#( yes i simply wanted an excuse to use this gif )

[stereotypcs]

open starter ›› kimmy's birthday celebration.

his  eyes  rolled  before  he  snatched  the tall glass, filled to the brim with alcohol. it was by no means anywhere close to the toughest challenge he'd accepted but difficult or not, he wasn't going to turn it down. raising the glass to his lips, its contents were quickly drained in a matter of seconds, a second sip unecessary. a satisfied grin plastered across his face as he loudly set the empty glass down.  ❝ told you it was easy. ❞

[entitled-fangirl]

Direwolf.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan's direwolf is spoiled by the reader.

A/n: Based on ask! Also I'm running a fever, so I'm praying this makes sense

Masterlist

.....................................

"Perhaps it was an idiotic thought from the start," Cregan mutters as he views the sight before him. 

His sweet wife sat on the ground of the dining hall, lavishing their dire wolf in affection. 

Well, Cregan's direwolf.

Well, it was supposed to be Cregan's. 

He had found the wolf not long before he became the Lord of Winterfell. Now, after almost seven years with the animal, their bond was inseparable. 

So when Cregan's wife joined the mix, Cregan was nervous.

But she had a love for Dark Night, as did the large beast for her. 

"I find it sweet," the Maester said with a light smile. "It is important the two get along, isn't it? Better than fighting for your attention, I'd wager."

"That's the thing," Cregan sighed. "Neither of them needs my attention. They're content on their own."

The maester chuckled, looking at the sight of the woman and wolf before excusing himself.

Cregan walked to the pair, holding his hand out to his wife. "C'mon, sweet girl."

Y/n looked up with a smile and took his hand, brushing off dust from her skirt as she did so. 

Dark Night let out a low coo, sitting up and nuzzling at her thigh.

"Seems I'll have to fight for even a moment with you," Cregan smiled as he tucked his face into her neck.

She let out a soft giggle. "Don't be so upset, Cregan. You know you always have my heart."

He chuckled with her, pulling away and leading her to the dining table, pulling out her chair before sitting across from her. 

The two talked of mundane things as usual: their day, the problems of the North, ideas they had, anything and everything. 

Finally, Cregan tilted his head with a furrowed brow. "What are you doing?"

She looked at him with wide eyes, as if caught in a horrid lie. "N…nothing."

He simply stared, his hands resting atop the table. "Are you feeding Dark Night under the table?"

She reaches to pick something off of her plate, lowering it below the table. "No?"

He leaned back in his chair with an incredulous look and a chuckle, "You little minx. He eats enough, you know that."

"Well, yes, but," she gave a shrug. "He just looks at me so pitifully, I cannot say no."

She reached up to grab more, but Cregan stopped her, "Don't."

She paused, "Cregan-"

"-Do not spoil that damn dog. He is fine."

Before long, Dark Night's large head weighed down on Cregan's lap from under the table, a longing look in the animal's eyes. 

Cregan looked down at him with a tight lip and a shaking head, "Your methods may work on our sweet girl, but you will get nothing from me."

The wolf nuzzled in more, trying to get Cregan's attention still. 

Finally, Cregan waved his hand out at the wolf, "Get. Go on. You have already been fed today."

Dark Night accepted the defeat and left the dining hall, an obvious annoyance in the way he walked. 

"Now," Cregan sighed. "Let us try to speak again."

…

A few hours later, Cregan entered their chambers in pure exhaustion. 

The day had been longer than he had hoped, and he wanted nothing more than time with his wife.

Seeing her curled up on the sofa next to the fireplace warmed something inside of him. 

He came from behind, leaning down to place a kiss on the crown of her head. 

She hummed, looking up from her book. "Hello, lovely."

A small whine sounded in the room.

Cregan's brow furrowed as he scanned the room for his wolf. 

"Why is he on the bed?"

She leaned forward, looking over her shoulder to see that the wolf had indeed found a comfortable place on their bed. She shrugged, "He was there when I got here. I didn't have the heart to move him."

Cregan gripped her shoulders from behind, gently massaging them. "I've had this wolf years, and never has he even been allowed the notion that being upon the bed was allowed."

She smiled as she looked over her shoulder at Cregan this time, "He's been so wonderful today. Let him stay."

He leaned down to her ear, a teasing smile across his face, "Why should I?"

She let out a hum. "Please, Cregan."

"Please what?" He teased.

Her head leaned back against the back of the sofa, "You know what you're doing, Lord Stark."

He smirked, leaning up and moving to the bed, "Up."

Dark Night lifted his head to look at Cregan.

Y/n immediately gets off of the couch, "Cregan."

"I mean it," he complains. "That dog cannot run this castle." 

"He's not," she comes as she moved to Dark Night, petting his fur.

"My love, he-" Cregan froze completely, eyeing the dog. "A collar? You've bought him a collar?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Perhaps."

Cregan crosses his arms, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as he bit the inside of his cheek in thought. "Gods, you're gonna be the death of me."

"He's being so sweet, Cregan. Look at him!"

Cregan looked down, seeing his sweet wife practically laying on the large animal.

He shook his head, a large smile coming across his face. "As long as there is still room for your husband."

"Oh, always, Cregan."

…

Cregan woke up in the night, pulling at the blanket that would not move. He leaned up on his elbows, seeing the giant dire wolf that laid on his wife's feet, holding the blanket down underneath him. 

Cregan heaved a great sigh, but inside, he really didn't mind.

He was glad the two greatest things in his life cared for each other. It made his occasional absence to the Wall less guilt wracked. 

He knew they'd keep each other warm until he came back.

.....................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath, @yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[happy74827]

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

[b0nten]

HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...Dean Wanting You To Stay At The Bunker

Pairing: Dean x reader

____________

“Are you sure Sam is okay with this?” you asked, turning to Dean as he tossed your duffel on a bed. He nodded as he put your other bag in a chair at the small desk in the corner.

“Of course. My room is right next door if you need anything,” said Dean, smiling for a moment before looking almost nervous. “Need anything?”

“No, no. Just...thanks. I never expected you to actually let me crash for a few days,” you said. Dean shuffled on his feet but kept quiet. “I can help cook and clean-”

“No! No you don't have to,” said Dean, waving you off. “If you want to...hang out and relax for a few days, that'd make me the happiest thing really.”

“Well I do like when you're happy,” you said, giving him a kind smile back.

“No rush, stay as long as you want,” said Dean backing out of the room. “Stay a week or two or more. We, uh…”

“Want another hunting partner?” you asked skeptically but Dean’s face showed his eagerness. “You're serious?”

“Stay two weeks, see how you like it and let me know then,” said Dean, looking a bit more relaxed now. You simply nodded, even if you'd already made up your mind.

“Dean you got blood all over your good jeans!” you shouted from the laundry room a few weeks later.

“I'll get a new pair! Don't bother trying to get it out!” he shouted back from the library.

An hour later he was in his room and looked more than a little surprised to see you holding his jeans in the doorway, looking as new as ever.

“Are you a witch?” he asked as he took them from you.

“Yes, I used my super powers of detergent and stain remover,” you said plopping down on his bed, leaving him to get the rest of his clothes from the basket. You heard him hesitate and chuckled. “Finally found my lucky shirt.”

“I uh…”

“You hid it behind the dryer,” you said sitting up. “Now I wonder why that is?”

“You were going to leave,” he said. “I wanted you to stay and you don't go anywhere without that shirt.”

“Do you even know why it's my lucky shirt, Dean?” you asked smiling up at him as he sat on the bed beside you. “I was wearing it when I met the guy who has a massive crush on me. I like him too so it's worked out pretty great so far. Too bad I'm still waiting for him to make his move.”

“You don't hang out with anyone except for us really,” said Dean your head nodding that he was on the right track. “Is it Cas?”

“He's human,” you said, looking up at him with big eyes.

“Is it Sam?” he asked and you felt for the poor man.

“Is it the guy sitting right next to me?” you said with a tilt of your head and a smirk. “Yes, it is in fact that lovable guy that made up excuse after excuse to get me to stay when I never wanted to go anywhere at all,” you said.

“I left your shirt there this morning so you'd find it, ya know,” he said, you taking a turn to raise an eyebrow. “I wanted to see if you'd really take off running when I asked you out for lunch.”

“I'd love to, Dean,” you said.

“Run for it or go on a date with me?” he asked, some of his cocky charm coming through.

“I got my lucky shirt back. I can finally go on that date with you,” you said. “It hasn't let me down so far. I might even get a second one.”

“Maybe I'll just hold on to this in case it all goes horribly wrong so you stay with me anyways,” said Dean, lifting it out of the basket.

“I'm already with you,” you said, Dean’s hand brushing against yours before resting on it comfortably. “But you can keep it. It's been pretty lucky for you too.”

_______________

[surftrips]

HEADCANONS — FLIRTY ACADEMIC RIVALS w/ CORIOLANUS SNOW

you're not sure when the rivalry started, but for as long as you could remember, you were always sat next to coriolanus snow in class, whether by assignment or choice. neither of you actually hated the other, it was more a friendly competition born out of your strong feelings for each other that neither of you trusted yourselves with, so you resorted to teasing and playful mockery.

both of you care very much about your academics, snow on his way to win the plinth prize, and you, eager to impress your parents and secure a job in the capitol. when you put two highly ambitious and motivated students next to each other, it was no wonder you were always top of your classes. some people called you the power couple, but you denied the latter half of that term.

"where's your little boyfriend?" sejanus had asked one day. "how many times do i have to tell you, he's not my boyfriend!" you responded. "tell me then, why haven't either of you dated anyone?"

the easy answer to that question, and the one you always resorted to was that you simply had no time for dating right now. never mind the fact that you've been using that excuse for your whole life.

corio, on the other hand, never denied the dating rumors. not because there was any truth to them, but more so to annoy you. "corio, did you tell professor crane we were going to formal together?" "yes, what's wrong?" he feigned innocence. "what's wrong? you told him we were going together! as in boyfriend girlfriend!" "i still don't see the issue."

most days, he drove you crazy. and he probably wasn't even aware of his affect on you. shoulders touching when reading a textbook together, quickly pulling away his hand when your fingers went to turn the page at the same time, pretending not to be flustered on the rare occasion he gave you a compliment.

other times, it was nice to have him sat by your side. for example, the nights when you stayed up late studying often led to you dozing off in class, leaning on corio's shoulder until he gently nudged you off, "hey, sleepyhead. what time did you go to sleep?" he would tease.

the best classes were the ones you took with a professor that you both mutually hated— you could hardly control your laughter when he whispered a remark in your ear, or the shivers that he sent down your spine from being in such close proximity to you.

one time, he found you hiding in a corner of the library after receiving a particularly bad grade on a test. you had abruptly left him in the hallway, claiming that you had an "important phone call" to take, but of course, he knew you well enough to know that something was wrong and you needed space. thirty minutes later, he was pulling you off the floor and taking you out to ice cream.

"my girl," he said, wiping off your tear-stained cheeks. "what can i do to make you feel better?" you had wanted to kiss him right then and there, to resolve the tension between you two once and for all, but you didn't want your first kiss to be under these circumstances.

life in the capitol was not as glamorous as everyone else made it out to be. you faced an immense pressure to perform well, uphold the reputation of your family, and be successful, and most of the time you felt alone and exhausted. but coriolanus was always there for you, when things were good, and especially when things got bad.

[changetyre]

Hii! If you are avaliable can you write something about carlos and max? Or can be just max it can be smut👀

Thank you already i love your fanfics!!<33

On a high II Carlos Sainz x Norris!Reader x Max Verstappen

SUMMARY: Partying after your brother's first win was always something you'd dreamed about but getting seduced by your brothers best friends wasn't something you would've ever imagined.

WARNINGS: **18+***, almost smut.

A/N: Sorry it took so long and that it's short I'm really trying to get out of a writer's block and not push myself to write more than I can.

"YES LANDON!" You laughed next to your brother as the big sign with his misspelled name, sparklers, and more bottles approached him earning the attention of the entire club as if your brother didn't have it already.

"How the fuck did they mess that up?" One of Lando's friends asked next to him.

Through the darkness, flashing lights, and the light buzz in your mind it was hard to tell who had spoken.

"CHUG CHUG CHUG!!" You saw as another bottle found its way above your brother's lips, its content being poured into his mouth. He was gonna have the biggest hangover of his life.

"I'm going to the toilet-" You said to your brother. Knowing he'd get worried if he lost sight of you despite his drunken state.

"I can come-" Lando was about to get up but stumbled as soon as he attempted.

"I'll look after her mate." The current world champion Lando was close friends with appeared out of seemingly nowhere, his arm wrapping around your waist causing a sudden warmth to pool in your lower stomach.

"Ye...yeah okay." Lando seemed satisfied enough as Max and you walked away, Max making sure you were protected from all the flailing arms and drunken bodies.

The short walk to the bathroom was daunting, you could feel Max's presence extremely close and something told you there was more behind his intentions of simply accompanying you.

Your mind would've kept spinning through the ideas of what he might be thinking if it wasn't for a second pair of eyes set on you. These eyes you knew better, having been victim to them before but who were you to resist them.

"Going somewhere?" His thick accent pierced your ears, you felt the way Max's fingers tightened on your waist slightly.

"Just need the bathroom-" You hated how weak your voice sounded but having those dark brown eyes examine you like he was ready to eat you up at any minute was more daunting than you'd remembered.

"And you need him for that?" Your breath hitched as Carlos closed the already short distance between you, his lips looked so delectable to you so close.

"She sure does." Max's voice spoke behind you reminding you of his presence as he too stepped closer, you could feel him completely as he pressed behind you.

Suddenly the need to pee had disappeared and replaced by the feeling of being small and powerless pressed between them, which you loved for some twisted reason.

"Then maybe I can lend another pair of hands?" Carlos whispered into your ear as he started trailing kisses down your neck.

You felt pathetic as a whimper quickly escaped your lips.

"What do you say, sweetheart? Wanna have some fun with us?" Max's words sounded fuzzy in your head as you reveled in the feeling of both their lips on your skin.

You felt Carlos's hand slip between your legs teasing your clothed cunt.

"Wait Lan-" It was a weak attempt at an excuse not really wanting to stop them.

"Trust me, he won't remember a single thing about tonight." Carlos laughed as Max turned your head so you could see the way Lando downed another row of shots, not a single thought behind his eyes.

You were thankful for the darkness that enveloped you as Max teased your nipples which poked hard through your shirt.

Were you really about to do this with your brother's best friends?

You looked into Carlos lust filled eyes before turning to look at Max, the same look on his face. Nodding was the confirmation the boys needed as they rushed you through the back door of the club ready to have you wholly. You'd worry about the possible consequences tomorrow.

[shotmrmiller]

this is for you, @ttsbaby01

here's the piece that inspired this

1.5k words because who knew i needed to write something like this today. i kinda edited it, just a quick skim, though.

simon x f!reader,

tw: explicit smut, p in v, the usual, MDNI

Simon teaches Johnny some new tricks

The moment Simon saw you wince when Johnny pushed himself inside of you, that was all he needed to see. Incredible. For someone that brilliant, Johnny is obtuse when it comes to sex.

Maybe he's blinded by lust, who knows, but Simon almost grimaces at the pace he starts off with, and when he sees you flatten your feet on the bed to meet Johnny's thrusts, Johnny simply pins you down with his weight, forcing you still.

Poor you. All you wanted was to come, and Johnny couldn't even tell, too focused on pistoning his hips into you to meet his own end.

How greedy.

And when Johnny does come, Simon chuckles when he sees your face. It’s mildly disappointed but unsurprised— like you’re used to it.

He watches Johnny kiss you before he pulls out and immediately gets up to shower. That's his cue— the sorry excuse of a show is over. Simon's about to shut his laptop when he sees your hand slowly travel down to your aching pussy and circle your neglected clit with your fingers. Oh?

When he hears your pleasured moan again, he sits up on his chair, pupils expanding as he takes you in. Now this is what he wants to see.

Every delicious whimper and mewl that slithers out of your throat makes his cock twitch in his trousers. He can't help himself. Simon takes himself out and starts to pump according to the rhythm you've set.

Oh, you take it slow, sensual, for a bit, and then pick up the pace. Your moans start to get a little louder as you circle faster and press much smaller fingers into your abused cunt. He knows that his one finger could stuff you better than two of yours.

He knows that he could pull those sweet sounds out of you with his tongue flicking your clit, his stubble scraping your inner thighs raw, his fingers curling inside to find the rough patch of skin on your slick walls.

His eyes are shut as he squeezes himself, precum dribbling onto his knuckles, and when he hears you climax— airy, high-pitched moans that's a bloody symphony to his ears— he also comes. Simon spills all over his hand and stomach, seed sticking to his happy trail, and he couldn't give a fuck less. You're the best thing he's heard in a very long time, and he's debating replacing the classical music he usually listens to at work with your voice.

Simon languidly opens his eyes to look at you on his screen, and the fucked-out, blissful look on your face is something that'll be engrained in his head forever.

He watches Johnny step out of the bathroom with a towel around his trim waist and lowers himself onto the bed to kiss you.

Simon shakes his head, and with his clean hand shuts the laptop. It seems he's gotta teach Johnny how to treat his girl right.

--

"How was it, LT?" Johnny gloats.

Sighing, Simon pulls him into his office and takes out his personal laptop. "You tell me, Sergeant."

Johnny looks gutted when the video gets to Simon's favorite part.

"Yer jokin'." He sounds miserable, and Simon would feel bad if Johnny hadn't been a braggart about how he fucked you in the beginning.

"'Fraid not' Johnny. I gotta admit, I didn't take ya to be tha' selfish."

Johnny opens his mouth to defend himself when Simon silences him with a swipe of his gloved hand. "I can help ya, though. Let me teach ya how t'please her so tha' this embarrassment doesn't happen again, yeah?"

Johnny's eyes, colour a mix of sea and sky, shine brightly as he looks up at Simon. "Are ye serious?"

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't."

Simon clenches his jaw painfully tight when Johnny agrees.

Only once Simon stands alone in his office does he let his emotions show. The sound of his fist hitting the desk fills the room, first with one resounding thump, then with another, leaving his knuckles throbbing. He's going to bloody ruin you.

Maybe Johnny will be willing to share you after all of this is said and done.

--

Johnny came to him later that day, letting him know that you had also agreed, but no mask at home. You won't sleep with someone whose face you can't see.

Simon almost took his mask off in exhilaration on the spot.

--

Simon has your legs propped on the edge of the bed as he lapped at your sopping cunt.

"Johnny, ya gotta focus here," he pointed his tongue and circled it around your swollen clit, making your back arch, and Johnny has to tighten his hold on you. He sat behind you, your back to his chest, his arms around you as he looked over your sweaty shoulder to watch Simon eat like a man starved.

"And gently curl your fingers inside, you're looking for..." he paused, the tendons in the middle of his wrist fluttering as he prodded until you were squealing, dripping slick down his hand. "That. You're looking for her sweet spot," he instructed.

Simon keeps rubbing your walls, and every movement has the obscene squelching of your drenched cunt getting noisier. "She's about t'come, I can feel her startin' to squeeze my fingers. Look at her, Johnny. That's the face ya wanna see," and then he turns his attention to you. "Come f'me, pet, let me hear ya."

He encircles your clit with his lips and sucks, and you shatter in Johnny's arms— head thrown back onto his shoulder, trembling violently, loudly dry sobbing at the toe-curling ecstasy that's searing through your veins, stealing the very oxygen in your lungs. Simon doesn't stop thrusting his fingers, prolonging your pleasure, taking every bit of it for himself. It's the only time he'll be selfish.

Your head is clouded with arousal, numb from pleasure, and you can vaguely feel yourself being laid flat on the bed, limp legs hooked over shoulders, feet resting on a strong back— muscles rippling with each movement.

There's a buzzing sound in your ears, and you can see Johnny's lips moving, talking to you, and then he's stepping away. You lazily turn your head to the side, and watch Johnny kneel by the side of the bed, gaze intense as he looks towards where Simon is. Then there's something hot, heavy, and thick pressing into your entrance, splitting you open, sensitive walls stinging at the stretch, and it goes deep, and even deeper still— it seems never-ending until there's a pinch in your lower stomach.

"Atta girl, love." Simon grips your jaw with one hand, and commands, "Eyes on Johnny, sweetheart. Let him see ya and let me hear ya."

And starts to pump his hips. The depths that he's in are devastating, it feels like he's rearranging your insides, which is strange because Johnny's got a monster in his pants as well, but this.

This is different.

You're so sensitive from your prior orgasm that it feels so much more intense, and you can't even try to hold back the keens that are being wrenched from you. Your vision is blurry with tears from overstimulation, but you keep your gaze on Johnny, and he looks painfully aroused. His cheeks are bright pink, his mouth slightly open as he pants, eyes molten as he looks at your cunt swallowing up someone else's cock.

God, he's so pretty.

You're brought out of your musings when Simon places a pillow underneath you, lifting your hips and changing the angle.

The way Simon fills you to the brim with his cock, pushing you to, if not past, your limit is just plain disrespectful.

And then he grabs your legs by the ankles, your thighs touching your chest, folding you in half like a napkin to start thrusting shallowly— the tip of his head gently jabbing into your g-spot.

Your head goes blank, vision white, and your mouth opens into a silent scream, or maybe not so silent, who knows who cares.

Simon thrusts 4 times before that coil in your stomach snaps like a pencil. Your cunt clamps down on him like a vice, unwilling to let him move, but he only grunts and starts to slam his hips into your soft arse— spine rattling from the strength of him. He unrelentingly fucks you through your climax, hips never losing their rhythm.

He's bottoming out now, and you swear you can feel him in your throat, and he starts to pound into your used cunt. When you hiss from how tender you feel, Johnny cups your cheek and leans in to give you a soul-stealing kiss. It's sloppy, you can hear the slick sounds your mouths make, and when you moan into him, Simon's thrusts turn sloppy, choppy. Then he pulls out with a loud snarl to spurt thick, viscous cum directly over your puffy slit, coating your mons with it too— only to push himself back inside, head dripping with his seed, and slowly thrusts until he's overstimulated.

Simon gently lowers your legs back onto the bed, and you groan at the ache when you feel your blood rushing back to them.

"Fuck me," you mumble tiredly, and Johnny chuckles in response.

"Simon already did tha', bonnie." Johnny presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead and looks at Simon.

"I now ken what ye mean, LT. This was a different beast altogether."

You huff out a laugh because beast indeed.

Jesus.

[curtsycream]

Heyyyy it's me again

Okay so

Poly141 (all dating each other) where they're all like. Lounging in the living room, watching a movie or something. Reader is upstairs in the bathroom (she made an excuse to get away), looking at herself too much in the mirror. She tries to hide she's insecure, but Johnny comes upstairs to find her, and he sees her staring and grabbing her stomach. He watches for a second but when he sees her tearing up, he walks in, picks her up, and takes her to the guys downstairs. He makes her explain to them what he saw, and it turns into fluffy smut? Like the guys are over here like "?????? stfu before i put my baby in you 🙄" and it's gets a little rough, but still fluffy?

Idk it's hella self-indulgent, but no pressure if you don't wanna write it :)

Beautiful Woman

Poly!TF141 x F!Reader

Heyyyyy, how ya doing? I would never turn down a request like this. I hope you like it lovely <33

warnings: not proofread to the highest tier, Soap’s accent is thick (I apologize couldn’t help it), body insecurities, a bit of dysmorphia if you read into it, penetration (p in v), oral (f receiving), idk

Movie nights were always her favorite as she leaned her head on Soap’s shoulder. Her fingers entwined with Ghost’s as they watched Grownups. The movie selection was Gaz’s as he seemed to find the movie pure comedy gold. He felt the same about Mall Cop, something Price could partially agree with.

Laughter from Soap and Gaz filled the room along with Ghost’s random commentary. She was enjoying herself but that gut wrenching feeling was there. Where it felt as if all eyes were on her. She knew it wasn’t that way but her mind made it hard to think clearly. At first she simply wrapped her free arm around her stomach. But it wasn’t enough she knew they weren’t but in her mind they were laughing at her. It was nauseating, standing up abruptly she let a half-baked excuse leave her lips. “Need to use the bathroom,” she told them when they looked to her.

They didn’t notice anything off until she went upstairs. There was a perfectly fine bathroom downstairs but she didn’t go to it. Sharing a look they took a moment to write it off. They didn’t want to cause any alarm when she probably forgot.

The bathroom door slammed close, her eyes focused on her reflection in the mirror. Many times have they assured her that they loved the way she looked. But insecurities like that never went away at the drop of a hat. Raising her shirt she turns to the side looking at her side profile. The way her stomach looked bothered her, her finger tracing over a stretch mark.

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at herself head on. Sucking in her stomach she runs a hand over her stomach. Even as she did it she felt inferior in a way. Compared to women from their pasts she wasn’t like them. She wasn’t thin or shaped like a coke bottle, she didn’t feel like their type.

It was a silly concept to focus on the women they dated and determine the kind of women they like. She knew it was but for some reason as her eyes stare at stomach she assumed this was a joke. That she didn’t deserve them because she didn’t fit the standard of the women they didn’t stay with.

Squishing her stomach she sniffled just as the bathroom door opened. He went unnoticed until he stepped forward when seeing how her bottom lip trembled. His eyes on her hands as they squish her stomach. It was clear what was going on as he pulls her against him. His finger rests under her chin as he lifts her head to look at him.

“Whit urr ye daein'?”

His voice was a blanket of warmth over her as he spoke to her. “I—“ she began before stopping.

“Ye?”

It was evident that he wasn’t going to let this go, that was reasonable. Shaking her head she uses her hands to dry her eyes. “I don’t deserve you guys, I’m just..look at me.”

“Shut th' hell up, afore ah pat a baby in ye tae prove it..”

“I’m serious Johnny, no matter what I do I always feel so goddamn inferior to the women you’ve dated. Do you even love me or am I just a spur of the moment decision.”

Her words cut him deep leaving him with a hurt look on his face. He didn’t say anything he just looked at her, it was worrying. But before she could ask him about it he picked her up. Wide eyed she let him carry her as if she weighed nothing to him. Not a single grunt or groan left him to indicate that he was struggling.

When he put her down she landed on the couch in a seated position. All eyes were on her a feeling she hated especially now.

“Tell thaim,” he said pointing to the other three men. Their attention no longer on the movie that was now paused.

Fiddling with her fingers she shrugged looking down, “I don’t deserve you guys…you could have anybody and you pick me. I know I sound a bit childish but that’s how I feel, I don’t compare to the women you’ve dated. I don’t even feel comfortable in my skin, I feel too big.”

“Dated? past tense, there are reasons we aren’t dating those women anymore. Just like there’s a reason we’re with you,” Gaz said his tone just as serious as his expression. She wasn’t used to such a look on his face where a smile usually lived.

Opening her mouth to speak she was cut off by Price. The older man had a similar expression on his face, “you deserve more than you’ll admit. You’re perfect for us trust me if we didn’t love everything about you we wouldn’t be with you, darlin’”

“Stop selling yourself short, if I had the option of anyone I would still pick you. There’s no question about it, lovie.”

The tears that were brimming her eyes soon fell. She couldn’t hold it in anymore as she cried from their words. She was pulled into a chest realizing it was Ghost from the smell of kohl and steel. Even when they were away from work he always managed to smell that way. “How would you know, you can’t prove that?” She asked her voice muffled by his shirt.

“Ye'r perfect fur us, we kin aye prove that,” Soap let out.

A surge of desire coursed through Soap’s body as he watched Gaz’s skilled and intimate ministrations. The way Gaz’s tongue danced across her delicate folds, eliciting moans of pleasure from their girl, sent a jolt of arousal straight to Soap’s core.

He couldn't tear his eyes away as Gaz’s tongue worked its magic, exploring every inch of her pussy. The vulnerability displayed by her, the trust placed in their hands, it all fascinated him.

Swallowing hard, she gripped Price’s hand as his lips were attached to one of her breasts. His kisses were enough to melt her to the core. She kept her eyes open as she looked over at Ghost who was stroking his cock as he watched. He was anticipating his turn to show her just how important she was to them. Licking her lips she moans when Price’s fingers rub her clit. She wasn’t prepared for the assisted pleasure her mind reeling at the feeling of Price’s fingers and Gaz’s tongue.

“Ye keek sae bonny lik' this, lass,” Soap’s words cut through the thick layer of lust and need. Her eyes on him as he moves closer his lips slamming onto hers. The kiss was quick pace as if he was putting all of his love into it.

Her thighs squeezed around Gaz’s head as she panted into Soap’s mouth. Her body trembling as she felt close, a sign they all were familiar with. “Look at that wanna cum so bad, wanna make a mess on Kyle’s tongue huh, darlin’?”

All that left her was a moan into Soap’s mouth at Price’s words. His fingers were pulling at her nipples as she came. Her fingers gripping Gaz’s hair as she moaned loudly into Soap’s mouth. He didn’t relent as he seemed to swallow all of her moans.

When Gaz pulled away so did Soap allowing her to see the man lick his lips clean. A smile on his face as he sat up caressing her inner thigh, “still tasting good I see.”

His words left her a mess almost as much as Ghost was about to leave her. She knew the moment Gaz stepped away what was going to happen. Her eyes found Ghost as he made his way between her legs. His large hands gripping her thighs parting her legs a bit more. The sound of kissing faint as Soap tasted her off of Gaz’s lips.

“You’re so pretty, lovie,” Ghost’s words distracted her from him entering her. A moan leaving her lips as she felt him slowly sink into her. “Always so fuckin’ tight too,” he praised.

His words and actions left her feeling fuzzy inside. Just as she thought that would be enough she felt kisses trailing down her stomach. “Love everything about you, darlin’. Look at how pretty you are taking Simon’s cock. Making him feel so good,” his words rang loud in her ears. “Tell me how pretty you are, we wanna hear you darlin’.”

She was used to their reassurance and love but it always felt different when they were intimate. It seemed to cement just how much they truly meant what they said. How they showed her body love in the most intimate of ways. “I’m very pretty,” she choked out when Price left a hickey on her thigh.

As Ghost’s speed picked up he caged her between his arms. His face dropping to the crook of her neck, his breath fanning her skin. “Gonna put a baby in you, let you carry around proof that we love you.”

Shuddering she whimpered at his words while he thrusted ruthlessly into her. It wasn’t long until she was clamping around his cock. Her eyes fluttering shut when she came around him. In return he gasps sharply as her pussy milks him for all that he has.

It served as a reminder even after they cleaned up. She stood in front of the mirror again after the shared shower between them. Behind her stood Price whose hands were on her bare hips. “Look at you, the prettiest woman there is.” He would whisper in her ear as he left kisses along her shoulder. “Regardless of how you feel about yourself I promise you that we aren’t thinking those same bad things you are. You look sexy and it’s okay to not be what you think you should be. We love how you look, darlin’.”

Nodding her head she tears up watching him leave kisses on her skin in the mirror. It was reassuring in ways she had never experienced before. With them she knew she would be loved, they would always make that clear to her.

Soap peeked his head into the bathroom with squinted eyes, “Ye let Si pump a baby intae ye afore ah cuid? ah wis th' yin wha said it first” he tells her.

A laugh left her lips as she listens to him, “I’m sorry,” said said to him. Shaking his head he holds his hand out, “Na sorry, wur aboot tae dae that now.”

Translations again I want to thank my friend who was able to tell me how to write Soap’s words properly. He’s a real one <33 For words like baby, first, maybe a few more I changed them because my keyboard hates the word bairn for some reason.

Whit urr ye daein'? - What are you doing?

Ye? - You?

Shut th' hell up, afore ah pat a baby in ye tae prove it. - Shut the hell up, before I put a baby in you to prove it

Tell thaim - Tell them

Ye'r perfect fur us, we kin aye prove that - You’re perfect for us, we can always prove that

Ye keek sae bonny lik' this, lass - You look so beautiful like this, girl

Ye let Si pump a baby intae ye afore ah cuid? ah wis th' yin wha said it first - You let Si pump a baby into you before I could? I was the one who said it first.

Na sorry, wur aboot tae dae that now. - No sorry, we’re about to do that now

[queers-gambit]

Confection Invention

prompt: what is a legacy other than what we're remembered for after we die? names are lost, stories altered, family names obsolete, but recipes are forever because cuisine transcends time.

or how Sansa Stark's favorite dessert, lemon cakes, came to be after discovering your husband's never had a nameday cake.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: none? none. seems suspicious.

Sansa Stark, newly crowned Queen in the North, was once a child too small, too scared, too sheltered from the harsh brutality of life's reality. Before she left Winterfell that fateful day, it was well known in the castle that the young girl adored the tasty sweet treat, lemon cakes. A confection of dense cake with lemon shreds mixed in the batter, a lemon glaze poured over, and garnished with a bright and tart lemon slice.

King's Landing was equipped to make the dessert and the young redhead still found pleasure in them, sure, but then shit got real when the Lannisters, you know, murdered her father. Sansa "grew up" and didn't bother with sweet treats after that. They just never tasted the same, and she began to admonish herself whenever she had a hankering; figuring with so much bad in the Realm, her want for cake was inappropriate and misplaced.

After years of turmoil, of losing any and everyone she ever cared for, the night the North declared her Queen of their newly-independent realm, Sansa Stark indulged herself and asked the kitchen staff to send lemon cakes to her room with supper. When her private meal was served, so was her dessert, and Sansa had to ask the servant serving her before they could disappear, "Excuse me?"

"Yes, Your Grace?" The serving maid bowed her head, facing Sansa with clasped hands locked stoically in front of her. Sansa almost cringed when she heard her new title, but refrained from reacting - it would simply just take getting used to.

"Might I ask, how are these made?"

"How what are made, Your Grace?"

"These lemon cakes."

"Oh, uh, I do not know the recipe, but I can ask the kitchens - "

"Well, it's odd, isn't it?"

"What is, Your Grace?"

"I've been all over the Realm," she spoke with an even tone, ever the emotionally-stunted diplomat, "and I've sampled many of these cakes in my lifetime, yet fail to find any real distinction. It's almost as if everyone is following the same recipe."

"Oh, well, I do know that they are, Your Grace."

"They are? All of the kingdoms?"

"Yes, Your Grace, i-it's a rare thing, but yes, the Seven Kingdoms use the same recipe."

"How can that be possible? How do they all get the same recipe?"

The maid glanced at the door nervously, "Uh, I-I do not know, Your Grace."

"You may speak freely, you are in no danger here," Sansa encouraged, gesturing to the only other empty chair at her table. "Please, come sit, indulge me in this tale. I am only curious."

"Well," she turned to shut the chamber door, speaking quietly as if what she was about to say was a secret, "it would depend if you know anything about the Targaryen dynasty, Your Grace."

"Only what was generically taught."

She nodded, taking the seat Sansa offered. "Some 2 centuries ago, there was a great scandal and a great war - one you may know as the Dance of Dragons." Sansa nodded and the maid explained anyway, "You see, it started because King Jaehaerys lost his heirs and was forced to choose between eligible familial candidates. Viserys Targaryen, the King's grandson, and his granddaughter, Viserys' cousin, Rhaenys Targaryen."

"Right, I remember the names somewhat."

"The King chose Viserys because, well, he was a man and Rhaenys was only a woman - though, married to a Velaryon, another ancient House hailing from Valyria." Sansa nodded along. "Anyways, uh, King Viserys' first wife was a Targaryen woman who gave him a daughter and then died birthing a son. He remarried a Hightower girl after that and had four other white-haired children; three sons and a daughter."

Sansa nodded slowly as she ate. Nothing like dinner and an entertaining story.

"The second son was Prince Aemond Targaryen, and he had this wife, you see, who was something akin to a saint on soil."

"Nobody's that nice," Sansa snarled in refusal, eyes almost rolling.

"You forget, Your Grace, some 200 years ago, the people never considered rebelling against the Targaryens. Only an arrogant fool would charge a horse at a dragon and think they'd win, so, at the time of this tale, there was no thought to protest the monarchy. Anyways, it wasn't just her kindness that made Aemond Targaryen's wife saint-like. It was all she was, and her most notable work was helping establish, build, organize, and operate orphanages in King's Landing, and then, around the Realm."

"Hmm."

"Well, she worked with those kids and apparently, had an affinity for baking. And because she worked with orphans, when she would take them around to other regions for adoption or placement, she'd leave each kid their own copy of the recipe."

Sansa considered the tale for a moment, then asked, "So, why lemon cakes? Where did they come from?"

The maid smiled.

Aemond Targaryen flinched when he heard something shatter, walking up the hallway alone and only a few strides from his bedchamber. When he opened his door, the One Eyed Prince actually laughed at the sight, "Oh, Gods, are you all right, my love?"

You pouted up at Aemond from the floor, "It was an accident."

"I can tell."

"I really didn't mean to."

He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest, "No, no, I can tell by the way only the vase my mother gifted us for our wedding is broken. Never mind you telling me over the weeks how you despise it."

"It was an accident! I really didn't mean to," you sighed, glancing at the shattered vase around you.

"How'd it happen?" Aemond asked softly, moving forward after pushing off the doorframe and shutting the door. "Hmm? C'mere, little love," he bent at the waist to pick you up from the floor, hoist you in his arms, then carry you to the bed. "You all right? You hurt?"

"No...?"

"Show me."

You frowned and showed the shallow cut on the underside of your forearm, informing, "It was an accident, I swear t'the Seven, Aemond. I just tripped on the chair," you pointed to where the sitting furniture was overturned, "and fell into the table. I was replacing the flowers in the vase."

He nodded, "Your cut isn't bad, here, just hold this to it." Your husband pressed a spare cloth to your wound before straightening his spine. "Sit here a moment, I'll clean."

"No, let me - "

"No, no, love, just wait," he chuckled. In the time it took a maid to bring in a broom and dustpan, Aemond had successfully distracted you enough with casual conversation. It was there you discovered a secret you deemed unacceptable. "No, I am not lying, sweet girl," Aemond chuckled, "I've truly never had a cake for my nameday. The idea just seems silly, doesn't it? To celebrate such a common event?"

You scoffed, "We'll come back to your cynicism later. Surely, in your youth, your mother made you cake?"

"Being the second son, you often got overlooked," Aemond shrugged as if it didn't bother him. "I am not missing much, it's just cake."

"'Just cake'!? You say that because you do not know," you pouted. "What kind of a wife am I that I did not know this?"

Aemond laughed, "We've been married all of 3 months."

"It should've come up," your eyes rolled, "or at least in the lifetime of friendship before our betrothal."

"Consider this a learning opportunity between spouses. It isn't a bad thing," Aemond defended, the shattered and scattered ceramic being swept away. "So what, I've not had cake? I am missing nothing."

"It makes me sad."

Aemond laughed as he eyed you for a moment, nodding like he understood something. "You mean to remedy this, don't you?" He asked, showing the maid out of your chambers.

"Of course I do!"

He chuckled, "You know I am not fond of sweets."

"Doesn't matter, I'll find something you like. We can start with the basics, uh... Um... Well, I guess, do you like dense cakes? Fluffier, lighter ones?"

He paused to think, offering, "I like the gooseberry pies served at banquets?"

"Those are dense."

"Hmm, then dense is fine. They're in smaller quantities because they're so heavy."

You nodded, "Any flavors?"

"I am unsure on that front."

"Fruits? C'mon, fruits are usually really good with pastries and cakes."

"You know what I like," Aemond sighed, uncomfortable with the idea of attention for his nameday. "Trust me, love, I cannot make this decision - I just don't know. I am terribly green when it comes to sweets. Even when offered at formal events, you know I'm not interested."

"Well, how about a sampling? I can make you different treats and you tell me which you like."

Aemond chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let this go and agreed, "All right, sure."

And boy, did you keep to your word. The kitchen staff was already used to seeing you on a decently regular basis, but suddenly, you were spending all day in the kitchen, trying out different recipes. You made cakes, cookies, brownies, pastries, all kinds of desserts! You even went a step further, trying out newly invented ideas until narrowing down several options. You were determined to give Aemond something, wanting him to feel your love and effort in the confections because his nameday was the one day you had to pamper and spoil him without complaint.

(Though, trust me, he still complained and deflected attention.)

You loved Aemond's nameday because he had no choice but to be at the forefront of your attention and affection; something his family found amusing after their years of neglect towards him. Every other day of the year, he was stubborn and impossible and made everything about you; but not his nameday!

Even though he truly wasn't a fan of desserts, Aemond still met you on a balcony at the end of the week because not only did he adore making you happy, but he hardly ever said no to you. You had an array of treats made and displayed, and slowly, he sampled what you presented; speaking simply for your mental notes. However, he came upon something new - something he's not seen before.

"What's this?"

"Um, well... See, my younger siblings sometimes like citrus in their desserts, so, I thought this might be good? Or it could be tart - one or the other."

"This is lemon?"

"Yes, and that is made with limes from Volantis," you pointed to another platter, "that one's orange, that one's cherry, and that one has coconut."

"Where did you get coconuts and cherries?"

"That's not important. Which one is your favorite? It's what you're getting for your nameday, so do not lie."

"Pardon my pun, but the lemon cake takes the cake, sweet girl."

Aemond's heart soared in his chest when your grin of pride was hardly contained; looking pleased that you had invented something to his liking - making it all the more special, being something Aemond never has to share with others.

Sansa thought it was a lovely tale, clarifying, "So, when you say she established King's Landing's orphanages, did she use the Crown's money or the tax payer's?"

The maid smiled, "No, Your Grace, she used royal funds. King Viserys commissioned her bakery, and after a bit, the people actually started donating to her cause because the King offered tax exemption for those who donated."

"And she would take the kids around the Seven Kingdoms for placement? By herself? Why? Why not bake full time? She was obviously good at it."

"She was passionate, and the kids couldn't all fit in King's Landing anymore, so, she had to help relocate them for a better quality of life. She also gave each child the recipe so they could have a little taste of 'home' when they wanted."

Sansa nodded slowly. "How did word spread if she only made it for her husband on his nameday?"

"A moment, please," you interrupted your in-laws departure from the dinner table. When Alicent looked you in the eye, you smiled, "I've something for you all to try in honor of Prince Aemond's nameday."

"Oh, love, no," Aemond whispered in embarrassment, "not tonight."

"Would you mind, Mykal?" You asked the kind servant, who nodded once and exited the dining room.

"What's this about?" Otto questioned.

"Well, I thought we just might celebrate for just a moment together," you eased. "What with tensions so high lately, I just figured we deserved something... Sweet."

Alicent's lips twitched, always knowing in her heart that you were too good for Aemond - too good for this wreck of a family. When Mykal returned, he carried a decorated platter of lemon cakes and set it in the middle of the cleared-away table. You stood.

"What are they?" Aegon asked with an unsure curled lip.

"Lemon cakes," you smiled, "a confection of my own invention made especially for my husband, hmm?" You served a small, personal cake to each family member using saucer platters. "Please, just try it - tell me what you think."

You placed the final cake in front of your husband, grinning and taking your seat again. You knew he hated the spotlight, it gave him anxiety; so, you tried to do your best by acknowledging his nameday without needing to fuss over him. He always liked that you two celebrated privately, but being a "special event", the family had dinner together that night and you thought it a great time for the tart dessert to debut. You dwelled in anticipation as your in-laws all tried their cakes, Aemond feeding you every other bite from his fork as there came a chorus of satisfying hums and groans of approval.

"Holy Mother," Otto chuckled, instantly forking another bite in his mouth. "Mh, mh, mh, wow," he smacked his lips, nodding in impression. "You invented this?" He asked, watching you nod. "You invented a new cake..."

"For Aemond's nameday, yes," you confirmed, tone a little sharper than usual in an effort to make your point.

"I gotta admit, Y/N," Aegon spoke with a full mouth, a few crumbs flying, "this is bloody delicious."

"It really is," Alicent agreed, offering her husband a bite. "Viserys? Love? It's a lemon cake, here, try a bite."

"A what?" Viserys wheezed in confusion. "N-Never heard of l-lemon cake."

"They're new," she explained, "Y/N made them for Aemond's nameday. Isn't that special? Try a bite, love, there you go."

Viserys accepted the bit of cake on Alicent's fork, wincing gently at the tart taste before, too, humming. "'S good," he whispered, looking drained of energy.

"Gotta make these more often," Aegon pointed his fork at the cake crumbles left. He continued, "Like, bring these to every banquet we host and this will be the star." You chuckled and put another cake on his plate, it being instantly torn into.

You smiled at Aemond, "Guess they're a hit."

He leaned down to affectionately press his lips to your forehead for a long moment, mumbling, "Knew they would be."

"So, does this mean I can bake you cakes now? Every nameday? You won't complain?" You asked, tangling his hand with yours and relishing in the way he squeezed.

"Oh, he'll still complain," Helaena giggled, licking icing from her finger, "no matter what."

Aemond smirked at his sister, offering a subtly jab at his family, "I would never complain about being loved. Besides," he offered you a fond, softening look, "she does it so well, wouldn't you say?"

The family hummed in agreement, not truly paying attention to his words - all enraptured with scraping their saucer platters clean. You smiled up at him, letting his lips find yours in a brief show of emotion.

Otto mused, "You know, I've heard it said, 'the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes'. I think food is a surefire way to ensure that legacy of love, respect, consideration..."

For the next few weeks, you spent more and more time in the kitchens; whipping out batches of lemon cakes to offer the Keep's staff after rumors spread of your cakey goodness. You gifted guards, trainers, tutors, members of court, maids, the castle's servants the newly invented confection. It quickly became the most talked about topic in King's Landing; the citizens being obsessed with your cake and demanding a taste of their own.

In fact, Viserys was so pleased by the turn of events that on one of his rare good days, he consulted Otto. "A bakery for Y/N - would it be worth the purchase? Do you think the Crown should fund the purchase?"

Otto considered, "Well, since her cakes are the hottest commodity currently, I'd say, yes, Your Grace, it'd be worth exploring as a new revenue for the Crown."

"No, no, not for the Crown t'collect from - leave it for Aemond and Y/N to share. This is not to be a business we collect the profits from - but rather, something they might enjoy." Viserys tried to smile, deciding, "Make it happen, Otto, my friend."

"Your Grace?"

"I want - I want her to have a bakery. Where she might sell her baked goods as she sees fit, not as an extension of the Crown, she deserves it. All her hard work," the King wheezed, coughing violently.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Yet when you were informed about your new business venture and shown the building that was to be your bakery, you told Otto that you didn't bake for money and having your own business would be terribly redundant. Yet Otto insisted that you made your own rules and if you wanted to charge, you could, but Viserys wanted you to have a designated safe space to create in.

Upon the grand opening, you were a SMASH hit. The line in your bakery was nonstop and extended out the door; the Gold Dragons overflowing enough for you to restock your ingredients tenfold AND have leftovers to funnel back into the orphanages. People talked, they spread word and rumor, and most patrons had heard through the "grape vine" that your bakery was well worth any wait. Being so popular, you required extra hours baking and only opened about three days a week because you still had your other job.

Speaking of, you obviously still worked with the orphans; in fact, some of them even came to hang out in the bakery! No, they didn't help bake unless they asked to specifically mix the icing or something, because you didn't believe in exploiting child labor. Anyways, on certain days, you closed the bakery and brought all the cakes to the orphanage to distribute, always having a warm heart when the kids giggled while eating the little sweet treat. It inspired you to write down the recipe you invented and every trip you took to help kids find their placement, you brought them recipe cards.

"Here," you handed the card over to the guardian agreeing to care for the kids, "this is just a recipe for a cake and I promise it's really simple to follow. It'll be a familiar taste to them when living here, somewhere unfamiliar for now." You sniffled, offering a watery smile, "Just wanted them to have a piece of home."

The volunteer guardians were usually grateful, knowing baking these cakes could be a form of bonding between them and the kids. It was difficult trying to get these types of kids to open up after all they endured on the streets before your orphanage took them in. Maybe a little cake would help mend those wounds and assure them, while here, they were safe.

You never expected to live out through history, but while names are lost, stories altered, and family names become obsolete, cuisine is a universally shared experience that transcends time.

Sansa sat for a moment, stewing in the story. Never had she imagined such a history lesson surrounding her favorite dessert; she would've thought some old granny would've been messing around in the kitchens to invent such a treat. Not a Princess of the Realm, especially one belonging to the most fearsome and longest reigning monarchy in Westerosi history.

For a brief moment, she was jealous by the description of your relationship to Prince Aemond; hearing how loving your husband was, how supportive and kind to you. She wondered if she'd ever experience something like that - and if she'd ever meet someone who would take her nameday as seriously as you took your husband's.

"What happened after?" She asked quietly, taking a long sip of her wine. "To the Prince and Princess, I mean?"

The maid shrugged meekly, "Not too long after, the Dance of Dragons started and there was no time or reason to bake anymore. They both perished in the flames of war, unfortunately, becoming victims of the Princess Rhaenyra - Aemond's older half-sister."

"Mh," Sansa nodded, "I've heard of her. Maegor with Tits, they called her."

The maid nodded, finishing, "But, you see, Your Grace, the recipe was already spread around the Realm and to this day, is still being used."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"All that," she stabbed her lemon cake with her fork and lifted the bite to her eye for examination, "just because she loved a man and wanted to give him what he's never had before."

"Perhaps, Your Grace, that is why nameday cakes are now tradition. They say the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes, Your Grace."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[mariacrow]

How would tfp cons react to their human female s/o got captured by Airachnid?

Sorry for typos or any kind of mistakes 😭 I lose my darn concentration while writing this long

Hope you like it! 💜

STICKY SITUATION

✦ TFP Decepticons x reader ✦

2nd person

female reader

AU where the reader has joined the Decepticons and mostly works in the lab or helps with repairing

reader is captured by Airachnid mostly because of her envy

kidnapping, possessiveness, threats, heated arguments/fight (physical)

injuries, blood, rescue, comfort

MEGATRON

Airachnid would hunt you down, wrap you in that sticky web-like substance of hers and bring you to lord Megatron with an excuse that you sabotaged a project and set the whole lab on fire while in fact it was her doing

Accusing you of unloyalty while standing before Megatron's feet, you'd scream and beg him to listen to you, claiming Airachnid is lying

Airachnid: SILENCE, YOU TRAITOROUS RODENT!

She would shout as she'd seal your mouth with the sticky substance

Your lord would observe, doubting you'd do anything like that. As he'd look into your pleading, innocent, tormented eyes, his spark would ache. Not that he expressed it. He'd rather perish than express his vulnerability for you

Then he'd look into Airachnid's eyes full of hope that he’d tear you into tiny pieces of young flesh as he’d get struck by her tiny, devilish grin

Airachnid: my lord. Your wish is my command. I can inflict indescribable pain on her if you let me. She deserves it.

Megatron: no. She does not.

Would be all he'd say before he'd walk to you and free you. You'd start desperately trying to explain yourself but he'd nonchalantly interrupt you:

Megatron: accidents happen. You shall proceed. Shockwave awaits your assistance back in the lab.

He'd give an order and wait for you to leave. Then he'd walk back to Airachnid who'd be in pure shock

Megatron: if you want to terminate her, lying to your leader would be the unwisest way to do it.

Airachnid: my liege-

Megatron: SILENCE! Do such thing again and you shall be the one torn to pieces by my own bare hands. DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?

Airachnid: yes, my liege... *as she'd reluctantly bow*

Megatron: and stay away from her. She is far more useful than you are, Airachnid.

Naughty you would stay close to the door and listen. You'd giggle to yourself as you'd hear your master play favorites

Airachnid is not oblivious though. She noticed he cares for you which she'll use against him. She would already start making new plans on how to get rid of you, lord Megatron's pet.

💜

STARSCREAM

He’d be in shock when he’d get a report from the vehicons that you’ve been attacked by Airachnid

He’d order his soldiers to show him where you are as he’d call for backup

When he’d find you wrapped in a cocoon upside down in a storage room, being threatened by Airachnid, he’d order her to stay down as he’d aim his rockets at her

Airachnid: oh please, Starscream. Like a couple of your cloned servants could stop me.

Starscream: you fool! Free her this instant or perish.

Airachnid: so it is true~ commander Starscream has a new pet human~

Starscream: I do not care for… a human! I am simply fulfilling my duty! We need her for the project!

Airachnid would hiss and threaten to slice your throat

Airachnid: and why would that stop me from getting rid of this infestation!

Starscream: Megatron will have your head! And so will I.

An evil smirk would grow on Screamer’s face plate as they’d charged their weapons at her. She’d reluctantly and angrily release you, making you painfully drop on the floor and yelp

Airacnid: until next time, rodent.

She’d say as she’d crawl her way out of the storage room, disappointed that her plan of getting rid of you had failed

Starscream would slice the cocoon open and free you as he’d emotionlessly tell you to get up.

You’d thank him as he’d walk you out and say:

Starscream: not a word to anyone about this, got it?

Totally into you but his dignity and ego can’t allow him to admit he fell in love with one from the species he hates the most

💜

KNOCKOUT

Knockout: YOU WHAT!?

Airachnid: relax, Knockout~ No one will even notice she’s gone~ and we both know everyone dislikes her-

Knockout: I DON’T- I mean- WE DON’T! Lord Megatron needs her to complete this project! She became one of the key members of the lab, I-

Airachnid: indeed. Indeed she did. She’s taking your position. Soon, lord Megatron will replace you with her.

Her cunning aft would try to manipulate him

Knockout: the only one who can be replaced on this ship is you! You’re afraid of her. Now tell me where she is before I cut you into pieces!

He’d say as he’d get his saw out and aggressively rev it at her to which she wouldn’t even flinch, bluffing

Airachnid: calm down, doctor, it isn’t a big deal. Just a little game I like playing with her. And my my~ so it is true~ doctor does have his favorite assistant after all~

Knockout would groan and go look for your. He’d turn the whole ship upside down until he’d find you somewhere well hidden with tied limbs

He’s dramatically scream and free you carefully as he’d baby talk to you

Knockout: look what that wretched femme did to you! Nt nt nt… Don’t worry, little one, I won’t let that creepy spider lady get near you ever again, no no~ Doctor’s promise~

Y/N: don’t say that ever again-

Knockout: what I thought it’s cute-

As he’d carry you back to the lab and shower you with kisses

💜

BREAKDOWN

She knows how much he cares for you and how easily distracted he gets which she’d cunningly use against him in battle

She’d capture you and make you hang upside down a thick tree branch the moment he’d attack her

Airachnid: are you sure you want to play this game again, Breakdown? Because we have a new contestant~

Breakdown would freeze as he’d see you desperately trying to scream with your mouth sealed

Airachnid: I think she wants to say hello to her precious boyfriend~

She’d say as she’d free your mouth and let you scream for Breakdown. But instead you’d encourage him:

Y/N: BEAT HER ASS, BREAKDOWN!!!

To which he’d frown and power up, get his hammer out and roar like an animal as he’d charge at her

You’d watch the epic boss battle and keep encouraging him until all of your blood would flow down to your head and make you feel unwell

Airachnid: hurry up, boyfriend~ You chose a very delicate being for your lover~ She will die if you don’t get her down in time~

Breakdown: YOU TALK TOO MUCH!

She tried distracting him more but instead she only made his anger grow. His helm boiled as he kept mercilessly hammering her

The moment he knocked her out and yeeted her somewhere, he rushed to get you down. He panicked a little but managed to rescue you on time

Breakdown: you’re the best life coach even when you’re dying~

He had to pull a cheesy joke

💜

DREADWING

She’d pull the same trick on him like on Breakdown

She’d use you as his biggest weakness - fear of losing his closest ones just like he lost his brother…

Both of you would have your limbs tied as she’d make you face each other

Airachnid: now that we have the whole scene set~

Dreadwing: Airachnid, do not be a fool. You are playing with fire. Release her this instant!

Airachnid: or what!?

She’d say as she’d give you a big, deep scratch across the back and make you yelp

Dreadwing: NO!

Airachnid: watch her suffer.

In a blink of an eye she’d stab your torso by the side with one of her eight unsettlingly long legs and make you bleed badly

Dreadwing would scream as he’d desperately try to free himself. Filled with fury, he’d manage to rip the sticky substance that was tied around his wrists

Dreadwing: YOU WILL NOT TAKE THE ONLY THING THAT I CARE FOR IN MY LIFE!

He’d jump her and obliterate her, making her run away with deadly wounds

As he’d kneel next to your wounded body, he’d free you and gently pick you up and request an immediate ground bridge.

He’d watch your fragile, almost lifeless body curling in his servos…

Dreadwing: do not fear, my love. I shall take care of you. You will not leave this world. Not while I stand…

💜

SOUNDWAVE

She thought she could just snatch you from the lab while you were alone and get rid of you that easily

She forgot Soundwave, that has developed strong feelings for you, is the eyes and ears of the ship

He’d cut her off in one of the hallways and have a stare down

You’d scream for help

Airachnid: silence! And stand down, Soundwave. Her playtime with big robots has officially come to an end.

He’d launch his tentacles at her and try to zap her which she’d avoid while running towards him

He would maneuver wisely and swiftly while trying to snatch you from her servos

You’d get slightly injured due to their “doll snatching” game

The moment he’d managed to get his servos on you, he’d create a ground bridge right underneath her

As she was about to fall into it, he’d grab one of her creepy legs and speak:

Soundwave: Soundwave superior. Airachnid inferior.

Before he’d let her fall into the portal and teleport somewhere, precisely above the ocean

Y/N: you… you can speak?

To which he’d just look at you and put his index finger across the lower part of his face plate, gesturing this shall stay a secret

💜

SHOCKWAVE

Shockwave: I find your behavior… illogical.

He’d say in his usual monotone voice, trying to calm the situation down as he’d catch her wanting to preform torturing experiments on you in the lab

Airachnid: don’t be naive, Shockwave~ You and I both know she’s nothing but an infestation on this ship!

Shockwave: that statement is illogical as well, Airachnid. She is my assistant.

Airachnid: oh curse your assistant!

Y/N: Shockwave! Please!

The moment he’d hear his secret lover plead, he’d charge his blaster at her

Shockwave: do not test me, Airachnid. You clearly are not aware of my abilities.

He’d say as he’d start slowly approaching the berth she held you captive on

Airachnid: oh no, dearest Shockwave. Clearly it is you who isn’t aware of our common enemies!

And there comes another epic boss fight. To your surprise it was quite short

Shockwave broke two of her spider legs with ease as he’d throw her around the lab

He did completely or mildly damage some of his equipment but at that point he couldn’t care less. All he cared about is your well being

Shockwave: take advantage of this situation and leave with dignity before I call reinforcements and inform Megatron of your disgraceful act.

Sometimes words can hurt more than actions. She hissed at him and crawled out of the lab

He released you and earned heartwarming gratitude from you

Shockwave: I have always found her way of perception… illogical.

Dividers belong to @kiwicidios , @firefly-graphics and @kimjiho1 💜

[arting-block]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 | Eleventh Doctor x F! Reader

❝𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯.❞

Summary: After a stressful day, you overhear Amy arguing with the Doctor. When he realized you heard everything, he tries to set things right.

Warnings: Angst, mentioned kidnapping, misunderstanding, pinning, comfort, the Doctor sucking at feelings

Words: 3.8K

A/N: I'm finally getting through the requests sitting in my inbox. This one was one of my favorites I've done in a while :) @shuichiakainx i hope you enjoy!!

You messed up. Badly.

The Doctor had explicitly stated for you to stay by his side. No wandering about, no talking to strangers, don't do anything foolish. The city you were visiting had a different culture, one steeped in brutal violence. Any slight can be perceived as an invitation for war. 

You should've minded your own business. Maybe you wouldn't have gotten kidnapped. Even though your friends freed you hours ago, you can still feel the imprint of metal cuffs around your wrists. Your hands busy themselves with rubbing the area, bandages wrapped around your pulse where the metal snagged your skin.

You tried to defend an elderly man from getting hurt by a group of teenagers. You foolishly tried to shield the man from the onslaught of abuse, hoping to simply talk to the teenagers so that things wouldn’t escalate. Oh how wrong you were. 

You knew you messed up. You had already regretted your choices the moment rough hands gripped your arms and hauled you into a foreign ship. 

The Ashmadas were almost a whole head taller than you. Thick yellow hides that became scaly along their joints, blunt canines that were meant for crushing bones and skin, and the fluorescent eyes that glowed even in pitch black darkness. A species that evolved from war and brutality. Even the most intimidating human would look like field mice in comparison. 

What you hadn't anticipated was the cold demeanor of your Doctor. You imagined him being cross, yes, but never downright angry. The moment he and the Ponds made it to the threshold where you were held, you noticed how calloused he had been. Snarling words, tension rippling beneath the skin. Furious didn't begin to explain his behavior. He threatened to set off a bomb that will incinerate everyone in the ship and release a plague to their already dwindling community. When you finally got out of your shackles, the Doctor barely even acknowledged you, hellbent on making the Ashmadas a new endangered species. It was only when you grabbed his face, forced him to see the tears as you begged him to leave, did he finally back off. 

As the four of you retreated to the console room of the TARDIS, the Doctor makes a flimsy excuse about needing to check the ship’s engine. The day’s events have been heavy for all of you, so you knew it was more about him needing space. When you tried to talk to him, he brushed off your touch and gave you a cold reply. 

You walked back to your room not long after. Rory patched you up as best he could, using a concoction of human and alien medicine. He didn't speak much and you were grateful for the silence. The only words he slipped out were sincere apologies for not getting there sooner. There was something else he wanted to say, moments where he opened his mouth but nothing came out. You were, frankly, too tired to press further. 

Once Rory left, you tried your hardest to get some sort of sleep. Your body was spent, bruised, and tattered. No matter how many times you turned or how much your body ached, your mind couldn’t stop racing. You’ve probably spent a good hour or so trying to get comfortable, but to no avail. 

You were still on edge, thinking about the cramped cell you were placed in. How alone you felt. You’ve been in precarious situations before, but this was different. Three whole days of captivity in total isolation. No light peeking through so you had nothing to distract you. Just your own memories passing through your mind. It made you realize just how much your friends mean to you. How much their presence comforted you, how relieved you were when Amy’s voice cut through your dark Hell. You remember sinking into the Doctor’s embrace, crying into his jacket and muttering how sorry you were. 

There was so much you wanted to tell him. Those three days spent curled into a ball were filled with memories of him. His laugh echoing in your ear while carrying you throughout the universe. Petty arguments filled with teasing and embarrassed faces. The way he finds himself beside you, always lingering like a string was attached between the two of you.

The most treasured memory of all was one where it was just the two of you. Talking about nothing and everything. Favorite color, worst kitchen appliance, obscure historical figures. You talked for hours, laying your whole life for him to dissect. When it was his turn to speak, you took the opportunity to study him. Cataloging the slope of his nose, the lines around his mouth, and his mannerisms. The way he points going in tandem with the pitch of his voice, how his whole body moves when he talks. 

You wanted to scream in his face the moment you saw him. Tell him the three words you repeat in your head when he’s around. Instead, all that came out was unintelligible sobs into scratchy fabric. 

Tell him, tell him everything. 

The bed creaked when you moved to sit up. Your heart ached at seeing the Doctor’s fury and how silent he was when you came back. You caused him worry, not just to him, but to the Ponds as well. The last thing you want is to end the day on a sour note. He’s your friend after all, even if you wanted something more. 

It didn’t take long to reach the console room. You took your time with each step, wanting to get your thoughts in order. You pick up voices coming ahead of you, muffled words that you cannot make heads or tails of. As you approach the end of the hallway, you hear the muffled words turn into the familiar voice of Amy in a rather accusatory tone. You peek around the corner, observing the view of your two friends from above. 

Amy stands a few feet away from the Doctor, who is hunched over the console. Amy’s face is a mix of concern and disappointment, as if she’s scolding a child. You notice the dirt smeared shirt she still wears, meaning she hasn’t gotten back to her room just yet. Was she here the whole time?

Crossing her arms, Amy shook her head at the tired man in front of her. “You’re never going to admit it are you?”

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing to admit.” The Doctor’s answer is just as cold and detached as it was hours before. “If you’re just going to go back and forth with me all day then I suggest you go spend your time with your husband. I told you before I’m not in the mood for your scolding.”

Amy’s laugh is devoid of any humor. She takes a step towards the Doctor. You see the pent up anger in her; a fuse ready to blow. “You think you’re so good at hiding it. You think we’re too stupid to notice—that I’m too stupid to not bring it up?”

“What exactly are you talking about?” 

You shouldn’t eavesdrop like this. If the Doctor found out that you were listening in on a private conversation, he would no doubt be more angry than before. 

Amy ignored the question, wanting to force the Doctor into a corner to say what she wanted to hear. “I’m honestly impressed how long you’ve lasted. Were you going to bury your emotions and hope they would simply disappear? You think pushing her away is going to make it hurt any less? I see the way you look at her.”

The Doctor snaps back, angry and seething. “Spit it out already Amelia!”

“(Y/N)!” came her equally furious reply, one that echoed sharply in the large room. 

Your heart skidded to a stop in your chest. Why was she goading him like this? You didn’t recall telling Amy about your feelings for the Doctor. Was it that obvious? If she noticed, does that mean…?

The Doctor was quick to invade Amy’s space. He towered above her, his teeth bared with provoked anger. “And what exactly do you want me to admit? That she's careless and doesn’t listen to a word I say? How do I have to clean up her mess after she did the one thing I told her not to?”

Hearing the pained emotion in his voice made every word sting harder. He was not wrong to say it, but it hurt nonetheless. You wished that he would’ve said it to your face rather than having to overhear it in the shadows.

He didn’t stop there. It seemed Amy had opened a dam of pent up thoughts and emotions. Words kept spilling from his lips, each one hurting more than the last. “You know what I see when I look at her? A fragile human being. Someone who is only going to occupy a fraction of my existence.”

“You love her,” Amy spits back, wholly convicted. Tears prick her eyes as she barrels on. “Admit you stupid old man. You. Love. Her.”

Her words seemed to shock the Doctor out of his wrath. He immediately steps back, as if her presence burns. 

The two of them look at one another, chests heaving. Amy doesn’t back down, keeping her chin held high, meeting his burning gaze. The Doctor’s face is unreadable, partially due to the fact that you don’t have a good vantage point. The anger doesn’t leave him, but you could tell that he’s considering her words. 

You hold your breath, not wanting to miss his response. 

It comes out soft, barely within normal talking level, but in the dead silence of the console room you hear it as clear as day: “How can I love her? I won’t—I can’t let that happen.”

You felt your heart drop out of your chest. All of the hurt spirling inside your chest, clawing a cavernous hole to fill with despair. 

He doesn’t love you. 

You were paralyzed, replaying that awful sentence over and over again. You bring a hand to cover your mouth, feeling the droplets of tears already flowing. 

He doesn’t love you and he’s making sure it doesn’t happen. 

Are you that awful to be around? That the mere thought of being romantic with you makes him angry? 

Your hand presses at the space where your heart lies. Your shirt twists, your body curling deeper into the shadows of the room. You’ve experienced heartbreak before, back on Earth throughout the years. Never like this. It was more than a simple rejection, but a swift blow to your entire worldview. 

You thought, foolishly, that maybe there was something between you two. He wouldn’t have let you stay as long as you had if he didn’t like you. All those late night conversations…the small brushes of skin when no one is looking…all of the glances you caught more than once…

They were nothing. 

Stumbling back into the hallway, you ran as fast as you could to your room. The TARDIS bestowed mercy on you, materializing your room just a few feet away. You didn’t think twice to fly open the door and slam it shut behind you. You knew the sound would travel to the console room and alert Amy and the Doctor, but you didn’t care. 

The force of your cries shook your body, your sobs filling your room despite your hands trying to muffle them. Over and over you replay the entire conversation. You wished the TARDIS would swallow you whole and spit you far, far away from the Time Lord. 

You hear the sound of thundering steps approach your room before the sound of frantic knocking against your door. 

Before the person could utter a single word, you let out a strangled demand: “Go away!”

“(Y/N), I can—” the Doctor cut himself short. He let out a frustrated huff before starting again. “Please, it’s not what you think.”

Those words snapped you out of your whirlwind of sadness. Anger bubbled in its place. 

“Not what I think?!” You didn’t think twice before forcefully opening the door. The Doctor jumps from his spot in front of your room, a show of surprise on his face. “I heard everything.”

The Doctor places his hand up in surrender. The cold, neutral face he had on before is completely wiped away, leaving a startlingly emotional one instead. “Please, if you give me a moment—”

“What more could you say to me?” It comes out shaky, with tears still dripping down your face in rivers. You no doubt look like a complete wreck, but you’re too upset to care. You’re tired of bottling your emotions up. You want him to know how much this meant to you, how much his words physically hurt you. “I know you’re already upset at me that I didn’t listen to you, I know that. You don’t get to stand there and act like this is a whole misunderstanding. I mean come on—fragile human?”

“I know and I’m—”

“I was so relieved to see you again. Three days, Doctor. Three whole days, spent in that cell waiting for you. I felt so guilty for not listening and I hoped that we could reconcile, but no. I was fine with giving you space, but then I had to overhear you talk about me like I’m some burden.” You force yourself to take a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. “Is that how you really feel about me?”

The Doctor doesn’t respond, which makes you even more angry. 

“Did you know?” you spit out. It took everything in you to not shut the door in his face and never come outside again. But you needed to know. “Did you know?”

The silence that came thereafter was deafening. The Doctor let his hands drop to his sides. You didn’t dare blink, watching his every move, waiting for a response. His head dips to the side, his lower lip caught in his teeth as he stares at a spot on the floor. You knew he knew what you were referring to. 

When he lifts his head, you were surprised to see such bare remorse. Still, it does nothing to quell you; if anything you’re happy he’s feeling the guilt. 

“Yes…I knew for a while,” he mumbled, forcing the words to come out. “Rory’s mum told me, said that you liked me. I told her that of course you liked me, I’m the Doctor. But she gave me a serious look and told me you fancied me.” His lips twisted up at the memory, but seeing your withering glare he quickly dropped it. 

You gripped the doorframe, recalling the visit clearly. The Ponds had called you, wanting to go on another adventure after nearly three months of normalcy on Earth. In their absence, it was just you and the Doctor against the universe. Three months of staring longingly at the madman in a box, wanting to spill your guts but feeling too scared to. When the Ponds came back, you remembered Rory’s mum taking the Doctor to the side, whispering in his ear. You had asked what she said, but the Doctor gave a flustered reply. His ears were pink, and his words were hastily spat out. 

“That was over a year ago. You knew all that time?” You wanted to scream every curse you knew, both English and alien. It took everything in you to not tear him a new one right then and there. “And I had to hear you say it to Amy of all people? Someone who also fancied you, and if I recalled kissed you?”

It was unfair to throw that back in his face knowing that they moved on from that incident. Amy had since made it explicitly clear that she loved him platonically and was wholly committed to Rory. 

The Doctor took a tentative step towards you, unsure if you were going to disappear back into your room. He took another, and another. You couldn’t look him in the eyes, opting to stare at his scuffed shoes. 

You could feel him get closer. It unnerved how much you still wanted to be near him, despite everything. 

The Doctor’s hands found the curve of your cheek, gently tilting your face up to meet his gaze. Warm palms cupped the sides of your face and his thumbs wiping away the tears that still fell. The sheer intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, burning into you. You watch as his green irises start getting glassy; the planes of his cheeks become a flushed pink. He stood there for a few moments, simply holding your face, looking at you as if it’s the last time he ever will. 

You let yourself bask in his touch. He took another step towards you, still holding your face. You closed your eyes as you felt the cool touch of his forehead against yours. 

“Doctor—”

“You have every right to be upset.” He gave a chuckle, but you heard the pain in his voice. “You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you. I looked forward to the nights where you pester me with odd questions. Every morning I pray that you stay another day with me, hoping that you don’t wish to go back to Earth.”

The confession scares him, you feel it in the way he tries to keep his voice even. When he pulls his forehead from yours, he still hovers over your face, staring with the heat of all the feelings he tried so desperately to hide. 

His eyes move over every inch of your face before settling back to your swollen eyes. You watch his eyes soften, as if he’s seeing the most beautiful star nestled in the depths of your pupils. So focused on the heat of his hands and the movement of his eyes, that you almost miss the twin stream of tears running down his own face. 

The Doctor took one shuddering breath, letting his thoughts flow out. “I couldn’t let myself acknowledge my feelings—I couldn’t. Everyone I ever loved…everyone I got close to is gone because of me. I couldn’t let that happen, especially not to you. But then you had to get yourself kidnapped.” His voice trailed off, cracking at the memory. 

You dared not to move, fearful that he would snap out of the spell he found himself in. You can’t recall a time where he was this open to you, about his feelings no less. All the pent up emotion you felt before settled to a dull throb in your heart. 

“I would’ve brought the entire fleet down on its knees, have them beg for mercy.” You felt the rage in his voice, knowing full well that he meant every word. “When I couldn’t find you, I was terrified. You were gone before…”

His hands trembled, his breath became more ragged. You’ve never seen true terror on his face. 

You whisper, just barely audible to his ears. “Before what Doctor?”

He shakes his head, almost wishing he didn’t open his mouth. When you silently pressed him to answer, he couldn't help but cave. 

“I lied back there, with Amy,” the Doctor rushed, trying to get all his disorganized thoughts out. “I lied—I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

“What? Didn’t mean wha—”

“It already happened,” he cried, his body caving towards you. “I told myself I couldn’t let myself love you. I…I lied.”

You felt your heart stop for the second time today. Your mouth slightly agape, unsure of how to respond. The Doctor takes a half step, effectively caging your body against his. You own shaking hands rested atop of his, hoping to calm him. 

“Every moment I spent with you, I spent yearning,” he says with such emphasis that leaves no room for doubt. You cry harder at the admission. “I took my frustration on you, made you think that I could never love you. I do—Stars, I do. You have no idea how much I do.”

You couldn’t hold back the loud sob that overtakes your whole body. A cry that leaves the Doctor’s two hearts aching knowing that he caused your pain. He continues to rub his thumbs over your cheeks, not to wipe away the tears, but to soothe you. 

“Say it,” you plead, words scraping against your throat. “Say it and I’m yours. I’ll be yours forever.”

Your words trigger something in him, that same fear that made him distant towards you. He doesn’t move from his spot, paralyzed by the decision. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” came his equally desperate reply. “I can’t lose you too.”

“We’ll find a way. You always do.”

The Doctor sags against you, resting his forehead against yours once more. Cries of his own shake him, his tears joining yours on the TARDIS floor. You take it upon yourself to mirror his actions; your hands gently holding his face. His once bright, crystal green eyes were now blurred with tears, encased by swollen, flushed eyelids. 

“I love you.”

A barely audible whisper, one meant for you. Said with such raw intensity that it echoes in your ear, seared in your mind forever. 

The Doctor clears his throat, furrowing his brows in concentration. “I love you. Stars above, I love you.” He speaks louder, not wanting you to miss a word. “I’ve loved you for years and I was too much of a coward to tell you. I’ll make it up to you, show you how much I’ve wanted you, if you let me.”

A smile stretched across your face. Pure euphoria filled your body, buzzing with a high that made you lightheaded. You feeled the charged energy between you two. The Doctor stills, anxiously awaiting for your response. 

“I’m yours,” you say in the shared space between you. A declaration, waiting for the final seal. “I love you, Doctor.”

The Doctor slants against you, finally removing the last inch of space between you. His kiss falls over you like the whispered confession he had given you. His lips mold against yours, slow and lingering. One kiss, then another. You grasp onto him, your hand threading into his hair, another along his jacket. His hands no longer tremble. You feel his palms leave your face and travel down to the curve of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his body. 

When you pull away to breath, he wastes no time burying his face against your neck, peppering the heated skin with kiss after kiss. He finds the spot where your pulse meets your jaw, sucking on the skin harshly, making you shudder. The Doctor overwhelms your senses; his touch, his scent, the taste of his mouth—

The Doctor gives one final kiss against your lips, before releasing you. He watches you catch your breath, seeing your relieved smile stretching across your face. He feels his face mirroring that same delirious smile. 

I’m yours, his two hearts sing. I’m yours forever.

[billiesguitar]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

other girls

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Smut,Dom!billie,cursing,eating out,fingering

"Long time no see, hm baby?" I feel her arms slide around my waist and her breath tickles the back of my neck as she places her head on my shoulder. Billie looks up at the girl I'd been talking to this whole party and smiles sweetly.

"Billie," I smile back, trying to keep my voice from giving away my anger, she always does this, leaves and talks to whoever she wants, reminding me of our friends with benefits agreement but gets angry when I talk to other girls. though she's so beautiful tonight. She's wearing this black suit that hugs her curves in all the right places, making my stomach flutter.

"So sorry I've been busy," she says, then glaces at the girl, "thanks for keeping my girl company."

The girl blushes and quickly excuses herself, leaving Billie and me standing there awkwardly.

"Why are you talking to her?" Billie's voice is low, almost a growl.

"I can talk to however I want. I'm not your girlfriend, Billie." I reply, trying to keep the edge out of my tone.

"No, but you're mine," she whispers into my ear.

Her hands are on my hips now, turning me to face her. I can't help but look into her piercing blue eyes. "Friends with benefits, remember?" I remind her, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I do. But I don't like sharing." She says, her grip tightening.

"What do you mean by that?"

Her gaze is intense, and for a second, I think she's going to kiss me right here in front of everyone. But instead, she takes my hand and leads me through the crowd. "Follow me."

We push through the throng of people, the bass of the music vibrating through my chest, until we reach the bathroom. She locks the door behind us and turns to face me.

"I want you," she says simply. "Now."

The sudden aggression in her voice sends a thrill down my spine, and I know exactly what she means. I nod, my heart racing.

Without another word, she grabs the hem of my dress and pulls it up, bunching it up around my waist. "I should bend you over that counter and fuck you into oblivion," Billie get on her knees and parts my legs, her grip firm on my thighs, "but I'm not gonna do that."

"Why not?" I ask breathlessly, feeling a little disappointed.

"Because I want everyone to hear how much you want me," she says with a smirk, "and I want them to know exactly who you belong to."

Billie tugs my underwhere down and drapes my leg over her shoulder. She kisses my inner thigh, her hot breath sending shivers down to my core. "You're mine, aren't you?" she asks, looking up at me.

"Yes," I murmur, feeling my body responding to her dominance.

"Good."

Her mouth moves to my core, and she starts to kiss and nibble lightly before bringing in her fingers. They're gentle at first, but she quickly picks up the pace, making me gasp. Her tongue swirls around my clit, and she adds a second finger, pushing into me without mercy.

"Billie," I moan, my hand on the cool porcelain of the sink to steady myself.

"That's right," she murmurs, her voice a bit low, "let them all know."

The bathroom echoes with the sound of my moans, and I can't help but wonder if anyone outside can hear. It's so wrong, but so hot.

"I want to hear you,baby." she says, her voice muffled by my legs

And with that, she sucks harder, her tongue flicking my sensitive bud. My legs start to shake as the pleasure builds inside me.

"Oh god," I whisper, leaning back against the sink and I tug slightly on her hair.

Her response is to push in a third finger, stretching me and filling me up completely. I feel so vulnerable like this, exposed and at her mercy. But I love it.

"Billie," I call out louder, "please, don't stop."

"m'not gonna baby," she coos, "don't you worry"

I can feel my climax approaching, and I'm so close. "I'm gonna come," I whimper.

"That's it," she encourages, her tongue never leaving my clit.

The orgasm hits me like a wave, making my knees buckle. Billie holds me up, her mouth still working me through the aftershocks. She pulls away and looks up at me with a satisfied smirk.

"now, can other girls make you cum like this?"

[milfloveer]

Suprise

Pairing: Patti LuPone x fem!reader

Plot: Patti finished one of her shows and you're waiting in her dressing room, only she doesn't know you're there

Warnings: Patti being sad is a major warning and trigger don't you agree?

A/n: I'm simply and completely obsessed with Patti LuPone and some of her characters 😩 it's not even healthy fam

A/n II: also this isn't my best work, but will do ig

Today was Patti's premiere of A Life in Notes and I wasn't able to go as I was shooting for my new upcoming movie... At least it was what Patti thought.

I was always present on her first and last shows without failing, always there to be the loudest in the crowd when the show was over. But this time was different, I couldn't be there because this movie was draining me out, always shooting and reshooting.

Of course she was sad when I told her and I was too, seeing her like that made my heart, the one who beats for her, break. But what she didn't know was that today the shooting went really well and by the time I was finished I still had an hour to be at the theatre where Patti was doing her show.

I was currently changing clothes and putting some makeup on, so I could hurry up and go to Patti's show when a knock sounded on my trailer door "Come in!" I say and as the door opens Aubrey, who was part of the cast of the movie I was working in, walks in with a smile, already changed from the costume "You ready, love?" she asks and I frown "For what?" I ask confused, I don't remember making plans after shooting, she simply chuckles "Your wife's show duh." she says and I relax "Totally! Are you coming too?!" I ask excitedly "Of course I'm coming, wouldn't miss a Patti show for nothing." I just smile from ear to ear, grab my purse and walk out with her "Don't tell Patti we're going, she doesn't know and I want to make it a surprise!" I say excited and Aubrey just laughs at me "You look like a child ready for some candy, y/n." I stop and look at her "I am a child and my candy is waiting for me." I say smirking and winking at her, which she responds with a mocking disgusted face making me laugh.

As we arrived we were instantly met with Kathryn and Joe "Oh my god! Y/n! Aubrey! You made it!" Kathryn said as soon as her eyes landed on us, I was changing messages with her all day and of course she knew what was going on, she gave us a big hug and so did Joe "Yes! Isn't it awesome?!" I asked excitedly as they nodded with big smiles "Oh, and please don't tell anything to Patti, I want to surprise her, she doesn't know we're here." Kathryn already knew but nonetheless she lifts her hands in surrender as saying she won't tell anything and Joe seals his lips with an invisible key.

As we're talking I see from the corner of my eye the director of the show walking by, excusing myself I walk away so I could get to him. As I'm approaching him his eyes fall on my figure and he instantly recognises me "Mrs. LuPone!" he says happily greeting me with a warm hug "Oh, please, call me y/n. We're friends after all." I tell him and then proceed to explain what my plan is and to say he's delighted and excited too is an understatement "Patti really was a little low today and now I know why, but this will certainly make her night Mrs. LuPone- I mean, y/n!" he says laughing softly "Great! Then it's a deal." I say clapping my hands and saying goodbye so I could join the group again and go find our seats.

The show goes smoothly, we laugh, we cry, we sing and we feel everything. My eyes were always glued to my love, the glint in my eyes just like a child seeing his favourite toy, the love and admiration evident in me, proud emanating from my body as I followed her figure on the stage. And her voice. Oh, her beautiful voice. I'll never get tired of it, at home she's always singing something and sometimes I join her, but mostly is her singing while I watch with pure joy and love.

The last song is over and the crowd erupts into applauses and cheers and, as always, I scream from the top of my lungs and whistle, trying to be the loudest of them all, completely forgetting what I've planned and that she shouldn't know I was there.

I'm brought back to reality when a member of the crew approaches me and tells me to follow them, as well as the rest of the group. We're arriving at Patti's dressing room when suddenly she appears and I quickly jump behind a random black tall box that's in the way. Aubrey looks at me confused and so does Kathryn and Joe, then I point into Patti's direction and they all hurry to her cheering and congratulating her about her performance as I slip into her dressing room.

"You guys! What are y'all doing here!" Patti says, her big smile reaching her ears as she receives big hugs from everyone "You were incredible Patti!" Kathryn says "Yeah! Just wow! No words- like wow." Joe says and then she turns to Aubrey with wide eyes "Aubrey! What- How are you even here?!" and with that Aubrey just replies with one of her sarcastic and funny remarks "I ran away from the studio." she says shrugging her shoulders while everyone laughs "What about y/n, did she came with you?" Patti asks expectantly "I thought I heard her in the crowd screaming and whistling, but couldn't find her." she says still hoping it was true and I was there, but Aubrey being the good actress she is, puts on an act "No... Sorry, Patti she had more scenes than I to shoot. She couldn't make it." she says with a sadned and apologetic tone. Patti's face drops "Oh, alright. It's... Alright." she says and gives them a tight smile "I'm goin to change and then we could all go out for dinner, hm? My treat?" she asks and all of them agree.

I was seated on the little couch near the door waiting for my love. The door opens and I see her coming in and leaning into it as it closes, she lets out a shaky breath and it breaks my heart... She really wanted me here tonight "What's wrong, my love?" I ask softly while getting up from the couch.

She gasps and jumps, her eyes open quickly as she was not expecting someone to be there "Oh my gosh! Wha-" her eyes lock with mine as I approach her figure "Y/n?" she asks, her hands reaching out to my face, cupping and caressing it "Yes, my love." I say smiling lovingly "You really didn't think I would miss your show, right?" I ask with a breathy laugh, Patti lets out a shaky breath and brings our lips together to a soft and tender kiss, comforting even. "I love you." she breathes out against my lips bringing a big smile on my face "I love you too, Patti." I say kissing her again.

[queenshelby]

Business As Usual (Part Three)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Wife!Reader

Warning: Dubious Consent, Reluctant Smut, Loss of Virginity, Arranged Marriage, Religious Themes, Angst, Termination, Pregnancy 

Words: 3,500

NOTE: THIS IS MUCH DARKER THAN WHAT I USUALLY WRITE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

*** The Consummation of Marriage***

“Alright Love. Why the fuck not” Tommy said as his gaze dropped.

“You will give me the US division of the business?” you ought to clarify before retreating slightly and placing your half empty glass onto the nearby study desk.

“What fucking choice do I have, eh?” Tommy then asked and, by this point, he was already awfully close to you.

“Okay. Right. Now, should I get myself ready so that…” you then stammered a little nervously, causing Tommy to furrow his eyebrows.

“Ready for what?” he wondered and, again, you nervously stammered out an explanation.

“We just talked about this, Thomas” you began to say but he interrupted you.

“We did, and I do not want to draw this out for any longer than I have to. Let’s just get it over and done with, eh?” Tommy asked and, of course, you agreed.

“That’s perfectly fine by me” you thus said, trying to appear confident whereas, the truth was, that you were not.

“Good” Tommy said. “Now, turn around” he ordered and this caught you by surprise.

“Excuse me?” you asked as you weren’t sure what he wanted you to do.

“Turn around. It will be quicker that way” he then said and, again, you nodded, this time more reluctantly than before.

“Sure” you said almost nervously before turning around and placing your palms on to the large desk now in front of you, waiting for what was to come next.

But, what came next surprised you as, suddenly, you felt your husband’s hands on your back, pushing your upper body down until your clothed breasts laid flat against the cold oak.

And then his weight was against your back, his hands on your hips, and you began to wonder how someone so lean could be so strong when you felt it.

“Are you sure about this Love?” he then asked again and affirmed that this was indeed what you wanted.

“I am sure, although I didn’t expect it to happen quite like this” you then told him and Tommy chuckled slightly.

“Listen Love, you asked me to make it quick and I can assure you that it will be quick, but only if we do it my way. I have no desire to make love to you. I will simply fuck you and then I will be on my way. Now, do I have your consent?” Tommy then asked and you, again, gave your consent.

“Yes. You have my consent” you said, holding back your tears just as your husband bunched your skirt up in his hands and pulled it up.

“Your ass is actually not that bad” Tommy then said almost cheekily while you gasped at the sudden feeling of air on your upper thighs as he flipped the fabric over your back, exposing your lace covered panties.

“Just shut up and do what you need to do” you responded while still fighting your tears. You were glad that he couldn’t see your face like this as, clearly, you had no intention of appearing vulnerable to him.

“I was just giving you a compliment Love” Tommy chuckled before, in one hard move, he pulled your underwear all the way down your thighs.

“I don’t need compliments from you, although a warning would have been nice” you gasped as you moved away from him slightly but Tommy quickly grabbed your hips and adjusted your position again.

He brought you further back towards him and yanked your legs apart slightly before instructing you to stay still.

“Don’t move” he growled just before his hand went right in between your legs and he ran a finger through your slit.

You winced at his touch and, whilst it felt interesting to be touched by someone else other than yourself, you were not aroused and were not quite sure what he was looking for but whatever it was, he did not find it.

“You're barely wet at all, Love” Tommy then said just as you heard the clink of his belt being undone.

“Am I meant to be?” you asked as, by now, your heart threatened to fly out of your chest.

“Considering the circumstances, probably not” Tommy then said while undoing his zipper and pushing down his pants and brief in go.

Unlike you, he was aroused but then again, getting aroused was not exactly difficult for him. He was a sex driven individual and visited local brothels quite frequently for easy and problem free relief.

Thus, he was also rather experienced and knew what needed to be done for a woman to enjoy herself although, with you, he seemingly couldn’t be bothered as, without loosing any time, he licked his fingers before applying his saliva onto your somewhat dry core so that he could penetrate you more easily.

It was at this time that, finally, the tears came in full force and, after Tommy removed his hand from you, you felt something hot and hard parting the lips of your slit.

It felt strange to say the least and you always expected your first time to be different and romantic in a way. You might have never been with a man, but you were a woman grown and had touched yourself before which, too, felt different.

At times, you even slid your own fingers inside of your body, but nothing compared to this as your husband pushed against your opening.

Now, all you could feel was burning until, eventually, your pussy gave in with a surge of pain.

You bit your tongue, teeth clenching, as Tommy penetrated you from behind and the tears did not stop, which luckily for you, he couldn’t see.

“Fuck Love, you are tight” Tommy said as you felt every painful centimetre of his cock being forced into you. The sensation was like sandpaper against your insides as, unceremoniously, you felt him ripping through your maidenhead.

The pain was a stab all the way from the innermost parts of you and, just as you swallowed your gasp, your knees began to give way.

There was no getting out of this now so you closed your eyes, clenched your jaw, and tried to just get through it.

Eventually, you felt Tommy’s hips touch your rear while, at the same moment, you felt him reach something deep inside your core.

“Please, just hurry up. I am not exactly enjoying this” you pleaded as Tommy ground his hips against you while the head of his cock nestled against your cervix, sending another wave of pain across your abdomen.

“It would be easier if you were stop moving around” Tommy then told you as he pulled out slightly and then pushed back in, hitting that spot inside again.

Every time he bottomed out inside of you, Tommy groaned but all you could register was the hard wall against your front and the burning ache in your privates growing momentarily sharp every time he thrust, even though he was not rough or too fast. In and out, in and out, dry drag and burning push, until a few minutes later the pain began to dull just the slightest bit, which you supposed meant your body had finally caught up and decided to help.

After a while, Tommy had picked up a little speed, with the new aid of your wetness. The pain in your entrance dulled slightly and left your vividly aware of the pain of that spot inside, low in your stomach.

“Just a little bit more Love. I am almost there” he groaned and panted behind you but you could not say anything and simply tried to focus on something else.

Somewhere in the pain and the shame, you felt lost. You just wanted this to be over and, luckily for you, after just a few minutes of thrusting in and of you, Tommy was close. The sounds he made were growing more and more heated and, by what you could feel inside of you, Tommy had began to really pick up speed now.

"I'm close” he eventually said. His voice was hoarse by now, near a pan and, with all the pain, you had no words left.

Eventually though you cried out inadvertently as, with one deep thrust, Tommy groaned loudly and hilted himself all the way inside. He forced his cock into you hardly and the force pushed you on your toes, stabbing that spot inside of you with all his might.

“Fuck” he groaned as he came and you knew that had spilled himself inside of you as you felt the wicked warmth of his cum spreading across your burning walls.

When he was done, he sighed. He was content and spent and, after a few moments, he rocked his hips. And again. Slowly, gently, a little thrust, then another, pushing his seed deeper inside of you.

You whined. The pain might have dulled, but it hadn't stopped and, when he finally pulled out of you, you sighed with relief whereas Tommy, on the other hand, was met with shock and regret.

“Fuck Y/N! Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked almost angrily as he noticed the streaks of blood that had mixed with his cum, covering both his cock and your pussy.

“Tell you what?” you asked after wiping your tears away.

“That I am your first! Fuck! I would have been…” Tommy yelled after cleaning himself off, pulling up his pants and slamming his fist onto the desk just before you interrupted him.

“You would have been more careful or little bit gentle perhaps?” you chuckled, wiping away the tears that you were unable to hold back.

“Yes. Obviously” Tommy sighed before handing you his handkerchief. Let’s talk about this” he then said but you shook your head.

“Talk about what? There is nothing to talk about Thomas! It had to be done and I didn’t want you to have pity on me. This is a business transaction now. No more and no less” you told him and this comment you made irritated him even more.

“Fine” he said before walking towards the door. “You are fucking insane, you know that? Perhaps Pol was wrong about you” Tommy then spat and slamming the door behind him as he left.

Just as he had left however, you just cried against the wall, trying to ignore the warm wet feeling inside of you and trying to ignore his words.

Did he actually care about you? Did you, just perhaps, push him too far?

*** Backflash to Wedding Reception ***

For some reason, you despised him and it was your new aunt Pol who had given you hope just after you told her that you may as well be dead. Obviously, she spoke with your husband as well and this made you wonder.

Polly Gray was her name and she assured you during the wedding reception that Thomas was not as terrible as you had thought. According to her, your new husband was known to do bad things to a good end and him marrying you was just that.

He tried to look after his family and the business by making this deal and, according to her, he offered your family many things in order to get out of this marriage, all of which they refused.

“It must be a mafia thing” she said as she knew that your mother and uncles wanted him to marry your older sister but ended up marrying you instead. You wanted to protect her after all she had been through in the past and you knew that, even though you were the youngest sibling in your family, you were also the mature and smartest.

Your father had always called you a “gifted fighter” and told you that, unfortunately for your family, neither your brother nor your cousins or uncles possessed what it took to run this business.

He wanted to take his drug and liquor empire to another level and this was exactly where Thomas Shelby came into the picture.

Unbeknownst to you, Thomas and your father had worked together for more than six years after Thomas killed a man by the name of Luca Changratta.

Luca Changratta was a rival business man who did what Tommy was doing now, and it was your father who had put the mechanisms into place to unite the families following his death. It was a smart thing to do as the Shelbies weren’t Italian and, just like your father, aunt Polly told you that Thomas was a man of his word.

“You will see that he won’t bother you much Love. He will not touch you unless you want him to and you will have all the luxuries you can imagine” Polly said before realising herself that this is not what you wanted.

“I don’t like being reduced to someone’s wife and I certainly don’t care about diamonds and pretty dresses” you explained before telling her outright that it was your father’s business that you were after.

“Then make this marriage work to your advantage. Tommy is a business man and you may work well together” she told you but you shook your head.

“I doubt that very much. The sheer fact that he married me for financial gain means that our values do not align” you explained while taking yet another sip from your glass of champagne.

“That may not be true Y/N. Unlike your family, my family likes to empower women and, if you go about it the right way, then perhaps you can work with us as part of our company as well as your father’s company” Polly explained but, again, you shook your head.

“My uncles won’t allow that” you chuckled, seeing that, at least in your family, women were frowned upon.

“With Tommy being part of your family now, they will soon realise that they have lost all authority over their businesses. He has his ways of making people bend to his will and, if you play your cards right, they will bend to yours also” Polly then suggested and you wondered why she was being so nice to you.

“Why are you telling me this?” you thus asked and she explained.

“Because you are smart and us women need to work together in order to conquer the world” she told you and this well and truly made you smile for the first time that night.

“Well Miss Gray, you are quite unlike any other woman I have met”

“Call me Polly, Love. We are family now”

“Not quite yet. There is still one thing that has to be done which I am not looking forward to”

“Tommy wouldn’t lay a hand on you Love”

“If he want’s this marriage then, I am afraid, he will have to” you told your new aunt just as the clock stroke nine and the announcement was made that the ceremony was about to come to end.

It was now time for you to consummate the union with your new husband while the guests had the option to leave the party or stay in the function hall of your new mansion, which was located just outside of London.

“You must be joking?” your aunt asked as your mother asked her elected witness to come forward and you quickly managed to down a glass of whiskey at this point.

“No, I am afraid not. It’s a tradition that came to fruition a few hundred years ago and for some fucked up reason it is still practised by my family and their congregation to this day” your explained a slightly tipsy state, knowing that you needed alcohol to get through this.

“That’s ironic really, considering that your very own family uses the churches in Boston and Chicago to store their cocaine. Surely, they can’t be that fanatic” Polly exclaimed just as Tommy came by, followed right by the woman who was your long standing family doctor.

“What is going?” Tommy asked, causing Polly to grin.

“Apparently you get to consummate your marriage now, so have fun” she joked, but Tommy simply rolled his eyes.

“Funny” he said before trying to walk off again, which is when you reached for his hand.

“She isn’t joking I am afraid” you sighed before making Tommy follow you to your material bedroom.

*** The Present Day ***

And there you were, crying again, as the memories of recent weeks came crawling back into your mind.

You recalled your rather painful wedding night and how your husband left the house for an entire week thereafter without even bothering to introduce you to his son.

You recalled how your very own husband then decided not to keep his promise to you. He took away the import and export division of your business and, instead, he put a woman called Laura Manning into charge. Now, he was even sleeping with her and, whilst you did not mind him sleeping with whores, this was the ultimate betrayal for you.  

And then, finally, you recalled that horrible morning two weeks ago, when you woke up nauseous and unable to eat.

It was that same awful morning that you found out that you were with child and you never told anyone, not even your husband.

There was only one person who knew and this was the man you trusted more than those in your own family. He was a doctor in London and you had worked with him on several charity projects downtown, including a new hospital that had been sponsored by the Grace Shelby Foundation.

Charity work kept you sane as it was the only kind of work your husband permitted you to do and it was now also the kind of work that made you befriend this stranger named Frank.

But even Frank refused to help you now and you knew that, what you were asking him to do, was illegal.

You had asked him to terminate your pregnancy. You could not bear carrying Thomas Shelby’s child after all he had done to you but there was no one who was willing to take the risk and carry out this dangerous procedure.

In the same vein, you also wanted a divorce but there was also no lawyer who was willing to take the case and your husband was very well aware of that.

You were stuck and wondered whether, somehow, you could go away and leave this life behind after just a few weeks but then you thought about it again.

You were much stronger than that and you knew that you would not allow a man to ruin you.

You were a “gifted fighter” and putting up a fight was what you were going to do.

***

With that in mind, you made your way to London and, in London, you sought out a woman who you knew nothing about. Her name was Elizabeth Stark and, just a year ago, she divorced your very own husband.

You wrote to her after finding out about your pregnancy and she agreed to meet with you after having had a letter delivered to you through Frank’s address.

She was cautious, of course, but she also knew that you needed her help and possibly some guidance.

When you met her in a café, you were rather surprised. She was dressed nicely and looked incredibly attractive. She featured dark curly hair and her skin was white as snow.

“I am Y/N” you said, having recognised her from the photographs which you found in Tommy’s office.

“Call me Lizzie” she said after offering you a seat.

“You are much younger than I had expected. I am truly surprised that Tommy…you know…never mind…” she then acknowledged and, of course, it was at this point that you told her that your marriage to Tommy didn’t came about out of love. It was a marriage that had formed part of a business deal and this information made Lizzie sigh deeply.

“It’s never love for Tommy. He loved Grace but he isn’t going to love anyone else and the sooner you realise that, the happier you will be. Tommy is all about business and money and fucking whores. He won’t ever care about you just as he never really cared about me” Lizzie then explained with great frustration and you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved about hearing this from someone else. According to her, he married her because she was pregnant with his child and felt as though it was the right thing to do for his political image.

“What happened to your child?” you asked and, as you did, Lizzie broke out in tears.

“Our daughter died of consumption and fucking Tommy…” she began to say before gathering her thoughts. “Don’t ever have children with him. He loves them, but wherever he goes, there will always be danger” she then warned you and you immediately shed a few tears as well.

“I am pregnant” you admitted. “I don’t want to be, but I am. I don’t know what to do” you then sobbed and Lizzie took your hands into hers.

“Do you want to terminate?” she asked gently and you nodded.

“No one will do it. They are all too afraid of Tommy” you explained, crying.

“I know someone who will do it, but you can never tell Tommy, understood?” Lizzie asked and, of course, you nodded again.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[happilykrispypirate]

hello! I was wondering if you could write a Mattheo x sweet! Slytherin reader where the other Slytherins are picking on her because they don't believe she's a Slytherin. And maybe Mattheo saves her and tells her that he likes her.

Mattheo's Girl

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x Sweet!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, minor bullying, and my shitty writing.

A/n: Sorry for the really long wait. School year started three weeks ago and things have been hectic. I'll try to update and write as much as I can but if I don't update in a long time please don't think I'm ignoring your requests! I'll get to them as soon as I can.

-

Y/n, was the sweetest girl in Hogwarts. Many found it hard to believe she was in Slytherin.

She'd never say no to anyone, she'd always offer to help, and there wasn't a single mean bone in her body.

She was walking to class, a little hop in her step as always, when she was that a few of her fellow Slytherins were making fun of Neville. Poor Neville, she thought.

They tripped him causing all of his books to scatter on the floor while they walked away laughing.

Y/n immediately went over and helped him pick his books up.

"Sorry about them," She sighed as she helped him pick his books up.

"I'm used to it," He said which made the girl's heart ache for the boy.

"You shouldn't be. Boys like them are the reason Slytherin have such a bad name," Y/n said as they both stood up. She handed him his books.

"Atleast Slytherin has you to show that not all Slytherins are evil," Neville said smiling at her kindly.

She returned it with a bright and kind smile before saying goodbye to Neville before he walked off.

The Slytherin boys that tripped Neville didn't go far and watched the whole exchange. Giving her nasty and disgusted looks.

When Neville left they walked up to her, "You shouldn't help a pathetic excuse of a wizard like him."

Y/n turned around and faced the towering boys, "You really shouldn't bully people, it's not nice," She replied.

The boys laughed, "You're also a fucking pathetic excuse of a witch. You don't belong in Slytherin."

"I'm sorry that you think that," Y/n said, "I have to get to class. Good day to you."

She turned on her heels and walked as fast as she could, completely ignoring the calls from the boys.

Mattheo glared at the boys who were making rude remarks about Y/n as she walked away. His jaw clenched, how could anyone ever want to heart an angel like her?

-

In the common room, Mattheo and the rest of the boys in his friend group sat comfortably on the sofas. Pansy and Y/n were at the table.

Pansy was struggling in Astronomy so Y/n offered to help her.

"This stuff doesn't make sense," Pansy said sighing as she placed her head in her hands, "I'm fucking over it."

"No need to swear," Y/n said, "You just have to simplify it for yourself. Try to remember the constellations with riddles that you make up for yourself. Example, my very easy method just speeds up nothing, My is Mercury, Very is Venus, Easy is Earth and then you should know the rest."

Pansy nodded and went quiet for a moment, thinking. "Oh! I got one. Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. Major is Big so Great Bear and Minor is small so Little Bear."

Y/n smiled brightly, "That's one of the easiest ones but yes! You got it."

"Thank you, N/n. I don't know what I'd do without you," Pansy smiled as she leaned over and hugged Y/n.

"You're welcome, Pans. We can continue tomorrow night. I think we both need a rest," Y/n said. They packed Pansy's stuff and Pansy went to sit with the boys while Y/n took the books over to the bookshelves that were in the common room.

The boys from earlier came up behind her, "Studying hard to make up for you being a pathetic Slytherin?" One said.

"You can't cancel out the fact that you're pathetic by getting good grades you know," The other one said.

"Trying to get good grades is not an excuse to 'make up' or as you boys say to 'cancel out' anything. I'm simply determined to succeed in life. If you boys are struggling with anything. I could always tutor you," She said and they burst out laughing.

Their laughter caught his eye. His eyes immediately darkened and his demeanor changed.

"Oh I don't like that look," Enzo said as he saw the look on Mattheo's face.

Enzo turned and saw Y/n with the boys, "Oh, I see."

"They've been bothering her. Calling her names behind her back and telling her she's pathetic when she helped Neville the other day," Pansy said, "She told me about it and said it doesn't bother her, but I can hear her cry at night."

"This has to stop," Theo said.

"It will," Mattheo said as he stood up and walked over to them.

"You don't deserve to be in Slytherin you good for nothing little bi-" The one started before he was grabbed by the collar and slammed against the wall.

"You say one more thing to her, or come near her ever again, I will fuck you up," Mattheo spat in his face.

"Mattheo, stop," Y/n said trying to pull him off. Tears were threatening to fall. Things were getting too overwhelming.

"Oh yeah? Is that it?" The boy mocked, "You're not gonna kill me? Not a daddy's boy after all."

Mattheo's fist came flying into the boy's jaw. Soon enough the other boy's joined in, resulting in Theo, Enzo, Blaise and Draco to join in.

The tears ran down Y/n's cheeks as she fled the scene. Pansy trying to follow her but she lost her.

-

Y/n walked back to the common room later that night. She spent her time in the Room of Requirement, crying and trying to calm herself down.

It worked, but one tiny thing might set her off. Like the fact that Mattheo has been waiting for her the whole night long in the common room.

She bit her tongue, trying not to cry, "Where have you been?" Mattheo asked as soon as he saw her. He stood up and walked over to her, "Are you alright?"

Y/n looked at him and saw the bruises on his face along with the spots of blood.

"I'm fine, come on, let's go clean you up," She said as she pulled him to the nearest bathroom which is the bathroom in her and Pansy's shared dorm.

She made him sit on the edge of the bath as she took out a rag and put it under the running tap.

"Why did you run away?" Mattheo asked as she was cleaning his face.

"Everything got too much to handle," She replied, "You didn't have to do that. I can handle them."

"I can't," Mattheo said.

Y/n halted her movements and looked at him. He looked up and made eye contact, "What do you mean?"

"I can't handle them hurting you. I can't handle you crying yourself to sleep at night over them hurting you," He said.

She sighed, "Pansy?" Mattheo nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked.

"I didn't want to bother you," She said.

"You never bother me," He replied as he stood up. He looked down at her, their faces mere inches apart.

Mattheo leaned down and Y/n stood on her toes just before their lips met. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he placed his hands on her hips.

They pulled apart after a few moments, lips still brushing against each other.

"I will never let anyone hurt you again. As long as you're mine, even after you're not, which by the way will never happen, no one will ever hurt you," He said.

She smiled sweetly up at him, "Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?"

Mattheo smiled, "Yes, it is," He said.

"Well, then I accept," She said.

Mattheo's smile only widened before he placed his lips on hers again.

He'll keep his promise.

No one, will hurt her ever again.