#'lucid we don't care'?

[dawnofiight]

I’m actually so over people writing/describing Angel as being built like a twig, or scrawny asf- GIVE ME BUFF ANGEL GIVE ME CHUBBY ANGEL 🗣️🗣️🗣️

CHUBBY ANGEL MENTIONED

[shotmrmiller]

You don't need anyone else but us.

TW: implied dub-con, drug usage.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

WC: 1.1K

A/N: Im biting my knuckles at the idea of you going on a date with this guy at some restaurant, and the bum slips some aphrodisiac into your drink :)

It started small, with symptoms so faint they were barely discernible. Fanning yourself with your hand, you hoped to keep the beads of sweat forming at the nape of your neck from ruining your perfectly coiffed hair. 

“Is it just me or is it hot in here?” you asked your date with a flustered, timid smile. 

“No, I feel fine, but you do look a bit rosy. You alright?” As you give him a reassuring nod, a striking hum passes through your body, like a raindrop rippling still water, and every wave shoots arousal straight to your core. 

He reached across the table to grasp at your wrist, bringing you closer to him so he could press a cool hand to your burning forehead. “You’re burning up, sweets. Maybe it’s time we take you home, hm?” You try to stammer out a response, but fire is pooling in your belly, making it hard to think. He quickly raises his hand, and gestures for the tab, then changes seats to be right next to you. “I’ve got you.” The fabric of his long sleeve grazes your uncovered back as he pulls you flush against him with his arm, and every shift of it scrapes at your nerve endings.

The pants that escape your mouth sound deafening in your ears, every twitch of your muscles amplified. It hurts, and even then, the edges of that pain are blurring, twisting into scalding pleasure. Your cheek feels the vibrations of his voice as your head rests in the hollow of his throat, and with the last of your lucidity, you catch the tail end of the conversation between your date and the server.

“— she’s had too much to drink, I’m afraid,” and through fogging vision, you observe as he hands the server the two wine glasses, remnants of red liquid at the bottom— but he had finished his wine and the rest of yours. “Have a good evening.”

He moves to get up, scooping you in his arms, and you’re powerless in your vulnerable state, body listless against his, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Before you know it, you’re being practically carried out the door, frosty air nipping at your feverish skin. Your date bends his legs to hook his arm under your knees, and with a grunt, picks you up in a cradle carry. Head lulling on his chest, a pathetic whimper slips past your lips at the smell of him and his cologne that you had formally thought was overpowering.

“I know, sweets. We’re going to my flat, and I’ll take good care of you there.” But as he approaches his car, you’re abruptly wrenched from his arms, an unmistakable voice speaks up, tone harsh, severe. 

“She’s not goin’ anywhere with you.” Simon?

Simon gently lowers you onto your wobbly legs, allowing you to steady yourself against the car. The freezing surface of it stings, a raw sensation surges through your body, and a sibilant hiss escapes your mouth. 

Simon steps away, and Johnny takes his place, cupping your face. You let out a soft moan at the contrast of his chilly hands on your burning skin. “Hey,” he softly says, “you a’right?” Your peripheral vision catches a flurry of quick movements, making you instinctively turn your head, but Johnny’s hands exert a gentle force, keeping your head locked in position, fixated on him.

“Eyes on me, bonnie.” Johnny’s hands lower, trailing down to your neck, cool fingers enveloping your throat, and this time, you mewl. Loudly. “Och, I ken, i ken. We’ll be home in no time, hm? Simon’s just takin’ out the trash.” 

Johnny’s thumb traces soothing circles against your fluttering pulse, and you whine when you imagine those circles being drawn on your throbbing clit, how euphoric it would feel. Maybe it would assuage the liquid fire in your veins— satiate the need to be filled, stretched.

“A’right hen, we’re takin’ ye to my house, gotta keep an eye on ye.” Johnny lifts you into a side carry, effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing. “It’ll be over soon.” God, you hoped so.

Placing you on his bed, Johnny takes off your heels and sits by your side, holding your hand in his. “How ye doin’?” Blinking, you thickly swallow and realize that your mind is clearer than it was at the restaurant. “Better, I think.” 

Johnny hums, and turns to Simon. “Can ye get her a glass o’ water?” Simon looks at you, then flicks his gaze to Johnny, and slowly dips his head, before pivoting to leave. “Just rest, hen, I think that dunderheid spiked yer drink. I told ye he was nae good, but nae, the lass is grown, she can make her own decisions, hm?” Johnny reaches out to caress your sweaty forehead and drags his roughened knuckles across your cheekbone. 

With a gentle touch, you reach up and firmly press his hand against your cheek, nuzzling it, and holding his gaze. “I’m too dependent on you,” and Simon walks in, a glass of water in hand, and your eyes shift towards him, “the both of you. One day, you’ll both move on, and,” your voice trembles, choked with emotion, as tears gather in your eyes, “I’ll be left behind and—” Simon’s deep timbre voice cuts off your outburst with a stern tone. 

“Enough.” Johnny gives Simon a reprimanding look, and takes the glass, handing it to you. 

“What Simon means t’say, is that yer haverin’, hen. Go on, drink yer water. All of it, gotta rehydrate, a’right?” As you knocked back the cup, you remained oblivious to them sharing a meaningful look, and Simon giving an imperceivable nod, one that Johnny reciprocated. 

Carefully setting down the glass on the nightstand, you get cozy under the covers, breathing in his comforting scent, eyes sliding shut. Johnny pats your leg once and whispers, “Get some rest, hen. We’ll be outside, call if ye need anythin’.” A sluggish tip of your head is his only response, and without a sound, the two men exit the room.

Johnny casually rests his weight on the kitchen island, absentmindedly scratching his arm. “How’d ye get that bawbag to use the drug?” Simon shrugs nonchalantly, and says, “A little persuasion.” Johnny hums low, and after a pause, questions, “And how long will it take fer the drug in the water to take effect?” 

“I gave her room temperature water,” Simon chuckles, “I say 5 minutes, give o’ take.” 

In a matter of moments, the distinct sound of your high-pitched keens and mewls reached their ears, causing them to exchange a knowing look.“Heads er tails?” Johnny asks, his eyes gleaming mischievously. Simon removes his mask, running his fingers through his tousled hair, and states, “Tails and the winner gets to come in her first.” 

They shake on it. 

A/N: i was told to make a pt.II by my moot @rookiesbookies so I GUESS I WILL. set under the cbf! johnny x ghost au.

[pit-and-the-pen]

Don't Go

For day three of @acotar-omegaverse-week :All tied up 

Summary: Azriel helps you with your heat….maybe more than you expected. 

Warnings: smut (18+), alpha/omega dynamics, mating, knots, p in v sex, slightly rough, slight breeding kink, biting, cum eating

WC: 3.4k

divider by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears

18+ below the cut

You don’t know how you had lost track of the days. You normally kept a perfect record of your cycles, in a house full of alpha’s it was necessary to avoid any awkward situations. But here you were in the middle of a walk with Azriel when you felt that thin layer of sweat bead across your forehead. The way your skin suddenly felt too tight on your body let you know it had nothing to do with the summer sun and everything to do with the fact you had miscounted by a week. 

“Azriel.” You tried to whisper, pulling on the back of his shirt. He turned around and his eyes instantly went to your face, where you could feel the sweat starting to collect. “I need to go home. Now.” His eyes dilated as he caught your scent. The full wave of your heat washes over him as he faces you. He quickly nodded at you before pulling you tight against his chest and winnowing you both back to the river house. 

You were clinging to him so tightly that he had to pry your hands off of him to get you to lay down in your nest. Being very careful not to accidentally step in it. 

“Do you remember what we talked about last time?” 

His words floated through the air. You tried your best to remember what he was talking about. 

“Do you still want my shadows here?” He saved you the energy of having to remember. Now you want to sink into the ground. YOu had asked him at the end of your last heat if you could borrow his shadows. After Nesta had found you basically pawing at Azriel’s door during your last heat, you had the idea of them being around to keep you in check. A guard that wouldn’t be affected by an omega in heat. 

You nodded. Mortification quickly overrides the pain. 

“I need you to say it, my sweet omega.” And those words coming off of his tongue sent a hard cramp through you. Your core clenching around nothing. 

“Yes. Please.” You were forcing yourself to stay seated on the ground, to wrap a blanket tighter around yourself to keep from jumping Azriel. Those two words, my omega, had every part of your brain buzzing. But you were early enough in your heat to remind yourself that Azriel didn’t want you that way. His face when he had found your scent in the hallway last time was more than enough confirmation. 

“Alright. I’ll have the maids bring you some food and water. Okay?” He got up to walk out of your room, some of his shadows staying behind, already curling up around your body as you closed your eyes and tried to get the last little bit of lucid sleep you could get. 

----

Every second was torture. His shadows wrapped around your feet keeping you rooted in place when all you wanted was the male across the house. His shadows smelled like him and it did nothing to soothe your raging omega instincts. It’s not like you haven’t thought of Azriel like that before. That forest, smokey and downright mouthwatering smell that lingered on your skin for days after you would hug him. 

The shadows at least let you have your hands. Which were doing absolutely nothing to help the cramps wracking through your body. You currently have two fingers buried inside of yourself. Slick coated your thighs and the blankets underneath you, but it still wasn’t enough. YOu tried your best to muffle your moans and cries of Azriel’s name. A small part of you was ashamed for even thinking of him but it was impossible to think clearly with the black wisps curled around your ankles and torso. The weight felt wrong. Your body is crying out for a different weight, a warmer weight that wouldn’t be coming. Neither would you apparently. No matter how hard or fast you fucked yourself on your fingers, it still isn’t enough. Fuck it. You were about to crawl out of your nest and beg Azriel to help but the shadows wouldn’t let you move. Tears leaked out of your eyes as you struggled against them. 

Just when you were about to give up, you felt one of the shadows brush across your wrist. Settling around your skin in a way that pressed your hand further inside of yourself. Then the pressure was gone, letting your hand slip back out. It happened two more times before you realized what was happening. His shadows were helping you. And it worked for a little. That peak became a little bit closer to your grasp but it slipped away again. Your body all but screaming for Azriel. Having his shadows wasn’t a replacement for the real thing. 

You were writhing in pain less than an hour later. The shadows had let up enough to let you pad off to the bathroom, helping you draw the coldest bath the house would allow for. Again, it helped only for a moment before the water felt too heavy on your skin. You tried to get out, body feeling so weak that you just slumped back down into the half filled tub. Your arms were shaking with how badly your whole body was hurting. You could only pull your knees tight against your chest as sobs started to slip from your mouth. You rubbed at the gland on the side of your neck, itchy and tight. If you had any more energy you would have been shocked with how raised the skin was. But you could only sob harder as you scratched at your mating gland. 

A heat had never hurt this badly before. You had been alive for half a century, this was far from your first time alone. You couldn’t place just what exactly was different this time but something was. A small knock from your door had you flinching. 

“Sweetheart. It’s me.” Azriel’s voice called from the other side of the door. Your body almost buzzed in excitement before horror washed over you. His voice was tight. Signaling that he didn’t want to be here. Why was he here? It was then that you noted none of the familiar shadows were in the room. They must have gone to get him when you failed to get out of the tub. Something that had a small part of you preening. Alpha’ here to take care of us. That small voice in your head purred. But he wasn’t your alpha. Wanted nothing to do with you in that way. Another sob slipped past your lips that had him knocking on the door again. You didn’t answer. More content with sitting in the tub then having to face him. Another moment went by and you heard the door click open. 

The smell from his shadows had been bad but him standing in the doorway was a new level of hell. You tried to scramble to the other side of the giant tub, desperate to put any space between the two of you. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m just going to help you get out. Is that okay?” He paused, hands outstretched towards you. You ran your eyes up and down his tall frame and tried to remember how to speak. You could only nod, not trusting your voice. Azriel picked up a towel that was on the ground and approached the tub. When he picked you up, he made sure that none of your skin touched. He was so repulsed by you that he didn’t even glance at your nakedness. You knew he didn’t feel that way about you but it hurt something inside of you to see him not even react. He was an alpha, he should at least have a little reaction to an omega in heat. Regardless of how he felt about you. 

You tried to blink back the tears but you were in too much pain to stop them. You just wanted to sleep. Just wanted to be wrapped in his arms. You felt the slight fan of air from his wings as they flapped anxiously behind him. He deposited you back into your nest, carefully wrapping the towel around you to keep you covered. You expected him to run out of the room after but he was lingering at the edge of your bed. Watching as you buried yourself into the blankets. 

“You don’t have to stay. Az. I know you don’t want to be here.” You sniffled, instantly kicking yourself for how pathetic you sounded. His wings twitched again. 

“What do you mean, princess?” 

“I know you don’t want to be here right now. So just go. Thank you for helping me”

He froze. And for the first time you looked at him. His eyebrows pulled together, making his forehead wrinkle slightly. His cheeks were slightly flushed and you continued looking down. You sucked in a breath as you realized he was rock hard. You couldn’t force your eyes to look away. Not even as he spoke. 

“I thought you didn’t want me.” His words were tight. “Until my shadows started telling me every detail. Reporting back to me how sweetly you were calling my name. They were telling me how good you smelled, how wet you were for me.” His voice dropped an octave and it had your skin flushing. You didn’t have a response. 

“Do you want me to help you, omega?” You had to be dreaming. You must have fallen asleep or maybe you hit your head while you were trying to get out of the tub and this was a hallucination. Either way, you knew it couldn’t be real. Azriel wasn’t here in your room, inches from your nest offering to help you with your heat. 

“Omega?” The word was sharper this time and had you answering before you could think. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes what?”

“Yes I want you to help me, alpha.” And he was all over you then. His lips caught yours and you could have sobbed in relief. His hands chased away the scorching heat that trailed over your skin. But did nothing to help the emptiness you felt between your legs. He nipped at your bottom lip, teeth digging in in a way that had your back arching off of the bed. His scarred hands snaked up to rest on your breast. A hand going up to squeeze your nipple. You moaned his name and he pulled away from you, panting. 

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you want me? Saw the word and I’ll walk away.” 

A twinge of panic rushed through you at the idea of him leaving. So you didn't answer, only reached out for the collar of his shirt and pulled him back to you. You flipped him onto his back and crawled into his lap. 

“Yes. Yes. I’ve wanted this for so long.” You were trailing kisses over his collarbone. You started undoing the buttons on his shirt, kissing each inch of newly exposed skin until he was pulling the shirt off the rest of the way. He lifted you with one hand as you helped him slide off his pants. Not caring where they ended up as you saw his cock smack against his abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, slick dripping down your leg. He was perfect. Thick and long, a slight curve. And at the base you could already see the thicker red skin of his knot. 

You didn’t waste any time before you took him in your hand, lifting your hips up to guide him to your entrance. 

“Need to stretch you out first.” He gritted, a hand on your hip stilling your motion. 

“No. Need you now. Want your knot, alpha.” You whined, your free hand trying to bat the hand on your hip away. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t letting you sink down. You felt so empty. So close to what you wanted and he wasn’t going to let you have it. 

“I’m yours.” He said as he locked eyes with you. His hand didn’t leave but the force behind it was gone. Letting you, finally, fill yourself up with him. Your brain had stopped working. All thoughts are gone from your mind except for how perfect he felt inside of you. You chased away the last of the cramps as you started to ride him. Rocking your hips back and forth against him. A string of curses and garbled versions of his name left your lips as he tangled a hand into your hair, pulling your head back. His tongue lightly swiped over your scent gland and you exploded around him. Your orgasm leaves you seeing stars. That didn’t stop either of you. In one motion he had you pushed onto your hands and knees. The impact cushioned by the plush blankets underneath you. His thrusts were ruthless. The room filled with the sound of your bodies colliding with each other. Slick was still leaking down your leg as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling your back against his chest. His free hand trailed between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit until you were bucking into him. His lips were all over your neck until they landed near your ear. 

“Look at how perfectly you take my cock. Think of how good you’ll take my knot.” You whined and he nipped at your earlobe. “Do you like the idea of that? Me filling you up until you're round with my kids?” 

“Yes. Fuck. Wanna be full of you alpha.” You screamed for him. You could already feel your second orgasm rushing toward you, having no moment to come down. You could feel the edges of his knot started to catch on each thrust. You were about to beg for more, for him to fuck you harder, but a sharp feeling on your neck had you freezing in place. Not the right side of your neck, not the one that would bind you two together. Not the side you wanted him to bite. 

“Mark me, alpha. Want you. Bite me. Please. Az. Please.” You babbled. Tears streaming down your face again, but this time because you wanted him so badly. He was right there but it wasn’t enough. You wanted him permanently. Wanted your scents to fill the room, wrapped together. 

“Want me to mark this pretty neck, sweet omega?” You shook your head, crying out your pleas. He growled, the sound rattling your body. 

“Fuck. Just a little longer. Gonna cum with me?” You would have done anything he said at this moment. His knot almost locking you in place now. He was close and you could only moan and whimper as you felt it stretching you with every thrust. A few more well timed pushes of his hips and you fell apart. Right at the same time you felt him filling you up. The same moment you felt his teeth latch into the right side of your neck. Your vision blurred as tears sprung in your eyes again. The feeling so perfect that you barreled straight into your third orgasm. His mouth was clamped onto your shoulder, tongue soothing the bleeding skin. He rocked his hips back and forth as much as the knot would allow. You swore you could feel him pushing his cum further into you. 

You reached back and pulled Azriel off of your neck, joining your lips. You could taste your blood on his lips but you didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything else as you pulled him closer to you, tried to turn your body towards him as much as your current position would allow for. 

The tow of you stayed like that until his knot went down. Until he was pulling out of you. You felt his cum drip down your leg and whimpered at the feeling of losing it. 

Azriel only kissed your forehead, kissed down the path the tears had left on your face. He kept kissing down past your collarbone, your chest, until strong hands were pushing you to lay down for him. He placed sucking kisses to your plush thighs, down your legs and back up. This time his tongue collecting the trails of slick that coated your thighs. All the way until he got to your dripping cunt. You were about to say something to him, about to plead for him to hurry up when he licked a long stripe through your folds. Your hands shot to the back of his head as his tongue darted into your opening. Pushing his cum back into you. 

“Alpha.” You cried out. Eyes screwed closed as you felt wave after wave of pleasure coarse through you. There was something else there, some new edge of desire that had you reeling. You could feel his own heightened emotions. Arousal leaked off of him as he reached down to stroke his cock. He moaned into your folds, making your back arch off of the bed as you started to ride his face. He took every thrust perfectly. Not missing a beat as you used him to get off. Loud noises of your slick filling the room as you ate you out like a man starved. It was eventually too much, you were teetering from the edge again and knew it wouldn’t be enough. You needed him inside you again.

You pulled him off of you, a motion that had him growling until you parted your legs for him. It took him no time at all to cage you in, arms on either side of your head. You wrapped your hand around his leaking cock and guided him to your entrance. He pushed in so slowly you were a writhing mess underneath him as he sheathed himself full inside of you. HIs own moans matching yours as he threw his head back. Eyes squeezed closed as he started to move again. You went to wrap your legs around his waist before he stopped you, wrapping a hand around your knee to push it up against your chest. You didn;t think it was possible for him to go deeper but as he threw your foot over your shoulder you swore your vision blacked out at the pleasure. You couldn’t move. Only take everything he gave you. Each punished thrust of his hips against yours and you mewling against him. He took his time, long strong thrusts that had you clenching around him. Your nails clawed at his back, searching for any purchase against the torturous pace he set. 

“Good omega. Being so good for me. Can you take my knot again?”  

Your voice was long gone, hoarse from the screams and cries of pleasure so you could only nod, could only dig your nails into him harder to show him your agreement. He grabbed your other knee and pressed it against your chest, pulling you into a mating press that had you gasping for breath around the pleasure. You didn’t think you could cum again, but Azriel’s long strokes had you writhing underneath him. Begging for more. 

“Gonna fill you up again.” He growled in your ear. And then his knot caught again. The feeling pulling shudders from your body. A soft cry escaped your mouth as you came again. Not as hard as the first times but enough that it felt you panting underneath him. Clawing at his hair to bring his lips to yours again. 

Once both of you had calmed down a touch, he rolled the two of you over so you were on your side, legs tucked in behind yours perfectly. A part of you preened at the way he fit so well behind you, the way the two of you seemed to fit together. LIke you were made for each other. 

“I think we very well are.” He said into your ear, so close that his breath on your neck made you shudder. You didn’t think you had said the words out loud but all questions left your mind as he starting trailing kisses on the back of your neck, along the angry red skin of your newly marked mating gland. And that little press of his tongue, the way your scents filled the room. Not two scents anymore but one perfectly blended thing. It was that fact that had you drifting off to sleep in his arms. Heat perfectly quelled for the time being.

tag list: @ninthcircleofprythian @nocasdatsgay @sarawritestories @readychilledwine @milswrites @daycourtofficial @tsunami-of-tears

[waitineedaname]

i was thinking my little thoughts while falling asleep last night, and a concept occurred to me: what if binghe learned about the system not from shen qingqiu, but from shang qinghua

look, he likes shang qinghua alright. he's pretty disinterested in p much anyone who isn't shen qingqiu, but on the list of People Luo Binghe Tolerates, shang qinghua is relatively high. he gave him advice on wooing sqq, after all, and sqq likes his company, so binghe tolerates his shang-shishu

but the thing is, shang qinghua is a spy. has been for decades. binghe knows this. really, everyone knows this at this point, which isn't a great look for a spy, but still. and since shang qinghua is a spy for mobei-jun, who is a subordinate for luo binghe, then technically shang qinghua is also working for him, but you don't get to the position of demon emperor without a healthy amount of suspicion for everyone in your court

so he decides to test shang qinghua a little bit. nothing major, just a little poking around in his dreams. he starts out with a subtle touch, just sifting through his memories. most of it is what he expected. he sees his time on an ding as a disciple and then later as peak lord, he sees him working for mobei-jun. he sees mobei-jun in some compromising situations, which he files away for later, and then sees him in an entirely different flavor of compromising situations, and binghe immediately decides to act like he never saw that

then he decides to take a more direct approach and starts nudging the dreams in other directions, to see how he might react to certain scenarios, test his loyalty. he expects shang qinghua to act cowardly, or bluff his way through a situaton, maybe even draw his sword if pushed far enough

what he doesn't expect is for shang qinghua to frown at the changes luo binghe made and go "I didn't write it like this"

what

binghe is so bewildered by that response that he loses his grip on the dream for a second, and before he knows it, shang qinghua has spun the dream scenario back into the way the scene originally played out. he steps back and looks satisfied. "there we go," he says. "that's how it went. you know, if I'd known I'd be dealing with this scene myself, I would've written it differently"

what the hell does that mean?

fascinated, luo binghe continues to test him. most of the time, when he toys with someone's dream, they're completely unaware of the changes. shang qinghua, despite not seeming aware that he's lucid dreaming, seems very aware of how each scene should go. except for, strangely, many of the scenes that binghe himself was in. binghe pulls up one from his disciple days, one of the times he remembered shang qinghua coming to qing jing on some errand. he hadn't even changed anything yet, had just let the dream version of his younger self launch himself at shizun in a tacklehug, but shang qinghua tsks and takes the reins from him before he can make any edits. "sorry bing-ge, but that was just way too out of character," shang qinghua says. the dream copy of luo binghe's younger self is sent further away, watching the peak lords with a sullen gaze. he's skinnier than binghe remembers being at this age, and one of his eyes is swollen with a purple bruise. that doesn't make any sense, luo binghe thinks. he hadn't been beaten on qing jing peak for years at this point.

the shen qingqiu beside shang qinghua in the dream stands with his back straight as a ruler, and when his gaze lands on luo binghe, he sneers behind his fan. shang qinghua sighs. "cucumber-bro really wasn't as good of an actor as he thought he was. he's way too soft to ever seem like the original goods."

alarmed, luo binghe dispels the dream and steps out of it entirely. sure, he knows shen qingqiu's personality changed almost overnight when he had that qi deviation. everyone knew that. he avoided questioning it much, unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth when it meant having a shizun that cared for him

but shang qinghua. shang qinghua seems to know something more about shen qingqiu's personality change. something he's not sharing. luo binghe didn't like the idea that one of his subordinates could be hiding something as vital as this from him

well, this had been a test of his spy's loyalties, hadn't it? perhaps he should make a visit to an ding. he had some questions.

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[razberrypuck]

something about kinger being in the circus "the longest" and him still openly caring about the other members and striving to be kind to them makes me emotional actually.

like yes the scene where he comforts ragatha but also the "pomni, take this" scenes. putting a bucket on ragatha's head after jax's licorice-hair comment -- said in front of a monster that eats candy people. winning rock-paper-scissors and being so excited to get to help zooble. remarking "oh, thank GOD you're okay," when zooble gets ejected from the gloink queen. he can be a great source of comfort in his moments of lucidity, but even when he's not quite there, he really does try his best to protect his friends -- even if his efforts come across as goofy or nonsensical.

I find it especially interesting that these moments are really the only times he actively involves himself in the adventures. yes he makes a few comments here and there, but when he isn't trying to help someone, he tends to just let things happen around him. he's largely absent in most of episode one (mostly because he seems to be freaking out about his own safety -- and granted, we don't know whether or not he was just having an especially bad day, but I think it's worth noting) and he doesn't get involved with the adventure at all until he's told to find zooble. he's also shown to be very observant of the people around him, like how he accurately predicted that kaufmo had completely lost it, when no one else picked up on the signs.

more than anything, though, I think kinger's conversation with ragatha shows some of his philosophy when it comes to the other players. "it's a lot for anybody to go through; don't take it too personally," is likely a learned sentiment -- and consciously or not, I think he doesn't have any bad blood with the other members (see: kinger being the only one (from what we've seen so far) that jax doesn't actively torment) because he understands why they act the way they do and doesn't hold it against them. everyone copes differently, and like I said before, he's very observant, especially when it comes to the emotions of others.

and idk. I just think it's nice the longest standing member of the circus didn't survive this long by learning not to care.

[threadbaresweater]

just this once | suguru geto x reader

my second piece for @ficsforgaza kinktober event. the prompt is breeding kink + suguru geto. cw: female reader, talk of pregnancy (it's breeding kink after all), one little instance of cervix fucking, both suguru and reader are manipulative and shady in their own way, ambiguous relationship- they're not together, but they're not not together.

Suguru overwhelms you.

You wonder sometimes if it's you– how you react to him, how you feel a bit small and maybe even a little dumb in his presence. You've seen him be friendly (in an unmistakably flirty way) with other women and watched the way their eyes light up when he touches their hair or compliments them on their clothes. If he wasn't so handsome and charming, he's come across as a creep.

Lucky for him, he's easy on the eyes.

Lucky for you, he's all yours. (At least that's what you choose to believe when you see him bend to whisper something in the barista's ear at your favorite coffee shop.)

Is it control, or is it something else? You find that you can't really think too deeply about it when he's got your legs folded against your chest in the middle of your bed. He's doing that thing with his hips that makes you feel light-headed; it's a steady, driving rhythm that hits all the right places. He looks lost in his own pleasure– eyes closed, face tilted slightly upward, hands planted on either side of your head. His beautiful mouth hangs open as he pants. You drag him down to kiss you and feel the curve of his smile against your lips. He kisses you deep and almost playful, a practiced tongue sliding past your teeth and curling against the roof of your mouth. It takes your breath away.

He laughs into your mouth and executes a particularly hard thrust. It hurts for a second; it's a painful, pinching jolt that's soon replaced with the delicious, honey slow drag of him moving inside you. It throws you back into yourself for a moment. How could you ever doubt him when he tells you that you're the only one he wants? How, when he's buried inside you, carving out a space for himself that you wish he could linger in forever?

"You're close. I can feel you," he murmurs against your jaw, slowing his pace to the one he knows you love so well. "Don't hold it back, baby."

You lock your legs around his waist and meet every rock of his hips. Suguru licks a bead of sweat that rolls down your pulse point and lifts his head to whisper on your ear, hot and wet. "I want to come with you."

If you were lucid, you'd deny him and make him pull out. The risk is too great, the consequence of him finishing inside you something you can't bear to think about under normal circumstances. Instead, you whimper your assent and nod, fingers digging into the back of his neck to pull him ever closer. "Please— oh, please."

Suguru himself is overwhelmed at the thought of you, round and glowing and pregnant. When he thinks of it, a pleasure unlike anything he's ever felt courses through his veins, connects his soul to yours in a way he wants to feel again and again.

Maybe it won't take. Maybe, just this once, he can cum inside you and not create a life. Maybe it will, though.

Maybe that's what he wants. So he gives into your pathetic pleading, your little whimpers that beg him to fill you. You're babbling incoherently about how good he feels, how it's okay, just this once, it will be okay, don't want to think about it!

It's warm, it's life-giving, it's earth-shattering. You arch up against him and cling to his shoulders as he drives into you, deep and slow, pausing each time he's sheathed to the hilt inside you. He stays inside long after he's grown soft, long after your thighs have stopped trembling and your breathing becomes less erratic.

Clarity doesn't come until long after you've been carried to the bath and he's washing you with gentle ease. You voice your concern while your lips quiver and your eyes shine with tears.

"We should have been more careful," you say.

Suguru, infuriatingly calm as always, hums as he washes your hair. You can't see his face, but he's wearing a grin that reeks of satisfaction, of victory. "Would it really be so bad?" he coos, smoothing his hands down across the slope of your shoulders. "A piece of you, a piece of me, growing in your womb?"

He knows it's what you want. He sees right through you, for better or for worse. And he'll do whatever it takes to tie you to him for good.

It's unclear who's in control, however, when both of you think you're winning at your own game.

[theblobmaster]

i've been thinking about omega jason for a while now. specifically why he'd be an omega.

jason was TINY before his dip in the lazarus pit. his death certificate says 4'6" and 87 lbs (137 cm & 39,5 kg) which at 15yo is very, very fucking small.

and then after lazarus pit he's now 6' and 225 lbs (183 cm & 111 kg). so that's a big difference from what is hinted to be an adjustment of his stunted growth because of malnutrition in his early childhood.

but back to omegaverse, now i normally don't really like the whole omega = small, alpha = big, because that's fucking boring and very heteronormative. BUT let's say that because of that course correction the pit did on his build would indicate that jason was supposed to be an alpha.

so what if, in an omegaverse au, because of his malnutrition, because of how he grew up, his biology changed. knew he no longer would be able to grow into that big ass alpha that his genes promised and instead decided to develop the more latent omega genes and after he begins to find a place at the manor to feels safe, a place where his body feels like he would be able to present in, he goes into heat not long before he dies. maybe he only has that one presenting heat and not really finding his footing with his secondary gender before he dies.

and then he comes back, the superboy prime punch, and then the wandering on the streets before talia finds him, and it would make sense if he didn't have any heats in that period because of the heightened stress his body was going through so he's not producing a lot of scent pheromones and omega hormones.

when he comes to himself after the lazarus pit, and his body starts to adjust to his new growth spurt, focusing his energy on that and still not producing any of those obvious omega pheromones and hormones and talia never learnt his dynamic before he died. (maybe bruce didn't know, maybe he did and just didn't tell who knows)

and if we go with the whole body not going into season when it seems like it's not safe. his years training with all of those expert teachers of how to kill ect he wouldn't get a heat.

just jason thinking he lost his secondary gender when he died, and not finding it important because there's nothing indicating he'll ever go into heat again. maybe it was just a fluke that first time?

and he comes back to gotham, and he has his showdown with bruce and it goes to shit. but then it starts to settle and jason starts to find a footing and places he feels safe in, finds teams he can count on.

with that his body starts producing those hormones again, people around him starts to notice a change in his scent, but jason doesn't notice how they also change with that pheromone change from him.

until one day where he is at that one safehouse, that's more home than the others and bam he's in heat and he has only experienced that once before, it's been a lifetime and many years since he was holed up in his room in the manor and had alfred making sure he had food and water and a hotpack for the cramps and for a short moment he panics. wants to reach out and call alfred, ask for help, but isn't sure if he'd get it

idk i have a lot of feelings about omega jason. and i think there's so many interesting ways to explore omegaverse and the way it can function through omega jason.

(also because i love them, dick coming to see if jason can help with a case and instead discovers his little wing sweating profusely and curled up and he can't not help out. he's not ready for all of those heat pheromones, but he takes it in stride and decides to work through how jason is apparently an omega later and instead just makes sure that jason is hydrated and takes care of him until jason is lucid enough to be embarrassed and kicks him out)

[innorogers]

Reverie

Steve Rogers x Reader (You)

Summary: Steve doesn't care about you past, but he is hesitating if he should take things further. Until he saw that punk trying to make a move on you...wait, did he say his name is Walker? John Fucking Walker?!

Warning: Minors DNI / Minors DNI / First Time / First Date / Fluff? / Smut / Unprotected Sex /

Characters: Natasha, Tony, OCs, John Walker, Timeline is after Endgame and everyone is happy and alive.

Also: You don't have to read the previous two chapters, but it would enhance the experience if you did. And thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️

Chapter 1: Insomnia | Chapter 2: Lucid

"We'd better get going…" you panted between breaths, your words more moans and whispers than actual sentences. As his lips moved further into your skin, the glasses of the windows grow foggier and steamed.

"...I know... we should," he replied, marking your collarbone with his voice hoarse and raspy. One hand pressed against your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his hip, while the other tangled in your hair. "I just don’t think I can…" he muttered, kissing your breast and leaving love marks, sucking and soothing them.

Me neither. You thought to yourself while grabbing his head to pull him closer. And I don't want to.

But the car horns honked twice outside the building, jolting Steve to a halt.

"Shit, I don’t think we’re getting away with this..." he sighs, breathing heavily as he rested his head on your shoulder, trying to calm his body. It was hard, though, especially with you looking the way you did—hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, forehead damp, and lips swollen. Goddamn, you are sexy as fuck. Your shirt was half-torn, shoulders marked with bites, and you were panting in a way that drove him wild.

"We need to..." He tried to button up your shirt but sighed and gave up. Honestly, he wanted to do the opposite.

You laughed, fixing his messy hair. Jumping off the desk, helped straighten his collar. "There." You smiled up at him as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "As much as I want to stay, we’d better hurry."

"I know, I know..." Steve grumbled as the car honked again. "Do you need to change?" he asked, adjusting his shirt and glancing at the waiting car.

"Nope, thank goodness for this," you said, grabbing your lab coat. "Or it would be too obvious." You covered yourself and smoothed out your clothes.

"Too obvious of what?" he teased. "You think they’ll suspect something?"

"Well... no." You quickly got ready and helped him by tugging the back of his shirt. "I doubt anyone expects us to show up together—they’ll just think it’s a coincidence."

"Tony knows. That’s why he sent the damn car." Steve scoffed, taking your hand as he led you outside, opening the door for you.

"In his defense, this meeting was set two weeks ago." You smiled, taking his hand once seated, fingers intertwined as you sighed contentedly. "I just forgot because I was... very distracted."

The car began moving, thankfully driverless and on autopilot, giving Steve the chance to take your hand again. The cool AC calmed both of you, letting you think more clearly. You tried to focus on the upcoming meeting, but it was impossible when he started kissing your fingers.

"He wants us to concentrate and send a car with no driver?" Steve grinned as the campus blurred by. “He is challenging my imagination.”

"Maybe no one wants to see what’s happening here," you whispered in his ear, as if anyone could hear. "Or we'd have to kill them afterward."

He laughed, finally relaxing, just holding your hand and gazing out the window.

You tried too, looking at the passing green grass and buildings, but your eyes kept drifting to him. And your mind is going wild. 

OMG what you’ve done, and what's happening here.

You and Steve had only met two days ago on the training field at midnight. Both of you were suffering from insomnia, and what began as a friendly, slightly naïve conversation to help each other sleep turned into the best night of your lives. 

And now... this.

Well, you weren’t sure what "this" was. 

After that night, he walked you to your room, kissed you goodnight, and probably went straight to read your file. 

Then, the next thing you knew, he showed up at your secluded lab and kissed you like there was no tomorrow.

Until your boss/friend Mr. Stark interrupted you from heading a home run all the way, by calling to remind you there were cameras everywhere and that PG-18 scenes should be saved for after hours or, better yet, off-campus. 

He also kindly reminded you that the meeting both of you were expected was in 20 minutes. And just in case you "got carried away and lost track of time," his words, he sent the car.

After a few seconds of silence, as you try to make sense of things, Steve suddenly realizes: "I don’t even remember what this meeting is about."

"It’s not a meeting. Technically, it’s a... how’d you call it? Hmm... an opening ceremony?" You repeat the words Tony used when he walked you through it. 

"Important people from important groups are coming to visit around, and to make peace after the Blip. They’re deploying their heavy hitters, so all our level 3s have to be there."

"And you’re... level... 2?" Steve asked, trying to recall. He had read your file but only focused on some key details of your past, not the present.

"I’m a level A," you chuckled at Steve’s 'is that even a thing?' expression and explained, "Just like Peter Parker. I have access to everything, as long as Tony wants me to."

"Oh... and... why do you need to be there?" Steve wanted to know more, but as the car approached the destination, he could see people walking toward the grand hall.

"Well, I’m not expected by the guests, but by Tony. And you know what they say: the most dangerous place is the safest. After all, I’m not exactly on their 'white list'..."

You saw his expression change, and he tightened his grip on your hand. "You shouldn’t be hiding. You didn’t do anything wrong."

"I didn’t?" You looked into his eyes, and he didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t had the time, or the courage, to read your full file. He was just following his instincts about you, his feelings, and his heart.

"But still, I don’t think they’re ready for 'this'." You gestured to your intertwined hands. 

"And this shouldn’t be the topic of today’s conversation. I think this event is more about ‘how we’re friends again with the Avengers’ or ‘world peace is our only priority,’ kinda stuff…"

That made him laugh. He leaned his head back against the seat, muttering softly, "I wouldn’t care if they saw us."

"Eventually." You smiled at him. "And there’s something sexy about keeping it a secret, Captain." You sit in closer. "I like it." You blinked, motioning to the people passing by the car. 

"When they’re out there... and they don’t know... about this." Then you leaned forward to give him a kiss.

Steve’s body tensed at the touch of your lips, so you immediately pulled back, thinking you were pushing too far. 

"Yeah you are right, I’m sorry, they might have seen us..." You nervously glanced outside. "Although these windows..." and before you could finish, he grabbed you by the shoulders and kissed you deeply and fiercely, leaving you breathless.

"You’re right," he whispered, his voice low and ragged, as he bites your lower lip. "It is sexy. I love when you do things like this...it drives me crazy..."

“Oh…” your face was burning: “That’s settled then.” And you see the car is about to enter the parking lot arriving at its destination: “Can we do that again?”

Steve let out a loud chuckle before leaning over and kissed you gently: “Yes ma’am.” 

To be honest, he doesn’t know what he is doing either.

As soon as Steves leaves you – You’ve finally decided to enter the compound separately, but not before he kissed you deep and hard in the elevator – His mind starts to clear. Senses are coming back to him.

As one of the greatest military tacticians in history, Steve acknowledges your past: a Hydra experiment, held captive your entire life until your escape and rescue; he knows you weren’t brainwashed, but borned and raised under Hydra’s control, and yes, he met you just two days ago.

His reasonable mind is making a lot of rational thinking as the military savant he is, and his strategies have always been like complex webs of logic, each thread delicately woven to ensure victory, while his enemies find themselves ensnared before they even realize it.

So yeah, he should be analyzing you, reading your file, investigating your past, predicting your moves—or at the very least, watching you closely to see if any remnants of Hydra remain.

But instead…

He can’t take his eyes off you.

You were steps ahead of him, and he felt like seeing you through those large professional lenses, where all the background is blurred in macro, drawing circles of light, and only your silhouette is sharpened.

You were smiling and nodding to people saying hi to you, a little bit shy, somehow oddly adorable... He was in awe. Some folks saluted you as if with…respect? He observed quietly. He even saw a lab guy saying to his teammate something like 'omg she said hi back to me'.

What's your superpower, Steve wondered. 

He’s sure he never noticed you before (how could he have missed you?), and he's certain you’ve never been on a mission together.

Suddenly, someone with a lab coat runs by your side, all excited as if they've drunk ten coffees in a row. 

"Dr. Lancaster, Dr. Lancaster? I figured it out..." He shows you an iPad, and Steve can see how everyone around you is pretending to be minding their own business but is actually listening to the conversation.

“…If we could modify the energy matrix in the arc reactor, we could potentially bypass the Coulomb barrier altogether…we can be talking about cold fusion without the magnetic confinement…!” The lab guy seems all over the clouds.

“Oh.” You look surprised yet shy, you sweep your hair back: “um…How do you plan on stabilizing the reaction without the electromagnetic field imploding?”

“I knew you’d get it!” The tech was so excited he nearly dropped his glasses: “What if we shift the reactor’s frequency to align with zero-point energy fluctuations?” He was jumping all over the place: “The Casimir effect could, theoretically, counterbalance the repulsion long enough to initiate fusion. No magnetic field required!”

“You wanna um…tapping into the vacuum energy of the quantum field to power the reaction?” You look amazed but concerned: “I mean, sure, theory holds, but the amount of energy you’d need to harness would be… astronomical. How do you prevent runaway entropy?”

“If you can artificially create a gravitational lens, focus the zero-point fluctuations and keep them from destabilizing. That’s how I did it.” A voice chimes in from behind. 

Tony, hands in his fancy suit pockets, shrugs and taps his watch. "Five minutes everyone, or you'll miss the warm-up act."

When everyone hears the big boss, they start walking faster toward the compound. 

Tony glances at you and the lab tech. “Test that theory using vibranium as the containment medium. It can store large amounts of kinetic energy without degrading, so you won’t vaporize this whole place. The first prototype is broken and used, so…we can get another one. And honey…” He turns to you and, with a glance at Steve, sighs in irritation. “Ugh... forget it.”

Tony walks past Steve and whispers as they head inside, "Ten minutes late. That’s a first."

“And worth every second,” Steve replies, giving you a final glance, smiling as he notices your blush.

“So... what’s her talent?” he asks once they’re a bit further away.“Being super smart?” 

It sounded sarcastic but he was super serious. Steve might’ve once thought being smart wasn’t a superpower, but after witnessing what Tony and Bruce can do, he now knows it’s one of the most powerful things of all.

“Yeah ‘smart’ is not even close, ‘brilliant’, or ‘magnificently intelligent’ would be the right words, and also…not that’s that important, but um…” Tony makes that typical ‘not a big deal’ face, trying to play it off.

“She…um…She possesses bio-synthetic ocular emitters that generate and manipulate high-frequency electromagnetic radiation across a variable spectrum, allowing her to penetrate solid matter and perceive stratified atomic structures and molecular compositions in real-time, facilitated by a neuro-integrated quantum processing cortex that reconstructs layered 3D imaging at the subatomic level with unparalleled precision."

Tony winks at Steve. And then rolls his eyes and says: “She’s got some kinda X-ray vision that lets her see the layers and components of things.”

“Couldn’t you just say that…”

They walk past the people and head backstage, where the team and a bunch of other people are waiting. Steve knows they won't be able to continue the conversation due to all the smart chat they'll need to do with these VIPs, so he stops before entering the room.

He needs to ask the most important question.

“Why did you keep her? Nat said you went through hell to keep her out of the feds' reach. Why?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smirk. Oh, Rogers, you’re falling hard, huh? He blinks at Steve. 

“Do you want me to be brutally honest?”

“Don’t I always?”

Iron Man started counting: “First, I genuinely think that someone with those powers would be highly prejudicial and harmful if she is on any side but ours. Second, I like her, well, not in the same way you like 'like' her...…but she is good, she is…” He tries to find a word: “Selfless. That makes me nuts, cause when you have no human ambition, what you gonna do to be a keeper, right?  Aaaand third, she asked. So...”

He shrugged his shoulders and started thinking aloud and spoke quickly as Tony always does. “You know what? This is perfect, yeah, so…I’ve struggled…no, never mind, this is perfect. Yeah ok, we gotta go…” 

He tilts his head toward Pepper, who’s staring at him. “Before I get locked out tonight.”

Steve has a hundred more questions, but when he sees Maria giving him the same look Pepper is giving Tony, along with all those important suits waiting, he gives in. “Yeah... right. The heavy hitters.”

The "heavy hitters" weren’t just important people from important organizations. 

There was the Secretary of Defense, a bunch of senators, generals and colonels from the U.S. Army, the National Security Advisor—whatever the title is—Wakandan generals, CIA directors and their agents, and a whole lot of U.S. soldiers.

Steve was impressed, not by their presence, but because he had completely forgotten this event was on the agenda. And the reason for that? You.

Yeah the whole speeches, panels, interactions were just as you said, about ‘how we’re friends again with the Avengers’ or ‘world peace is our only priority,’ blah blah blah, Steve wasn’t even listening. Who gives a damn.

His thoughts were elsewhere.

He was focused on you, and his mind was a mess.

So you can see through solid objects, huh? Does that work on people too? Do you see him as a walking skeleton? Is your power what makes you so smart, or were you always brilliant and Hydra just added the ability? Are you free tonight? What did you mean when you asked if he “considered taking this thing further”? Further to where? To like a date, or further as…forever?  Is that a love bite on your neck? Did he do that? God, you look stunning with your hair like that...

“If your gaze were a lightsaber, that poor girl would be ashes by now,” Natasha whispered as she leaned over to Steve. “Would you stop? It’s really weird.”

Steve chuckled, trying to put on a serious face, but he couldn’t help himself. He glanced at the speaker on stage, doing his best to focus.

It was a struggle, though. From what he knew about you, you came across as socially naive, unworldly even, with a deep trust in others. He was tempted but didn’t want to do anything that might feel like he was taking advantage of your vulnerability.

But…he’s doing it again, staring at you from afar, you look so adorable, damn it. Your hair is still a little messy, standing in the crowd and biting your thumbnail like a bored student waiting for the bell to ring.

You caught his stare, your eyes flicking up, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at you. He mouthed a ‘I miss you’, and your heart raced so fast you dropped your phone. Someone passing by picked it up for you, and you probably mumbled something like “'ank you” cheeks blazing so red you couldn’t even make eye contact or finish the sentence.

Steve forced himself to look away, but the grin wouldn’t leave his face. His expression must have been strange because even the speaker started to turn red. 

Natasha nudged him with an elbow, and they both smiled at the poor guy, who was now panicking under the combined stares of Captain America and Black Widow.

“Hey…” Steve overheard a voice behind him.

“Do you know who that girl is?” The guy who picked your phone up—some military man—was talking to his teammate, he was several rows behind and talking low but Steve could hear it anyway.

“Who? Where?” his companion asked.

“That one, I just picked up her phone. There…in the second row.”

“Oh! That one? That’s…” The team mate teased: “…someone completely out of your league.”

“Shut up.” The guy chuckled: “I’m gonna give it a try anyway. I’ll ask for her number. Damn that’s the most beautiful girl I’ve seen.”

Ok. Steve clenched his jaw. Fuck chivalry. He was done worrying about your social skills. Maybe it was time to take your advice and take things further. Or he could have Jarvis or Friday change your number...

“I bet you don’t get it.” A third voice joined the conversation. "Hoskins is right, Walker. She’s out of your league."

Did he just said, Walker? Steve’s eyes widened as his fists tightened.

“Yeah John, first round you don’t get it.”

“Well…” John laughs, “Guess you’ll be buying two rounds for me and my date tonight.”

In your fucking dreams, Walker. Stay the fuck away from my girl. Steve pulled out his phone. Not even thinking about how you’d gone from "who is she?" and "what are her powers?" to "my girl."

A message from an unknown sender just popped up on your screen.

"What are you doing tonight?"

You frowned. Who is this?

You usually don't give your number to others. Mainly because you don't actually know your number (you don't have enough social events to bother remembering it). Plus, it’s in the public records for investigation departments, in case someone from work needs it. Cause who else would need it?

You glanced around. A few colleagues were watching you, but none gave any obvious signs of being the sender. 

Just in case, you replied: "Testing in the lab." The task Tony had given you earlier sounded promising, and you’re eager to give it a try.

"Can I join you?" The reply comes almost instantly. Must be Dr. Lin then—it’s his discovery, after all. Makes sense.

"Sure." you reply.

"Anything you’d prefer for dinner?"

Oh. No, wait. Now you're uncertain. When was the last time Dr. Lin had anything but organic food? The guy counts calories in every meal since you’ve known him.

"Who is this?"

Steve let out a loud laugh, and everyone stared at him, especially the speaker on stage, who was in the middle of a serious and tragic speech and was going through the emotional part.

"Stop it." Natasha shook her head, warning him in a whisper while smiling at the speaker. "Just stop it."

Tony rolled his eyes in the front row. Ugh, lovefools.

But Steve couldn’t stop laughing, and he didn’t stop messaging you.

"I’m your date, if you’ll have me."

"Oh. Mike? Sorry, I didn’t have your number."

His laugh stopped.

"Just kidding, Cap. I’ll have whatever you want ;)"

Oh damn, you got him. His heart leaped back into place. Steve looked up and spotted you, blushing as you put your phone away. He felt like giving a big smile but held back—for the poor speaker’s sake, who had already been tortured enough.

"A date it is." he replied. He considered adding an emoji, but nope—he didn’t know how that worked.

So, "whatever you want", huh? What should he bring? Did you mention anything about your preferences the night you met? Italian? Chinese? Thai? Japanese?

"Is there..." he asked Nat, his voice low enough only she could hear, "any good takeout within five minutes?"

Natasha was about to answer when her phone buzzed with a message from Tony: "Tell Rogers to knock it off." 

So they both put on their best serious faces and listened to the rest of the speech. Luckily, it was short, and Steve applauded harder than he should, just to make up for his weird behavior throughout.

"If you go straight to her." Once the whole thing was over, Natasha said softly in a voice only he could hear, "it’ll be too obvious. And Tony and Rhodey will shoot lasers from their eyes to your ass, stay put, this is important."

"I know." Steve smiled, shook hands with some senator, and stuck around for a bit of small talk, though his attention was elsewhere. 

He spotted John Walker approaching you. So moving without drawing attention, Steve shifted the group he was with closer to you.

He hated to admit it, but John Walker? The guy was fine. In that military uniform, with all those badges, he could probably charm any girl—if this wasn’t a hall full of superheroes. Steve listened carefully through the room’s noise, trying to catch your conversation.

Of course, you had no idea.

You didn’t know someone was nearby, standing and staring at you. You were too busy smiling at your phone like an idiot.

"Excuse me. What?" you asked when this guy repeated himself. The hall was full of chatter, so you had to get closer to hear.

"John Walker, ma’am." He flashed a bright smile, but you weren’t looking.

"Oh." You recognized him as the guy who picked up your phone earlier, and a blush crept onto your face as you recalled how clumsy you’d been, dropping your phone because Steve had smiled at you. 

"Oh... yeah, um, I’m Ilithyia, Ilithyia Lancaster. Thank you for that... Captain?" You weren’t sure about his rank, guessing based on the uniform.

"Nice to meet you, Ilithyia, Ilithyia Lancaster." He widened his smile, mistaking your blush for something else, and shook your hand. "Well... since I rescued your phone, any chance I could get your number?"

"Aw!" Steve’s hand suddenly clamped down on some poor guy’s during a handshake. "Quite a grip you’ve got there, Cap."

 "I beg your pardon." Steve forced a smile through clenched teeth, still listening to your conversation.

"Oh..." Now you were blushing for real. "Um..." You were trying to figure out how to get out of this awkward situation. 

Not only because you didn’t know your number, but also because you didn’t want to give it to Captain Walker. 

You thought fast and came up with the first lame excuse that popped into your head.

"I can’t. " 

You look at him with your most innocent and serious face. You sound so sincere and genuine.

"It’s confidential."

Steve let out a burst of laughter. That’s my girl. The senator in front of him—yes, the same one he had been teasing through the whole event—went pale. He was telling another moving story about his experience during the Blip when Captain America giggled. 

Tony threw an arm around Steve’s neck and mumbled in a warning tone: "What. Is. Wrong. With. You?"

"I’m so sorry." Steve hurried after the poor man, trying to keep a straight face. "Come on, Senator Kingsley...I’m sorry…" 

As soon as John Walker’s attention shifted to Steve, you took a step back and mumbled something like, "Um... Nice to meet you, Captain Walker. Gotta go."

"Yeah, what? Yeah, sure..." Walker turned around, but you were long gone before he could come up with a smart reply.

Of course, you had to go—you had a date.

Two hours later, the idea was still circling in your mind. But...

"What am I wearing?" you suddenly blurted out.

"...What?" Dr. Lin looked at you, confused. "Now? A white coat…" 

He was just in a very inspirational speech about the theory of a quantum anchor to handle subatomic fluctuations when you interrupted with that.

You thought for a second, then decided you didn’t give a shit about the possibility of opening a wormhole that could deviate spatial-temporal coordinates or create a cascading paradox that unravels dimensions as you know them. You cared more about the upcoming date.

It was not just a date, it was the date.

So you took a deep breath, looked at your colleague seriously, and said, "I have a date, Dr. Lin. And I don’t know what to wear because I’ve never had one."

"Oh..." Dr. Lin looked you over. "That’s not a surprise, Dr. Lancaster." He whispered something like, "We should have known... you live and breathe only in this lab... just like your plants."

"I don’t have... anything." You spread your hands. "He’s coming to my lab in a few hours... should I...?" burn all my clothes and buy new ones? No way you’d make it in time.

"Well." He gave you a ‘what are you gonna do’ face and circled you. "Mm... not much we can do, actually. Here, lift your hair. No, not all of it, leave some strands. Yes..." He took off your glasses. "Do you have lipstick? No?! You don’t? Girl... GOD. Um... okay."

He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a chapstick. "Here. This is cherry. I don’t know... um... oh, and this!" He handed you a bottle. "Put this on."

"What is this?" You opened the tube, sniffing it. "Perfume?"

"Better. This, Dr. Lancaster, is the Felix Felicis of perfumes."

"Like... in Harry Potter?"

"Theoretically, this is a chemical liquid compound that exhibits adaptive olfactory reactivity, dynamically modulating its molecular structure upon detecting neurochemical feedback from the subject's sensory receptors, thereby... transforming into the individual's most psychologically favored aromatic profile." He grinned like a proud scientist.

"So, it’s a magic liquid that becomes your favorite scent when you smell it?"

"Not favorite, Dr. Lancaster. The most arousing smell." Dr. Lin’s eyes lit up as he introduced his invention. 

"Girl, put this on, I guarantee, he’ll be all over you. And call me Robert, I beg you.”

"Is that..." You raised an eyebrow. "Is that even legal?" And this was Steve you were talking about—the guy had senses times four.

"Oh come on, just use one drop." Dr. Lin dabbed a bit on his finger and tapped it on your neck. "There. I don’t think he’ll even notice, but just in case..."

"Oh. Okay." You still didn’t know what to expect.

"Look, I’ll leave you to it then." Dr. Lin—no, Robert—gathered his things. "Enough testing for today. And you’re gonna tell me all about it on Monday, okay? Oh, and Dr. Lancaster..." 

He glanced around your lab. "This is perfect. Private, secluded... just make sure to put away all the explosive liquids you have around... ok? See ya!"

“Oh.” You glance around too. Yeah, that’s a great point, you nod as you wave goodbye to a very excited Dr. Lin, still not having a clue what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what you do best: you work.

You do a little bit of cleaning, organizing; the place looks amazing, at least from your point of view, and since you had time, you start another round of testing.

You don’t even notice when Steve walks in, with the sunset sky behind him and the first stars rising in the north. He’s carrying a basket, and his breath is taken away by the sight of you standing at your workbench, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, turning the whole room into a glowing, serene golden rose.

He stands there for a while, just watching, taking it all in.

“Cap, are you coming in anytime soon?” you ask, adjusting the metal pieces of the robotic arm. 

“I’m really hungry and tired of pretending I’m so cool with robotics here.”

Steve laughs and sets the basket on the table before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your hair. “Hey.”

You inhale deeply, finally letting go of the breath you’d been holding since you heard his footsteps. 

“Well, that’s not gonna do.” You smile and give him a proper kiss on the lips. “Yeah, now I’m recharged.”

Steve grins, holding you tighter as he kisses you back. “Yeah, me too.” He deepens the kiss. “God… you smell so good.”

Oh wow. You open your eyes as you return the kiss. Did Dr. Lin’s magic elixir really work this fast?

Well, then there’s a good chance this could go further, right?

Of course he’s taking it further.

Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him. 

Maybe it’s because he’s been thinking about you all day. Maybe it’s because he was so mad and determined to be with you after that punk tried to make a move on you. Or maybe it’s just you—you have this unknown thing that drives him wild.

It's the way you move, the way you smile or talk or breathe or just… exist, that makes him unreasonably and madly… in love.

You finish dinner (a unanimously voted menu by the whole team—who knew the Avengers were so bored?), and are just starting on the cold white wine when he tries to wipe some ice cream from your lips. The next thing you know… you’re all over the couch.

Well, you started it, you think as he hovers over you. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have bitten his thumb when he was caressing your lips, or maybe you shouldn’t have breathed so heavily while he was kissing you and roaming over your body. Maybe you shouldn’t have whispered his name like that… but oh god, who cares? It feels so good.

“We should…” Stop. Steve tries to pull out his rational side, but his hands are far too busy running down your side, lingering on your hip.

“Go to bed?” You’re panting and shivering, your hands on his neck and his back, trying to pull him closer. “There’s, um… a bedroom right at the back, and… it has a beautiful garden view.” As if that mattered now at all.

Steve lets out a soft chuckle, resting his head on your neck. Then, after a pause, he lifts himself slightly, creating some space between you two.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… there’s no coming back from that. Are you…” He gasps, caressing your face. “And if we don’t do anything, it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“And…” You sit up straight, looking at him, intrigued. “How… how do you feel about me?”

“It feels...” He thinks for a moment, intertwining your fingers with his and giving you a soft smile.

“Correct. Right. Complete.” He kisses your fingers, then looks up at you. “You make me feel complete.” He paused: “And you?”

You stay there for a moment in silence, glancing at him.

“Like…”

You try to describe it with nice words but you can’t.

“It's like my heart is so full, I can’t take it anymore…” You inhale as if you're feeling it right now and smile. “Like all the stars have fallen to one place and are shining too brightly.”

There's a moment of quiet before Steve speaks, his voice soft, like making a wish.

“I wish I’d found you sooner. I wish… I could’ve spent all the years I’ve been here with you.”

“This is perfect.” You kiss him with a smile, gentle and devoted. 

“Everything is perfect.”

He smiles and kisses you back, gently cupping your face in his hands, his touch filled with tenderness and love. But as the kiss deepens, Steve feels like he's burning. 

Everything about you is a vortex of sensations: his mind fuzzy, your warm body in his arms, your hair smelling of white roses, your sweet breath, your lips, and your tongue. He pulls you closer, one hand sliding down to rest on your hip, rougher than before, his lips moving more insistently. He doesn’t want to stop; he needs to feel more of you.

“If you’re not stopping…” He hesitates. “I don’t think I can …”

“I don’t want you to.” You sit on his lap, holding him close, fingers in his hair, whispering.

Steve lets out a shaky exhale, his voice a little rougher than usual, his gaze locked onto you like a lifeline.

“Are you sure?”

“…Steve…” Your voice is almost a plea. “Please don’t make me beg…”

And that does it.

Steve lets your request override any other thought. His tongue explores your mouth, hungrily claiming it as his own. One hand grips your hip, pulling your body flush against his. His mind is a mess, tangled with desire and excitement, everything around him melting away except for you. He leans into you more, guiding you back until your hips hit the nearest wall, pinning you there.

“Where's the bed?” he whispers in your ear. You stretch out your arm and point in the right direction.

“Hold on tight.” He smiles as he carries you to the room at the back and can’t help but awe when he arrives.

“Oh, so it was true. It has an amazing view.” He admires the floor-to-ceiling window with the garden in full bloom outside, bathed in a violet and blue sunset.

You laugh between the pillows. “Would you mind… saving that for later?”

Steve chuckles as he comes back to your lips and your arms: “I’m sorry…” his fingers follows the line of your body, pressing one in your waist and the other interlocking with yours: “I promise nothing will distract me from you now…” 

He was feeling the surge of his powers –  everything was enhanced: the scent of you on the bed sheets, the shivers running through your skin at his touch, the way your hair brushed against him, and the intoxicating sound of your voice…his body was reacting accordingly, and it was impossible to hold back. 

Especially when you kicked off your clothes and he could feel the whole of you: your skin silky and warm, the jasmine scent from your bath lingering. He was utterly lost in lust.

He feels his heart racing, his breath coming in short gasps, his hands guiding you with slow, deliberate movements, trying to hold onto some control despite the intensity of his desire. 

He interlocks your hand with his, while the other holds your face. He can’t look away from your gaze as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, sparking a wildfire of need within him. He whispers your name against your lips, his voice thick with hunger and longing.

“I don’t think I can’t hold back any longer…”

You gasp, drowning in a whirlwind of emotion: “Please don’t hold back…anything...” And you feel him to complete you, his fingers entwined with yours, murmuring something before sealing you with a kiss.

The moment he was in you was overwhelming, but you wouldn't recall the pain.

You were filled with sensations, having his lips in your ears, the fierce pressure of his fingers interlaced with yours, his body as close to yours as it could possibly be. Every centimeter of your being was united with his, melting into his warmth.

You felt him everywhere. In the intense gaze he held as he moved in a pace to match your pleasure, in his low moans and groans,in the droplets of sweat falling from his body onto yours, in his shivers and trembling, in the way he pressed his hand in your waist and marked every movement as he was lost in lust.

“God…” 

Oh no, Steve was not lost, he was drunk in a haze of pleasure and need. 

He had this urge of possession, hunger of dominance, mixed with the overwhelming and insatiable need of you.

He looks at you. Your watery eyes glistening with pleasure and desire, your moaning lips, red and swollen, naked body covered by a thin sweat and marks he left in your collarbone, in your shoulders and breasts, you dig your fingers into his skin, the sounds of your moans filling his ears and driving him even wilder.

“Please don’t stop…” 

God that begging tone of yours, he just can’t take it, he needs more.

“Steve…” You whispered again, your hands cupping his face. His breath mingled with yours as he leaned in closer: “please…don't stop…”

Steve moaned, his brain short-circuiting momentarily at your words, the sound of your voice begging it drives him wild with need and desire. 

He tightens his grip on your hips, his movements becoming rougher and rougher as you beg for him and you are lost in his fastened paces, and he knows you are close, the moans that’re leaving your lips driving him mad.

“Babe you are driving me insane…” He can't hold back his low growl as you whisper in his ear, his movements becoming more urgent and rough as he pushes you harder, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he gives you what you ask for, pulling you closer and closer, and he can’t help to moan as he looks at you reaching your climax: “Yeah baby that’s it…I got you…” 

You gave in as he kissed you and the bed knocked so hard against the wall, Steve’s senses are coming to an edge too as you finally reach the limit, your moan is the most perfect and most pleasing thing he’s ever heard. 

He murmurs your name on the verge of losing control, so you press your whole body to him as helping to be there, Steve’s mind suddenly goes blank as the pleasure takes over, every sense, every nerve ending consumed by ecstasy. 

He cums long and warm inside you, and that alone makes you feel you could come all over again. 

His words strangled groans of pleasure. He looks down at you, completely at your mercy, eyes hazy, filled with pure, unadulterated ecstasy as he tries to speak, but you seal his words with a deep kiss. 

“That was…” His breaths came in hard and fast: “That felt…”

“Complete.” You finish the sentence for him.

Complete. He used the right word. That’s how you felt. 

He laughs and falls on top of you, cupping your face and kissing your chin, removing stands of sweaty hair from your face. 

His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, his body still quivering from the intensity of the orgasm. 

" I... I've never experienced anything like that…You were incredible…You're incredible…"

You were panting too. But you were also reacting over his kisses.

Oh damn, Dr. Lin’s felix felicis worked just fine.

“So…um…” You couldn’t catch your breath: “You do have…Saturdays off, right? Does…the Avengers get that? Weekends?”

“What?” He was already laughing when you asked, but still nodded: “Yeah I have time…”

“And…how fast does your serum work? Do you need to like…some hours to recover?” 

“What?” Steve can't help but let out a laugh at your question. You marvelous, adorable, perfect girl. You are the woman of his dreams. 

He leans in to kiss you. Yes, complete. That’s definitely the word. He had never felt this way with anyone before, but when he was with you, everything seemed to align, as if the universe had conspired to bring you both to this moment, to this connection. He felt like a lost star in the universe finally finding its way home.

“Hours?” He kisses your neck and starts to go down: “babe…you might be a genius...but I really need to show you how this serum works for me…hours? Please don’t underestimate me…” 

His hands starting to caress your body, cupping your breasts and leaving a trace of kisses, feeling you reacting at the same time that he was getting hard again, still inside of you. 

You let out a soft, deep moan, your body responding instantly to his touch, your eyes lost in lust again.

“Steve…” 

He loves that begging moan, he was so ready to hear it again. And he was going to make you to do that all night long. 

“The night is young.” He positions his hands in your waist, holding you tight, as he presses himself again inside of you, harder than the first time, his eyes locked on yours as he speaks: “And I’m glad for it.”

“Dr. Lin? um…Robert?” You knocked your colleague’s lab door on Monday, with a gift basket and a bottle of wine.

“Heeeeyyyy…” He was so happy to see you, Dr. Lin just turned around from his chair with a curious smirk: “Soooo? How was it? The mysterious date? I can tell you are satisfied…” he was practically singing. 

“Well…” You blushed slightly. 

The “date” has lasted the entire weekend. 

For the first time in your life, you were thankful for the body Hydra had given you, enough to endure and enjoy a weekend of endless lovemaking. 

You think you lost count of your orgasms by Saturday afternoon. But then of course, Sunday was also off, even for the Avengers. So you carried on. 

“Ahem…!” You cleared your throat, offering him the basket with the wine. “I’m just saying the Felix Felicis worked... as expected, even with just a drop.”

“Oh.” Robert's expression shifted. “Oh my gawd, I’m going to hell for this... Honey?” 

He patted your hand as he took off his glasses. “There’s no such thing as Felix Felicis…”

“What?”

“Yeah I lied…It was just a joke.” He made a ‘Sorry, not sorry’ face: “It was just perfumed alcohol.”

“Oh.” You were surprised. “Um... still... that’s just...” 

Wonderful. You couldn’t help but smile, handing him the basket anyway. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Lin— I mean, Robert. Really, thank you.”

“Ohhh…you’re blushing,” Dr. Lin winks at you. “You look like someone who just discovered the meaning of life.” By going out of that lab and finally having human contact, and not dying there like a potus, he thinks to himself.

You grinned. “Maybe I did.”

“Well, whatever it was, keep that glow. It’s contagious,” he said with a wink before turning around and continuing his work.

“I’ll try my best.” You nodded, smiled at him, and headed back to your lab. You were in the hallway when you received a message from Steve.

“Miss you already,” with a heart emoji.

You sighed and smiled. 

Maybe it wasn’t Felix Felicis, but magic did exist—and it was real every time Steve looked at you like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered.

End but TBD

Continue to:

4: Nightmare |

5: Awakening |

6: Dusk |

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Yay! That's a wrap on Chapter 3! ❤️ Thank you for reading so far. I apologize if my English isn't perfect; it's not my first (or even second) language.

I hope I got through the intensity and love that was intended. (At least at their first time, should be more about making love than fucking? If that makes sense...?)

Anyway, don't know where to place the timeline, but definitely is after Endgame and everyone is happy and alive, aaaand the fact that John is here with Steve in the same place, makes it more interesting :3 (I just love writing jelous Steve)

Hope you liked it! Every feedback is highly appreciated <3

Love.,

Moon.

P.S: Chapter names are all related to dream states ;) I'm posting something every friday :) So see you next friday!!!

[muiitoloko]

I looooved the daddy severus fanfic aaaaghhhh ❤️ but now can we have what he needed to do to have the baby lol

Breeding kink severus PLEASE!!! Xx

Title: A Second Chance

Summary: Surviving the war was only the beginning for Severus Snape. With your love, he learns to embrace life, finding comfort in the thought of a future that includes a family of his own.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: I'm so glad you loved the Daddy Severus fanfic! ❤️ And I couldn't resist your request, so I went ahead with the breeding kink idea—but decided to keep it light and wrote a completely new one-shot instead. Don't worry, it's more on the sweet side, nothing too kinky 😅. Hope you enjoy this one just as much! xx

Also read on Ao3

Severus Snape never imagined he would survive the war, let alone find himself married years after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. In truth, he hadn't even expected to live past the moment Nagini's fangs had torn into his throat. The pain had been excruciating, but it was fleeting—quickly overtaken by the cold, creeping numbness of death. He had welcomed it, that final escape from a life filled with darkness and deceit. Everything had gone black, and he thought that was the end.

But death had not come for Severus Snape that day. Instead, he had awoken to the sterile smell of potions and the clinical brightness of the Hogwarts infirmary, with Madam Pomfrey's stern face hovering above him, muttering incantations and administering salves to his ravaged neck. She had told him that the war was over, that Voldemort was defeated, and in those first few moments of lucidity, Snape had wanted nothing more than to slip back into unconsciousness. He had nothing left to live for, after all. But fate, as it often did, had other plans.

Snape had been in a coma for two long years—two years during which the wizarding world had moved on without him, during which he had been declared a hero by none other than Harry Potter, the boy he had once loathed. Potter, in his infinite idiocy, had come forward with memories—his memories—evidence that Snape had been working as a double agent, risking everything to protect the son of the woman he had loved more than life itself. It was Potter’s testimony that had spared Snape from Azkaban, and it was Potter who had ensured that he was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, and hailed as a hero in the aftermath of the war.

Snape thought bitterly of that fool of a boy now, sitting in the grand sitting room of one of the Prince family’s old mansions. The house had been passed down to him as the last living heir of the Prince family, a lineage he had long since stopped caring about. His mother’s bloodline had never brought him anything but misery, and yet here he was, a reluctant beneficiary of the wealth and status he had once despised. He rubbed the large scar on his neck, the mark left by Nagini’s fangs a constant reminder of how close he had come to death. It barely allowed him to speak without pain, a daily torment that was only mitigated by the potions and treatments he had to endure.

And that was where you came in.

You had been sent by St. Mungo’s on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, assigned to take care of Snape’s throat, which often swelled and caused him intense pain at random times. The venom of Nagini had remained in his bloodstream, a sinister reminder of the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant. Snape hadn’t wanted you there. In those first few days, he had made every effort to drive you away, using every tactic at his disposal—scathing remarks, icy glares, and, when words failed him, the sheer force of his silent, menacing presence. But you hadn’t been intimidated. You had insisted on staying, refusing to leave despite his best efforts to scare you off. You were patient, determined, and unfailingly kind—qualities that Snape found both infuriating and, inexplicably, disarming.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things began to change between the two of you. Perhaps it was the day he had tried to intimidate you with a particularly venomous glare, only to find that you met his gaze with calm resolve, refusing to back down. He had pressed you against the wall in a fit of frustration, intending to finally break through that maddening composure, but instead, he had found himself kissing you—fiercely, desperately, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. That kiss had quickly turned into something more—something that left you both breathless and shaken, your bodies entwined in a feverish, almost primal need.

Months had passed since that first heated encounter, and somehow, through a series of events that still seemed surreal to him, Snape had found himself married to you. He looked down at the simple, yet elegant ring on his finger, a symbol of a life he had never imagined for himself. The ring was one he had chosen himself, purchased with the money he had saved over the years as a professor—years of putting up with those insufferable, brainless children. The irony of it all was not lost on him. Severus Snape, the cold, unyielding Potions Master, now had a wife, a home, and a life that was, in many ways, far more normal than he had ever thought possible.

He had thought he would hate it—the domesticity, the mundanity of it all. But as he sat in the quiet of the old manor, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, he realized that he didn’t hate it. Not at all. In fact, he found a strange sort of peace in it—a peace he hadn’t known in decades, if ever. It was a peace that came from knowing that, despite everything, he had somehow found a place in this world—a place with you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, and he looked up to see you entering the room, a soft smile on your face as you made your way over to him. You were dressed simply, yet elegantly, your presence filling the room with a warmth that he still wasn’t quite used to, but which he had come to cherish nonetheless.

“Severus,” you greeted him, your voice soft and soothing as you approached. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged slightly, the familiar discomfort in his throat a dull throb that he had long since learned to ignore. “As well as can be expected,” he replied, his voice low and rough, a result of the lingering effects of the venom.

You nodded, your expression one of understanding and quiet concern as you reached out to gently touch his hand, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of his wedding ring. “I’m glad,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his chest tighten. “You know, you don’t have to bear this burden alone. I’m here, Severus. I’ll always be here.”

He looked at you for a long moment, the weight of your words sinking in, filling the empty spaces in his heart that he had long thought would remain void. He had spent so many years alone, so many years building walls around himself to keep others out, that it still felt strange—unnatural, even—to have someone who cared about him, who wanted to share in his burdens.

But you were here, in his life, in his home, and he had somehow, against all odds, found himself falling for you in a way he hadn’t believed was possible. You had been a light in the darkness, a beacon that had guided him back to the land of the living when all he had wanted was to fade into oblivion.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion as he looked down at your hand in his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in a way that nothing else could. “And I’m… grateful.”

You smiled at that, a soft, genuine smile that lit up your entire face, and for a moment, Snape felt something stir within him—something that had been dormant for far too long. It was a warmth, a flicker of hope, of love, that he had thought he would never feel again.

Without another word, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with all the affection and tenderness that you had brought into his life. Snape closed his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in the sensation, to savor the moment, the connection between you.

When you finally pulled back, you looked at him with a quiet intensity, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to understand the depth of what he was feeling. And in that moment, Snape realized that you did understand—that you knew him better than anyone ever had, perhaps even better than he knew himself.

“I love you, Sev,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. “I always will.”

But Severus Snape had never been one for grand declarations, especially when it came to matters of the heart. The words I love you felt foreign on his tongue, weighed down by the years of pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. Instead, he preferred to convey his feelings through subtle gestures, through actions that spoke louder than words ever could.

And tonight, he intended to show you just how much you meant to him.

Without a word, Snape leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss, one that was slow and deliberate, full of a restrained passion that he had kept buried for far too long. His lips moved against yours with a careful intensity, as if he was savoring every moment, every sensation. His hand slid up to cup the back of your head, his long, slender fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer to him.

You responded eagerly, your body leaning into his as the kiss grew more heated, more urgent. Snape’s other hand found its way to your waist, his grip firm but gentle as he guided you onto his lap, your dress rustling softly as you straddled him. The fabric of his dark robes brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from his body.

When he finally broke the kiss, his breathing was slightly uneven, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that you had rarely seen before. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat, his gaze piercing through you as if he was trying to convey all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say.

Without breaking eye contact, Snape’s hands moved to the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the soft fabric as he slowly pushed it up, revealing the smooth skin of your thighs. He let out a low, almost inaudible groan as he felt the warmth of your body against his, the sight of you on his lap stirring something primal within him.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper as he traced the outline of your hips with his hands, his touch possessive yet reverent. It wasn’t quite I love you, but it carried the same weight, the same depth of emotion. It was his way of claiming you, of letting you know that you belonged to him in every sense of the word.

You shivered at his touch, your own hands moving to his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric of his robes. His grip on you tightened slightly as he pulled you even closer, pressing your body against his as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a clear indication of just how much he wanted you.

“Severus…” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of anticipation and desire as you felt his lips ghosting over your throat, leaving a trail of soft, heated kisses in their wake.

Snape didn’t respond with words. Instead, he let his actions speak for him, his hands slipping beneath your dress, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine before moving lower, cupping your ass and giving it a possessive squeeze. His lips found their way back to yours, capturing them in another deep, fervent kiss as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that his cock was perfectly aligned with your entrance, the heat of your arousal palpable through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Snape’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes boring into yours as he uttered a single, hoarse word: “Bedroom.” The command was rough, almost strangled, a reminder of the ever-present pain that laced his throat. You could see the discomfort etched into the lines of his face, a sharp pang of concern shooting through you. Was he okay? Was the pain too much for him? But before you could voice your worries, Snape dismissed them with a hard, determined look. He wasn’t going to let anything interrupt this moment.

In a swift, fluid motion, he lifted you into his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as you clung to him. His strength surprised you, the lean muscles beneath his robes belying the quiet power he possessed. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, straining through the fabric of his impeccably tailored trousers. The sensation sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, igniting a fire in your belly.

He moved with purpose, carrying you down the dimly lit hallway of the old manor, his long robes billowing around him like shadows. The silence between you was thick, charged with the unspoken desires that had been building between you for months. Snape’s grip on you was firm, possessive, his hands settling on the curve of your ass as he held you close. The tension in the air was palpable, the only sounds were the soft rustle of fabric and the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.

When he finally reached the bedroom, Snape pushed the door open with a gentle nudge of his foot, striding inside without hesitation. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. The bed—a grand, four-poster affair draped in rich, dark fabrics—stood at the center of the room, an inviting haven amidst the darkness.

Without breaking his stride, Snape crossed the room and laid you down on the bed, his movements careful but deliberate. The mattress dipped under your weight as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. He stood at the edge of the bed, his tall, lean figure imposing and commanding, his dark robes making him look every bit the cold, enigmatic man you had first met. But now, there was something more in his eyes—a burning need, a primal desire that he could no longer suppress.

Snape’s hands moved to the clasp of his robes, his fingers deftly undoing it before he shrugged off the heavy fabric, letting it pool on the floor at his feet. He remained silent, his gaze never leaving yours as he began to unbutton his shirt, each movement slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The pale, angular planes of his chest were revealed inch by inch, the faint scars and the dark trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers only adding to his rugged appeal.

Your mouth went dry as you watched him, your pulse quickening with each piece of clothing he shed. By the time he reached the waistband of his trousers, you were practically trembling with anticipation, your body aching with the need to feel him against you.

Snape didn’t rush. Instead, he paused, his fingers lingering on the waistband of his trousers as he looked down at you, his gaze dark and hungry. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, roughened by both his desire and the ever-present pain in his throat.

“I’m going to fill you,” he rasped, the words sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. His expression was one of pure, unbridled lust, his eyes locked on yours as he added, “I’m going to put a baby inside you.”

The raw, primal promise in his words left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as heat pooled between your thighs. You could feel the wetness gathering there, your body responding to his words in a way that was utterly instinctive. Snape’s eyes flickered with satisfaction as he noticed your reaction, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your ankle, pulling you toward the edge of the bed with a firm, steady grip. You let out a soft gasp as your back arched, your dress riding up higher, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze. Snape’s hand slid up your calf, his touch sending sparks of electricity coursing through you as he pushed your dress up, revealing the lacy fabric of your underwear.

“Take it off,” he ordered, his voice hoarse but commanding, a dark edge to his tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You obeyed without hesitation, your hands trembling slightly as you reached down to slip the dress over your head. The fabric pooled on the floor beside the bed, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Snape’s gaze raked over your body, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of you.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, the word almost lost in the roughness of his voice. His hand moved to your hip, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of your underwear before slipping beneath the fabric. The feel of his hand against your bare skin sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your breath hitching as he caressed you with slow, deliberate strokes.

You moaned softly as his fingers found your wetness, your body arching into his touch. Snape’s gaze was fixed on yours, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race. He moved his fingers with a practiced precision, teasing you with light, feathering touches that left you gasping for more.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation as you looked up at him. “Yes, Severus, please.”

Snape’s smirk widened at your desperate plea, his hand leaving your core to grip your thigh, spreading your legs wider. He moved between them, his trousers slipping down to reveal his throbbing erection, the sight of it making your mouth water with desire.

He positioned himself at your entrance, his tip brushing against your wet folds as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. The sensation was electric, his lips moving against yours with a fierce, possessive hunger that left you dizzy. You could feel the tension coiling within him, the barely restrained need that pulsed through every inch of his body.

With a low growl, Snape pushed inside you, the thick length of him stretching you to the brink as he buried himself to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it as he filled you completely. You could feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the raw power in the way he moved.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, his thrusts deep and measured, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Snape’s gaze never wavered, his eyes locked on yours as he claimed you with every thrust, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive strength that left you breathless.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough and strained as he drove into you with a primal, almost savage need. “Mine to fuck, mine to fill…mine to breed.”

The words sent a shiver of pleasure through you, your body tightening around him as you let out a low, breathy moan. Snape’s hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you against him with each thrust, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the intensity of the moment.

You could feel the heat building within you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. Snape’s name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he drove you closer to the edge.

Snape's breath was ragged as he buried himself inside you, his trousers bunched up around his ankles, trapped by the boots he hadn't bothered to remove. It didn’t matter to him—nothing mattered now except the primal, driving need to fill you, to claim you in the most profound and intimate way. His dark, greasy hair clung to his forehead as he hovered above you, his pale, angular face set in a mask of intense concentration and desire.

His thrusts were deep, deliberate, each movement calculated to drive you closer to the edge, to ensure that every inch of him was felt within you. His normally stoic expression was marred only slightly by the flicker of pain that crossed his features when he dared to speak. The venomous scars on his neck, the constant reminder of his near brush with death, flared in protest with every word. But his voice—deep, roughened by the damage to his throat—slipped out when he could no longer contain the twisted fantasies that had consumed him.

“Mine,” he rasped, the single word filled with a possessiveness that made your breath hitch. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place as he thrust into you again, harder this time, his need taking over. “You’re mine.”

The room was filled with the sound of your bodies colliding, the soft crackling of the fire the only other noise breaking the silence. His boots scraped against the floor as he shifted, driving into you with a relentless pace that left no room for doubt about his intentions. The weight of his body pinned you beneath him, the full force of his need pressing down on you.

His mind was filled with images—visions of you swollen with his child, your body heavy with the life he’d put inside you. The thought only spurred him on, fueling the dark hunger that had taken root within him. He could see it so clearly in his mind’s eye—a little girl, with your beauty and his cunning, a powerful witch who would carry on the legacy he had never thought he would pass on.

“You’ll give me a daughter,” he whispered hoarsely, the words a struggle, each one tinged with the pain it caused him to speak. But he had to say it, had to let you know the depths of his desire. His fingers dug into your skin as he pounded into you, the force of his thrusts sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “You’ll carry her, and she’ll be perfect…just like you.”

The idea of breeding you, of seeing you swollen with his child, made him almost desperate in his movements. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal precision that left you gasping, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to hold onto something as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

His breathing was labored, the strain of holding back the pain of speaking clear in the way his chest heaved, but he couldn’t stop now. His fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as he watched the effect it had on you, the way your body responded to him, the way you trembled beneath him. It was intoxicating, knowing that he had this power over you, that he could bring you to the brink of ecstasy with just a few well-placed touches.

“You’re going to be so beautiful,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “Round and full…carrying my child. My daughter.” His eyes were locked on yours, his gaze intense and unwavering as he thrust into you with a newfound urgency. “I’ll protect you…both of you…no one will ever hurt you.”

His words were rough, almost growled out between clenched teeth as the fire within him built to a fever pitch. He was close, so close, and he could feel you tightening around him, the telltale signs of your impending climax pushing him even further.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice low and commanding despite the strain. “I want to feel you…want to feel you fall apart around me.”

You were helpless to resist him, your body obeying his every command as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Your climax hit you hard, your entire body tensing as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Snape watched you, his gaze dark and intense, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you with a final, powerful thrust.

He could feel you convulsing around him, the tight, wet heat of your climax pulling him over the edge with you. He let out a low, guttural groan as he buried himself deep inside you, his release flooding you with a heat that seemed to burn through him.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the crackling of the fire, and the faint rustle of the sheets as Snape remained still above you, his chest rising and falling with the effort of catching his breath. His dark hair fell forward, obscuring his face as he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips rough and warm against your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispered one final time, his voice barely more than a breath. “And you’ll give me everything.”

His words hung in the air, a promise, a vow, as he slowly pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness almost jarring after the intensity of what had just passed between you. He laid down beside you, pulling you close to his chest, his long fingers tangling in your hair as he held you tightly, as if afraid to let you go.

In the silence that followed, Snape closed his eyes, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. But even as sleep began to take him, the thought of you carrying his child—his daughter—brought a small, almost imperceptible smile to his lips.

For the first time in years, Severus Snape allowed himself to hope for the future.

After the intensity of your shared moment had begun to settle, you found yourself recovering faster than Severus, whose chest still heaved as he fought to catch his breath. His dark eyes were closed, his pale face flushed with the remnants of passion, and his hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. For a brief moment, you simply watched him, your heart swelling with a deep, unspoken affection. It was in these quiet moments, after the storm of his desire had passed, that you felt closest to him—that you saw the man behind the formidable exterior, vulnerable and human.

You moved gently, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the scarred skin of his neck, your lips lingering just above the spot where Nagini's fangs had once pierced him. His eyes fluttered open at the sensation, and he looked down at you with a mixture of exhaustion and something that might have been tenderness, though he would never admit it aloud. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he might protest your ministrations, but you silenced him with a look, your eyes conveying a wordless command.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, your voice soft yet firm as you began to reach down, your hands deftly unfastening the boots that had remained stubbornly on his feet. Snape tried to protest, his brows knitting together in irritation at the thought of you taking care of him, but the protest died on his lips when you fixed him with a pointed stare.

“Be quiet, Severus,” you instructed gently, though there was no mistaking the steel behind your words. “Let me do this.”

For once, he complied, his lips pressing into a thin line as he allowed you to help him. It was an act of trust, a rare thing for him, and you didn’t take it lightly. You removed his boots with care, followed by the trousers that had bunched awkwardly around his ankles, your fingers brushing against his skin as you worked. Despite the lingering heat between you, your touch was tender, almost reverent, as you undressed him, revealing the lean, angular planes of his body that were usually hidden beneath his dark, forbidding robes.

When you were finished, you summoned your wand with a simple flick of your wrist, casting a quiet cleaning charm over the two of you. The warm, tingling sensation of the magic swept away the remnants of your passion, leaving you both feeling refreshed, though the intimate connection between you remained unbroken.

You returned to his side, snuggling against him with a contented sigh, your head resting on his chest as you traced lazy patterns on his skin with your fingertips. Snape’s arm wrapped around you almost instinctively, his long fingers threading through your hair as he held you close. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, a soothing rhythm that calmed your own.

Lifting your head slightly, you rested your chin on his chest, your eyes meeting his with a mischievous glint. “At this rate, we’ll have a baby soon,” you remarked with a teasing smile, your tone light despite the weight of your words. “You’ve practically made love to me every day since I mentioned you’d be a great father.”

A faint flush colored Snape’s cheeks, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you couldn’t be sure. His gaze flickered with a mix of emotions—desire, uncertainty, and something deeper, something almost fragile. You knew that the idea of fatherhood had taken root in his mind, had sparked a longing that he hadn’t fully realized until you had voiced it aloud.

“It… seems to have stuck in my head,” he admitted gruffly, his voice low and rough as he avoided your gaze, his fingers still gently tangled in your hair. “The idea of… breeding you, of putting babies inside you… it… it turns me on to no end.”

There was a vulnerability in his admission, a raw honesty that was rare for him, and it made your heart ache with affection for the man who had always kept his true self hidden beneath layers of cold detachment. You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing lightly over the scar on his neck as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Severus,” you whispered against his mouth, your voice filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. “And I’d be honored to carry your child… our child.”

Snape’s breath hitched at your words, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to find the truth in them. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost reverent. “You… would?”

You nodded, your smile widening as you rested your forehead against his, your heart swelling with love for the man who had once believed himself incapable of it. “Of course. There’s no one else I’d want to share this with… no one else I’d trust with this.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of Snape’s lips, and he let out a shaky breath as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a possessive tenderness that spoke volumes. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope—not just for the future, but for a future with you, a future where he could be the man, the husband, and the father he had never believed he could be.

As you lay together in the quiet of the old manor, the fire in the hearth casting a warm glow over your entwined bodies, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a peace that came from knowing that, despite everything, you had found each other. And as Snape’s hand drifted to rest on your abdomen, his fingers splayed over your skin in a gesture that was both protective and tender, you knew that the love you shared would be enough to carry you through whatever came next.

[apomaro-mellow]

Hospitals still weren't Eddie most favorite place to be, even though they had technically saved his life once. He didn't give doctors the credit though. No, he reserved that praise for his husband who had literally carried him through hell, holding his guts together.

But alas, he was still only human. And thus prone to human ailments. Which was why he was currently in a hospital bed, preparing for a tonsillectomy.

"Steve, my love, my muse", Eddie took his hand and kissed it. "Should I not return from this-"

"Oh shut up. It's a routine operation." Steve could tell he was being dramatic to cover up the fact that he was actually scared. "You'll be fine. In fact, I'm going down to the cafeteria right now. You're not getting just any ice cream. I'm gonna bring you back a whole sundae."

Steve looked to the rest of the band, who had come for moral support. "Watch him please. And don't let him fall to hysterics." He left out, really hoping he wouldn't come back to an Eddie in tears.

"Sooo", Grant started. "If you don't make it, who gets your house?"

Eddie's brow furrowed. "Uh, my husband, duh?"

"Okay, who gets your husband?", Gareth asked.

Eddie saw the cavalry arrive in the form of Steve's true soulmate. "Robiiiiin", he whined. "You have to protect Steve from these vultures", he hissed the last word.

"We're just trying to hash out who has dibs on Eddie's hot husband", Jeff said.

Robin pointed to herself. "I made it clear to Eddie when he proposed that should the marriage end, either naturally or by divorce, custody of Steve would revert back to me."

"Not exactly the answer I was looking for Bucks, but as long as you keep Steve out of another man's clutches, I won't haunt you from the grave."

"Actually, I plan on setting him up with the first wealthy guy he meets", Robin said. "Thanks to your fame, I've become accustomed to a certain lifestyle. And also, Steve doesn't know how to be single."

The other CC boys nodded sagely.

"All the more reason one of us should get him. We can take care of him", Grant said.

"I can't believe this. This is a goddamn coup!", Eddie shouted.

Steve returned, none the wiser to their conversation. "You won't believe this. The cafeteria has chocolate syrup AND nuts? Isn't that wild? You're gonna have the best sundae of your life, babe."

He took his seat right next to Eddie's bedside and kissed his forehead.

"Angel, we're surrounded by snakes and thieves", Eddie said deliriously.

"What are you talking about?", Steve asked.

Having only Eddie in his line of sight, he couldn't see the others behind him. So he didn't see Jeff making kissy faces, Gareth making a circle with his hand and sticking a finger through it repeatedly, or Grant making a V with his fingers and flapping his tongue between them.

"Those traitorous lechers covet what is mine. And not even Robin seeks to protect your virtue!", Eddie said, desperately reaching out for Steve.

Steve kept his voice even and calm, trying to soothe his husband from whatever delusion he was having when the doctor came in. This guy looked like he played a doctor on tv. Chiseled jaw with perfectly manicured facial hair.

"Good evening", he greeted.

"Hi", Steve said, voice a little breathy.

"Oh he's perfect", Robin said, reading her friend perfectly.

"I'm Dr. Morip, I'll be performing your operation today."

"Morip?", Eddie tilted his head.

"Yes, as in 'more ripped than you'." Then he flexed and busted out of his scrubs and swept Steve off his feet, ignoring the cries of the invalid on the bed.

Eddie was tossing and turning even as Steve shook his shoulders to wake him up.

"You were having a nightmare", Steve spoke softly in the dim lamp light of the hospital room. "Was it 86 again?"

"Steve!", Eddie clung to him as best as he could. "You didn't leave me for Dr. Morip!"

"Dr. Morip? Eddie, her name is Dr. Hudson. And she's married and in her sixties."

Everything caught up with Eddie as his brain became more lucid. He'd already had the operation. That had all been a dream. The tension released instantly as he realized he wasn't about to die on the table and Steve would be scooped up by opportunistic friends.

"You're mine, you know that?"

"Really? Is that why I'm hand-feeding you ice cream?", Steve teased, holding up a spoonful to Eddie's lips.

"I love you", Eddie said, voice muffled from the food and a little watery too.

"I know, you dope. Love you too."

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Full headcanons of MC being forced to attack M6 please 🙏🏽🙏🏽

The Arcana HCs: When MC is forced to attack M6

~ oh boy, anon friend, we're really not holding back today are we XD Hope you enjoy this sequel! ~

CW for non-gory injury descriptions, trauma disassociation, and intense guilt

-- to set the scene --

You don't know if you'll ever be able to forgive yourself.

In the moment, all you could feel was terror. The mage you were fighting rippled away as a haze of fear washed over your senses, and suddenly your worst nightmare was right next to you and readying itself to tear you limb from limb. You don't know how long you screamed and lashed out for. You don't know how many rules of fair fighting you abandoned to stay alive.

All you know is that, eventually, the terror subsides, and now you're looking at the pained face of your beloved as blood slowly trickles down their temple.

Julian

The first thing you feel is the way his arms are pinning you to him, effectively restraining you with a desperate hug

He's quietly talking to you, watching your eyes clear as you return to your senses, whispering "hey. hey, I'm here" over and over again until you're able to stop struggling and meet his gaze

You're almost relieved to see that you only managed to hit his head once, until he shakily loosens his grip and you can feel where your hands have angrily clawed and pummeled at his back

He's already nudging you to get back home, leaning a little heavily on your shoulder and telling you over and over again that it's not your fault, the threat's gone, nothing's hurt that can't be fixed

Refuses to take care of his own wounds until you've let him tend to yours and until you've started to believe that things will get better

It's hard not to let your heart break when he finally takes off his shirt and lets you get a look at his back. You tore it to shreds

Not to mention the cracked ribs that clearly make breathing hurt

He doesn't let you dwell on it, instead passing his doctor's tools back to you and talking you through the process of patching him up. Any apology is interrupted with "ah ah ah, my dear, doctors don't say sorry when they're helping people. It's not your fault."

Beyond the initial fear of losing you to the madness, he's not shaken up by your capacity to hurt him. If anything, once he's healed up, he starts praising your ferocity whenever he can

Asra

They're a little ways away from you when you regain lucidity, one shaking arm extended to hold up the magic barrier you were just struggling against. They look terrified - and heartbroken

As soon as you stop fighting and your legs begin to give out, he's sprinting the several feet over to catch you. There's a stream of apologies and reassurances leaving his mouth as he reaches you

"It's okay - it's okay - I'm so sorry, it's going to be okay - I'm sorry I didn't stop it sooner. Just hold on, my love, it'll all be okay -"

Doesn't want to let go of you. Mostly because they're injured and exhausted too, but also because it's easier not to let you see how badly they're hurt if you're both hiding in each other's necks

Won't let you look at him until he heals you first

When you do, you have a to keep a strong face, or you know they'll cover it up and take care of it themself. You didn't get through the barrier, but it seems your powerful magic attacks did. Effectively

The arm that was holding up the shield has bruises and cuts all over it. There's angry red lines reaching from his elbow across his chest where you apparently sent lightning dancing over it

They let you heal them because they know it'll help you, but they won't talk about such a painful thing openly. They don't want you to feel like you have to apologize. The nightmares think otherwise

When he does talk about it, it was seeing you so scared of him, like he was a threat to you. Like he'd hurt you. It's his greatest fear

Nadia

You open your eyes to find yourself at the other end of her drawn sword, the blade carefully hovering at an angle where only the flat of it will strike you. Her eyes look wide and scared - vulnerable

You can tell she's been moving defensively this whole time because she doesn't take advantage of your sudden pause. Rather, she watches you cautiously as you sink to the ground

She wants to believe it's over, but she's not putting her sword away until she knows for certain that it's done. Prove you're back to her

Can't bring herself to touch you or to let you touch her until you're both finished talking. You need to tell her what happened to make you act like that. She needs you to know what she did and why

She did everything she could not to hurt you. She promises

Doesn't hold it against you at all. She knew from the moment your eyes went hazy that you weren't acting of your own volition, and she feels truly sorry for the frightening thing you must've endured

But that doesn't change how startling it was to be on the receiving end of your fear and aggression. She needs to know you're okay. She needs to know she's okay. She needs to know it'll stay that way

Has a Palace medic tend to your wounds separately, but does eventually let you use healing magic on her once she's comfortable with your touch again (though that might take a few hours at least)

Insists on holding you close that night and the following evenings. She knows she's safe with you and refuses to feel otherwise

Muriel

The more your vision clears, the more your terror changes to horror. He did nothing to stop you. He did nothing to stop you

The blood trickling down his temple meets with several gashes on his jaw and neck, there's jagged gouges across his chest and shoulders, and bruises already blooming across his stomach

And yet he's giving you the gentlest look, reaching out to you slowly the same way you've seen him calm wounded beasts in the forest. You've still done much more damage than a scared rabbit

Doesn't say much, just catches you by the shoulders when you start to fall and carefully cradles your cheek when you start to cry

You don't realize how much trauma he's fighting until you've made it back to the hut and the fine tremble in his hands hasn't left

And it's because he's so busy fighting his own awful memories that he accidentally shuts you out, not saying a word, not hearing a word, turning away after setting you down so you can't see him numbly dab at his wounds and try to get the blood out of his sight

Doesn't start to break until you start to break. Somewhere in his mind is a conviction that he's not allowed to feel bad about this because he's had worse, and your tears are his permission

Healing really begins late that night as he holds you in his lap by the fire, learning to let his own tears fall while you tend to his injuries and lament the fact that Muriel didn't protect the person most precious to you - himself

Portia

When the haze lifts, you're flat on your back, all of Portia's weight on your middle while she pins your hands to the ground above your head. The worst part is that she's openly sobbing

You can feel throbbing aches and pains all over your body where you know she fought back and you've never been so happy to be injured in your life. Sadly, you still did a fair amount of damage

So relieved to see you stop struggling and recognize her that she collapses into hugging you and telling you it's over and it's okay and she loves you so much and she's so glad you're back

Furious at the mage that pulled this kind of trick on you, to the point that she can't even hear you bring it up without immediately venting all her anger at them and all the things they deserve

This accidentally makes it impossible for her to accept any kind of apology from you, because to her you're a victim. (which, you are, but that doesn't change the injuries your hands gave her)

Quick to try to cheer both of you up, dragging you home to her cottage, pulling out her first aid kit, and handing you what you need to patch her up while she gets started on you. It'll be okay

Starts processing it pretty openly the next day, at which point you're finally able to share more of how you felt through the whole thing and make the apologies you want to make (she forgives you)

There's a short period of time where you're both extra careful about consensual touch, but all in all, she bounces back quickly

Lucio

You can see his golden arm up and guarding his head while he readies his human hand to push you away again. His gaze is scared and worried, and yet vacant enough to know he's acting on instinct

Stays frozen as you fall, still mentally struggling to realize it's over, before finally collapsing next to you and reaching out to pull you into a hug. You're back. You're here. He's so glad you're here

Shaking and terrified that everything's going to fall apart after this. He just saw you more scared and angry than he's ever seen you before - as scared and angry as he's seen others often look at him

He knows deep down you were under a spell that made you see something else, but there's a worry present in his brain that this was actually you awakening to your true feelings about him

It doesn't help that he doesn't remember what all he did to fight back. Years of combat experience and battlefields kicked in, and all his thoughts went on hold while his body went on autopilot

And the last time someone he loved fought to kill him - well - it was his mother. That did not end well

He can't bring himself to care about injuries until he knows you won't leave him, until he knows you're going to work through this with him. Until he knows you can still love each other

Once you're reconciled and bandaged up, he's in his element. The amount of tender attention you're showing him is feeding his soul

Still subconsciously keeps his guard up around you, for a while

[distort-opia]

I JUST FOUND OUT THAT JOKER AND SUPERMAN SWAPED BODIES?? (it's a very yaoi plot wtf) HOW IS IT POSSIBLE?? HOW DID BRUCE REACT??WHY DOES IT SEEM LIKE SUPERMAN AND JOKER HAVE A KIND OF UNCLASSIFIABLE TENSION BETWEEN THE PAST FEW YEARS?? 😭 (sorry, just wanted to know if you know which comic that happened in, you don't need to answer the rest, XOXO)

Hah. Yeah that is a thing that happened, in General Mills Presents: Justice League (2011) #9. Fortunately we do see how Bruce reacts, because Bruce swaps bodies with Lex Luthor. It's a fun little issue with some interesting tidbits:

Love how Bruce is like "Joker's got ADHD on steroids, my guy. He can handle your powers." But also, seeing as Joker had no issue with controlling Superman's body, he could've easily done more damage-- but he only chooses to do some ultimately harmless pranks.

Actually, there's been more Superjokes crumbs recently, most notably in Action Comics. In a story arc that has a magic spell turn everyone into a Bizarro version of themselves, Joker is obviously... the only truly sane one left, because he got reversed. Clark goes to him for help in order to stay lucid, to be able to fight Bizarro within his own mind. He dies over and over (a cheeky reference to Emperor Joker, methinks), and seemingly Bizarro has won, when Joker pretty much saves the whole planet by talking Clark back into sanity:

Action Comics (2016) #1063

Did I mention this is some of the most nuanced Joker writing I've seen in recent years? :)

It's all very sad, Clark even calls Bizarro Joker a "friend" afterwards.

I do agree there's a kind of tension between Superman and Joker, simply because they're both important people to Bruce. There's similar narrative tension between Joker and Dick, for instance. Or Joker and Selina. All of them play different roles in Bruce's life, but something Dick, Selina and Clark have in common is tethering Bruce to the light; keeping him sane, helping him walk the line between the best and the worst of himself. It's obviously interesting to put them in relation to Joker, who's... well, trying to make Bruce worse, but also representative of Bruce's darkness, a twisted mirror of him. This is why the premise of Injustice: Gods Among Us is so good, too-- it's literally the product of a Superbatjokes triangle. Bruce thinks Clark is so inherently good and infallible in that goodness, that it pisses Joker off and makes him jealous, so he goes out of his way to prove that Superman can be broken. So then Superman kills Joker, who Bruce cared about, even "loved" (to quote what Clark himself accuses him of). And Bruce can't get over it, despite having excused murders from loved ones before, being quite unreasonable in his treatment of Clark and arguably pushing him further into becoming the worst version of himself... when he could've tried to help. (It kinda sends me that Batman/Catwoman also had Selina kill Joker. But only when Bruce was dead because otherwise Bruce would've been mad. Do you see the pattern here, lol.)

Sorry, ended up rambling. But yeah, Clark and Joker have had some interesting interactions for sure!

[jymwahuwu]

ramblings navigation (xianzhou)

These are a collection of my replies, ramblings, and thirsts content. Some were not individually warned because were just shared within the blog at the time. Here's a lot of DARK CONTENT, including but not limited to:

yandere, non-con/dub-con, harassment, breaking into reader's home, coercion, abuse of power, forced pregnancy, etc.

Please note that these may be very short / sweet / too dark. Be careful not to get triggered.

Jing Yuan:

yan!jing yuan who takes… provocative pictures of himself to send to reader, but the caption is just so wholesome

what if we exit Xianzhou luofu to lets say another Xianzhou ship

yandere! jing yuan is actually tolerant

What if darling was a hybrid or something (Lion,leopard, something related to his pet)

Jing Yuan is definitely lucid as a yandere but acts like he isn't

Jing Yuan’s requirements for a good wife

Taking a nap with Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan appreciates your obedience

what would happen if Jing Yuan's hologram and your hologram fuck?

jing yuan celebrates your birthday

jing yuan keeps harassing you even if you change your phone number

praise him for being handsome and beautiful

will jing yuan allow you to visit your relatives?

what if darling was a hybrid or something (Lion,leopard, something related to his pet)

need Jing Yuan to sit down and tell me what he expects from me

Why does Jing Yuan want darling who likes to do housework, when there are servants in the general's mansion?

you need jing yuan to be your "fake boyfriend" to avoid the harasser

big data partner matching service

Jing Yuan with a darling who’s in charge of a civilization

what if Jing Yuan wronged darling in the past

If we are stubborn and talk back often, Jing Yuan has a "special response"

jing yuan and darling who don’t care if he is yandere

obsessed jing yuan x idol reader + additional descriptions

CW: yandere, non-con, kidnapping, recordings without permission

Use debt to stop some of Jing Yuan’s clingy behaviors

Jing Yuan may have posted your missing person notices all over the streets of Xianzhou

taking advantage of the fact that you don't understand the Xianzhou language and characters

how unethical and inappropriate it may be to fall in love with a short-lived species

jingrenheng trio & unconventional darlings that might suit them

Darling refuses Jing Yuan because she already had a lover

yandere hsr men and their low self-esteem darling (Jing Yuan, Dan Feng, Blade, Dan Heng)

Jing Yuan found you holding a cat cake

Jing Yuan is the type of man that will fuck us in the living room sofa and then proceed to bring us back to the bedroom while still inside us

series (living with jing yuan):

jing yuan eats ice cream with us in summer

jing yuan can put us on his shoulders

general is choosing beautiful flowers for us at the florist

jing yuan supervises you to complete jing yuan x you fanfic creation

series (harassment):

jing yuan masturbates to you while you sleep

about underwear

jing yuan slowly molests a beta darling

jing yuan does something shameless and sweet and we just can’t do anything about it

jing yuan fantasizing over reader eating a popsicle

received dick photo from jing yuan

series (thirsts about updated plot):

darling from Interastral Peace Corporation was forced to serve jing yuan

CW: dub-con, abuse of power

lustful heliobu possessed you

Blade / Yingxing:

blade’s duality

quietly create a pair of "couple swords"

jingrenheng trio & unconventional darlings that might suit them

teasing Yingxing for being an old man

Jing Yuan "stole" Yingxing's apprentice

yandere hsr men and their low self-esteem darling (Jing Yuan, Dan Feng, Blade, Dan Heng)

Dan Heng:

want him to tie you up and humiliate

dan heng wants you to help keep warm

yandere Dan Heng noticing that his darling started to refuse eating for her freedom

Dan Heng use his tail to express more love language

traditional darling hopes that dan heng can follow traditional etiquette and hold a wedding

yandere hsr men and their low self-esteem darling (Jing Yuan, Dan Feng, Blade, Dan Heng)

mating season for vidyadhara has returned

Dan Feng:

yandere!Dan Heng and isekai!immortal!hydra!human form!reader

Dan Feng wants you to wear more conservative clothes

about phoenix

Dan Feng and his moon rabbit darling

Dan Feng taming/disciplining a 'savage' draconic darling

jingrenheng trio & unconventional darlings that might suit them

Multiple characters:

What if reader who's "causal" clothes are revealing?

you are dan feng’s immortal concubine (dan feng, jing yuan and ying xing share you together)

genshin darling transported to hsr universe

crossdressing!reader in the military

CW: yandere, non-con, sexist, forced pregnancy, war (mentioned but not described), (implied) gangbang

The impact of blade, jing yuan and dan feng on your social life

their kinks

genshin! darling has tight clothes to wear

dan feng and jing yuan’s parenting style

yandere hsr men and their low self-esteem darling (Jing Yuan, Dan Feng, Blade, Dan Heng)

Dan Feng and his poor little Vidyadhara!Darling that became his "test subject" for copulation experiments

[yanderes-galore]

Scenario with platonic yandere Itachi and a daughter darling he never knew about? Like, maybe he was yandere for her mother too and she escaped, gave birth in secret, and then the two of them meet for the first time years later on not so friendly terms.

Sure! Just letting everyone know I am not finished Naruto so I apologize if I get Itachi's character wrong in anyway. I watched a "The Life Of..." video and made the plot of this take place at any time.

A/N: UGH, Now I really want to see an interaction of Itachi's Daughter and Sasuke meeting!!! They'd probably be the Itachi hate club, ngl. "We collectively want this guy dead" kinda vibe.

Sins of The Father

Yandere! Platonic! Itachi Uchiha with Daughter! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Guilt, Lucid yandere, Manipulation, Angst, Itachi was yandere for your mother, Slight mature themes, Overprotective behavior, Kidnapping implied, Forced relationship (Your mother)/companionship (You).

Itachi had a feeling you wouldn't like him when he met you. He's a man who has done many hurtful things to those he loves in order to protect them. He really should've stayed at a distance and continued to observe others without interfering.

But your mother had driven him mad.

Itachi had once had a girlfriend before his many sins, yet when she passed he had found a new love. Your mother had managed to catch Itachi's heart. Even though he should've stayed away...

He couldn't.

He always wanted the best for her. He wanted to protect and love your mother. He wanted a family, to be her one and only.

He had even gotten close to the point of bedding her, a guilty pleasure he knew he shouldn't have indulged in. However, he and your mother were originally in love. He loved every second of it...

Then she learned the truth.

Your mother had learned he slaughtered his original clan. That he was a criminal. No matter how much he promised to protect her, to love her, she hated him.

But he kept her to himself no matter what.

Itachi felt bad deep down. It was a similar feeling to when he had to leave Sasuke to his own devices. Those he loved resented him... that was his curse.

He promised your mother the world. It was as though Itachi was searching for redemption within your mother. Unfortunately, while she loved him once...

She'd never love him again.

One day after a mission he came home to see her gone. His love had run from him, yet Itachi didn't give chase. He knew it was probably for the best. Even if his heart ached it was probably deserved.

Years pass by and Itachi feels his heart clench. He's stoic but he can't help it when he sees a mirror of his love in front of him. You have such angry eyes...

Your hate reminds him of Sasuke....

Itachi couldn't bring himself to fight you. Even after all of his sins he stays a pacifist. He just knows you're the daughter of his love.

Itachi wishes he knew his love was pregnant. He knows she never would've told him, yet he would want to help you the best he can to grow. However... without any of his help...

You stand in front of him, a strong Kunoichi, a dangerous hate burning in your eyes.

When you attack and he defends, Itachi can see your eyes clearly. At some point in your life you had even received your Sharingan. His heart throbbed for a moment, you really were his daughter...

Yet your mother was most likely deceased.

He stuck to the defensive when you attacked him. You had to have known you were related. Your mother must have told you about him....

He couldn't tell if you were attacking him because he was Akatsuki or because he was your father. It didn't seem to matter to you. He could tell from your rage you just wanted him gone.

It hurts... yet he's used to it.

He hates that you had to meet like this. Even when he wasn't around you, he still managed to harm someone he loved. For that reason... you don't deserve anymore pain.

Itachi was careful to only use Genjutsu when fighting you. He knew he should run from you, silence his emotions and leave. Although... you wouldn't let him leave...

He didn't want to leave you either.

Itachi whittled down your strength slowly. Even though you were his daughter, your power could not compare to his. He wondered if you ever met Sasuke... or what you both would do if you ever did....

When Itachi sensed your strength leave you, he made things quick. The older Uchiha is quicker than you, restraining you with a mix of tools and Genjutsu. He can see your eyes widen, trying your best to read him. You may even fear death.

Only for Itachi to find himself tugging the restraints to pull you closer.

He can see you freeze when he holds your face up, looking into your eyes. He observes your Sharingan, a thoughtful gaze in his eyes. Then... a ghost of a smile is on his face.

"I'm sorry we never properly met." He sighs, "Your hate for me is justified, In fact you'd get along with my brother just fine."

You stare at the older Uchiha, he can see your hate simmer for a moment. He sighs softly, releasing his grip on your chin to sit beside you. You're all he has to remember his love by....

"I never meant to harm you or your mother." Itachi admits, pain evident in his eyes. He's slowly dying yet life still managed to give him you. "I wish I could've been a father to you... I'd love you forever."

He finds himself tapping your forehead, amused at how tired and shocked you look.

"In fact..." He whispers, ignoring the ache in his heart. "I love you now. That will never change."

"You don't know me." You hiss, snake venom in your tone.

"I know..." Itachi murmurs. "But I loved your mother."

"I'm not her. She didn't love you." You respond back, Itachi going silent. He wasn't delusional. He knew you spoke the truth.

But he hugged you anyway, even if you hated it.

"I'm glad I met you." Itachi sighs, proud of you even if he only ever hurt you. "You're all I have to remember what I could've had."

You almost feel bad for him. Itachi didn't cry, but his tone was depressing. You could barely believe you were related....

Before you're able to say anything else, be that something spiteful or genuine... Itachi knocks you out. He makes it quick, carefully catching you when you slump against him in your restraints. Itachi is a man of many sins...

Yet he couldn't leave you... not when you brought up memories of more pleasant times.

"I'm sorry..." He apologizes to your limp body, holding you close. "Please allow me to stay like this a bit longer, my daughter."

It's then Itachi stays still, embracing you tightly...

If only things were different... if only he didn't hurt all those he loved.

If only he stayed away from your mother.

[faistoconnors]

artrick wisdom teeth? like how cute would it be having them both fumbling trying to manage reader’s loopy shenanigans on their way back home from the dentist office, and then a little cuddle after !!

Teeth - A. Donaldson & P. Zweig x Reader

Word Count: 827

Warnings: General mentions of dentistry, confessions under the influence (kind of), cuddles, tooth-rotting fluff (pun intended)

You hadn’t necessarily wanted them to come along. But your two best friends were, of course, incredibly insistent on it. How could they leave you alone during this time? You needed someone to drive you, someone to look after you, someone to wipe the spit off your chin. (You’d smacked Patrick’s arm at that one.)

“Let us take care of you,” Art had said, and Patrick nodded right along with it. 

How could you resist them, really? When Art stared at you with those eyes, and Patrick had a hand resting on your thigh. 

That was how you’d ended up in the passenger seat of Patrick’s car, babbling about anything and everything that came to your mind. First, when you’d entered the waiting room and found the pair, you’d stumbled straight into Art’s arms. 

“Look at you,” you’d slurred, staring up at him with squinted eyes and a bright smile. “Pointy.” You traced your finger along the line of his jaw, before sliding it to the tip of his nose, then his cheekbones. 

When you’d finally made it to the car, the tears began. For a few moments, neither of them could figure out what on earth you were talking about. It was almost incoherent, so Patrick reached a hand over the console, rubbing your back while he got the car started up. 

“-jus’ so happy,” you sobbed, and Art coughed out a laugh. “Y’r both so nice to me! So nice, so nice,” came your distraught voice, mumbling around the obstructions in your mouth. 

“Oh, baby, of course we are,” Patrick said, stifling his own chuckle. “You’re our friend.”

That somehow set you off even more. You were inconsolable, hunched over so far Art was worried the seatbelt wouldn’t work, crying into your hands. 

“No!” you whimpered, and Art moved so he was sitting in the middle seat, reaching forward from the back to place a hand on your shoulder. 

“What? What's the matter?” Art tried, but it only seemed to upset you further.

“Everything! Everything,” came your cry. “Don't wanna be friends.” You hiccuped after you spoke, giving a quiet sob.

There was a long pause, Patrick glancing over at you from the road, Art staring outright.

“What’d you mean, baby?” Patrick queried, and you smacked your hand against your leg. 

“I want- I want more, I want you. Want you both.”

And the car was silent again. Finally, Patrick pulled into the driveway of your apartment building, and both of the men helped you slowly up to your apartment. You curled up in bed, and the two convened outside of the door.

“D’you think she actually meant it?” Art was the first to speak, glancing through the crack in the door to look at your sleeping form. Patrick sighed, scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I dunno, man, what do you think?”

When you woke a few hours later, you were lucid, and sore. And also very, very embarrassed. You heard quiet chatter from the kitchen, but you couldn't bring yourself to get up and go to them.

Still, your bladder said otherwise, and you stood, hobbling to the bathroom. When you emerged, the brunet and the blond were sitting on your bed, looking up at you expectantly. 

“I am-” you began, but winced. Speaking hurt, quite badly.

Patrick jumped up, moving to grab a bottle of pain meds and a glass of water, and you took it eagerly. Sitting down on the bed between them, you sighed, and let your head fall to your hands.

“I'm sorry,” you muttered, trying not to think too hard about it. 

There was an abrupt laugh from beside you, and you felt a hand on your back.

“Did you mean it?” Art asked, while Patrick continued to crack himself up. You frowned, staying frozen like you were for a moment, before Patrick’s fingers were around your wrists, tugging your hands away from your face. 

“I- yeah, I guess,” you whispered, still avoiding the boys’ gazes. There was a beat of silence, and then Art practically wrapped himself around you, Patrick doing the same a few moments later. 

“Baby.” Patrick sounded near exasperated, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? How long we’ve both wanted this?”

Art hummed his agreement, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. It was entirely overwhelming, but also so, so nice. How couldn’t it be, when both of your favorite people were confirming they felt the same way about you?

It only took a few moments before they had leaned you back on the pillows, Art’s arm slung over your stomach and Patrick’s around your shoulders. They were like your own personal weighted blankets, and both of them ran hot like a furnace. 

You felt two kisses against your cheeks, and then, the room was quiet and still. Soon enough, both boys had fallen asleep, and you were soon to follow.