#they will demand photos of all the spaces he keeps finding him in

[comfortless]

dog hybrid recruit König thots??

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. more loner x loner because it is a treat for me. fem (afab) reader. König is a man just with ears and a tail. vague smut.

He’s the one that was never picked.

So maybe you’re too busy for a puppy hybrid, but maybe you’re a bit too lonely for an empty apartment. You don’t have the space for a big, excitable dog. The cats and bunnies are in high demand, too, there’s no shot of you adopting one of the cute, softer things within your budget. So you settle for a dog. The only dog left at the shelter.

His papers state that he comes from Austria, aged twenty-five and never been put into an actual home before. He’s endured some rigorous military training: scenting, tracking, breaking down thick doors with only a shoulder and an efficient push. A hunter through and through. Then, following his merits: erratic, jumpy, impulsive, and more than a little aggressive.

This dog doesn’t growl, only bites.

The paper sits crumpled in your hands as you eye the dimly lit hallway to your left. Posters of information line the beige walls to either side, some with photos of proud kitties and dogs, hand-in-hand with their companions and cheery phrases printed above in a bright, yellow cursive.

If anything, those are the ones that give you the final push to adopt this unloved, discarded experimental soldier. He’s only been given this one very last chance before… You would rather not think of what comes if you’re to turn away and leave him to rot and wither here. It must have happened a dozen times already: ambitious families looking for a more intriguing addition only to lock eyes with this pitiful thing and shake their heads ‘no’ for him to be put on death row like this.

“He’s scary,” the clerk reminds you once you’re finally led down the hall to the tiny room your new pet— no, friend, must be kept in. It was easy to think of them as something else sometimes. Animal instincts as prevalent as their claws, teeth, and fuzzy little ears. But you didn’t need a pet, there were an abundance of shops for those. You needed a good soul to spill your guts to and maybe pet from time to time.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

The poor thing is locked away to fester in what more closely resembles a cell than anything resembling a home. A steel door with a thin, narrow gap in the middle like a peephole keeps him locked in tight. Peering through that narrow gap, you only then seem to realize just what an impulsive decision you’re making.

König is exactly what the clerk said, continues to say next to you as she searches for the correct key on the ring. He’s bigger than any other hybrid you’ve seen before, built narrow at the waist but broad and deadly where it matters most; arms like narrow trees and thighs larger than your head, all muscle and intimidation, even with the cute, perky ears peeking out of the top of his helmet. He was definitely used for guarding and killing, and how a man his stature could even begin to fail that was unknown to you. Not that it was necessary. At most, he may need to shoo a scuttling pest out of the front door and put away a dish or two.

When the door swings open, the clerk offers a hesitant nod before dismissing herself back down the hall, and you’re left stood with a pair of blue eyes locked directly onto you.

König assesses with a tilt of his head and a slow ascent to his feet. He’s clad in layers of black, an empty vest where magazines or grenades must have been in place prior. Hell if you knew. He should have been given a fresh change of clothes after being discharged and sent to this place. A proper bed, too, considering the only furniture in this barren place seemed to be a cot that could never hope to hold him.

If not for the swaying of his tail, you might even find yourself nervous, but he does well to try and look approachable, even greets you with a thickly accented tongue beneath that hood. A simple, “Hallo.”

“I’ve adopted you,” you explain, and it sounds ridiculous. You can’t just adopt a full-grown man. Maybe a puppy or some hybrid child, never a man better suited for a gladiator pit than a home. “I mean that… if you want to come home with me, you can.”

He gives you a huff, a burst of breath that pushes the hood out from his face and a near imperceptible roll of his eyes as a step is taken toward you. It must sound stupid, even to him, but the wiry tail at his back does not cease its wagging. No matter how stern the glimpses of his face seem to look and how alarming his size may be, he’s nothing but an eager pup it seemed.

“Richtig… Then let’s go.”

Life with your big soldier turns out to be remarkably easy.

The first few weeks are dedicated to stoking up some sort of bond and rationing out chores. Simple tasks to see how he adapts, and small rewards in the form of pets along the velvety fur of his ears and scratches beneath his chin. The walks with you seem to be his favorite and tend to be long, but he remains right at your side the entire way. The only barking to be heard comes from nosy passersby that warn you to keep your beast on a leash, but you let him be reasoning that it wouldn’t do you any good at all. Your strength was that of a tiny rabbit’s by comparison.

König is clean enough from his prior military training and does as you ask without complaint. Even things you don’t request, such as your laundry are taken care of before you ever even return from work. He’s overbearing on those evenings, when you’ve been apart and he sates himself drunk on the scent of your perfume still clinging to the collar of an old sweater. Excitable and sweet, though, when he curls at your side while some movie plays on the television screen.

It amazes you how easily he’s shifted from stiff to adoring in a matter of days, but it’s rare to have a moment to yourself now. The hybrid is insistent on pulling you up into his lap when you’re curled on the couch, or rushing behind to hoist you up and pin you between an expanse of chest and the kitchen counter with drooly licks against the side of your neck and cheek. Biting, too. You try your best to bully that out of him, flicking at his ears or shoving against his face, but there’s always a mark left behind.

When a coworker gives you a mischievous grin and asks if there’s a new man in your life at the sight of a purplish bruise against your throat, that is when you decide that a collar may actually be nice. Weave your fingers between leather and skin and give König a sharp tug when he gets too rowdy, maybe that would teach him. Spray bottles and warnings spoken through giggles just aren’t enough.

You find one that you think might fit at a shop specializing in hybrid needs. It’s thick and well-made, a black leather hold to match that big scary demeanor that he tries his best to uphold. The cutesy silver bell attached to it is just a bonus. At least you would hear him coming the next time he insisted on peppering you in kisses with his tail a blur behind him.

He greets you at the door as always, unlocks it for you and pulls it open before you ever even make it to the top of the landing. It’s cute how giddy he seems each day when you return, how he doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to you with his hands at his sides, his own silent request for a hug or some form of affection whilst staring down at you and mumbling a “hallo” like the most awkward gentleman in the entire world.

“I got you a present,” you excitedly tell him instead of blessing him with your usual embrace, lifting up the little gift bag with a smile.

When the collar is retrieved from the bag by a massive hand, König does not mirror your enthusiasm. Any light in the placid blue of his eyes seems to extinguish, smothered and fizzled out to pave way for a look of the purest disdain. He rolls the leather between both palms, only then regarding you with as a heavy sigh stirs up from his chest to whistle past the open mouth beneath the hood.

Maybe he would have preferred something with spikes. Something heavy and intimidating with a tag that read “FUCK YOU” in red, painted letters.

“I don’t wear collars,” he finally says, flatly.

Or maybe a muzzle would have been best…

“You do now, big guy,” you challenge with an airy laugh, slipping past him to cross into your home. Tidy as ever, he’s been working today it seemed. The bulb in the living room has been replaced, a few pieces of furniture rearranged. It all just looks… cozy. More habitable now that someone else lives here too.

König follows you inside with his head lowered and tail pushed between his thighs. The collar rests in one hand, fingers curled over it so tightly it almost seemed he wished the damned thing to dissipate into dust.

“Nein. I won’t wear it.” The door is locked behind him. It’s the first time he’s refused you anything. Even cleaning up around the kitchen wasn’t met with a rejection. It’s odd, almost uncharacteristic for him.

“I just thought…” You would want to be mine. Properly. With a nice symbol of it right around his neck, with a sturdy leash to lead him by, with…

Any thought in your head puffs into a plume of smoke back there behind your eyes when you feel two hands grasp at your shoulders, push you back towards the wall to hold you there. Hugging, lifting, cuddling up against, even licking… those things were commonplace. This was foreign and surprisingly rough; there’s no give to his hold, no room to even try to move away as his head lowers to stare you straight in the eyes.

“I killed my last handler.”

“Did you…?”

“Ja.”

That confession should have sent icy dread to the pit of your stomach, should have spurred you to claw and kick and bite. Surely the shelter would have known, could have warned you too. That would have spared you from looking like a terrified little rabbit now, yet a part of you knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. König sort of… belonged here, as if written in some silly reading of the stars.

His ears flatten against his skull, large hands trembling where they hold you in place. The dam begins to crack as his eyes grow glassy, gaze far away in a concoction of pain and contemplation. He stares through you, not at, reliving something you dared not ask for an explanation for. The whys and hows die on your tongue.

And there’s nothing scary about him anymore.

There’s only a wounded soldier here.

A good boy.

Your hands rise to flip up the hood, rest it over the top of his head to cup his jaw in your palms, stroking over his cheeks with both thumbs to soothe and comfort. His unwinding comes immediate, hands slipping down to your lower back to pull you in closer.

You don’t apologize and neither does he. Everything just falls back into a comfortable lull, some fuzzy droning from both sides as you wish one another good night. He walks you to your bedroom door, the very best he can do to prove that he’s not some mutt with froth coming from his jaw. You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from encouraging that he sleep next to you.

“You’re a good boy, you know that?,” you tell him as you lean against the door in preparation to push it closed. “The very best there is.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tail behind him wags at a frantic pace from those words alone.

The following morning is different.

There’s food on the table and coffee already brewing by the time you cross from your room into the kitchen. The air bears the scent of sandalwood and geranium, a forgotten candle sat burning on the countertop. You eat your breakfast of too-sweet pancakes and prep your coffee to go all while the shower runs from somewhere down the hallway.

He usually waits, tells you goodbye before you’re off to work, bites at your neck and asks which will be better: a movie after dinner or some fresh air. Instead, there’s a note attached to the door. Something simple and mischievous, a scribbled, lopsided heart and some phrase in German written with handwriting so sloppy that there was no hope of your still sleep-addled mind translating it.

You chalk it up to him being fully adjusted in this new space, let him go about his business while you go about yours.

It would be a walk tonight.

Arriving home twists what is simply different into the realm of bizarre. No hugging by the door, it sits closed and untouched since you left this morning. You inhale something heavy, trepidation or maybe a bit of yearning there, while you fumble with your key in the lock. A click, a push, and then everything just changes. There’s no crashing and burning, only a very firm and insistent buzzing that rises to your chest, because the sight inside is just…

König.

Your König.

The hood has been discarded and set aside on the polished wood of a nearby table, the little bell collar sits right along his throat. It jingles when his ears perk and his tail begins that gentle sway, swishing with every step that you take into the apartment, rampant and unyielding when the sparkles in your eyes cluster like the tiniest, most insignificant stars.

No apologies, but this was something better.

“Gut?,” he asks you, kneels before you with the cutest stare that you’ve ever seen on a man. Constellations sit there waiting to be mapped, and your giant puppy waits for just a little praise.

You stroke his ears first, then dip your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

“The best boy,” you tell him.

“I have a present for you too.”

No protest comes when he herds you out of the door, still in your stiff uniform with your hair a mess. The sun begins its setting out on the horizon, bathing the world in purple and gold. Trees with spring blossoms and wildflowers all abloom tinge the air in something sweet. It’s not your usual trail, and König doesn’t walk at your side this time, only ahead. You watch him fondly as he grazes his fingertips against the blooms hanging from branches just overhead, how he shies away from the curious nesting birds in bushes as to not startle them.

It isn’t the usual trail, but he walks it with confidence. There are no people out so late in the day, and apart from the occasional quip between the both of you, the setting only bears the sound of the chiming of his bell and a few night birds beginning to call. Peace morphs to something greater when the sun tucks itself away and sets the stage for a bright, waning moon. There’s a small clearing, a meadow cut straight through by the dirt path you walk, and only then are you pulled aside.

“Here,” he huffs against your chest when your back meets soft grass and a hazy, spring sky is painted out above you.

Maybe you’re not the best with men, but there have been signs.

So many in abundance that the pitiful squeak that leaves you when his nose finds its way up your skirt is only an embarrassment. König must have found it charming, reaches for both of your hands as he laps at your sex through the thin lace of your panties until your body grows tense and your nails leave little crescents on the backs of his hands.

The words don’t come, they don’t have to when he speaks them for you, little whispers and coos into your hair when any barrier between you is discarded with the descent of a zipper and the sound of tearing lace. There’s an outpouring of thanks in the form of a tiny, fragile, “I missed you.”

The night birds calling washes out each sound that escapes from either of you then, only outdone by the symphony of impact when König loses himself entirely to you. Limbs curling around narrow hips and a broad back, pools of blue so shimmery and pretty they outdo even the moon hanging above locked onto you. He doesn’t look away even as you try to bury your face into the width of his shoulder, only then guides you back down with a gentle hand and a muffled, needywhine.

“Good boy,” comes as a mere peep when he fully sheaths himself and laps at the corner of your mouth as you speak. The praise only causes him to still, pries the words from his panting mouth and reduces them to a series of pleasured, stuttering groans.

“What did the note say?,” you ask him in the silence that comes comfortable once the act is done, nestled into a pair of strong arms with a cheek pressed against an expanse of chest.

“Oh.” König laughs breathily, coming down from the height of both love and need.

“That you found home?,” you ask when he pets at your hair, twirls strands between his fingertips. “Because I think that I may have, too…”

“Something like that.” He shrugs, loosens his grip around your body for a mere second before pulling you in closer, tighter to him, as if letting go would end the world entirely. “Heaven.”

#könig x reader #konig x reader

[flamingpudding]

Cats are liquide, so is Daniel

... that's what Damian decided after having watched the other for a while and noticed behavior similarites to Alfred, the cat.

Daniel comes and go like he wants unless you made a set plan with him, the only times he appears for sure where the meals Alfred made sure he attended. Otherwise, good luck finding the other if he doesn't want to be found.

That had irked Damian a lot at first but he had learned to accept it, if not completely willingly but Richard insisted that it was good brotherly behavior of him to not demand to Daniel's location when he doesn't want to be found.

Another thing was that his newly acquired brother purred. Like a cat. Damian would never admit it towards his other siblings. But his efforts in getting along with Daniel tripled when he learned this fact. For one, the switch from calling him Fenton to Daniel gained him a pleased purring. He was not calling him by nickname yet, that was something he would refuse longer until he ran out of tactics to make the other comfortable enough to purr.

But the most common fact that Daniel appeared to have with Alfred, the cat, was that his body must be made of liquid or at least as flexible like a cats. While Alfred, again the cat, found tight spaces like vases, bags, bowls and other things comfortable to rest in, Daniel appeared to show something similar.

Tight spaces, like a cupboard, the nocks between to shelves, the little space between a shelve and the ceilings. If Daniel disappeared he could be found in spaces like that. But what him appear even more liquid like was the was Daniel also tented to rest in more common spaces.

Damian had blinked in disbelieve the first time he found Danial in the common room. One leg on the couch, the other on a side table his back laying on the floor a book in his hands he was reading while his head was under the coffee table. And he though is elder siblings were bad with the way the collapsed couches or other seating spaces at times. How was that comfortable?

Another time Damian had found him sleeping, hanging upside down from a bookshelf in the library with his knees hooked on the top of the shelve. The book he appeared to have been reading like that laid fallen on the floor Daniel's arms hanging down above it and his face was getting a rather red coloring with all the blood gravity was pulling down towards it.

Then, there was also that time he found Daniel curled up in a spare tire of the Batmobile after patrol. How did he even manage to fit in there?

So Damian decided Daniel was a human cat. Because as weird as his family was, this was in no shape or form normal behavior. The fact that he was now finding Daniel napping in the chandelier of the foyer like it was a bed proved it. Not even Richard did that.

Really Damian wouldn't even have noticed it if he hadn't happened to look up. He was going to have a talk with Daniel about this even Alfred, the cat, knew to behave better than this. And if that didn't work, then he would allert his other siblings or maybe he should go directly to Pennyworth with this.

#dp x dc #danny fenton #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #damian wayne #Damian keeps finding Danny napping or resting in weirds spaces #but only Damian #random ideas #non of the other batkids have found him like that before #they will demand photos of all the spaces he keeps finding him in #Damian doesnt think that the way Danny rests is healthy #it needs to be fixed in his opinion #little does Damian know.... #Danny is doing it on purpose just for him #to make Damian call him Danny faster #its not working so far

[enchantedbarnes]

Uncle Buck

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Summary: You take your nephew to a Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson Q&A event. The mischievous 8-year-old asks if he can get in line to ask a question. Against your better judgement you agree and let him go up by himself.

Word Count: 626

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

A/N: I had no intention to write anything on this account but here we are. Excuse the mess.

A young boy - 8 years old, dark hair and eyes full of mischief - walks up to the microphone.

"Hi, I have a question for Bucky..." He asks shyly.

The moderator nods, "What's your question for him, little man?"

The boy looks over at the seats nearby behind him and smirks, turning back to the stage with some more confidence this time.

"Will you marry my Aunt?"

The crowd let's out collective gasps, giggles, and awws. There's some cheering and a loud "OW OWWWW."

You inhale quickly and choke on your own air supply, trying to compose yourself. "BENJAMIN!!!"

You're horrified and shrink down in your seat while pulling your hood up over your head for added cover.

While you contemplate the fastest way to snatch the little traitor and get out of there as swiftly as possible you hear Sam's loud laugh echo through the room.

"I assume that was your Aunt and you're Benjamin?" Bucky asks while smirking.

Tiny traitor nods while grinning ear to ear. "I'm Benji, Auntie's name is Y/n and she thinks you're sooo handsome," he exaggerates with an eye roll, "and she's super fun and pretty and you'd be the coolest unc--"

Exit plan secured you jump out of your seat and rush over to cover his mouth and pull him back from the mic. Your hood still up and head ducked down.

"You said you were asking about the mechanics of his arm, you tiny little punk," you mutter at him but the microphone still picks up what you said.

While you have him secured in a headlock you quickly speak into the mic, avoiding all eye contact. "I apologize, I've never met this child before... I'm going to return him to the proper authorities immediately."

Picking your nephew up as quickly as you can, you toss him over your shoulder. His fit of giggles exploding while he tries yelling out again, "But he hasn't answered yet!"

"He's free later tonight, Aunt Y/n!" Sam shouts while you retreat to the back of the conference room towards the exit. "Your future family seems nice," he jokes while nudging Bucky's arm.

Benji tries to shout back across the room, "SHE IS FREE TOO!! EVERY NIGHT!!"

You shove the exit door open, "You're so dead. On my pick up days for school I will be blasting every embarrassing song I can find with the windows down. I'm going to start saving now and I will be buying every ad space available in your future yearbooks and I will be plastering them with your baby photos. And not the cute ones." Like this kid ever took a photo that wasn't cute.

***

The two of you walk around a food truck area set up outside the conference space. Benji is happily eating a pretzel you only bought so your sister wouldn't kill you for neglecting her child. You grab a seat at a small table to people-watch while he finishes up his undeserved treat.

You let your hood down, setting your vibrant and wild hair free. The color is easy to pick out in a crowd.

Benji is explaining in great detail the plot to a video game he has been playing with his friends and how one level keeps tripping them up.

The chair next to you slides back, "Is this seat open?" A deep voice asks.

Benji grins, "Yes!"

You already know who it is, but you're still startled when you look over and see none other than Bucky Barnes sitting with you and the small trouble matchmaker.

"So... is the potential cool Uncle position still available?" He smirks, hand on his chin looking over at both of you.

This little punk might be getting free pretzels and ice cream for life.

Alright folks! By popular demand, here is part 2!

Uncle Buck Returns

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #uncle buck fic

[relocatedheads]

would you write eddie munson x fem!reader smut?

where eddie’s chilling in his girls‘s room, bored because she’s taking a shower. he’s kinda snoopin’ around & finds a pastel pink book. he’s curious & starts reading it, realizing it’s her diary. he skips to the last page, dated just a few days ago. his eyes widen, not believing what he’s reading about his innocent girl.

sure they had sex. and not that vanilla, too. but he would’ve never thought his girl had thoughts like that. on this very page, his girl wrote her hidden fantasies. things she never even thought of telling eddie, too embarrassed. she’s talking about how she wants to call eddie „daddy“, or be choked, be humiliated to the brim, be filled by his cum till he’s dry, want him to be in complete control. she wants to be fully submitted to him.

before he can put the diary away she comes out of the bathroom, catching him. he confronts her & she tells him how embarrassed she is etc. they talk it out & he reversals that some of the stuff she likes he likes too. then they make out & they try out some of the stuff.

Oh my god you're an evil genius, time I put my 4 years of journaling to good use! - also ive been working on this all week and the 'h' key on my keyboard keeps getting stuck and its making typing no longer fun :/

Written Fantasies

Summary: ^^ the ask Pairing: Eddie x Reader Trigger Warnings: Smut / Embarrassment / hands on throats - no chocking Content Warnings: Diary Reading / blow jobs / impoliteness / shoe frontage / demands / deep throating / reader masturbation

MY EDDIE MASTERLIST BABY!!!!!!!

The space was as recognisable as the back of his hand, and as comforting as his denim vest: lightly coloured walls, cabinets around the room, shelves and counter tops filled trinkets and lifes memorabilia: photos of events, pretty candles, books, small trinkets of days out, wrist bands and broken watches that simply just meant too much.

Things changed every time he entered this space: photos changed frames, boxes gained new records, the cassette piles grew, and the books changed order.

Eddie clocked - while laying on your bed waiting for you to come back from your shower - that not only had the books changed but new ones were added. when he sat up to take a better look: there were 4 books, all identical sat up together leaning on a pile of published books.

The 4 were pink, all the same size, some slightly thicker, one especially thinner. All with individual dates written into their spines: 1983, 1984,1985, 1986. He weren't no idiot, his brain sorted that they were diaries.

He felt a twinge of pride for you to have the left out on display - almost like trophies, proud of your past. He knew a lot about you but you'd seemed to have never told him you wrote a diary. Eddie knew it was standard procedure you don't read people diary: just as you don't snoop in artists sketch books or dungeon masters binders. But who would he be kidding if he said he didn't wanna read it.

He thought a moment, concentrating and recognising the shower was still running. He didn't have to think too much, the boy was running on curiosity alone. Sat up on the edge of your bed, he leant over and pulled 1986 into his hands.

It started with him just flicking the pages: most of it empty; a few loose sheets tucked into the back; a pen clipped to the elastic closer. The filled side of the book was set out meticulously: a yearly planner already almost filled with exams, cheer practice, birthdays, appointments, dates with Eddie, every Tuesday marked with Hideout at 7, every odd Friday marked Hellfire!.

There was this warmness in his heart, knowing his life was just as important to you as it was for him. He believed every I love you, but know he understood every I love you.

He flicked through the book more: budget planners, goal pages, period trackers, and the body. Filled with your typical too-curly-to-read handwriting, every page filled line for line. Some sitting half empty signifying the end of an entry.

Eddie couldn't possibly understand what you had to write about for long that you wouldn't just tell him or your friends.

He found the dog eared page, the scruffily written date marking yesterday. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling a little giddy. He knew he shouldn't but he really couldn't stop himself.

As he read down the page: a recall of your date to the record store and diner, small notes of your gushing over Eddie's chivalry (he always thought holding doors open and little pet names were usual things), a detailed explanation of his outfit and how you loved it (he read that a few times, remember to wear his little thigh harness around you more often.). And as he continued to read, the writting felt less confident, as though there as a topic waited to be hinted at.

He skipped over to the next page and down it, finding a few words grabbing his eyes: touch myself, embarrassing, chocked, him, daddy.

His eyebrows rested in his hairline, eyes almost leaving his skull, the warmth on his checks wasn't imagined. He jumped back a few lines:

Jesus I feel 14 again. I dont know why he does this to me. I see him everyday, and yet im still pinning over him like he's some untouchable deity.

He reads down

We have sex so much but like every night I end up touching myself thinking about- its so embarrassing! I feel like ive been poisoned!! literally none of my friends are like this about their boyfriends!

yeah we all talk about sex but they all have usual sex and normal fantasies but like I feel like a deviant. if I ever told anyone what I really want they'd all look at me so weird

but if I think about sex with him about him all I can think of is his hands and his lips and his voice! and if Im actually honest with myself, all I want is him. I cant stop. ive got into this habit of thinking about him before I go to bed and like every night I touch myself to him.

literally seem like I cant just have him- and I so can but I want so much more!

like if I really thought about it: I'd love him to just use me, do whatever. He could fuck me, make me fuck him, cum in me, chock me, spit on me and I'd be so fucking happy!

Or like, my brain keeps thinking to what if we're fucking and someone hears or we're almost gonna get caught and it turns me on so much! I feel like a pervert.

Eddie felt himself hold his breath.. he was no prude, under his bed was riddled with lost porn mags, he know a lot about kinks and fetishes but something about hearing from you - sweet, quite, calm you- shit! He was getting all flustered.

And like also! keep calling him Daddy in my mind too - I dont know where thats come from but it feels so right! I just really want him to just have his way with me. I dont know how on earth I tell him this. this is so embarrassing.

Eddie was transfixed by your confessions: the sound of the water had slipped his ears. Let alone, he hadn't heard the floor creak and wind chance as you entered the room.

"Jesus babe! You scared me- can't make a guy jump like that!" He yelped, the towel hitting the bed making him jump back into real time.

You laughed at him at first... until your eyes danced around him... and what he had in his hand. You didnt need to ask to know. And almost instantly you felt your body tense, mind go blank and cheek redden. Hands sat in on each other, lips rolled in, eye popping out almost. "Um-"

Confident as ever, he laid back into your pillows, straightening out his legs, "Didn't know you thought like this, Sweetheart.." He started reading, "Kinda want him to fill me until hes dry-"

You leapt onto him - to be honest the word doesn't cut it. You practically jumped on him, trying to grab the book from him but he was swift... dodging your hands artfully as he continued reading. His light and teasing voice was harmonised by your loud commands for him to stop. The room had laughter too: Yours was embarrassment and his was humour.

After a particularly wobbly Eddie! he put the book down, giving you a perfect moment to sling it back onto your cabnit. "Please stop." You frowned.

"Awe sorry baby," He laughed, pulling you down for a cuddle, "It's really hot though." You whined, "It is! Fuck babe," He sighed, "I really didn't think you'd wanna do anything like that!" It surpassed you how he had this ability to never be ashamed or embarrassed about anything. He dipped his head into your neck, "Like being chocked, filled with my cum. fuck, even messy..."

"Shut up!" You leant up, hands flying to his face, coving his mouth and you were straddled to his hips. "I can't believe you- I'm so embarassed!"

"Why?" Earnest and lovie as he moved your hands down.

"You were never meant to find out..."

"Why, you know im into anything?"

"Embarassing."

"No its not."

"yes, it is."

"You know," he started rubbing your thighs, "I'd love to fuck you dumb, fill you up, have you all messy-"

Now you'd be lying if you said he wasn't affecting you- you were embarrassed but so secretly turned on. Your tummy tensed, the blood went to your head, your thighs stiffened. But still your embarrassment was bigger, "Stop making fun of me!"

"Baby baby baby" He cooed, pulling your hands from your face, "I promise i'm really not."

You whined at him, he mimicked you back, pulling you down for a delicate honest kiss. It was deep and slow, him offering his truth to you. And who wouldn't melt into that? His hands now found your hip and your neck, in to your lips his mumbled "Roll over."

You gasp as he rearranges you both, your back now to the bed, "Wanna try something." He sat up continuing, "We can't your little sexual fantasies now-" You squirm in embarrassment, "But" He began stroking your cheek in efforts to pull you out your head. "I wanna try something new.""

He leant down planting a sweet kiss to your lips though you tried to chase him for a second, he was already moving down into your neck, planting even sweeter ones there. You could never stay quiet for his sightly chapped lips and heavy hands - small mewls slipped from you. "Good girl." Quiet, practically breathed from Eddie.

"We can't try the public-people-home stuff, but" another neck kiss, "I do.." another kiss to the other side, "really like the idea" a kiss under your ear, "of having you fully submitted" a kiss to the shell of your ear "to me"

The way you gasp makes Eddie sure he's hit gold with you. As he talks, your hand in his hair pulls and squeezes more, "How about," He moves along to kiss your cheek, "I get you on your knees" Another kiss, "no pillow, because desperate whores don't deserve kind treatment." A light kiss to your lips, "And I let you blow me?" Another kiss, "But" Kiss "I'll be holding your head," He was now resting on his forearms, fingers lost in your hair, "Pushing and pulling you exactly how I want?" Another light kiss met with a hearty pull of your hair, "Fill that little mouth up with my cum."

God you were in heaven - how did you manage to get a boy like him. All you felt you could do was nod at him. A tap of your thigh and you were on the floor kneeling between his legs as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Looking up at him, the shy coy expression fell naturally on you, "Pretty girl, aren't you?" He complimented. "Get on with it then." It was like a switch was flipped.

Excitedly, you get his belt and jeans off. His dick was hard and pretty as ever - not too big but a little wide, a more red tint than the rest of him already bleeding pre cum.

You got personal with it, licking the beed off, replacing it with a kiss. Eddie couldn't help the sigh - you ruin him on the daily no matter what you do. You could get lost playing with his head. He helped by tucking your hair behind your ears, keeping his hands on your lower head and jaw.

The kisses turn into kitten licks met with you looking up at him, his spaced out satisfied look made you smile, "Shit- open your mouth for me."

Sat up a bit more, the head of is cock resting on your lower lip, palms lost behind his calves: you were ready to try something you never thought you'd get to. The hands in your hair pushing you down slowly, and pulled you back up even more delicately - he giving both of you the space to gauge how yous felt.

"Suck it a bit harder" You did. "fuck-you love this, don't you?" You nod.

It was really all he needed - he didn't even need verbal confirmation, just the feel of your nails in the backs of his legs and how your eyes were rolled back and closing was enough, not to mentions the light noises in your throat. He pushed you down with more force, hands now cupping your cheeks and jaw.

He didn't make you deep throat him - neither of you needed to go that far at the moment. The half of his dick that was still straining your jaw send your brains both tumbling.

Eddie yanked you off him with a rough tug to your hair pulling a throat whine out of you, "Shit babe- you're a little slut aren't you?"

You nodded dumbly, "For you- love you."

"I love you too," A thumb stroked your cheek, "Daddy loves you."

Maybe it was the name. Maybe it was the humiliating reminder he had read you diary. Maybe it was the whispering in the empty quiet house. Maybe it was just him. But you were sure he'd just written you off to hell. You felt a beed of slick drop from your cunt.

And Eddie practically felt it too: he could see the haze covering your pretty eyes and the cheeky smile that covered your face.

A thumb toyed with your lip, he continued, "Gotta get you a little collar with my name on it." And with that you basically purred at him. Eddie was sure he was lost in you as you started to barely suck his thumb.

He'd never had you so spaced and floaty. Sure you've both spoken through sex before but nothing like this, nothing so painfully skilled in what the other actually needs to hear. Sex had never felt so possessive until right now.

The sight of you both was like it was from a porno: you, puffy lipped, half lidded eyes and big breaths; Eddie, pointed look, panting, loved up eyes.

The other hand dropped from your cheek and sat around your neck back - the pressure alone made your eyes flutter - and the sight went straight to his dick.

He popped his thumb out your mouth and brung you up for a dirty, messy, deep kiss. No coordination, just lust. Teeth smacking teeth, uncomfortable postures, hands gripping and clawing where ever they could.

He pulled away, standing up as if to leave. But you whine is stopped when you see he leant against your cabinet. Very idolly, he picked up the diary searching for the place he left off on, commanding a "Come here" using his fingers to make a curling motion, not even bothering to look up at you. "Crawl" He sneers almost as you go to get up.

Granted the space wasn't so big so the crawl was more of an awkward on-you-knees- shuffle but boy did that embarrassment climb back up inside you. If this was with anyone else, the pang of embarrassment woulda been too much, but something in Eddies low murmured tone did something totally new to you. "You're a good little pet, aren't you?"

His eyes never left the book in front of him: flicking through pages, scanning for the right sentence. He began reading off again. Completely as though it was the Sunday news paper and not your kinkiest secret fantasies.

"Eddie stop-"

"You know thats not my name." Eyes still in the book, tone stern and cold. You positioned on your claves between his legs, just waiting. "Thought you liked this? I know this isn't as good as being caught but its pretty close, right?" Finally he looks over.

The sudden feeling of something under you made you squirm, "Go on," He continued, "Get yourself off while I read your silly little diary."

The feeling that swelled in your belly was indescribable. It was overwhelming, unignorable and life changing. Like a duckling to its mother, you blindly listened: beginning to slowly rub yourself on the top of his foot.

"Suck my cock too, Sweetheart." He completely disregards you, finally finding his place on the pages. But he didn't start reading until he could feel your lips kiss his cock head.

You try to loose yourself in kissing him and the weight on your tongue but the perching reminder of what he is reading keeps pulling you out. The blood in your ears and the cotton in your brain were getting thicker.

You felt a ring or two pull on the strands of your hair, your gasps causing you to suck his in harder. You felt the rings apply more of a push at certain points of Eddies reading.

It's all sort of too dirty to really feel like its real life. Nobody really experiences this stuff right? Like it's all just movie magic? Clearly not. Clearly somehow you'd hit the jackpot. Somehow in small little irrelevant Hawkins in the mid 80s, you'd met the jack pot.

The sound of a book hitting a surface pulls you from your slack, readjusting yourself back to the present, you felt two hands play with your hair with more intent.

"Fuck-you sure know how to suck a dick, don't you?" He tucked some behind your ear, making you look up at him "Who taught you that?"

"You-da-daddy." Jumbled delivery thanks to the cock in your mouth.

"Sorry couldn't hear you."

"da-daddy" You tried, but sadly coming out more like 'dabby' thanks to the 5 inch obstruction in your throat.

The palms by your ears tighten, "good" It was almost like an extended sigh, "You gonna take it? Tap me if it's too much, yah?" Serious and caring, you nod.

"Yes" You respond to the eyebrow raise, "Yes daddy."

"Good little thing, aren't you?" Another tuck of your hair, and he pulled your head back in opposition to his hips going forward. He was using you clearlessly, not yet pushing you down as deep as he could, but rather just enjoying your lightness.

The room enters a soundtrack of hisses and hums, some slurps and some groans.

"I told you to get yourself off." It wasn't rude but you felt like you were being told off. Your heart pinged in your chest.

It was annoying how good it felt. Yes your knees stung and the carpet has turned into staples but who cared. The hands behind your ears making you deep throat him were heaven, the foot under your clit was heaven, Eddies musky smell was heaven.

Hums and hisses turned into the sound of fabric rubbing and small 'fuck's and 'shit's. And at this rate the streams of dribble coming off your chin and too the floor was definitely anything but disgusting.

Looking up at him and seeing him looking down, heaven too. "Gonna cum in your mouth." You really couldn't help the whorish whine. "Don't swallow it."

Something about that single demand got you were you needed it too. The swelling between your legs seemed to his its peak, the sheen of sweat tripped and your body felt like it was burning. Finger burring into his thighs, tummy tensed: you came over his foot, eyes rolled into the back of your skull.

Eddie using this as the perfect moment to use you. Seeing a moment where you'd given him your everything, he gripped you harder and thrusted deeply into your throat.

Still in your post orgasm haze, the 2 boney hands drag you up by your arm pits, a leg helps keep you stood. "Open." You couldn't even see him at the moment, but you knew behind the black was a man staring at you with all his love.

So you did as he told. Mouth open, cum threatening to spill, "Good, swallow." There was a hand to your throat, and them butterflies danced again. And then there was a light press to your lips that helps bring your eyes back open.

Neither of you could help getting lost a bit in the other - this was a big step, a big new, a good thing too! Eddie broke your moment off and tucked you into his chest, coddling you.

"I love you"

"I-love- you too"

He laughed at your breathiness. "Can we have an actual conversation about this now"

"Gimme a minute- I think my brains all mush."

He laughed again and gave a kiss to your hair.

#help I wrote this all out and it didnt save and I could look at this point for like 2 weeks after. #but she is done!! #I hope ive done your ask well #this was fun!!!! #relocated heads ask #Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson fluf #Eddie Munson soft #stranger things smut #Eddie munson fanfiction #joesph Quinn smut #Eddie Munson ask #joesph quinn #st4 #Eddie Munson headcanons #joesph Quinn fluff #joesph Quinn fanfiction

[sodamnradd]

She never imagined an adolescent flame could turn so deadly.

At fifteen they kissed one another on patrol. The first time a boy slipped his tongue between her lips and made her feel desired.

She kept Draco to herself and suspected he did, too. Hermione, his dirty little secret. After three kisses in June, school came to a close. She dreamt of peppermint lips and the drag of solid white teeth all summer long.

At sixteen, she learned how to comfort someone and expect nothing in return. Tight-lipped, subtly explosive, selfish, and uncouth, Draco pushed her away and reeled her back in. He took her virginity in Filch’s supply closet. It was harsh and unromantic and horribly cruel when, afterwards, he revealed his Dark Mark and asked if she still wanted him.

At seventeen, he saved her life.

“Where have you been?” he wanted to know. An unmasked face in a sea of secret soldiers, intent to torture and kill them. The wild jealousy in his eyes was really asking: who have you replaced me with?

“Nowhere.” No one.

He slipped her his wand, told her to stun him, save her friends, and run, promising to find her again.

Seventeen was the longest year of her life.

Draco used his wand to track her whereabouts.

She didn’t know if she could trust him. If he was the cruel sixteen-year-old who hurt her all year long, or the fifteen-year-old who’d kissed her, pulled away, stunned, as if he’d come to a shocking revelation, then kissed her again with reckless, open-hearted abandon.

By eighteen he was her confidante and closest friend.

They met in public spaces. Chiswick. Richmond. Hammersmith. She wore Muggle clothes, and he showed up in all black. Autumnal chic. Trendy Londoners didn’t blink twice. He’d sweep her onto an empty double-decker, a vacant pub, a locked greenhouse in the botanical gardens, remove his leather gloves, and touch her face, her hair, rub her cold hands between his palms and kiss her fingertips. He took note of her scars. The ones he recognised and the ones he didn’t. Demand who did it, vow to make them pay, then offer everything he knew about Voldemort’s next moves.

At eighteen, he confessed he loved her.

It was the worst of the war. She’d been beaten, tortured, scarred, and branded. Draco hardened, trained and bathed in Dark Magic. They did not belong with one another.

Keeping her safe was like clutching a bar of soap beneath the tap and praying it wouldn’t slip from his fingers. But he tried his damned well hardest, and she loved him for it.

By nineteen, freedom tasted like luxury.

War-torn homes, constant nightmares, society’s vitriol, friends who didn’t understand, a world who wished them apart.

It was caviar and champagne.

The ability to sleep in the same bed and touch one another when they felt like it (always), and say I love you without the fear of never saying it again.

(494 words, photo prompt from twitter)

#sodamnrad #dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dhr #dramione drabble #drabble #sodamnraddrabbles

[navybrat817]

A Price to Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader Summary: Steve demands retribution when Ransom crosses a line. Ransom offers you as payment. Word Count: Almost 2.9k Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon elements (do not read if that upsets you), blackmail, coercion, choking, swearing, talks of violence, forced cheating, Ransom is an asshole, mob!Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Another old WIP completed! I began this in August of 2021. This will be connected to a future Bucky fic and I may expand on Steve's story if there is interest. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @little-diable and @sweeterthanthis, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by @maysdigitalarts and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Ransom Drysdale was the worst mistake you ever made. The man exuded arrogance, yet you were somehow attracted to his confidence. Maybe it was because yours wasn't strong enough at the time. His charm won you over, even as you tried to resist. He didn't strike you as the type who wanted a long-term relationship, but he convinced you to give him a chance. He swore you wouldn't regret it. 

"Best decision you'll ever make."

Fool me once, shame on you. 

Ransom didn't deserve you. You figured that out when you caught him in the first lie. You weren't supposed to hear his phone call as he watched the news. He wasn't usually that careless, as you would later find out.

At first you thought he cheated on you. It would have explained his hushed calls and random outings after you moved in. You almost wished he had been seeing someone else. That would have made it easier to walk away and never look back. 

"Yeah, I'm watching. Like I give a shit if his company falls or his wife leaves. Should've kept his dick in his pants. And you should've seen the stupid look on his face when I told him there were photos. I told him what would happen if he didn't wire the money. Fucker's paying for it now, isn't he?"

"... Ransom?"

"... Fuck. I'll call you back."

He brushed you off when you questioned him. He even tried to convince you that you were hearing things. He dropped the charade when he realized you weren't going to let it go. 

"Just can't let me have my fun, can you?"

You thought Ransom came from money, which he had growing up. Somewhere along the way his grandfather cut him off. He had to find more creative ways to keep his cash flow going - like blackmail. Trading secrets and exposing scandals when necessary were second nature to him. And he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. 

But he swore he'd stop when he saw your tears.

"I'm done, pumpkin. It was the last one. Cross my heart."

Fool me twice, shame on me. 

It was easier when you were blissfully unaware of the kind of man he truly was. The affectionate touches and gasps he drew from you couldn't wash away what he had done. He ruined lives just to keep his pockets full. And you knew in your heart he wouldn't let you go. Not because he loved you, but because you were a liability.

He made that clear when you caught him again and said you needed space.

"You're not leaving me."

You could barely walk by the time he was done fucking you that night. A sore reminder that crossing him wasn't a smart move. But he never raised a hand to you. He didn't leave visible scars. You carried them where no one could see. So why would your friends and family who were still around ever side with you? 

"I own you. Don't you ever fucking forget it."

You weren't completely helpless. You played your part and learned a few secrets of your own, like how Ransom's grandfather really died. You pieced together that Ransom was the one who killed him, but he still didn't get enough money in the will to satisfy him. 

He'll never be satisfied. 

It took time and careful planning to make sure you had enough money set aside to leave. He dipped into your main account, of course, but you had a rainy day fund from before you met him that he would never touch. You could have a fresh start and maybe expose him in the process. But you still felt like a coward. 

Was that why he chose to be with me? Because I'm weaker than him? 

"Pumpkin, where are you?" you heard as the front door opened. 

Glancing at the clock, you tried not to panic. He isn't supposed to be home yet. You quickly stashed your bag under the bed and swallowed the lump in your throat. "Coming!" you called back, smoothing out your dress and checking your reflection before you made your way downstairs to the study.

I can still leave tonight. I can even leave tomorrow. I'll be fine.

You took a deep breath before you entered the room, surprised to find two other men with Ransom. 

"There she is. Finally," Ransom said, a glass of scotch already in hand.

Your heart raced in your chest as you glanced at the man who sat across from Ransom. His broad body radiated power and strength, his presence dominating the entire room. And he wasn't even standing. You expected his gaze to be harsh when he looked at you, but his blue eyes softened the longer he stared. You had to look away after a minute. 

Your gaze landed on the figure beside him. The brunette looked just as intimidating as the blonde, his gaze cold. The corner of his lip tugged into a smile as he lifted his hand in a wave. It was a metal hand. 

"Relax. We won't bite. Well… I won't."

Ransom rolled his eyes, "Pumpkin, take a seat. We need to talk."

Nothing good ever happened when someone needed to talk. "About what?" you asked as you sat in the empty chair on the other side of Ransom.

"This is Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes," he introduced, taking a sip of his scotch. "They're here on business."

You bit the inside of your cheek. You didn't want to judge these men, but you knew it had to be something shady. Nothing Random did was ever pure.

Steve shifted in his chair to face you. "Care to tell me your name, sweetheart? You don't strike me as the type who likes to be called 'pumpkin'."

You avoided Ransom's subtle glare as you cleared your throat and said it. 

"It’s nice to meet you, though I wish the circumstances were better," he smiled gently. "For the record, we already know who you are. I know where your friends and family live. I know about that bakery you like to go to once a week. You treat yourself to a specialty donut. They're good."

You wished you had a glass of water to quench your dry throat. "You've been watching me?"

"It's part of my job to know people. Allies. Enemies. We also know you've been living here for some time. Before I get into why exactly we're here, I do have to ask even though I know the answer. Are you aware of what Ransom does?"

Ashamed, you merely nodded as your fingers twisted in your lap.

Steve's gaze was sympathetic as he continued. “Are you also aware that Ransom recently got into some trouble?"

You spared Ransom a quick glance. "What kind of trouble?"

"Doesn't matter," he said dismissively. 

"It does matter," Steve said firmly, leaning forward in his chair. "It matters when your mouth gets one of my men killed."

Your stomach dropped as you took in Steve and Bucky's angry expressions. "You got someone killed?"

"Idiot got himself killed. Not my fault or my problem."

"He was a kid," Steve argued.

It earned him a shrug in response. "You brought the kids in, Rogers. Both of you knew what he was getting into. Don't blame me for his blood being on your hands."

The callousness shocked you, despite what you knew about Ransom. "How can you say that? How can you think so little of people?"

"Oh, it gets better," Bucky said sarcastically before Ransom could answer.

"What do you mean?" you asked nervously. 

"I told you. He got one of my men killed. I took it personally," Steve explained. "I debated between killing him myself or having him sent to jail, but I'm a reasonable guy. I gave him a chance to tell his side of the story. Once he figured out I wasn't going to budge on some sort of retaliation, he offered me something."

You didn't like where this was going. "What exactly did he offer?"

"You."

You were waiting for the punchline. For someone to laugh. There was nothing funny about it as all three men stared at you. Bucky's expression remained the same, but there was sympathy in his eyes. Ransom looked proud of himself. It made you wish you could slap the smirk off his face. But Steve?

Steve's eyes were thoughtful, calculating. He was gauging your response. You almost opened your mouth to tell him you weren't worth the life of the man he lost, but what came out was, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Steve didn't look surprised by your outburst. Maybe he expected it. "Listen, please. I know-"

"No. You listen. I want nothing to do with whatever he did. I am so sorry that one of your men was killed, but please understand that I am not going to be a pawn in whatever this is."

Ransom had the gall to look embarrassed as you stood up. "You don't have a choice. Just let him fuck you and be done with it."

"Yes, I do have a choice. And I'm choosing to leave."

"You're not walking out that door," Ransom said, getting to his feet, too. "Just like you didn't the last time you tried to leave."

Humiliation flooded you as Steve and Bucky exchanged a look. Were they judging you? Did they pity you? "I'm going upstairs and getting my bag. I'm not cleaning up your mess. I'm done playing your games, Ransom. I'm done with you."

Ransom's jaw clenched as he marched over and grabbed you by your throat. "You think I give a shit what you want right now? I never did. You were just a fucking toy to keep my dick wet. And I'd let him and his entire fucking crew run a train on you if it keeps me out of jail."

Your eyes teared up as you looked into his eyes. There was no love there. Not at that moment. Did he ever love you?

"Do. You. Understand?"

The hand around your throat squeezed tighter, just enough to show that he could end you. You whimpered, but not because of the pain. It was a different kind of hurt you felt.  The kind of hurt that couldn't be healed by false promises. That was what Ransom was: a false, empty promise.

I should have run the moment you walked into my life.  

"Let her go."

Steve's words were softly spoken in the quiet room, but everyone felt the weight of them.

"Don't tell me what to do with my girl, Rogers."

"Right now, she's MY girl. Get your fucking hands off of her."

Bucky brandished his gun as he stood up, taking aim at Ransom. "He won't ask again. And I'd hate to ruin her pretty dress with your blood."

You almost missed the snarl he let out as he released you, coughing as you rubbed your neck. Your heart leapt as you looked over and caught Steve's gaze. The intensity in his eyes only grew as he began to walk across the room. You felt your breath leave your body again as he got closer. You didn't bother to step back because you were already caught. 

Neither of you spoke a word when he stopped and brought his hands to your face. He cupped your cheeks with a certain kind of tenderness that surprised you as his eyes scanned your neck. A tear finally fell when his brows furrowed with concern. Why would he care when your own boyfriend didn't?

"The fuck are you doing?" Ransom snapped when Steve began to pepper gentle kisses along the column of your throat.

Your eyes slipped shut, but it wasn't completely out of fear. The feel of his lips should have made you shudder in disgust, but you found yourself craving more. Was it pathetic? You didn't care.

"I told you, she's my girl now," Steve murmured against your skin. "And if I ever see you touch her like that again, I'll tear you apart. Limb from limb."

Ransom's laugh sounded bitter and ugly as you opened your eyes. "You want my sloppy seconds so badly, be my guest. Little slut's probably creaming herself from the attention."

"This whole thing is your fault, Ransom," you reminded him, another bitter tear falling from your eye. The anger whirling inside you couldn't be contained any longer. "So if you're going to offer me up like a slut, the least I can do is enjoy it."

Steve kissed up to the corner of your mouth, smiling. "Enjoy it? Oh, sweetheart," he breathed, "By the time I'm done with you, you won't even remember he existed. Because every thought of him will be fucked out of you. I can promise you that."

You shivered and dared to glance at Ransom out of the corner of your eye. 

“You really are a fucking slut,” he sneered before Bucky pressed the gun to his temple.

“No one twisted your arm to offer her.”

"I could just let you kill him,” you pointed out to Steve, the last shred of sympathy for Ransom fading as another tear slid down your cheek.

"I'd take you anyway," Steve whispered, brushing his lips against your cheek to take the tear away. "I wanted you the moment I saw you and I'm a very determined man."

You were light on your feet as you brought a hand up to wrap around his wrist. Something to keep you from falling. "I won't be a pawn. If you're going to keep me, actually keep me, prove to me why I shouldn't run."

"I have ways to keep you from running," his voice deepened, a flash of Ransom dragging you to bed filling your mind. "But I'd rather not chase you away to begin with."

“She loves to put up a fight. Helps her sleep at night instead of admitting she’s as fucked up as the rest of us.” 

You weren't sure if it was the disdain in Ransom's voice or the rage in Steve's eyes, but a surge of unexpected power emerged from the bitterness. "What was it you said, Ran? You'd let his men run a train on me if it keeps you out of jail?"

"What are you suggesting, sweetheart?" Steve asked, his gaze curious as he pulled back to regard you. 

"While I don't want that, I want Ransom to watch you fuck me," you spoke, standing a bit straighter as you looked him in the eye. You refused to look weak. "I want him to see you split me open with your cock and make me cry from how good it feels. When you're done, then I'll forget he ever existed."

Bucky chuckled, but you didn't look his way. You didn't dare look away from Steve as his gaze drifted to your lips. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. My wife's gonna love you."

"Done," Steve whispered before his mouth descended on yours.

You didn't fight as his tongue slid past your parted lips. You welcomed his dominance, his control. Oh, he was going to make you become addicted. The dampening in your panties was a sure sign of that. 

"You're fucking stupid if you think I'll watch him fuck her!"

Ransom's voice wasn't enough to break the spell that Steve's kiss had over you. Maybe you were trading one evil for another, but this was the door you willingly walked through. You threw away the key the moment you took Ransom's hand.

Now you'd have a better hand to guide you.

"You'll watch," Bucky promised. "But, punk, my doll might kill me if I have to watch, too. You understand."

The almost lighthearted tone of Steve's friend was enough to stop the kiss, giving you a moment to take a much needed deep breath. "Get Ari over here. He'll make sure he keeps his eyes open."

"You fucking-"

You jumped when Bucky smacked Ransom in the face with his gun, effectively cutting off his next words. The hit made his nose bleed and you took sick pleasure in watching it stain his sweater, his hands flying up to try and stop it. If you were the sacrifice, he had to pay in blood for your offering. 

"Any other conditions or questions?" Steve asked, turning your face back toward him as your now ex's swears and groans were muffled.

"Will you be good to me?” 

“You have my word and I’ll do what I can to make sure you trust me.”

Ransom may have been your worst mistake, but the silver lining was that you'd no longer be in his prison. Your body was a small price to pay to join Steve in a larger, better cage. You could still fly. Maybe you’d give him your heart in time. 

Maybe you could also convince Steve to take Ransom down anyway. For his grandfather, for the kid, for you. For every person he hurt.

You won't die, Ransom, but you'll pay. Everyone has to pay for their sins eventually.

“Then we should get started," you stated, sealing your fate.

"Call Ari. Now," Steve ordered Bucky, looking at Ransom with an unsympathetic smile. “You heard her. Let’s get started.”

*****

Hope to share more soon. Love and thanks! ❤️

#navybrat writes #steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you

[rabbitsrams]

memories -- jschlatt x reader

warnings: ANGST. that's all

wordcount: 1.2k

a/n: WOOHOO STELLA WROTE A LONG FORM FIC

It's been two years since the breakup.

You were mostly over it, having moved all of your stuff out of your shared apartment and blocked him everywhere. The breakup was amicable but you had a feeling that 100% cutting him off would be easier for you.

You were now in the process of finally moving out of your parents' house (again) and into a new place. They let you move back in following the breakup and with that plus struggling to find a decent job, you were stuck there for a while. But this was a good sign, a sign of change. A sign of moving to the next thing.

As you went through your childhood bedroom for the last time, searching for anything that you may have left behind, you came across an old picture stuffed away in your desk drawer.

It was from that photobooth from the zoo. The zoo that you went to with Schlatt all those years ago. All of a sudden, memories began flocking back to you the more you stared at it.

The thing itself was a strip of four photos, four photos that made it seem like the two people in them were hopelessly in love. Which, at the time, they were. Two young, naive kids who were completely oblivious to what was going to come.

“Schlatt, come in here! There's a photobooth!”

”Wait, we don't wanna leave the group behind!“

”Come on! It'll be quick! I wanna have a memory from today.“

”Oh, alright.“

The photobooth was pretty small. You could only just fit together. Schlatt lifted your leg so it could rest on his and so you could be closer. The machine's garbled voice instructed the two of you on what was going to happen, telling you that four photos will be taken in intervals.

The first photo was simple, with the two of you smiling together. Schlatt had his arm around you and you leaned close to him. The flash completely blinded you two, so the second picture was of you covering your eyes, laughing at the circumstances.

The third photo had you kissing him on the cheek, his face crimson and a smitten expression on his face. And finally, the fourth one had Schlatt kissing you on the lips.

The machine was waiting for you to pay for the photos, asking in that same garbled voice for you to insert cash or a credit card. But you were too busy kissing each other to pay attention.

You eventually broke away when an angry father opened the curtain, demanding you two hurry up so him and his daughter could use the booth. You apologized to both of them profusely as Schlatt took his card out and paid for the photos.

You each got a copy of the photos, grinning at how good the pictures turned out. There was a permanent marker lying on the top of the photo dispenser. You grabbed it and wrote the date and drew a little heart with your initials on his. He took the marker from you and did the same.

You turned the strip over, seeing Schlatt's familiar handwriting. It got you wondering if he still wrote his e's like that, still added a little smiley face at the end of his notes, still had the photo like you did.

You wanted to throw it away. You wanted to completely free yourself from those memories. Memories that made you smile but hurt you at the same time. Memories of a relationship that was no more.

But there was something inside you that urged you to keep it, to bring it with you to your new place. It didn't have to be displayed on your corkboard or on your fridge. You could hide it away with your other hidden things and look at it if the urge was there.

You could still hold on.

——————————————————————————————————

Schlatt had returned to New York for a family party. It's been a while since he's been back after moving to Texas a few months after your breakup. His childhood room still looked the same and had a lot of old memories from his life.

He decided to do a little video for his second channel, giving his audience a little tour of the space they were familiar with before moving to a new space. It was going to be fun looking through old stuff from making videos at that time and

As he was going through a drawer by his desk, he saw a folded sheet inside. Putting his camera down, he took the sheet and unfolded it, surprised to feel it was camera paper as opposed to notebook paper. And he was met with quite a surprise at what the photo contained.

Seinor prom. He was dressed all nice in a tuxedo, smiling at the camera as his arms were around your middle. You were beaming, your dress being that same dress he helped pick out because it was his favorite shade of blue. You had a corsage on your wrist that he remembered the petals tickling your wrist every time you moved it.

You looked so beautiful.

He was surprised that he kept the photo, considering he made it a vow to get rid of everything. He must not have brought this photo with him when moving into that apartment.

He shut the camera off, planning to go back to recording soon. He exammined the photo, remembering that entire night.

He picked you up that night, sheepishly smiling as your parents gave him looks. Looks that would guarantee something happening to him if he ever hurt their daughter.

You looked so beautiful in your dress, in your makeup, with your hair styled so nicely. He almost forgot to give you the corsage because he could not stop staring at you.

The limo was also so nice, with you, him and your shared friends all chatting as loud music blared from the speakers. He loved how you made conversation with the driver after being dropped off, thanking them and apologizing if the group was too loud.

He dragged you to the line for prom pictures, to which you sighed because of how long it was. But the time went by fairly quickly because of how engrossed you were in a conversation.

He laughed at how cheesy the backdrop was, multi-colored fringe foil decorations barely covering the gymnasium door. The photographer, completely uninterested in what he was doing, simply told the two of you to pose and do whatever. He wrapped his arms around your torso, holding you tight as you both grinned.

"Ah! The corsage tickles!"

Schlatt folds the photo back up, this time stuffing it inside an empty pill bottle by his desk. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of the photo. He knew he still had some feelings for you even after all this time. He hated himself for hurting you so much and wished that things could have worked out.

He was hurt when he saw you blocked him, but he knew it was crucial for you to heal. And he hoped that you were doing well with everything you wanted to pursue. Your happiness was all that mattered.

He swore that he was over you, swore that he would be okay without you. But after seeing that photo, he wasn't sure if he was.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt fanfiction #jschlatt x you #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt imagine #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt angst #schlatt angst #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt fanfic

[eoieopda]

Ooo yessss let’s go!!! Can I request a drabble for idol bf jungkook finding out his non idol but dancer gf is taking pole dancing classes and he goes to watch her for the first time and he is like mesmerized at how good she is? Thank youu 💜

sorry for the wait, sweet bean! there’s a wee bit of a departure in that she’s not in a class, per se, but she is practicing!

a/n: not smut, but definitely ✨sensual✨ because this photo has done something irreparable to my brain worms. also, i don’t know shit about fuck when it comes to pole dancing, so uhhhh, we’ll see how this goes 🤪

Lately, Jungkook’s favorite part of rehearsals is when they end. For whatever reason, he’s been incapable of keeping his head on straight these days; and the inspiration that used to power him seemingly left him, hung up to dry. It didn’t used to feel this vacant, moving to music he’d poured so much of himself into, but now his cup is empty. Now, Jungkook needs a muse.

Lucky for him, he hears Terpsichore’s sweet call from the practice space next to his, and shit does she sound like you.

This has to be a coincidence, he’s sure, because he can’t think of any reason to find you here tonight.

In a vacuum, your presence in this studio wouldn’t be a surprise — you had rehearsals of your own, classes to teach, and so on — but with how much time you spend under this roof as it is? There’s no reality Jungkook can imagine in which anyone would sacrifice an elusive night-off to this place.

But, then again, it’s you. Once that spark of creativity hits, you conduct it masterfully; and you don’t stop until there’s no power left to burn.

Too curious to stay and sweat on the hardwood floor, Jungkook groans as he clambers to his feet. He aches as he crosses to the door, even more so when he has to summon a single crumb of energy to push it open. Thankfully, he doesn’t have far to travel once he exits his practice room.

There are glass panels on either side of the door neighboring his. That glass fogs up when the heat of his body gets close, and he damn near has to press his nose to the glass to confirm his suspicion. Through the haze, his unprepared eyes land on you, talking to the camera you’re using to record for review purposes — and on the unfathomably high heels you’re slipping into.

Oh, shit.

When Jungkook woke up this morning, he didn’t think today would be his last. The sole consolation in dropping into his early grave would be in the last thing he sees: your hands gripping onto the bright silver pole in the center of the room; your exposed core muscles engaging as you take the weight of your body into your arms; and the subtle look of concentration on your face as you spin.

Pretty fuckin’ carousel, you are.

If Jungkook didn’t know exactly how much strength this sort of thing demanded, he would’ve accepted at face value just how easy you make it look. Apart from the dimple digging in at the corner of your pursed lips, there’s no proof at all that any of this requires effort. Not even when you fold damn near in half, not when your legs end up above your head, and not when the grip of your thighs takes over for that of your hands.

You’re dangling upside down — the world’s most stunning chandelier — when you see him losing his goddamn mind through the glass pane.

He panics for a moment; and it’s not due to being caught gawking or because there’s more than adoration throbbing on his side of the door. Before your surprise can drop you onto your head, your arms extend towards the floor until you’ve got both palms firmly rooted in hardwood. Within seconds, you’re back on your feet, still clutching the pole for balance from the top of your sky-high shoes.

“You could’ve come in and sat down,” you snicker. You lift your free hand to gesture over to a couch, which is shoved up against the far wall. Still smirking, you use that same hand to beckon him towards you with a curled finger.

As if he’d ever need prompted to run right to you.

This close, Jungkook sees the light sheen of sweat over your collarbones. He blinks fast in a feeble attempt to unscramble his brain. Finally rebooting, he leans in to kiss your flushed cheek.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” he breathes, then he glances at the pole before rapping his knuckles against it softly, “Definitely didn’t know you’d be here doing this.”

“Got casted for that concert in May,” You hum as you bend down to untie those goddamn boots. “They need some girls on pole, so I’m turning myself into one.”

Jungkook reaches down and catches your chin, prompting you to stop fidgeting with your double-knot and blink up at him.

“Oh, I’m gonna have to stop you right there, pretty,” Jungkook tuts. Face darkening over his wolfish grin, he wraps his arms around your unsuspecting waist. In a second, you’re folded over his shoulder, laughing breathlessly; and he’s carrying you off towards the changing room. “Those shoes are staying on.”

It’d arrived much differently than Jungkook was anticipating, but he certainly felt inspired now.

#jade speaks #jade’s drabbles #jade’s requests #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jjk #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #anon #re: the one with jungkook and terpsichore

[megpricephotography]

So I'm thinking about a dog in 2024 and I am absolutely in love with border collies.. I know thier energy is insane.. This is my question, do you walk everyday, of course you do, how far do you walk? What would I be in for? Do they bark often? I also enjoy black Labradors.. Your blog is quite amazing.. 🙏🐕

That’s wonderful you might be getting a dog next year! Whichever breed you decide on, I hope you find yourself a fantastic companion & enjoy many happy years of adventures together :) Thanks, I'm so glad you enjoy my blog!

I’ll answer your 2nd question 1st: barking. Yes!! Some are louder than others... but most border collies like the sound of their own voice. They'll likely be more vocal than a labrador!

Now... exercising. Border collies are energetic. They need to run regularly & are always eager for a walk! Like most breeds, BCs are happiest (& easiest to live with!) when they're able to combine using their brains, with getting physical excise.

Many pet dogs, even "high energy" breeds, are able to fulfil a lot of their need for mental/physical exercise by going on regular walks... Walks where the dog is most left to its own devices but has the opportunity to run & fully engage its senses, exploring & interacting with the environment. If the owner wants to get more involved & play with the dog too, then great! However, if the owner is tired after a stressful day, then they can mostly mentally switch-off & relax in nature, while their pet has fun & tires itself out!

Unfortunately (& I think it's part of why they have a rep for making hyper/crazy pets), border collies are often pretty terrible at exercising themselves on this sort of walk - where they have to occupy themselves independently!

BCs want owner participation!! They want YOU mentally switched-on & involved in their activities - exploring the wider world is only as interesting as you make it! If they aren't kept busy herding livestock for you, or doing sports like agility, then a BC needs you to come up with other forms of entertainment/exercise, which you can do together. It doesn't need to be complicated, or involve you doing lots of hard physical exertion - but keeping a pet BC well-exercised & contented will take some mental effort, on your part.

They'll often benefit far more from a slightly shorter outing, where your focus is on them & making a real effort to engage & interact - rather than a much longer walk, where you're present but disengaged & expecting the dog to exercise itself.

For some people, the prospect of a pet who demands lots of engagement & interaction, could be more work than an active dog who "just" needs regular long hikes! However, if you like the idea of having a HIGHLY interactive dog - who thrives on doing stuff with you, then BCs can make wonderful, engaging, fun companions.

This got way too long... below are examples of how I keep Flynn "busy" & help him burn off mental/physical energy outdoors! My health isn't very good - I can't go very far & never go fast but Flynn doesn't mind... as long as we're interacting.

All pics below were taken a couple of days ago, in 2 adjacent fields.

Left to occupy himself, Flynn could spend hours out in these wide-open spaces & he'd still be bouncy/bored later. Not because he's insanely energetic - no, the daft dog simply wouldn’t DO anything tiring! If I ignore Flynn, he accepts it & potters along the path... & that’s the problem! He's an athletic, intense dog & he just potters! He's happy but barely using up any energy!! If I want Flynn tired, I have to give him reasons to use his body & - more importantly - his mind!

I take the part of shepherd & sheep & get Flynn herding me across the fields. We play hide-&-seek in the woods. He does tricks & balances on things. I take photos as it's another chance to interact. We might play search games too - I make him wait, go hide a toy/treats, then send him out to find them.  

A "game"(?) that's developed over time, is that Flynn loves to find & show me interesting stuff in the environment. Stuff he will not play with alone, but massively enjoys if I join in: piles of leaves, mole hills, tree stumps, good ground for digging! The more animated I am in reacting, the more enthused Flynn gets & the more he’ll exercise - racing way ahead to find the next fun thing & the next! He enjoys it if I show him stuff too!

Anyway, here he is in the 1st field, lying motionless but focused, as he waited for me to arrive & investigate the puddle he’d "discovered". It IS an excellent puddle.

Here he is, extremely excited at the prospect of supervising me stepping into the puddle & making a splash: 

Flynn's holding a nasty soggy chunk of grass because this was such a thrilling moment, he felt he needed to have something to bite on, or he might be tempted to nip my boot!!

Here he is in the 2nd field, intent on stalking closer, because I’d crouched down & just me doing that is EXCITING: 

I crouched to look for fossils. Didn’t spot any, so I grabbed random pebbles. Flynn finds it genuinely fascinating to watch me choose, pick up, examine & toss small rocks away… He'll eagerly "help" me do this, for as long as I'll let him. He darts after each stone, as I chuck it away, then quickly rush back to watch me choose another. Here he is, concentrating very hard indeed, on a vital Pebble Examination:  

Despite not going far, Flynn was mentally (& physically) tired out by the time we got home! Clearly, he'd done important work: herding, hiding, puddle-finding & pebble-inspecting ;-) Once Flynn's exercised, he'll happily sleep for hours on end.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Confessions (Alex Blake x Reader)

Synopsis: Finding the Replicators abandoned building full of your photos leads to a number of confessions

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: mentions of the Replicator and stalking

You were going to throw up. There was no doubt about it. You hunched over, hands on your knees, under the heavy gaze of your team staring down from all angles. Black and white, their faces blazed as moment after moment crashed into you.

A hand rubbed soothing circles over your back. Tears were in your eyes. The horror was a living thing in your chest. It cried for escape. You pressed a hand to your mouth to keep it from clawing out from between your lips.

“What is this?” you faintly heard Morgan demand.

“Oh god,” managed to slip through your lips, the taloned fingers of your fear creeping out.

“This is… it’s…” JJ’s horror felt so stark, so palpable.

“Someone’s been following us,” Reid said, summing up the situation succinctly, “all of us.”

You reached out a hand, blindly searching for the person you knew was behind you. Their fingers curled around yours, holding you steady, while you tried to suck air into your lungs. You felt broken, frozen, unable to do anything.

“We need to find who’s done this,” Hotch was saying to someone.

“Doing this,” you whispered.

Because it wasn’t over and done. There was someone out there still doing this. Still following you and your friends. Watching you. Taking photos of you for their ow sick pleasure.

You felt dirty. Like bleach wouldn’t be enough to clean you from this. It stuck to your skin, making you feel alien in your own body.

The hand holding yours tugged you until an arm looped around your waist, pulling you into a warm body. Burying your head in the space between shoulder and neck, the familiar perfume helped to calm your heart.

“We’ll find them,” Alex promised, “we’ll be okay.”

“I feel so gross,” you said.

Her arm tightened around you just as your team was asked to leave the crime scene. You let her lead you out, still feeling shaky. JJ reached out to you, her hand finding yours, an extra steadying presence. You needed it, just to get you out of there where you could still see the photos staring back at you.

So many moments captured. Private moments. Moments that were yours but now weren’t. Moments that had been stolen from you by someone still in the shadows.

It took a while to settle back into your own skin after that. Returning home that night you’d been in the shower so long Alex had come to find you. She’d held you under the warm spray of water, tight enough for you to feel the way her body trembled as well.

Perhaps that’s why it took so long for Morgan to sidle up to you. You’d been the most obviously shaken by the entire thing, your anger never quite eclipsing the sense of wrongness sitting in your own life.

“When were you going to tell us?” he asked you while sitting across from you on the jet on the way home from a case.

“That I think anyone who willingly drinks green juice is in a cult?” you replied, “I thought I’d wait for it come up naturally. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m shoehorning in my political agenda.”

“I meant your relationship with Blake,” he said, flashing those pearly whites at you.

“I agree, it’s risky going into business with a friend, but I really think this bar and bookshop idea is going to work,” you said.

He chuckled, but it was with the kind of fondness you had for your younger sibling when they did something that annoyed you. You looked up from the book you’d been reading, finding his eyebrow raised in your direction.

You sighed, glancing over at Alex on the couch. Her eyes were trained on her own book, but you could tell from the slope of her shoulders that she was listening in.

“How’d you find out?” you asked.

“The Replicator had pictures of you two,” he said.

“Oh, we’ve named him the Replicator now, have we?” you replied, “Hotch will be so pleased.”

It was easier to deflect than admit how uncomfortable that sentence had made you. You’d only just begun to get over the invasion of privacy. Having someone point out they’d seen private moments of yours due to that guy made you want to scream.

“Come on,” Morgan said, “we’ll get the guy.”

“Yeah, I know,” you replied.

“I just want to know how long this has been going on,” he said.

“A while,” you replied.

“Long enough for most of your clothes to have migrated to my place,” Alex said, still not looking up from her book.

“Your place is nicer than mine,” you said.

Her uptick of lips still made you heart flutter, even after so many months together. Her eyes flicked up to you, catching you looking. You caught your lower lip between your teeth, trying not to smile broadly.

“I can’t believe we didn’t see this before,” Morgan said, breaking into your moment.

You dragged your gaze back to him, not wanting to look away from Alex. You never wanted to look away from her.

“You didn’t,” JJ scoffed from the other end of the plane.

You looked over your shoulder. The others weren’t pretending not to listen in, the only one seemingly trying to give you privacy being Hotch. You felt the embarrassment creep up again, that same sticky feeling getting lodged in your chest.

“If you’re happy, we’re happy,” Rossi said.

“Thanks.” You didn’t really know how to respond to that.

You looked back to Alex, needing her to guide how to navigate this moment. She finally closed her book, finger caught between the pages in a way that was familiar and comforting. She stood, hand closing around your shoulder. It helped steady you.

“We’re very happy,” she said to the plane at large, “and that’s all we’re going to be answering about it until we’ve had a chance to talk about it between us.”

“I want to know what the photo showed,” you said.

“Photos, multiple,” Rossi replied.

“Oh god.” You buried your head in your hands, not able to face them.

“It wasn’t anything embarrassing,” JJ reassured you, “just a few kisses, some shots of you leaving Blake’s house in the morning, I think a date. It’s nothing bad.”

Alex’s hand tightened on your shoulder. You reached out, fingers curling around her wrist if only to anchor you to the moment. Someone had been there for intimate moments, for moments that were meant to just be between you and Alex. And now your entire team had seen them too. It felt tainted, all of it.

“Come on.” Her voice was quiet, just for you.

Her hand pulled you up, guiding you away from the rest of the group. They went back to what they were doing, Morgan starting a loud conversation with Reid and JJ to cover your conversation. Her arm around your waist kept you close to her.

“They know,” she said, prompting you to say something to her.

“I don’t care that they know. I’m glad. We don’t have to sneak around anymore,” you replied, “I just don’t like that someone has been following us around and seeing these moments that were meant to be ours. It makes me feel dirty.”

“I know but it doesn’t change how we felt in those moments or what they mean to us,” she said, “they’re still ours.”

“Are they?”

She pulled you into a hug, arms tight around you. You curled your own arms around her, pressing yourself against her hoping to be absorbed into her.

“He can’t take away how much I love you,” she murmured.

“You…” You had to draw away, had to see her eyes.

“This is a moment he doesn’t get to see,” she said, cupping your cheeks with both hands, “I love you.”

You surged forward, needing to kiss her, needing her to feel how much you loved her too. She laughed into the kiss, the whooping from Morgan a distant noise when her tongue was licking into your mouth and her body was brushing against yours.

“I love you too,” you gasped when she drew away.

“I can tell, darling.” Her forehead rested against yours, “and he doesn’t get to have this moment. This one is all ours.”

“And theirs,” you said, tilting your head towards the rest of the team.

“Is that okay?” she asked.

“I think I can live with that.”

She lent forward, kissing you softly, stealing your breath. You pressed yourself to her, wanting her so much closer.

“Alright, love birds, keep it PG back there,” Morgan called over.

You broke away, laughing, your breath mingling with hers. Maybe everything wasn’t okay right now. Maybe it wouldn’t be for a while. But you and Alex were more than okay.

Definitely more than okay.

Tags: @trippol-threat​​​​​​ @theclassicgaycousin​​​​​​ @prentiss-theorem​​​​​​ @nightmarish-fae​​​​​​ @storiesofsvu​​​​​​ @rustyzebra​​​​​​ @emsmultiverse​​​

#alex blake #alex blake imagine #alex blake x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

[green-lotus]

Mikey on your relationship with Raph headcanons 🧡

• Mikey doesn't shut up on how he ships you, obviously

• And both of you have gone through phases of being extremely annoyed, pleasantly rolling with it, mind - losing pissed, brotherly proud and mildly amused, it all depends on the occasion

• But you both also appreciate the fact that from the beginning, he was most open - hearted and encouraging of the two of you, when Leo and Donnie were slightly more reserved, to say the least

• Sometimes he needs to be violently slapped on the shell when babbling about things you definitely prefer to keep between you and sometimes when he just goes on about how he loves you guys being you guys and how you're basically his elder sister and how nice it is to have one you just smile at each other and let him talk when watching from the distance

• He will obviously keep trying to find out details on the quality time you spend alone and he'll walk on you when Raph isn't around to try to dig some friendly, brotherly dirt on him which you provide to a reasonable degree. And behind his back you signal Raph to watch and listen for your mutual amusement

• He jokes about "sharing a girlfriend", but he'd never mean it for real, he really is happy for his elder bro and respects you as a couple

• He likes patrolling the lair at night to check if you haven't fallen asleep somewhere in more public space, and is always guessing in what position he'll see the two of you. And sometimes he takes photos in secret with no malicious intent, just because he wants and feels like it's his job to document the good moments between Raph & you to have in memory store just in case since you can't do that yourself much

• And sometimes he'll gently take your hands when you sleep and place them on each other cause it's really adorable to him

• He also drops by blankets and pillows if you happen to not have any

• He's had times when he was a bit (way) too obnoxious and ran to Leo and Donnie to report on what you & Raph are doing when he saw the two of you, but he's been more or less forcefully educated to not do that and he's better now

• He also needed to exclude you from his habit of cute nicknaming girls, which he adapted to faster, thankfully

• When you're all eating dinner together, he will also remember and remind Splinter, Leo and Donnie to leave sits next to each other for you

• If situation demands, he'll cover for you in front of Leo, if you and Raph are still not returning to the lair and the dawn is almost breaking up above the ground. If you're planning on doing something more risky, surprisingly enough, he's your most trusted man to let know you'll be out tonight & for what

• He's the one to pester Raph to make whatever great romantic gesture towards you he came up with this time. Giant heart - shaped lollipops for Valentines, opera roof date, designer brand gifts for your birthday which strains Raph's patience, he's never out of ideas

• But when Raph doesn't know what to get for you for birthday or something else and asks his bros, he has the best really on - point ideas

• If there is a tense situation in the lair and you're not handling it well, he'll often notice it even before Raph does (cause he is most often involved, to be honest), and immediately gives him a nudge to go be with you

• Mikey's gotten into the habit of asking you about all the stuff he's always been dying to know more about, particularly all the "girl stuff", starting with dumb things like best ways of flirting up to serious stuff like periods and so on

• At times, you and Raph vibe into acting almost like a literal parental guidance to him which is a constant source of jokes and laughs in the lair

• The orange triple - threat turtle literally considers you his elder sister.

• And vice versa 🧡

#tmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt bayverse #bayverse #bayverse tmnt #bayverse turtles #tmnt headcanons #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph x oc #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raph relationship #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt oc

[loverontheleft]

No, Now (revised)

No, Now (Revised)

Brendon x reader.

Warnings: what is technically public sex, oral sex (both), fingering, language, things of that nature.

Word count: 2.4k ➡️ 4.3k

-||-

“Come with me.” Your voice is low as your eyes dart around the ‘step and repeat’ area of the red carpet.

Zack and the photographers nearby are all miraculously distracted; you seize the opportunity and grab Brendon’s sleeve, tugging him after you. Instead of going straight down the red carpet and finding your seats inside, you drag him around the edge of the backdrop. You’re not sure what your plan is exactly, but you know going into the award show’s seating area isn’t part of it, and getting your husband alone is. You’ll figure out the rest as you go.

“Darlin, I think we’re supposed to still be—”

“Hush, Urie.” He shuts up, eying you appreciatively; he loves when you get bossy and demanding. Suddenly, you spy a set of double doors marked ‘Crew Only.’ You glance around you to double check that no one is watching; once you’re confident you’re being unobserved, you walk toward it briskly, bringing Brendon with you, thanks to your firm grip on his jacket cuff.

The hallway in which you’ve found yourselves is dark, but you can see the bright glow of stage lights up ahead. “Act natural. Don’t draw attention.” You pause, looking over his gray jacket with metallic detailing and how it’s catching the tiny amount of light in the space and shimmering. “Any more attention, Disco boy,” you amend, grinning when he laughs. You cast a look around and spy a dressing room door hanging open. “Yeah. That’ll work.”

You lead the way, your fingers interlocked with his; once inside, you kick the door closed and push him up against it. “Baby,” Brendon groans, “I don’t think this is my—”

You press your lips to his. “I love you, but please, shut up,” you murmur against his mouth and he nods; he brings both hands to your face and eagerly returns the kiss. While he’s engrossed, your fingers start fumbling with his belt, jerking it out of place and letting it hit the floor.

“Darlin’, wait — you know I love you too, and I love how much you need— but we should probably just — sweet fuck your mouth is good— I don’t think we should— we probably shouldn’t actually—in here right now— oh god, fuck, your hand—” he’s cut off by his own groan of pleasure at the feeling of your hand urgently stroking his dick through his pants. The tone of Brendon’s words against your mouth and the way his cock throbs against your palm both reveal his desperation and arousal, so you don’t feel at all bad for ignoring his feeble protests.

Besides, the two of you have always prioritized each other and being alone or intimate, and you both love knowing how badly the other needs you. Granted, you’ve also always tried to respect work boundaries; however, the way you rationalize it, it’s not like you’re keeping him from a meeting or a performance right now. It’s just the photo op, and they’ve all gotten their shots already. Now it’s your turn to have him, and you intend to.

“No, now. Need you right now, B.” You pull back from the kiss to glance down and undo his pants, unzipping them roughly. He groans your name; you bite back a moan and shove them down by the waistband, your eyes heavy with want. He cups your face in one hand tenderly, and you press a soft kiss to his palm before dropping to your knees in front of him. Satisfied with the way he’s staring at you desperately, you mouth over his briefs, teasing him with your hot breath and relishing the dull thud of his head against the door.

“Baby, what on earth has gotten into—”

“Regrettably, nothing has gotten into me yet, but rest assured, I plan to fix that by getting your cock into my mouth in the next ten seconds.”

“Why—”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately from your kneeling position on the floor. “You’re really not going to let me suck your dick until you get answers, huh?” He laughs a little and shakes his head, making you sigh in mock-exasperation. “Because Bren, you’re fucking incredible and gorgeous and so damn sexy, and I’ve been eying you since four this afternoon when you got dressed. Trust me, if I could’ve kicked everyone out of the hotel room and shoved you down on the bed then, I would’ve. If I could’ve blown you until you were grabbing at the back of my head and fucking my mouth, I would’ve. If I could’ve sucked your cock while you called me your good girl and told me you were going to come, told me you needed me to swallow for you, you know I would’ve. But I couldn’t. And now we’re here, and everyone is staring at you. No one can take their eyes off of you; you look so damn good. They all want you. But I’m the only one who gets you, and I want you. Now.” You’re breathing hard, and you slide your hands up his thighs, biting your lip as you meet his eyes. “Was that enough of an answer? Can I just have you now, Brendon? Please?”

“Jesus— as if I’m really gonna say no to my perfect wife after all that. And she’s down on her knees for me with her gorgeous face and those eyes that drive me absolutely wild? Fuck, I’m the luckiest man.”

You grin and yank his underwear down, closing your mouth over his hard cock. “Love getting you like this,” you moan, pulling back to delicately lick him, one hand encircling the base while the other rests flat on his thigh. “Love feeling you on my tongue. We both know you’re gonna come hard, and I’m gonna take it all for you,” you tell him before closing your mouth over him again. You’re glad you chose to straighten your hair; he’s got both of his hands in it, and he’s tugging slightly the way he knows you like when you’re going down on him. If you had curled it, it wouldn’t be half as easy to fix when you’re done with him.

“God, sweetheart, don’t stop— yeah, suck just like that, baby— I fucking love how you…damn, take my whole cock in your mouth— holy fuck, that’s so good, rubbing with your tongue — so good; you’re so good for me,” he sighs, watching you through hooded eyes. You nod slightly, taking him deeper and pressing in close so the swell of your breasts pushes against him; you can feel him twitch in your mouth, and his grip on your hair is tightening as he moans and rocks his hips forward. You know he’s close already.

The doorknob shakes, followed by hesitant knocking, and you both freeze, staring at each other in horror. If it weren’t such a bad situation to be caught in, with your lips tight around the base of his cock and his balls in your hand, you’re sure you’d find it all quite funny. A tentative voice comes through the door. “Mr. Urie? Mrs. Urie? Uh…if you’re in here...they sent me to look for you.”

Maybe it will be funny later, you tell yourself, but right now, you scramble to your feet, backing away. Brendon tucks his cock back into place with a low groan and yanks his pants up, giving you a playfully scolding look as he checks the full-length mirror to see how obvious his erection is. Satisfied that it won’t be anyone’s first observation, he grabs his belt. The fantasy flashes before your eyes; you cling to him now, one hand rubbing over his cock, and you whisper in his ear how you want him to shove you back down to your knees, bind your wrists behind your back with the belt the way he does at home when you both want it rougher, and fuck your mouth til he comes all over your tongue and tits. It would be so easy to ignore the person at the door and, as you point out, even easier to come in your mouth.

His eyes close for a moment, and you can feel his cock throbbing. Just when you’re debating if you should make him come in his pants, Brendon looks at you desperately, and you sigh in resignation. You know, realistically, you can’t stay in this room any longer. You gesture at the door for him to open it. Instead, Brendon wipes a thumb along your lower lip, and you realize he’s fixing your lipstick. You resist the urge to take his thumb in your mouth and suck—it would only be a tease for you both. Satisfied with his quick clean up, he slides his belt into place and unlocks the door.

The young woman standing there looks petrified, and the clipboard in her hands is trembling. “I’m— I’m sorr—it’s just—they’re trying to get everyone seated now, and they told me I had to—I’m really sorry for, uh…interrupting you,” she stammers, and you feel awful for putting her in this position. Your stomach twists a little when you see the ‘Intern’ badge dangling from her neck. She definitely doesn’t get paid enough to be tasked with keeping you two from fucking. She’s still shaking; this definitely wasn’t what you had in mind when you dragged your husband out of the press area for a quick blowjob.

Brendon takes your hand and smiles gently at her. He’s always been skilled at diffusing tension, and you smile too. Her shoulders visibly relax. “Of course. Lead the way,” Brendon says kindly, and she nods frantically, setting off at a quick pace.

When you’re seated, you squeeze his hand, and he turns to you, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “I’m sorry,” you whisper and he shrugs, still grinning as if it wasn’t a big deal. “No,” you continue, “that was all my fault. I’m really sorry.”

Brendon shakes his head a little. “Don’t even stress about it, babydoll. Was so hot, having you need me like that, and it could have ended far worse. She didn’t actually see anything, but she got enough to have a great story to brag to the other interns who got stuck stuffing gift bags.” He laughs softly, stroking your hand. “I promise I’m not worried, so you shouldn’t be worried.” When you nod, accepting this, his hand slips from yours to high on your upper thigh, where he lets it rest possessively. His fingers flex, and he leans in close. “But you’ll be finishing that later, yeah?” He nuzzles your neck, and you blush, nodding. “Good,” he murmurs. “Fucking love seeing you down on your knees, your sweet mouth full of my cock.”

-||-

The crowd is screaming, the band is rushing off-stage, and his whole face is glowing: performing gives him such a rush. You’re waiting in the wings, and he hurtles toward you with a look of deep intent in his eyes. Brendon grabs you full-force, kissing you hard and pressing you against him with one hand on the small of your back and the other tangled in your hair. “Need you, pretty baby,” he whispers against your lips, and you cling to him. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, it always makes your knees weak when he says that. “Now,” Brendon adds through the desperate kisses, as if that wasn’t already clear.

He takes your hand to lead the way, and you can hear the protesting of the stage manager behind you. The man gives up quickly though, instead barking into his headset that they need two seat fillers for the Uries. Getting people to fill in your now-empty seats sounds like a begrudging acceptance of Brendon’s plan, and you both smile triumphantly at each other. Let everyone else gossip all they want; the only opinions you two care about are each other’s.

Brendon pulls you into the dressing room he used earlier to change from the red-carpet wear to his stage suit. He’s barely got the door fully closed and his suit jacket off before you’re on your knees and snapping his belt open. You get his pants down just enough, practically panting at the thought of getting him in your mouth.

His urgency matches yours; he wraps a hand around his erection and presses the head of that perfect cock against your lips. You both moan a little when you press a soft kiss to his shining tip. His hips rock forward, and you grin up at him.

Brendon is breathing hard, his cock already leaking precum; you’ve got your lips just barely parted to tease him. The head of his cock rests on your lower lip while he strokes over himself urgently.

You love watching Brendon touch himself, love wondering what he’s thinking about when his eyes go dark, his head rolls back, and his grip on his cock tightens. Part of you wants to let him get himself off, because he’d come all over your mouth, chin, and cleavage. Instead, you open your mouth slightly, tongue sliding over his length as he presses forward gently, his hands back in your hair. “Yeah, baby, you look so damn hot like this,” he groans, caressing the back of your head, but not pushing or urging you. “Such a good girl, down on her knees for me and letting me —shit, that’s so good. You’re so damn good; suck for me, baby—fuck yeah, just like that, keep sucking my cock.”

You whimper around him, eyelashes fluttering; he knows what his praise does to you. Brendon’s not usually one for blowjobs—it’s not that he dislikes them by any means—it’s just that, as he says, he gets off on getting you off. You definitely appreciate and take full advantage of that, but sometimes you just want your husband’s cock in your mouth; you want to make him come undone and leave him groaning your name the way he does to you. You feel so proud of yourself in the moments after, when you get to rock back and take him in: sprawled on your bed, face flushed, chest heaving, and body limp after he’s come in your mouth. He always catches you by the wrist and guides you down to lay against him, and he buries his face in your neck, breathing hard and murmuring soft praise. As much as you love the stream of dirty talk while you’re blowing him, there’s something so wonderful about him stroking a thumb over your hip, nuzzling you sweetly, and pressing soft kisses along your skin.

Now, you let one hand curl around the base of his cock while the other wanders down between your legs to rub small circles on your clit; going down on each other gets you both so worked up. You’re grateful for your choice in dresses, because if you hadn’t gone with this wrap dress, the fabric wouldn’t have opened around your spread knees.

“Playing with your clit is my job, babydoll,” Brendon tells you with a touch of feigned jealousy, watching your fingers fly over yourself. You slow down but don’t stop, your eyes daring him to scold you.

He’s about to say something else when his mouth drops open and his hand tightens around the curve of the back of your neck. You’ve decided to tease him a bit; you’re repeatedly swallowing around his length, tormenting him with the repetitive tightening of your throat. You know this might make him come, and you have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, you do want him to come. You want him to feel incredible. On the other hand, you don’t want to stop. You love blowing him, and you love the way he reacts every time you do. But, back on the first hand, it’s probably time to wrap this interlude up before you get caught again, so you really need him to come.

You’re not actually sure how long you’ve been on your knees, but you can’t get enough of him. You’re both making small, soft noises of pleasure as you give him the leeway to rock into your mouth. The feeling of his cock sliding over your tongue and nudging the back of your throat always makes you wild; with both of his hands on the back of your head while his hips thrust forward, Brendon’s fucking your mouth slowly, but his urgency is building. You move your hand to press flat against his stomach; you can feel his breathing getting shallow, and his muscles are tensing.

Since he dragged you back here, there’s been at least four explosions of applause; you’re figuring it’s been maybe ten, fifteen minutes. You’re probably running out of time before another poor intern is sent to find the two of you.

You regretfully move away from your clit and cup his balls in your slick hand, squeezing gently and pushing them up against him while you take his cock deep again, nose pressed to his pelvis.

“God, baby, I’m gonna come; that’s gonna make me come if you keep—rolling them like that, shit,” he tells you a little breathlessly, his hands tugging at your hair. “Gonna come in your mouth, I’m gonna—oh fuck—you’ll swallow for me, baby?”

You nod, meeting his eyes; when he looks at you, he swears softly, hips twitching forward once more as he finishes. You moan in satisfaction as you swallow, making small, pleased noises and running a hand over his thigh, the other stroking him through his peak, encouraging him to fill your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he pants, tipping his hips back when he can’t take it any longer. You swallow once more, licking idly at the corners of your mouth to collect every drop. Brendon’s above you, watching intently as he zips himself away, and he runs a hand through his hair before dropping to his knees so he’s level with you. “Goddamn, I love you so fucking much,” he murmurs, kissing you hard. “My best girl, my perfect girl, mine.”

You moan into his mouth that you’re his, and you grab one of his hands to pull it down between your legs and rock eagerly against his fingers. You know you don’t have the time, but you can’t help it. “I fucking love this wet pussy,” he adds as he rubs two fingers against you before sliding them in, muffling your cry of pleasure when he crushes his lips to yours.

Brendon brings his fingers back after a moment, letting the tip of his tongue trace them as he runs his other hand through your hair and stares at you desperately. “God, I need more. Need to taste you, get this perfect cunt all over my face,” he whispers, and you feel yourself get even wetter.

“Bren, we don’t have time; they’re gonna be looking for us— well, for you, anyway. Isn’t your category soon? I can wait. I should wait. We should get back.”

He shrugs as he hauls you to your feet and carries you over to the couch, gently reclining you with his hand still supporting your head. “Don’t care. Need you now,” he insists.

You start to protest again, but he squashes your arguments when he kisses your lips lightly and moves down your jawline, your neck, and to the swell of your breasts in the deep V of your dress. His fingers toy with the tie of your dress, biting his lip. “Need you, pretty baby. Can I have you? All wrapped up in this dress like a present for me…can I have you, honey?” You nod, and he swiftly pulls the tie, the shimmery material slipping and sliding off of your body, leaving you exposed for him. “Damn,” he murmurs, running a hand along your side and tugging your panties down. “Hate that I have to make this quick. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise. Still gonna get you riding my face, coming on my tongue now though.”

And with that, he’s off the couch and onto his knees between your legs, dipping his head down to run his tongue across you while both hands massage your hips and thighs, encouraging you to drape your legs over his shoulders and let him make you feel good, let him take care of you the way you both love. You’re breathless; his mouth is so warm and wet, his tongue just slipping from side to side. He’s teasing, and he tugs you forward by the hips and shifts slightly so his chin presses against you.

Your man has always fucked with every part of himself: he groans and opens his mouth wider to push his tongue deep into you while he rubs at your clit, sighing happily when your hips rock forward, giving him more. You’ve got a hand in his hair, tugging slightly but mostly keeping him pressed against you. “Yeah B, like that,” you whimper as he switches, fingers thrusting deep and tongue rolling over your clit softly. “Oh fuck,” you whisper when he spreads his fingers, rotating them slightly and he looks up at you, eyes sparkling. “Feels good,” you tell him and he winks at you, adjusting his jaw to press his chin against you more, letting you grind in place. As much as you love your clit getting attention, you’ve always loved firm pressure a bit lower, and he gives you that. “Bren, I‘m so close,” you sigh, and he makes an encouraging noise, letting his eyes slip shut to focus on you.

“Want you to come all over my face,” Brendon murmurs, and his fingers, still working you hard, suddenly curl inside you, rubbing and pressing; you shriek, feeling yourself come hard on his fingers and mouth.

“Fuck yes—soak my face, honey,” he groans, tongue slipping from your clit to lap at you; his thumb quickly replaces his tongue, keeping the pressure light but pulsing over your clit. A low moan slips from you, and he gives you one more slow stroke with his tongue, dragging it over you before sitting back on his heels. Once he’s rocked back, he licks his lips and wipes a hand over his face, smirking when you blush.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say, and he looks at you incredulously.

“Baby, I told you to come on my face, and I did everything in my power to make sure you would. There’s no need to apologize.” You blush deeper, shifting as he runs his tongue over each finger. “Don’t wanna miss a single drop,” he says with a satisfied smile, and you laugh, feeling how slick your inner thighs are. You run two fingers across them before offering your fingers to him, moaning softly when he sucks at them greedily. “Fuck, honey,” he manages to say around your fingers before sucking hard again.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” you whisper, watching his heavy eyes darken at the taste and the way his full lips slide off your fingers. You’re both breathing heavily, and he pushes himself up, crawling over you and settling between your thighs, chest to chest, his lips seeking yours. “Love you so much,” you murmur, and he repeats it back to you, smoothing your hair.

It would have been a sweet moment if there hadn’t been a rapid knocking at the door. “Mr. Urie, we really need you; your category is coming up and the seat fillers simply can’t fill in for your close-up reaction shot.” The stage manager sounds incredibly annoyed, and it makes you wonder if he’s been trying to get your attention for a while and just couldn’t, thanks to all of the moaning and squealing Brendon was coaxing from you. Now though, you both scramble up from the couch.

“Sounds like we’re in trouble,” Brendon says with a lazy smile, re-tying your dress and pulling his jacket on, adjusting the collar in the mirror and dabbing at his mouth and chin with a tissue. He gives you a once over, and you nod, studying him. His hair is disheveled, but it could pass for getting messed up while on stage. He opens the door, but you push it shut again, kissing him hard and sliding a hand down to squeeze his cock.

“I want more later. Want your cock in me later.”

He nods, teeth catching your lower lip and tugging gently. “Oh believe me honey, you’ll get more. You’re going to get everything I can give you.” Brendon opens the door; the stage manager gives you both a cold stare, turning and beckoning over his shoulder as he sets off at a brisk pace.

When you get back to your seats, the man gives you both a stern look. “No more sneaking off. You’re both going to be professional adults, sit here nicely for the camera, and not give me a stress-induced heart attack.”

None of it was a question. You try to hide your grin, but Brendon openly laughs. When the man’s face darkens, you both promise, and the stage manager stalks off to leave you both simmering in your shame. The only flaw in his plan is that you’re never ashamed of how badly you want Brendon or what you’ll do to get him.

Brendon’s hand creeps up your thigh, rubbing soft circles over it. He leans over, breath hot on your neck and his voice low. “Just you wait until I can get you in the car. I have so much more planned for you and your sweet pussy. Earlier was just an appetizer, and honey, you know I’m still hungry.”

#brendon urie #my work #brendon urie smut #brendon urie imagine #brendon x reader #fanfic #imagine #brendonurie #brendon urie fanfiction #panic! at the disco #my work revised

[stillwintering]

All's Fair in Love and Politics  (a modern Nessian AU - where Rhys is running for president)

Summary: In the ruthless arena of politics, victory demands risking everything, even one's own heart. Rhysand has his eyes on the presidency. Feyre convinces her estranged sister, Nesta, to join the political campaign. As the campaign intensifies, Nesta and Cassian find themselves forging an unexpected bond. But can their budding romance survive the treacherous waters of modern political warfare?

(Nessian focused but lots of Feysand to keep things interesting.)

Read on AO3 / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Chapter 3

"Eris?" Gwyn looked surprised, her bright teal eyes catching the name flashing across Nesta's phone screen.

Nesta left her phone facing up on the table during Sunday brunch with her two best friends -- a tactical error. Nesta quickly sent the call to voicemail and slipped her phone into her bag.

"Again?" Emerie smirked from behind her coffee cup.

Nesta felt her face burn red. "I ran into him at the Hewn charity gala," she pushed her food around with her fork. "I don't know why he's calling."

Gwyn huffed. "I can't believe you saw Eris before you made time to see us," she teased.

"Things have been crazy with the campaign. And the gala was a work event," Nesta looked contrite. "When's your train back to New York, Gwyn? Do you have time to drop by Emerie's shop with me?"

"Don't change the subject," Gwyn's eyes twinkled. "Now we need to know what happened with Eris last night."

"I -- he -- " Nesta started, her face turning an even deeper shade of red, but found that she couldn't bring herself to say out loud that she had gone home with Eris for hate sex. "You two are the worst," she said instead.

Gwyn knew Nesta well enough to make the inference. "I thought you couldn't stand him!" Her face was equal parts surprise and amusement.

Emerie snickered. "No. They're friends with benefits."

"We are not friends!" Nesta hissed.

"Fine," Emerie was enjoying this entirely too much. "They are frenemies with benefits."

Nesta opened her mouth to reply but then said nothing.

Gwyn glanced between Nesta and Emerie and let out a laugh. "So are the benefits good at least?" Gwyn asked surreptitiously.

Nesta suddenly felt self-conscious. She tugged the collar of her blouse higher, hoping the red bruise Eris had left on the crook of her neck remained hidden.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Emerie observed.

Gwyn nodded. "That's definitely a yes."

---

Mercifully, Gwyn and Emerie let Nesta off the hook for the remainder of their brunch.

Nesta had dearly missed spending time with her two best friends. After college, they had all moved to different cities but still made time to meet up regularly. Gwyn headed a women's advocacy non-profit in New York City ("God, I miss having you in the City," Gwyn had said when she arrived in DC). Emerie owned a women's fashion boutique in Alexandria ("I'm so happy to have you close by now," Emerie retorted. "But I better see you more often from now on," she had admonished).

Their conversations flowed easily. Gwyn and Emerie both wanted to know more about Rhys ("Is he as handsome in person as he is in photos?"). They peppered Emerie with questions about the new woman she was dating ("What was her family like?" "Was she a cat person or a dog person?").

They both listened sympathetically when Nesta told them about Elain and Feyre. Gwyn wrapped Nesta into a tight, loving hug ("These things take time."). Until then, Nesta hadn't realized how much she needed to hear those words.

---

Cassian paced around Rhys's office Monday morning. The vote for the immigration bill was delayed.

"Beron is up to something," Azriel said from his corner. His eyes followed Cassian back and forth in the limited space -- they had removed all the visitor chairs from the room now that the team was bigger.

"He's gathering his forces for an ugly floor fight."

Rhys nodded in agreement. "I only told him I'd think about adding the amendment. It would no doubt kill the bill. He must have approached other members of the House about it too."

Feyre frowned. "It doesn't make any sense," she mused. "It would be politically beneficial for Beron and the party to pass the bill as is. Why is he trying to sabotage his own legislative priorities?"

Cassian shook his head. "As Speaker, he put the bill up to a floor vote. But now he's playing dirty behind the scenes," he turned to Rhys. "I never thought he actually wanted immigration reform."

Rhys looked down at his hands, considering their comments.

"We need to position our office as being pro-immigration," Amren said. She turned to Nesta, "Can you come up with some language on this -- our position for a press release?"

Nesta settled her gaze on Rhys. "That depends," she said, a challenge. "On what Rhys thinks about immigration reform."

Rhys turned his full attention to Nesta. "I support everything in the current bill," he said.

Nesta rolled her eyes. "What do you actually believe?"

Rhys paused, his face unreadable. The question hung in the air.

A knock sounded at the door. A young lady poked her head into the room. "Excuse me, sir, sorry to interrupt," the staffer said apprehensively, her face flushed. "All the members are being called to the floor."

Rhys rose from his chair. "We'll continue this later," he said to Nesta on his way out the door, the young staffer at his heels.

Nesta looked after him and frowned. She didn't like how Rhys avoided her more probing questions regarding his political agenda. Was Rhys waiting to see which way the political winds would blow before settling on his policy goals?

Azriel picked up his laptop and papers. "We still need to figure out what Beron's trying to pull," he said, scrolling through his phone. "Let me make some calls. Maybe someone in the Speaker's office is willing to enlighten us."

Nesta was still looking out the open door after Rhys's disappearing form. "Don't bother," she said. "I'll talk to Eris."

Everyone in the room went still.

Nesta turned to Azriel and observed that his lips were drawn into a tight line. "Eris had been calling," she explained. "So I'll call him back."

Cassian's jaw worked. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said slowly.

"Eris wants the bill to pass," Nesta said, getting impatient. "He'll play ball."

Cassian started pacing again, avoiding looking in Nesta's direction.

Azriel's frown deepened.

Amren surveyed Nesta while drumming her manicured fingers on the surface of the desk. "Do I need to worry about you and Eris?" Amren asked carefully.

"Excuse me?" Nesta's voice rose. She looked between Amren, Azriel, and Feyre. They were all studying her with interest. She didn't know whether to be insulted or outraged. She knew she didn't like the implication of the question.

"I am a professional and I'll conduct myself as such. I expect the same from all of you." Nesta's tone was brusque.

Amren hesitated but looked to Feyre.

The sisters stared at each other intently. "I trust you and your judgment," Feyre finally said. Nesta let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Amren nodded. "Fine, call Eris for a meeting," then she pointed at Cassian. "You're going with her."

"I don't need a chaperon." Nesta crossed her arms.

Amren looked out the window, her eyes searching for some distant object outside. "I have no doubt you can handle yourself, girl," she said. "But Eris needs to be reminded of who he's jostling with."

---

"Look who finally decided to return my calls." Eris's voice crackled over Nesta's speaker. Cassian stood next to her, his eyes on her phone. Amren had insisted they work as a team, and then Cassian insisted on listening in on the call.

"I'm already regretting this," Nesta retorted, rolling her eyes at both her phone and Cassian.

"I'll make it worth your while," Eris's tone was lurid. Cassian raised his eyebrows.

Nesta looked up at Cassian. Something twisted in her at the pained expression on his handsome face. Cassian held her gaze and nodded grimly for her to continue.

"Just tell me where to meet you," she said.

---

Eris picked a tiny diner on the outskirts of the city for their meeting the next day. He was surprised to see Nesta walk in with Cassian's towering figure behind her.

"I didn't know this was bring your child to work day," Eris told her drily, barely acknowledging Cassian's presence. He gave Nesta a quick kiss on her cheek and then gestured for them to sit in the booth across from him.

The diner looked like it hadn't been updated since the 1950s, with checkered linoleum floors and bright red benches. Cassian scanned the long rectangular space. They were the only ones there except for the wait staff.

Nesta was nervous to meet Eris with Cassian. On their drive here, they only spoke to each other in short curt sentences, going over what they would ask Eris. She had opened her computer in the passenger seat and worked on the immigration press release. Her years of reporting had trained her well for writing on moving vehicles. Cassian was a quiet, comforting presence beside her -- he left her to her work and focused on navigating through traffic.

A waitress came up to their table. "What can I get you folks?"

"Just coffee," Cassian said and crossed his arms.

"Same for me."

"The beautiful lady will have a slice of your chocolate cake, Alis," Eris smiled. "And I'll take the lunch special." After the waitress left, Eris turned to Nesta -- she arched an eyebrow -- and added, "It's the best chocolate cake in DC, I swear."

Cassian looked like he was ready to throttle Eris. "You come here often?" he asked sharply.

"Something like that," Eris's face was impassive. "Nesta didn't mention she was babysitting."

Alis returned with three mugs of coffee before Cassian could respond.

"Why are we here, Eris?" Nesta asked. She could already feel her annoyance surfacing.

"I told you the chocolate cake is amazing," Eris gave her a wicked grin.

Cassian drank his coffee, letting Nesta take the lead as they had discussed.

"Well, out with it," Nesta said with disdain. "What did you want tell me that can't be said over the phone?"

Eris pouted. "If you had stayed the night," he drawled. "I would have told you in the morning."

Nesta refused to let Eris rile her up. She gave a quick side glance to Cassian. His face went dark. Nesta felt a twinge of remorse -- she didn't want to drag Cassian into her twisted alliance with a scoundrel like Eris. She didn't want Cassian to think that she took satisfaction in any of this.

"We don't have time for idle talk, Eris," Nesta said, keeping her voice neutral.

Alis came by again with a sandwich on one plate and a huge piece of chocolate cake on another. They fell silent as Alis walked back to the counter.

Instead of responding, Eris picked up his sandwich and took a bite. He looked at Nesta expectedly.

Nest sighed, unwrapped the fork from a napkin, and ate a piece of the cake. She hated that it was the best chocolate cake she had in a long while.

Cassian was visibly pissed off.

Satisfied, Eris took another bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly. "Beron doesn't care whether the immigration bill lives or dies," he finally said.

"Why did he put the bill on the floor then?" Nesta put her fork down.

"Beron allowed the bill to come to a floor vote to appease the progressive wing of the party," Eris continued. "They have been threatening to revolt."

"We know," Cassian said. He shifted in his seat, his knee knocked against Nesta's. She blinked.

"Beron doesn't care what happens to immigration reform," Eris looked bored. "He just doesn't want the progressives to get too big for their britches."

"So this poison pill amendment is just to teach them a lesson?" Nesta asked.

"Beron wants them back in line," Eris affirmed.

Cassian and Nesta exchanged a look.

"You know," Eris nudged the cake towards Nesta again. "Tarquin has been pushing for a more strigent clean energy bill, close the loopholes for large corporations. He's been looking for the right co-sponsor."

Nesta nodded, understanding. Tarquin was the leader of the progressive caucus -- maybe, just maybe, there can be a deal.

Cassian looked at Eris pointedly, picked up Nesta's fork, and took a bite of cake. "Mmm, delicious," Cassian moaned theatrically. Nesta's lips quirked upwards into a slow smile.

Eris furrowed his brow in surprise.

Cassian swallowed, licking his lip. "And the defense budget?" Cassian asked deliberately. "Why is Beron pressing for a 20% increase?"

Eris pushed his plate away from him. He leaned back in his seat and assessed Cassian. "Does Starborn support widening the war in the Middle East?" Eris asked in response.

"Rhys served three tours in Afganistan," Cassian replied cooly. "His military record is unimpeachable."

"Does Starborn support widening the war?" Eris asked again.

This time, Cassian said nothing.

Eris looked smug. "That's what I thought." He stood up, put on his immaculate Italian wool jacket, and dropped a $20 bill on the table. "I'll call you later," Eris winked at Nesta and walked out the door.

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Tag list: @acourtofladydeath @fwiggle @swifti-ed

#fanfic #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #cassian #nessian #nesta #acosf #acotar #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #modern au #political au #eris vanserra #all's fair in love and politics

[ask-serendipity-sky]

I like Tae’s vibe. I actually like the New jeans approach of multiple low budget MVs instead of 1 big bang cause it increases more revenue without triggering the hyper competitive K-pop space.

What do you think?

and this suits Tae, something about him just gives off not interested in the K-pop space. In fact, the only member I think who actually respects K-pop is probably Jimin. I judge this based on the artists they look up to. Jhope & RM like Jcole & Nas, American rappers. Forgot who Suga likes. Tae looks up to older jazz artists. JK likes American pop artists and Jimin likes Big Bang & independent artist. Idk about Jin honestly.

I’ve listened to Jimin’s playlist on AM: Springtime sounds and none of these songs are big title tracks/ singles. These are low key artists singing about their lives and loves. Jimin listens to Alec Benjamin, a guy with a great voice, small but loyal following and purposefully left the music industry behind after making a breakout hit so he could sing about his stories. My flex is that Jimin and I listen to the same type of music.

Went off on a tangent but my point is: These guys obviously have different views as to what a successful artist is. And they are all following that path. I think for Jimin a successful artist is producing good music for loyal fans rather than a general audience. I could be wrong of course. If so, Like Crazy’s success would be heartwarming as everyone and their mama knows that it’s carried by fans sharing & streaming.

The funny thing with Jimin though is that even if he tried to be a low key artist he couldn’t. Yes he does his own thing, sings about his story, doesn’t get major airplay and is listened mainly by a loyal fanbase who lives him and shares his music.

However his loyal fanbase is hugeee, so by virtue of that he’s left the lowkey artist category and also the K-pop category behind. What you mean you wanna release your long awaited album as an mp3?

Thinking about that sometimes makes me laugh. Jimin just wanna be lowkey, regular K-pop male artist singing his tunes then boom #1 on hot 100, Ryan Gosling giving him a guitar, song going platinum in the states(I’m calling it), fans demanding to buy his song. He’s non existent on socials rn and still trending

To be honest i kind of find Jimin fans funny. He said in Suchwita he wants to top billboard continuously. And everyone kinda knew he meant as BTS but his fans said “oh YOU want it? Here you go baby have a #1 on hot 100”. Making it look like it’s easy. Lol I’m sure Jimin knows his fans have plans for him.

They keeping him in the top 50 global just cause and I don’t think they gonna stop. Right now they have a goal to rechart LC also just cause and I’m interested to see how things unfold.

All of these are gifts they want to give Jimin. Almost like they’re proving to him we are here, we support you and we appreciate your music, and to cause a ripple in the company doesn’t hurt either.

Hello,

Ok, this is the only ask I will answer regarding Tae's music so don't come sending more, please!

I don't want to answer Tae music stuff, other anons!

But I'll answer this one because I appreciate that you took time to share all this.

First question. Our opinions vary greatly.

I think with how competitive kpop is, you need that big trigger, especially if it's a debut album. Tae needed to risk it but didn't. For me, this all feels safe although it wasn't intended to come across that way.

I think that his visual album should have been released all at once. I know this way is done to create anticipation but I haven't been pulled into his story yet. Maybe that will change once the 3rd mv is released or his photos tie more stuff together?

It's interesting that you find the aesthetic fitting because I don't lol I do agree that Tae is not kpop at all but this album concept feels off to me. Like it's fabricated and doesn't show the real Tae. I feel like his fans would appreciate that. Perhaps the concepts worked for New Jeans since it's quirky cute. And I remember writing a few weeks ago how Tae had changed his style and if that was reflective of what he would show in his upcoming album. And we are seeing change but not in any sort of direction. I don't see the essence of Tae in this. Or his new style.

I like to see the essence of the artist even in their on-stage personas. I'm not seeing it here.

But maybe this is just me being intense as usual.

Second question. Jimin. I do agree that Jimin tries to tell stories through his songs and he does that beautifully. Even if his songs differ greatly, like Promise and Set Me Free pt.2, they both have that air of Jimin in it. But I'm not being biased, I'm not a fan of both.

I do think the pandemic caused the change in direction of Jimin's artistry. But I hope that he has seen the reception, BB charts and worldwide records, and sees that his music is meant for a wider audience even if the stories are personal to him. We can see that FACE was his struggle and rebirth so I'm looking forward to his next album, which he said was going to more upbeat.

With the right team and tools, his songs can achieve greater success. It is heartwarming that Jimin lovers are still carrying his song still. It's our token of love and appreciation but I hope that the his next project has the company support he deserves added to the fan support he has rightfully earned.

Hopefully we get to see this soon enough.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

I really like how you think. Maybe you won't like my take on Tae's music but do you want to be friends? Message me?

#skyasks #no more tae music!!!

[nimmee]

Being the kento Nanamin simp I am here's a part 2 of headcanons

Enjoy ❤️

Continued from previous part :

12. He likes jazz. Strangely enough knows how to play saxophone. Loves romantic music too. Loves Classical music especially Cello has a soft corner in his heart. But jazz is his all the time mood freashner. He puts on light jazz or songs that feel jazzy enough when he cooks. ( a bit cliche but it feels right)

13. Even though he likes expensive things, but our man has got taste, which is irrespective and irrelevant of the price tag. He would absolutely buy cheap things if he finds them to be good quality products with elegant style. Which brings me to the next point.

14. He doesn't waste money. Kento is a very mathematical and logical person, he keeps track of all his financial transactions however minor they might be. He researches a lot before buying something expensive. (most probably researched a lot before he bought his watch). Our jjk finance guy knows his finances.

15. He once read "No longer Human" during his emo phase and was scared to death because he related too much to the protagonist. However stern and logical Nanamin looks he's a softie who hates watching movies belonging to genres like psychological horror, or just plain horror. (he hates horror movies because either it annoys him or irks him too much, the only genre that actually scared the life out of him psychological horror)

16. Let's talk about bread. Nanamin lives off bread. Period. Kento loves food from different cuisines but bread is a staple for him. Since he was 3 he took bread bento to school most of the days. His mom knows a million different ways to make sandwiches and hence Kento is our bread baking, bread loving average handsome office guy who is also a jujustsu sorcerer.

17. He has reading glasses. Even though his eyesight is perfect sometimes he needs reading glasses to focus on the book he is reading. Also he really likes the way he looks so mature and serious in those glasses.

18. He journals. He writes about the tiniest of the moments that made him believe in humanity a bit. He started journaling after Yu died. He had spiralled into a horrible bout of depression when he did take some overpriced therapy sessions that didn't really help him. Sometime around this time his Dad gave him his grandmother's handmade journals (which were blank because she had especially made those for Kento before she passed away. Kento and his grandma were pretty close). He used these journals to write down one thing that reminded him of Yu. And slowly he grew around the grief. Yes, he did write about the cute Baker girl. Also he did take a quick look at her name on her name pin so that he can write her name when he wrote in his journal.

Ps : this is just a headcanon so I'm pretty much making a lot of stuff up that feels right based on Nanamin's character.

19. He also has newer group photo of the Tokyo jujustsu tech kids (Yuji , Nobara, Maki, Toge , Megumi, Yuta, Panda) sitting on the fireplace mantle beside his old group photo, because he absolutely loves these kids. He would do anything to save their lives and childhood.

20. He wanted to be an Architect when he was younger. He loved to look at magnificent buildings and tried to make miniatures of those buildings with paper or cardboard. His maternal grandfather had bought him a proper miniature set after he had shown him that he had tried to build the Colosseum with cardboard. He was 8 years old.

21. Owns a guitar. Doesn't know how to play. Has the same problem as all bibliophiles have. Buys too many books. Doesn't have time to read. Has a descent fashion sense. Most probably has a suit and tie collection along with shoe collection because his high end work kinda demanded it. He loves art although there are some things he doesn't understand he is curious but won't show it.

22. Nanamin is a pretty heavy sleeper when he is on his own. Given how stressed he is with his work all the time his home is a safe space for him. His apartment is spelled or rather veiled to ward off most cursed spirits (every jujustsu sorcerer gets this kind of protection).(Lowkey the apartment is blessed). Hence he can sleep without thinking about his own protection but if he has to sleep the night along with some one in the house he sleeps lighter.

Bonus : 23. Kento actually likes shopping. He might not readily accept the fact and most probably would deny it for the rest of his life but this man loves shopping and researching before he goes shopping. Kento is a very domestic and independent person hence shopping has become a necessity for him which he has gown to enjoy as he grew older.

Bonus 2 : 24 He has a lot of similarities with Elijah Mikaelson. But not as dramatic as Elijah.

#jjk manga #jjk imagines #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk au #jjk #jjk 0 movie #jjk angst #jjk fanfic #jjk nanami #jjk gojo #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami #kento nanamin #nanami x reader #kento nanami headcanons #nanami angst #nanami headcanons #nanami kento #nanami x reader fluff #nanami x fem!reader #nanami smut

[dairy-farmer]

hal jordan a 4th year college student hitting up on 10th grader tim. and they just end up as cassie and nate from euphoria.

👀👀👀👀👀👀

ive never watched euphoria before though so i can't say i understand the reference 😅 but an older hal hitting on younger, underaged tim???👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

an au where hal is closer to dick's and the first gen titan's age rather than bruce and the older leaguers!!!!!!!! maybe hal went to hudson university same as dick, only that unlike dick he never dropped out. maybe he and dick have an aquaintance/almost friends sort of connection. they were matched up to be roomates together as 1st year college students only that hal usually slept over at his girlfriend's dorm, leaving dick with a more or less solo room which pleased him because it made it easy to go and come back without raising much suspicion. he and hal would usually cram together for exams even though they had wildly different majors with dick studying business and hal studying aviation engineering.

they hung out, occasionally went to parties together, and had a pretty friendly relationship. but hal had his own friends and dick had his own too. so they were very close acquaintances but not quite friends.

that lasted all the way up until dick ended up failing and then dropping out completely from hudson university. dick had let hal keep a lot of the small amenities that bruce had bought him for getting into college like a mini fridge, an under-the-bed cooler, and a fancy study lamp that hal used more than him. dick and hal had parted on nice enough terms so when tim was a sophomore and already started thinking about things like college- dick decided to dust off his old contact list and see if hal's number was still the same.

dick really had just been trying to do something nice, just giving hal's number to tim so he could talk about all the goods and bads about a place like hudson without trying to fluff it over. hal did have a tendency to speak without a filter anyway. but maybe that'd be good for someone like tim?

dick knew that he and bruce sometimes worried about tim and his future. he was always so concerned and focused on robin stuff that he hardly gave himself space to be a teenager. hal had been a pretty chill guy, the kind that enjoyed college and all it had to offer but also kept a pretty steady head when it came to his studies. so dick thought it was a safe bet to give tim his number.

it wasn't. but dick doesn't find that out immediatly. all he knows is tim is suddenly all red-cheeked and flushed and spending a lot of his time on his phone. but he doesn't think too deeply on it because that's how tim gets when someone's caught his interest. and dick wants to coo and tease him, wants to pluck his phone out of his hand and run away while tim chases him so he can crow back about reading all his messages. tim would get all flustered and scream for bruce while whining at dick to stop being a jerk.

but dick doesn't. he just grins and shakes his head because sometimes tim is completely unsubtle sometimes.

but in just a few short months when bruce comes home early from a meeting and catches tim naked and in bed with someone far too old to be a fellow highschooler- dick will regret the decision to not tease tim. but not nearly as much as he'll regret ever giving tim hal jordan's number.

dick will take tim's phone a few months too late and see how tim innocently reached out, saying he was dick's brother only for hal to reply with a 'who?' followed for a demand for a pick to make sure tim wasn't some 'freaky creep'. tim would send hal a selfie of him in bed, hair spread out and nervously sucking on his bottom lip and hal would immediatly pump up the charm.

charm that would leave tim flustered because hal was an attractive, older, educated college guy. they'd meet up a handful of times, having sex on their first meeting in hal's frathouse.

tim would send hal naked photos of himself and hal would call him cooing about all things he wanted to do to tim and how he couldn't wait to see him again. wayne enterprise's aviation division was holding some fair in gotham and hal would came to gotham which led to tim extending an invitation to come to the manor while it was empty and he pretended to be home sick from school.

everything would unravel in the span of bruce opening his second youngest's door and finding him getting fucked by someone he's never seen before. hal jordan leaves in a taxi to the hospital because he's pretty sure his nose is broken and tim is grounded.

dick is lucky he's also not grounded when bruce finds out HE introduced tim to hal. but dick has already moved out and bruce has no power over him aside from giving him to the cold shoulder.

tim is devastated and cries for days afterwards. jason is the only one he doesn't kick out of his room.

months. it's summer and some new lantern pops up in coast city. green lanterns are jurisdiction of the justice league and batman has no interest in them until one day he walks into the cafeteria and hears a familiar voice that has his fight instincts flaring.

not only does bruce have to work with and be civil with someone as unbearable as hal jordan, he has to do it knowing this is the man who had been fucking his son for months.

#anonymous #asks #answered asks