn’t need to be told twice and ran into the room.

- The Doctor closes the door, then grunted at the Red Hood. “Look, man. I know I said I would help you for anything medical-related, but I think I need to draw the line at freaky supernatural shit. His blood literally had green where the plasma was supposed to be.”

- Jason removed the safety of his gun.

- The Doctor was unfazed. “I’m not going to tell anyone, but men in white managing to track these kids down because they’re, what, ghosts???? Which is weird because that kid’s heart was beating????? And he’s alive??? In fact, the green stuff does a better job than regular human plasma, it’s unreal, man. Since it replaced the plasma the kid was supposed to HAVE, I’m calling it green plasma, for simplicity, yeah.”

- Jason’s not worried about that. “Tell me about the kid,” he said. “How is he, moving forward?”

- The Doctor’s face pinched. “It’s... not bad... anymore...”

- “Anymore?”

- “Look, when you brought the kid in, it’s exactly as you told me: Vivisection wounds, 3rd degree burns from laser guns, infection...” 

- The Red Hood was getting impatient with the way he was loosely fidgeting with his gun. 

- “Bottom line is, once everything was cleaned and properly stitched, he started... healing? On his own?? I took blood samples, and the green plasma has something to do with it. You know how plasma literally moves the blood cells? It seems to enhance their functions as well. The enhanced white blood cells were fighting against the infection that was also enhanced by the plasma. Once the infection was removed, it was smooth sailing for his body. Now, all the kid needs is rest, food and water.”

- Jason hummed. “I’m burning this house down.” There was a chance that the kids would be leaving some kind of bio-signature in this place, and the Doctor was one of the most competent people he knew after Leslie. He was also really easy to intimidate, but despite the fear, he does his job well. Works well under pressure, like what he wrote in his resume. “Change your clothes and pack your bags, Doc. I’m going to lend you one of my safehouses.”

- The Doctor was quick to nod his head. “I assume that you’re destroying the blood samples as well?”

- Jason pointed his gun towards him. “Did you take a sample?”

- The Doctor was fast to shake his head. “Like I said, I want nothing to do with the supernatural, man. I’m already knees deep in crime, and I really don’t want to be making contracts with beings more demonic than you are.”

- Jason huffed, putting his gun away. “The demon is my brother.” The Doctor squeaked. “After changing, leave your clothes here. It’s burning with the rest of the house.”

- “You got it, man,” said the Doctor, leaving the room with a brisk pace.

- Jason then went in where Danny and Dani were, and it seems like the kid was finally sleeping peacefully on the bed he was in. He was changed into a loose pajama that the Doctor probably had, and was tucked under a clean, beige blanket. Just as the Doctor said, he was looking a hundred times better. 

- Dani was smiling. Once she saw him, she jumped out of her seat and ran up to him, hugging his middle while laughing. “He’s okay!” she said. “Thank you thank you thank you so much!!”

- Jason chuckled, patting her head. “No problem, kid.” Even if the Doctor did most of the job.

- “Uh, yes problem?” The Doctor came into the room, clothes changed and face white. “There’s... there’s people... white suits... outside... secret police?? Government agents?? Oh god...”

- Unconsciously, Jason tugged Dani closer.

- Then, Jason took out a domino mask from his leather jacket and an extra rebreather, throwing it to the Doctor. “Put that on, Doc. We can’t have them knowing your face when we make our escape.”

- The Doctor scrambled to put it on. 

- Jason turned to Dani. “Get Danny and turn invisible like you did before.”

- “Uh, I can turn all of us invisible and get us to the car if you guys hold on to me,” she said.

- Jason blinked beneath his Red Hood helmet. “You... could do that?”

- Dani blushed in embarrassment while nodding. “I was panicking when they first showed up, okay?! I could fly us to the car as fast as I can, but they’ll still be able to track us...”

- Jason nodded. He turned to Danny, who was now being carried by the Doctor. “I got ‘im,” he whispered, eyes wide in fear and knees trembling. Jason really doesn’t want him carrying Danny since Dani did just fine earlier, but he also didn’t know how much concentration she needs to bring all of them out.

- Jason went into the kitchen and opened the gas tank connected to the stove. Then, he and the Doctor walked close to Dani.

- She grabbed onto the back of their shirts, and turned them invisible. Thankfully, he could make out the outline of Dani floating them in the room.

- Also, the Doctor was screaming like a banshee. A panicking banshee.

- “WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP?!?!?” Dani yelled.

- “I’M TRYING!!!”

- “Would my gun work through the invisibility?”

- “We’re not intangible yet, so... I think so?”

- That shut the Doctor up.

- The smell of gas was getting strong.

- “Let’s get outta here,” said Dani. And tuned them intangible, and---- holy shit. Jason couldn’t feel his insides... or his outsides... or anything from his body. He felt... nothing. Not even floaty or light. It was as if he didn’t exist. They fazed through so many walls until they made it out of the house.

- But just as they made it out, the men in white’s gadget started beeping like crazy again.

- “They’re close!”

- “Find them!”

- Thank God the Doctor was quiet.

- Jason watched as they were floated into the car. Jason lost his intangibility and invisibility first, being dropped into the driver’s seat. The Doctor was dropped in the backseat with Danny, and Dani sat in the passenger’s.

- “Put your seatbelt on.”

- Dani looked incredulously at him.

- The Doctor did as Jason told, wrapping one around Danny as well as he laid in the back with them.

- “They’re over there!!” one of the men in white yelled.

- Some blasters were shooting at them now, and the Doctor rightfully screamed again.

- Jason started the car, then took out his gun and shot at one of the blasters.

- The blaster was about to go off, and its shot was redirected to the window of the house.

BOOM!

- While the men in white ducked for cover, away from the explosion, Jason drove away, increasing his speed.

- But no matter how fast he was going, trying to get away, the men in white were chasing after them again in their vans, installed blasters getting out and ready to shoot them again. God, they’re annoying.

- “I... I could blast them too!”

- There’s too many of them. 5 vans, plowing through the trees with their comically giant blasters. One was moving forward.

- He turned to Dani. “Try to make the one in front turn around just as they’re about to launch a blast. It’ll hit the other vans.”

- Dani nodded and fazed through the top of the car, hands glowing green. Just as she left, Jason could see form the rearview mirror how Dani transforms. Although the dark of the night made it unclear in a few places, he could clearly see her hair turning white and clothes changing. He couldn’t see her face as she was faced towards their pursuers. 

- Her hands then let out a long green blast towards the van. Just as Jason said, the van flipped, it’s blasters hitting the other two vans behind it. Dani then sent another blast to the other vans, but it was unsuccessful, learning immediately from the first van that was attacked.

- Dani came back into the Hoodmobile (Jason still hates the name, but there really isn’t other name to call it), sitting in the passenger seat and buckling up once more. “What do we do now?”

- They were heading towards Brown Bridge, just past that is China Town, into GCPD territory. If he could just get into the abandoned sections, he’ll be able to get into Red Robin’s patrol route. The techy Robin would be able to fry their devices just as well as Oracle. 

- Only a few Gothamites brave travelling at night, but the streets are mostly empty, thankfully. No civilian will be involved in this crazy chase.

- “We’re heading into one of my brothers’ territories,” he said.

- The Doctor squeaked. “The Demon one???”

- “No,” said Jason.

- “You have a Demon for a brother?” Dani asked, eyes looking excited.

- “He might as well be one,” said Jason, increasing his speed once more. 

- He passed by a GCPD patrol car, but the driver didn’t chase after him after seeing two vans with massive weapons of mass destruction driving past him. Like the good, corrupt officer he was, he deleted the footage of what he had just seen from his police cameras attached to his person and car.

- Finally, Jason was driving through the abandoned warehouse district of Chinatown. Then, Jason activated his comms. “Red Hood to Red Robin, where the fuck are you?”

- “Red Robin to Red Hood, fuck you, too.”

- “Listen kid, there are some shitheads in white chasing after me. Have you heard from O?”

- “We tried hacking into their systems once they fixed it. No progress. Need me to fry their systems again?”

- “As much as possible. Where’s your nearest safehouse? One that could cover the biological-traces of someone.”

- “Including the post-mortem traces of someone?”

- “Fuck, Replacement, you got something like that? Should I be worried? How many bodies are you hiding??”

- “Hardy-har-har, Hood,” said Red Robin. “They upgraded their coding to avoid being hacked and frying their servers again. Can you hold out for 5 minutes?”

- “3 minutes, Double-R. They brought more of their buddies-- SHIT!!” Jason swerved the car to avoid hitting a pole, entering a warehouse and breaking through the old, wooden walls. “Make it 1 minute! They’re fucking multiplying!”

- “Oh shit! Hood! Look out!” the Doctor screamed, pointing to the biggest blaster Jason’s ever seen.

- Fucking hell. Jason turned to Dani, who was looking at the blaster with wide eyes and a panicked look on her face. “I... I can..” She was panicking, trying to think up of things to do to make the situation better, but Jason is NOT going to let her to anything. She did enough. It’s Jason’s job to take care of her and her brother/cousin right now. (And the Doctor, but that man is the least of his priorities. Sorry, Doc.)

- “I’m almost done, Hood!”

- A stray blast hit the already, severely dented hood of Jason’s car, knocking it off to show its engine. Shitshitshit... He unbuckled his seatbelt, to which Dani and the Doctor followed. ”Red! You done yet?!” he yelled into the comms.

- Red Robin didn’t answer. 

- Instead, Jason watched as the vans exploded. 

- Jason leaned towards Dani, covering her view before she could see the guts and limbs fly.

- “Shit... I didn’t mean to do that...” Red Robin said on the comms, voice trembling. “I didn’t...”

- Turning to Dani, her face was frozen. “They... they’re...”

- “Hey, hey, hey... it’s okay... it’s alright,” whispered Jason, taking her into his arms. He thought he managed to hide her from the deaths.

- She shook her head. “I... I could feel their souls leaving... I could feel... they’re scared... others are angry... They’re...”

- Well, shit.

- “Let’s get somewhere safe, yeah?” said Jason. 

- Dani only nodded, most likely numb and dissociating. Great. Trauma. Okay. Fantastic. Fuck.

- “Red Robin, you still there?” asked Jason.

- “I... yeah. I’m here.”

- Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Okay, Jason. You need to be the voice of reason for a whole bunch of traumatized kids right now. Okay. 

- “Double R? Where’s the safehouse and how far is it?” Jason asked.

- “It’s in Upper West Side, right along Schnapp Avenue. There’s an abandoned bookstore there. It’s right above there. The walls are covered with everything you need to cover you.”

- “Okay, we’ll meet up with you there.”

- “I... I’m going, too?”

- Jason wanted to sigh, run a hand down his face, or even punch one of the dead guys that were chasing after them. But he answered, “Yeah, kid. You have any chocolate in there?”

- “Agent A stocks up my safehouses himself.”

- “Good. I really do have everything I need there, then. I’m also bringing along some guests, ‘cause I’m not the only one these bastards are after.”

- Red Robin was quiet.

- “Kids, one who looks younger than the Demon Brat, and the other looks younger than you... and some Doctor that got involved in all this.”

- “Shit...” Red Robin whispered. “Did they...”

- “See? No.” Jason’s not going to tell him that Dani felt the deaths, tho. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes, Red.”

- It was quiet.

- “Red?”

- “Y-yeah... okay. I’ll... I’ll be there, Hood.” Click. Red Robin was no longer on the comms.

- Well... Shit.

*****

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#dc x dp #dp x dc #jason todd #tim drake #dani fenton #danny fenton #danny phantom #I AM SO SORRY TIM I LOVE YOU I PROMISE #I have no idea what to name the Doctor #or how he looks like #But he sounds like a Teddy #Like his name would be Theodore and they end up calling him Doctor Teddy or something #What do you guys think?? #DID YOU GUYS CATCH MY BULLSHIT ON PLASMA?! #Biology is one of my worst subjects fam #I only know that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell and that's IT FOR BIOLOGY FOR ME HAHAHAHAHAHA #Brown Bridge is an actual thing in gotham #right after brown bridge there's the west upper side and chinatown #after chinatown there's old gotham... financial district and city hall district which are all part of the GCPD territory #Old Gotham is where the Clocktower that Barbara/Oracle is located in #In Upper West Side there is an actual Schnapp Avenue eyyyyyyy #The bookstore was made-up tho <3 #I'm sorry Tim for pushing your first kill here <3 I love you uwu <3 #Jason is going to make everything better with hot chocolate and a good meal for the kids (and the Doctor) #Jason won't let Tim get in trouble over this and he's not going to let Dani feel guilty for bringing him in this shit #IF he's not going to feel guilty for bringing in Doctor Teddy into this supernatural shit he's not going to let her feel guilty either #I should probably change the name of this thing cuz it's not about the soup kitchens anymore :((((