#AND NOW ONE OF THEM (the more vulnerable one) IS TRYING TO FIX IT WHILE THE OTHER IS NOT RESPONSIVE AURGHHHHH

[pearlescentparade]

OK PL SENDING MOINE IM GLAD I HAD IT PRE TYPED .

Noobador fluff request where player just has to relearn how to fight after chapter 3 because the ghostwalker weakened them a ton.. so they just.. go to Noobador while embarrassed about it. bantering ouuuhhhhhh.... Maybe some resting and focus on self-care..

-🍙

on your feet 🥊 noobador x reader fluff 💝

your linked sword weighs heavy in your hand.

almost like you haven't picked it up for a long time. but you know well that that's not the case, it couldn't be, you literally just used it in the battle for the ghostwalker.. you've swung it with ease ever since you embarked on this journey up until you collected that sword, at that point it was like an extension of your arm with how well it worked in tandem with you.

and yet, it now felt like it had the weight of the world, pulling your aching arms downward to the floor. it almost strains them.

the makeshift training dummy looks down on you, pitiful. if it could come alive, it'd laugh its straw stuffing out at you. the damn thing looks just about untouched, anyone would've thought that you only started training now if they happened to walk in right at this moment. but it's been an hour, and you've barely dented it with anything that somewhat resembles a scratch.

nevertheless, you brace yourself to take another shot. deep down, you're more than aware that it's foolish of you to keep trying when you know it won't work. but even deeper down, there's that tiny sliver of naive hope that a miracle will occur, that you'll cut down that stupid dummy and prove to yourself that you're fine.

despite your shaking hands, you steady your legs and raise the sword as best as you can (said best being slightly above your navel) to cut the dummy down. you swallow down your saliva, your doubt, to heal your dry and tight throat. your eyes, aflame with resolution, fix on your target, viciously glaring at it through your brows. the goofy eyes drawn on its paper bag head innocently reciprocate the stare.

down comes your blade, with all of your strength put behind it. and in that mighty swing...

the sword lightly drags diagonally across the dummy's torso.

it doesn't even pierce the fiber of its skin of sack. you basically just tenderly caressed it like it was your lover.

your eye twitches. you aggressively exhale, like a bull seeing red.

frustrated, you simply drop the sword, carelessly letting the metal clatter on the ground. you would've thrown it, but your arms are screaming at you enough. they seem to calm down now that you've let go, though.

you sigh, the unfortunate truth dawning on you: you're not in the condition to fight or continue on your quest. but what are you to do if not that?? it's been some time since you've done anything that didn't pertain to your quest.

...as sad as it sounded, you could really use a friend. what was the saying, misery enjoys company? yea, you'd love some of that right now, because you're downright miserable. and besides, speaking in terms of street smarts, it's always smart to be with someone you trust if you're vulnerable.

but who?

griefer is the absolute last person you want to see in this state, immediate no. he'd probably hiss at and make fun of you, and it'd piss you off more because you wouldn't be able to beat him up at the moment and it'd only make him laugh at you more.

you couldn't bear to bother kyoko when she's out exploring. besides, you don't really know where she is. for all you know, she could be towns away! the spontaneous nature of adventurers...

red and blue will tire you out for a fact. they're good kids, but they're kids. they will not let you have peace.

out of everyone, only one person really appeals to you as the best to go to.

or, he did at the time.

but now that you're standing face to face with him, you can't help but feel a bit ashamed of your state. despite having finished fighting a non-sentient and still object that had absolutely no way of damaging you, you look just as poor as you feel: disheveled hair, dirty clothing, and every limb quivering. and though noobador literally answers the door in a loose tank top and sweats, he looks miles beyond proper compared to you.

"...it's you."

noobador's eyes widen ever so slightly upon seeing you at his front door as he states the obvious. it makes you shrink even further into yourself than you already are, avoiding any possible eye contact with him as you mindlessly twiddle with your fingers.

was now not a good time? he doesn't sound particularly ecstatic to see you.. no, are you serious? it's just you, he doesn't owe you an excited greeting, don't be so full of yourself- maybe he's tired. or just stunned. you don't look too good, it's probably that. yea, you'd be shocked if you saw yourself too.

"..yeah. it is." your ears feel warm as you breathlessly mutter, borderline inaudible. meanwhile, your eyes find the hinges of his door incredibly captivating. how wonderfully brassy and rusted they are. oh my, they look recently oiled. yes, much more interesting than the man standing in front of you.

noobador takes one glance over at your shaking form, scrutinizing, as if carefully considering how he should approach you. then, he leans in and holds a hand up behind his ear to block out all other noise. "whaaatt? i can't hear you if you're gonna murmur, kid."

at the first chance he gets to tease you, noobador pounces for it, the sound of a smirk weaseling its way into his tone. you're funny like this, he thinks. it's not usually in his nature to torment others, but it's not usually in yours to be so skittish, so cut him some slack.

you squint up at him, looking directly at him. finally, noobador thinks.

"i- just repeated what you said, you don't need to hear it louder!" luckily for you, noobador's lighthearted mocking reminds you to be casual. part of your anxiety quells as you scowl at him. on the other hand, you're only growing more upset when he simply laughs. though you suppose you can't be too mad, given that you're not shaking like a twig anymore.

he then leans on the doorframe, quirking a curious brow with the intention of getting down to business. "well? you need something? i'm not too keen on having a staring contest on my porch all day."

huffing, you roll your eyes, "yea, i was getting to that." after taking a moment to mentally prepare yourself, you exhale. "okay, this might be kinda out of the blue, but can i please just chill in your place? i.. i need a break and i j- uagh!"

abruptly, noobador's large hand pushes you inside by your back, and you stumble over your feet a little from the force. before you can whip around to squabble with him again, he's already moving to the kitchen, leaving you standing in his living room dumbfounded.

"make yourself at home. red and blue should be out for most of the day, so we won't be having any disturbances." his gruff voice still rings clear, even when muted slightly from the next room over.

any witty remarks you wanted to make die on your tongue, as you sit on the couch in resigned defeat. from what you've seen of him, noobador is that 'what i say, goes' type, so it really shouldn't surprise you at this point. though, when you're the boss and parent of two children, it's impossible to not be a bit pushy.

what does surprise you is how unbelievably soft this couch is. despite its somewhat worn appearance making it look like it was picked off of the side of the road, you can't help but sink yourself deeper into it. you bring your legs up and lay on your side, nuzzling your head on a pillow next to the arm of the couch.

now that you're resting, the exhaustion creeps onto your feeble body, even more so with your newfound weakness. you could almost fall asleep right here.. and your heavy, drooping eyelids definitely agree.

"taking 'make yourself at home' a bit literally, aren't we?" you immediately jolt up. or, would've- if not for noobador's hand once again playing an unstoppable force and pushing you back to laying down. as fast as you got up, you're back down, square one.

with his other hand, noobador gently sets down a steaming cup on his coffee table with a light clink. "woah- take it easy, kid. i'm just messing with ya. sleep on my couch all you want, i don't care."

when he sees your curious eyes naturally draw to the cup, he elaborates, "oh, this? 's green tea. what, you want some??" you nod, a little too enthusiastically. with the terrible day you've had, noobador almost snorts at how your eyes practically light up.

but noobador brings his hand over the top of the cup and scoots it closer to himself, safeguarding his rightfully-earned pick-me-up. "then get up and go make some yourself, since you're so comfortable now." you shoot him a deadly glare, narrowing your eyes. what was the point of offering, then?! and how evil, to tell you to get up when your body has basically already thrown in the towel..!

he holds your gaze for a short while, before he huffs amusedly, deciding he's had his healthy dose of poking fun of you today anyway. "fine, ya got me. it's for you. don't get any on my couch or i'll knock you out."

he moves to carefully hand it to you. clearly experienced and traumatized from his own kids, he takes the liberty of warning you about the scorching bottom and facing the handle towards you so as to encourage you to hold the cup from there.

"yea, yea.. thanks."

you bring it to your face and lightly blow, before cautiously sipping. a rush of warmth seeps into your bones and blooms in your blood, and you can't fight smiling against the rim of the cup. even if it's a placebo effect tricking your mind, you'd like to think it's helping you regain some of your strength back.

noobador lays back against the couch. "you young punks sure like to throw yourselves in danger, huh? hardly my age, but doing double my work.. you'll get wrinkles earlier, going on like that."

you pout, "eww, i'm not gonna get wrinkly like you.. it's just this lil hiccup and i'll be back in business!"

"even small injuries can flare up into something bigger. take it from me," a reminiscent look glosses over his eyes, no doubt thinking back to his own moments of carelessness. and there's lots to spare, with the years of experience he's had.

"wow~ inspirational," you snicker, completely unserious. but you're listening, peering at the side of his head as you take another long sip.

he groans, bringing his hands up to rub his temples. "just take care of yourself, kid. 'cause nobody's gonna do it for you."

"really? 'cause you are." the mental image of noobador constantly looking after you like some kind of housewife makes you giggle. if only! you'd take breaks waaaaay more often.

he suddenly slaps his hands on his knees and pushes off of them to get up. "what i'm hearing is that you don't want anymore tea."

wildly, you gasp, crying after him as he walks off into a different room. "what- noo! fine, you're right! i'm sooorryyy, come backk!!" your hand half-heartedly reaches out for his back, before you let it fall on the arm of the sofa.

though it doesn't take long before noobador is back, this time with a comically huge and thick blanket in his hands. did he get that from his bedroom...?

before you can comment, he throws it on you, immediately engulfing you in fluffy darkness. while you vehemently fight to find the exit, grappling and tussling underneath the blanket, you can hear his haughty laugh from outside of your prison. jerk.

by the time you pop your head out, he's already reclaiming his seat next to you. "there. now you can get your precious beauty sleep."

"and what about my pillow?"

he rolls his eyes, mutters under his breath about how 'spoiled' you are, then stretches out his arm behind your head. you grin in victory, laying your head back against his firm muscle. you are spoiled, but he indulges you, so who's really to blame here?

surrounded by warmth, everything begins to feel heavy again. fuzz coalesces in your senses, and before you drift off, you think you feel yourself being pulled towards another warm body.

(parade postscript: exams aint got SHIT ON ME oooff this one turned out way longer than i intended in classic pp fashion but can you blame a writer for liking writing!!!!!)

[allpromarlo]

am i writing this much tragic siblings stuff because my brother is leaving for spain in five weeks or do i just like pain

[beloveds-embrace]

Fae au thought

One of them storming into her chambers only for her to be in the middle of a bubble bath. Completely bare of all things fae. So utterly human, so utterly vulnerable.

yes || masterlist || trying my hand at actually writing johnny’s accent

It was Johnny.

Of course it was Johnny.

The door slammed open with the force of a man too furious to remember propriety, the wood crashing against the stone with a bang that echoed like thunder down the gilded corridor and scattering the softly glowing wisps that floated lazily in your chambers like fireflies caught in honeyed light. The very walls groaned in protest, ancient ivy carved into the pillars flinching at the fury that surged in behind him. His voice followed, sharp, brimming with a fire he rarely let show in court.

"Where the fuck were you- ?!"

Every faelight in the room flickered, dimming in tandem with his rage. Then, silence; a heavy, suffocating silence.

You turned in the tub, water sloshing gently against porcelain as your hand rose to clutch at the side. Bubbles clung lazily to your shoulders, slipping down soft skin untouched by glamour or adornment. No jewelry curved your ears to points. No talon-shaped rings or flower-laced braids. No velvet. No corset. No thorns. Bare as a whisper, as a prayer. Soaked in steam and solitude, skin flushed from heat.

Only you.

Bare, human, and blinking at him like a deer startled mid-step in a clearing.

The fury drained from him in an instant.

Johnny’s lips parted, then closed. His eyes flicked- once, only once- before they dropped to the floor, jaw tightening with restraint. The fire had not gone out, but it was merely stifled now, banked beneath something deeper and rougher.

“Dinnae mean to…” he muttered, voice cracking low, throat bobbing.

You remained quiet, shoulders curling ever so slightly inward. The room, warm and fragrant with oils and rose petals, suddenly felt too still, too quiet, even though distant flutes played, music still drifting in from the spring festival below. One of the glass windows glowed a faint blue, letting in the moon’s touch. You reached for a towel, slow and deliberate, never taking your eyes off him.

And you- so achingly human- were the only thing in the room that didn’t shimmer. It made you seem all the more delicate.

“… You could knock next time.” You said, softly, not with anger, but with a tiredness that had settled deep into your bones. The kind that no glamour could mask. The kind even Thrain’s company barely eased. The kind that had nothing to do with being fae or queen or wife, and everything to do with simply being alone for too long. With being human in a place that did not welcome it.

Johnny didn’t leave, though, even if he should have.

Instead, he stepped back once- just once- and turned his head, gaze fixed on a tapestry like it had offended him personally.

“I thought somethin’’d happened,” he said, voice low and rough, accent thick. “Ye weren’t in yer chambers, or at the table. No one had a fuckin’ clue where ye’d gone. Court’s been crawlin’ all day- bastards won’t stop askin’ for more time wi’ ye. Price is snappin’. Gaz nearly stuck a blade in some prissy noble’s gut when he asked too sweetly where’d you gone. I dinnae even know where Si’s at an’ I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

You sank back into the water, letting the warmth cradle your frame.

“I just wanted a bath,” you whispered, sinking back into the bath, water lapping gently at your collarbone. The petals shifted around you, soft and luminous. “Not a title. Not another favor asked of me. Just…” Your fingers trailed across the surface, drawing circles. “To be myself. For a little while.”

The silence stretched. But it wasn’t heavy this time, and neither was it angry. Quiet.

After a moment, you heard the sound of boots stepping away. Not leaving- just moving. Then the faint scrape of wood against stone that had been etched with centuries’ worth of wards to keep wicked things at bay.

He was sitting, less like an advisor and more a knight keeping watch outside a princess’s door. But even closer than that.

“I’ll stay,” he said gruffly, crossing his arms as though daring anyone to argue with him- even you. “Not lookin’. Just… watchin’ the door.”

A pause. Then, in a voice so quiet you’d never think he was even capable of, Johnny sighed. “… Take yer time, queenie. Dinnae let me take this away from ye.”

You had no answer for that.

But when you rose, wrapped in soft linen and smelling of dusk-flowers and magic, your bare feet kissed the glowing floor, and your eyes met his- he didn’t look away this time.

Not even once.

(You told yourself it was not hunger that colored his eyes; you doubted he’d find a human attractive.)

[apppletea]

die your daughter.

act one.

sipnosis: Your own desires were alien to your family, to the point where you are determined to commit an atrocious act but suddenly everything is 7 years ago when you were only 13 years old. Something has changed and you're not sure what it is.

w ; suicide, self-harm.

Your whole life was in her hands, in the hands of that woman and now in the hands of this family who didn't give a shit about you! So how should you react when you returned to your fresh 13 years? Should you have just been happy and cried? No, never.

Your room had become a mess, a mess worse than that family, the furniture thrown over next to the books, the posters you once loved torn and ripped, the trophies you earned with great effort lying near some wall due to the blows you gave them.

How? HOW THE FUCK?!

Soon you felt tears of pure helplessness fall on your cheeks, you looked at the plushies on your bed, they were all obligatory gifts, nothing was genuine, nothing at all! So what? Now what? What should you do? It was probably a horrible, terrible nightmare. No, it shouldn't have happened. You brought your hands to your neck hoping to finish again, hoping to choke on your saliva, you pushed harder and harder until the sudden click of the door sounded.

Alfred entered, worried or not really due to the commotion that sounded in your walls, his gaze fixed on your suicide attempt and quickly sprang into action, approaching you and holding your hands, while you caught your breath and tears wet everything.

‘young master...!!’ The adult's worried voice brought you to your senses for a moment. This was really real. It wasn't a lie, it wasn't a cruel nightmare. You had returned to that prison.

You sobbed, moans of pain leaving your mouth as you still struggled to catch your breath, Alfred stayed by your side, holding your hands to prevent you from trying again, He'd never seen you like this before, never thought you were capable of doing something like that, and the more he thought about it, the more terrified he became. What if you had a gun? A knife? Oh, He would never forgive himself for that.

Your eyes were too watery to see clearly, your gaze fixed on the now open door, the whole mansion was silent, but to you, they were like whispers, whispers that never left.

‘ugh—!... i feel sick.’ You murmured softly, abruptly removing your hands and seeking comfort within yourself, hugging yourself and hoping nothing more would happen but it didn't last, really nothing. You felt a gaze, a gaze that you could recognize from a distance, it was him, you looked up to find him watching the scene you created.

Alfred looked at him and simply looked away for a moment before greeting him properly. ‘master Damian.’ He said with a calm voice, the situation was serious but he... He was he.

You felt your body tremble and you could feel the anger that you had held in for 7 years, you didn't know what you were doing and you couldn't think clearly either, you only knew one thing, you hit Damian.

Alfred stood still like a statue, he knew you were in a vulnerable state but he didn't recognize that you could easily break at the sight of your family or at least, your brother.

‘wha— what's wrong with you?!’ He screamed but that scream you hated to hear because you knew he was ready to despise you, you grabbed another trophy to throw it at him but Alfred intervened, this time he took your side, he never did.

‘master damian! Please, stop. She's in serious condition.’ Alfred quickly justified it, Damian remained silent and looked at you again, this time realizing how you were and how the room was a mess. ‘So what? She thinks can throw a tantrum? Definitely not.’

‘shut up—!’

‘what?’

‘SHUT UP! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!!’

‘You—? oh.’

He remained completely silent as you writhed in the shadows that embraced you, shadows that never left you alone and perhaps you should have been grateful to them for not going completely crazy.

Alfred sighed, his eyebrows furrowed and he gave Damian a little push to leave the room, he left, still looking at you with an expression of confusion and deep pain that tried to disguise. Your words echoed completely in his vivid memory, his hands buried themselves in his hair as he gripped it with great force while his back slid against the wall next to your door. ‘UGH!—’

How can you hate him? How?— Aren't you that little girl who entered the mansion and tried everything to get close to him? Your older brother? What changed? What happened? What, what?! He couldn't allow himself to fall apart just because of that, he shouldn't let your words get to him, maybe you only said it because you were angry, yes, surely. He shouldn't have broken just because of that, he's... a well-trained boy, Talia al Ghul's son, he can't, no... So why does frustration fill every part of his being?

You felt like your eyes were exploding, they hurt, and so was your head, or rather, your whole body hurt, even your arms with scratches and cuts, your cheek with a scar that you got without thinking. All of this was real, it was real that Alfred took your side for the first time, it was real how Damian reacted quickly to your pitch, It was real like your room was the same, the pain was real, everything was real, so so real that you still couldn't believe it.

Alfred carefully pressed the wounds, slowly wrapping your arms with bandages. You weren't someone sensitive, not after what you went through in what is now your old life. You had had an insensitivity to pain, with all the wounds you got through your life, all your skin couldn't feel it properly and maybe it was an advantage, you never felt each wound again.

Still, you felt less human. If you couldn't feel pain, what were you then? A punching bag for those kids at your school? For your family? Maybe.

The older man's voice brought you out of your thoughts and you looked at him momentarily before looking down and losing yourself in the ocean of feelings you felt. He sighs again and leaves the room without being able to say anything, how could he anyway? They had neglected you so much that you were about to end your own life, he should tell the lord of the mansion but he can't, he doesn't know why but no, he can't.

Night had finally arrived, you knew everyone would leave, where to? You couldn't say, it was always a mystery but it was an opportunity not to escape, but to study the mansion and everyone, although in your old life you had allowed yourself to remember everything about each other, now they were just distant memories that were no longer in your head.

You didn't know where Alfred had gone but you didn't care, that didn't matter anymore so you barely heard the last one of them leave, You opened the door to your room and walked out silently. You were already dressed in your pajamas, ready to sleep, but today wasn't the time to sleep when everyone was awake too.

You looked around and walked carefully, going down to the main room and looking around again until you noticed something strange, maybe the mansion wasn't completely empty. Your gaze focused on the feet dangling from the armrests, large feet. ‘damn...’ You murmured as you noticed who it surely was, you approached trying not to be so noticeable but perhaps you knew that wouldn't work at all.

The figure was larger, of an adult, Jason.

The oldest brother, The resurrected one, the Robin, or whatever, you also temporarily sought his attention and affection but like everyone else, he was too busy to think about you. He was clearer with you, he made it clear that he didn't want you around even when you were determined to read all the books someone recommended just to keep you quiet.

Sigh... You looked closer and he was just sleeping with a book on his damn face, maybe it was a trick, you couldn't tell, you must have walked past and not paid attention but the air was cold or at least for you. You noticed that he was in his usual clothes,, you looked at him a little longer and simply placed a blanket over him and left, following your mission.

...

Silence, that was all, you had passed through a corridor so long that you felt it would never end. You had realized why, it was a corridor or hallway with all the family portraits, from the first Robin to the last, except you were the last and you had given up on the idea of being Robin. That's why yours was different, not with the idea of being special, it was the idea of seeing yourself as cool as all your siblings, so intimidating but at the same time with an aura of calm.

You loved your portrait, even as the years passed, you always admired yourself as a child, for your love of weapons even though one almost killed you. You, being the little 8-year-old with one of those long guns posing and holding it at the same time, loved your past self, brave, strong, and capable of doing anything. You are now a shadow of what you once were, and you didn't dislike it at all now.

And now, in that moment, it was just you and the shadows hiding in the darkness of this mansion.

new chapter yayy, excuse my inactivity !

I tried to focus a lot on the reader's reaction to having returned to that life again, it's like, I feel like she has to have some kind of anger because she ended her life because she didn't want to LIVE in that house and now shes back.

I have also seen in many fanfics that the reader first wanted the attention of the oldest brother, Dick, and wanted to change that because this reader is the youngest in the family and she wanted the attention and affection of Damian, her older brother.

and thats all... btw I'll be making the taglist soon, if you want to be added, please comment and make sure your settings allow it!

have a good day (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠).

[buck-star]

Office activities

Bucky asks you to come to his office. Helping him out, or dinner? Or something with more pleasure and feelings?

Pairing: Congressman!Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 3.400 Words

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, 18+, smut [sir kink, dirty talk, praises, oral (male!rec), deep throating, shoe humping, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasm, creampie, cock warming], slight dom/sub dynamics, established relationship, kisses, petnames [baby doll], fluff, plot what plot,

Authors Note: Shout out to @pinkiebieberpie for the inspiration and motivation, and her moodboard. So, here with go with congressman!Bucky, hope you enjoy. Divider made by me.

Events: Fandom-Free Bingo: Frosty Edition [O4 | Pinned down], Sweetheart Bingo [Row One-Two | Dirty talk], Fandom-Free Bingo: Book Night [B3 | Owned | @fandom-free-bingo]

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

A soft knock interrupts the silence in his office, his eyes immediately moving from the paper for the next campaign to the wooden door of his office. James runs his long, thick fingers through his brown hair, fixing his tie. He places both of his arms on the wooden desk in front of him, shifting in his chair before he focuses on the door once more.

“Come in,” he says loudly, his voice rough, but you can hear the excitement in his tone. With a slight shiver, you open the door slowly, smiling politely when you take a step into his office and close the door behind you again. “Lock it, please.”

You do as he says, pressing your thighs together. James watches you intensely, his ocean blue eyes roaming your body up and down, settling a moment on your ass before he leans back in his chair. You lock the door, turning back to face him. You can feel his eyes burning on your skin, checking every little inch of you out. Only when he leans back and nods do you take another step closer to him.

“Sir, you said you wanted me to come over after work?” You ask, noticing the way his lips twitch upwards when you call him sir. James brings one of his calloused hands to the front of his suit pants, adjusting himself. He nods once more, pushing the chair backward and spreading his legs wider apart.

“Come here, baby doll,” he growls; his eyes darken a few shades. With a few shaky steps, you walk through his office, placing your back on a chair. Bucky immediately places his hands on your waist when you're close enough, pulling you closer to him. “Good girl.”

He leans his head back against the chair, looking up to face you. Even though he's sitting and you're standing in front of him, you feel vulnerable. The dominance radiating off him while he keeps you between his thighs. His intense stare is almost too much to look away from, but you also can't help but keep your eyes locked with his blue orbs.

His thick fingers slide to the zipper of your short, flimsy, dark blue dress, pulling it down slowly. Your dress falls on the ground by itself, leaving you exposed in only your underwear to your boyfriend. His eyes roam over your body, his hands snaking to your front. Capturing your breasts, pushing them together. Bucky growls low in his throat; he takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. Bucky rolls up his sleeves, revealing the thick muscles of his veiny, hairy arms.

“Should fuck these; would look pretty with my dick between your tits. But right now we have other plans. So, get on your knees like a good girl, baby doll,” he breathes out, smirking when you clench your thighs further together. Bucky’s tongue darts out, licking across his plump lips. You lower yourself to your knees, now having to look up at him. Bucky's hands move along your sides to your shoulders, pushing you further until you're where he wants you. “Bet you're dripping for me, huh?”

You nod your head, pouting when he starts teasing you. When you know one thing about your boyfriend, when he starts teasing, you're in for a very long night with him. Bucky chuckles, his metal hand sliding up your neck, curling your hair around his hand before he pulls your face closer to his crotch.

“How ‘bout you start here? I've been thinking about it for hours,” Bucky asks, though it's not really a question. Whatever you answer is, he will keep you in the very place anyway — except you use your safe word — but you both know you want him as bad as he wants you. “My cock isn't freeing itself from my pants, baby doll.”

With a whimper, you move your shaking hands upwards to unbutton his pants. Bucky keeps his eyes focused on your fingers. You reach into his blue suit pants, wrapping your fingers around his thick length. Bucky hisses, throwing his head back. His hips bucking upwards, he tightens his grip in your hair, smirking at you.

“Don't make me cum like a teenager, baby doll,” he groans. You smile softly, looking up at him while freeing his cock completely from his pants. Bucky raises an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. His voice lowers, sending another shiver down your spine. “What's so funny, huh?”

“Sir,” you whimper, getting pushed closer to his throbbing cock. Without another word, you kiss the tip of his dick, letting your tongue swirl around it. Bucky's pre-cum is dripping down on your tongue, rolling down your throat , and you hum happily at the salty, musky taste of your boyfriend.

You part your lips slightly, taking his tip in your mouth before sucking softly. You can feel Bucky's fingers scratching along your head, his other hand gripping the armrest of the chair. With a quiet pop you let his dick free from your mouth, using your tongue to lick a strap up from the base, along his vein, to his leaking tip.

Bucky urges your mouth on his cock, thrusting his hips upwards. His cock brushing along your cheek, smearing his pre-cum over your skin. You chuckle softly, earning a harsh tug on your hair. You immediately sit back on your heels, looking up at Bucky when he gets off his chair, his hand never losing his grip around your hair. “Think you can tease me, baby doll?”

“S-Sorry, sir.”

“You're not, and that’s good. So, I can show you who's in control,” he chuckles darkly. He wraps his free hand around his cock, stroking himself a few times before he slaps his cock against your lips. “Open up for me.”

You do as he says, parting your lips. Bucky pulls your head back further, sliding his cock along your tongue until he hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him. His free hand strokes along your cheek, wiping away a few tears that started to roll down your soft skin, his ocean blue eyes holding still the dominance but also a softness he's only showing toward you.

“Good girl, now, relax and breathe through your nose,” Bucky commands softly, pulling his hips back before he snaps it forward again. You gag once more, and Bucky groans, pushing his cock even further down your throat. Your nose pressed against his shirt-covered stomach. He moans low in his throat, throwing his head back when he feels your throat tightening around him with every gag. He slowly pulls back, letting you take a deep breath while you look up at him with teary eyes.

“Too much, baby doll?” He asks, his voice holding a hint of concern. His knuckles brushing over your cheekbone. You shake your head, opening your mouth again for him to thrust his cock back down your throat, but Bucky keeps your head to lock his eyes with yours. “I need your words.”

“N-No, sir, not too much,” you whisper, your voice hoarse. Bucky nods, smiling softly. He leans down, pressing his lips softly to your forehead. The soft gesture is the complete opposite from the way he pushes his cock back down your throat once he stands straight again.

Saliva is dripping down your chin when Bucky starts setting a faster pace. His cock is coated in your drool as well, while the squelching noise of his wet cock thrusting into your mouth and your gags fill the room. Your fingers dig into his still suit-pants covered legs, grounding you, while your boyfriend uses your mouth to his liking. His groans get louder, his breath heavier, and you can feel his thick length twitching in your mouth.

“Fuck, such a filthy little mouth you have, baby doll,” he mutters under his breath, tugging at your hair. The cool metal of his fingers on your head soothes the sting of his harsh grip. Bucky's hips stutter; he pushes into you completely, making you gag once more. As much as you try to breathe through your nose, he’s just too thick and hits all the right spots to make you gag around him anyway. “Wanna have my cum? Fuck, gonna cum down your throat, so you better swallow.”

You nod, looking up at him. Bucky groans, seeing the fucked-out look on your face. You look just so pretty on your knees for him with his cock down your throat and your nose pressing against his stomach. He gives you another shallow thrust before his right hand curls around your chin and his warm cum fills your mouth, flowing down your throat.

Bucky's breath hitches, his hand keeping you in place until you swallow all of his cum. Then, he lets go of you softly, looking at you to check if he went too far. But when you whimper and bring one of your hands to your cunt, he growls. Bucky pushes his feet between your thighs, nudging your knees for you to spread them further.

“Hands up, baby doll,” he mumbles. Bucky lets go of your hair, stroking your head a few times before holding his hand out for you to place yours in his. You shake your head, pouting. “Not gonna repeat myself.”

With a grumble, you lift your arms. Bucky grasps them and holds them up while he brings the tip of his shoe to nudge against your panties covered cunt. He grins when you immediately hump against his shoe, moaning when the tip presses against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Good girl, take what ya need,” Bucky says, keeping your hands still above your head. With his other hand, he unties his tie. He wraps the thin fabric around your wrists, fixing it with a beautiful bow. “Look at you, being my present today, huh?”

You hum, trying to find the perfect rhythm and place for his shoe to rub against you to add the perfect pressure. Bucky moves his foot a bit, helping you out, hitting a particularly sensitive spot when he nudges on an angel against your clit you haven’t tried before. A high-pitched whine falls from your lips, your hips bucking against his foot.

Your panties are soaked, smearing all your arousal over his black leather shoes and causing them to shine even more. Bucky helps you with the movements of his foot, turning you into a whimpering mess. He doesn't even have to use his fingers on you and still knows how to press the right buttons to make you cum.

The coil in your stomach tightens; your threats against him become sloppier the closer you are to your orgasm. Your cunt clenches around notching, your fingers digging almost painfully into Bucky’s thighs, while he keeps your hands in his. His fingers curl around your chin, tilting your head back.

“Look at me when you cum, baby doll,” he growls, smirking. Bucky’s metal thumb runs over your lips, parting them slowly. He pushes the cool digit into your mouth, watching you suck his thumb. A low rumble leaves his chest, his shoe pressing against your sensitive clit, causing you to whine around his thumb. “Cum, let go for me. Make a mess all over my shoe, such a sweet girl for me, so naughty while looking so fuckin’ innocent.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing, the coil snaps, and you let yourself fall against his leg while keeping your eyes locked with his. Bucky smiles, admiring the soft pout, the narrow of your fluttering eyes when you come all over him. You whimper; the tip of his shoe keeps nudging against you, and when you try to move away, Bucky holds you in place with your arms on his hand.

“Good girl, such a good girl, but what do you say?” He asks, pressing against your clit.

“T-Thank you, sir,” you mumble. You look up at him, his blue eyes soft and tender while a satisfied smile forms on his plump lips. Bucky removes his foot from between your legs, lowering himself to pick you up, turning you around.

Your back is pressed against his firm chest, the fabric of his shirt rubbing along your sensitive skin when Bucky pushes you over his desk. The papers underneath are forgotten when he lets his eyes roam over your body. His metal fingers slide from your neck along your back to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Buck—” A firm slap with his cool hand against your wet pussy makes you yelp, and you immediately correct your mistake. “S-Sir, wanna look at you.”

“You wanna look at me when I ruin your sweet cunt?” He asks, his voice growing lower. Bucky places both of his hands on your waist, manhandling you. Within a second you're lying on your back, your legs dangling off the table, spread wide for Bucky to stand between them. You nod your head, spreading your legs further, before wrapping them around his waist to pull him closer.

Bucky chuckles, landing another harsh slap with his metal hand on your cunt. You try to wiggle away from him, earning another slap against your folds. You whimper, pouting at your boyfriend, who has way too much fun spanking your pussy with his metal hand.

“What is it, pouty baby now?” Bucky quirks a brow, leaning forward to press his lips on yours. You hum, letting your tongue slide over his lips, but it only earns you another slap to your cunt. The sting of his harsh slaps is being soothed by the coolness of the metal when he runs it up and down your red, swollen folds. “Patience, baby doll.”

“Wanna— need your cock, sir,” you whine, wiggling your hips once more. Bucky sighs, slapping his hand down on your wet cunt once more. He growls dangerously low in his throat, warning you to be more patient, or he will deliver you a real spanking. “Ow, Sir, please. I'm sorry.”

“Good girl,” he mumbles, leaning back. Bucky wraps his calloused hand around his cock, slapping it against your sensitive cunt, making you moan softly. Running his tub through your folds, he coats his cock in your arousal, nudging your clit every now and then. He lines his cock up with your entrance, pushing the tip softly into you, groaning at your warmth and tightness. “Fuck, baby doll, you feel fucking amazin’.”

You take a deep breath, the stretch of his dick almost painful. No matter how often you have sex with your boyfriend, he manages to split you in half every time his cock enters your cunt. Bucky runs his hands up and your sides, something you while he pushes further into you, letting you feel every inch and every vein of his cock.

“Taking my cock like a good girl, don't you? Yeah, you're my good girl. You feel so good, baby doll,” Bucky mutters, leaning over you. His fingers snaking up to your arms, tickling you slightly. His forehead rests against yours, his expression soft while he pushes the last inch of his cock into you. You moan into Bucky’s mouth when he presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moan. “Those sweet noises are only for me to hear, baby doll.”

“Please, need you, sir,” you moan, wiggling your hips. Bucky closes his eyes for a moment. Your movements and the clenching of your already tight cunt make it hard for him to not cum inside of you before he even moves.

Bucky grits his teeth, groaning, before he pulls out of you slowly. He hisses when the cool air of the room hits his cock, missing the warmth of your tight pussy already. Bucky pushes his hips forward again, sliding back into you. The tip of his cock kissing your cervix, causing the two of you to moan in unison.

“Perfect little cunt, perfect girl. My perfect baby doll,” Bucky breathes out, his lips capturing yours once more. The pace of his thrusts speeds up, hitting your spongy spot with every one of his thrusts. Your walls hug his cock tightly, making it hard for him to move out of you, while your cunt is sucking him back in. “Fuck, baby doll, your cunt is just as eager as you, needing me deep inside of you, huh?”

You giggle softly, throwing your head back when he hits your cervix again. Bucky keeps your arms pinned down with his, his body lying on yours, while he snaps his hips into yours. “Wanna touch you, sir.”

“You wanna ruin my hair, baby doll. But can't let you do it, have to walk out of the office without looking fucked out because my girl sucked me dry,” he mumbles, kissing you once more. Heat creeps up your face, and Bucky chuckles while his lips linger on yours for a moment longer. Then he kisses along your jaw and neck. “When we are home, you can run your fingers through my hair as much as you want; you can touch me all night if your sweet heart desires that.”

You nod, grinning at him. Bucky chuckles, thrusting his hips harsher against yours. “No, be good and be quiet, or everyone will hear how needy I get for my girl's pretty pussy,” Bucky growls, knowing he can't hold back any longer. And taking care that you're quiet and being quiet himself is something he hasn't figured out, so he can either shut you up and moan like a teenager getting pussy for the first time or trust you that you stay quiet. “Better idea…”

With that he presses his lips on yours, harshly. Bucky keeps moving his hips, thrusting into you with hard and fast thrusts. Both of your moans get swallowed by one another. His shirt rubs against your sensitive bundle of nerves, causing you to shriek when the coil in your stomach tightens once again.

Bucky chuckles, biting into your lower lip. With a loud moan of his name, you come, your pussy clenching around him while your eyes flutter shut. His teeth dig further into your lip, wanting you to look at him when he comes inside of you. Bucky keeps fucking you through your orgasm, your cunt squeezing him, and with a particular hard thrust and his cock hitting your cervix once more, he empties himself in your cunt. Bucky's cock twitching inside of you, ropes of warm cum spilling into you. His eyes are locked with yours.

“Fuck, bet they heard us. But at least they know you're mine. The front guy had his gaze lingering on you too long for my liking,” Bucky growls, trying to catch his breath. You feel his cum slowly flowing out of you, his cock still deep in your clenching cunt, while Bucky smirks down at you. “I love you, baby doll; you're the most precious thing ever.”

Bucky gets off of you, his cock remaining inside of you. You whimper quietly, the warmth of his body now missing. Your boyfriend chuckles softly, pulling you up with him, both of your bodies covered in sweat. He sits back down, keeping you in his lap.

You immediately snuggle into him, kissing his neck while you unbutton his shirt. Bucky chuckles, moving closer to the table again. You snake your hands underneath the fabric. Your chest pressed against his, you start kissing his soft skin, humming when he rubs one of his hands along your back and sides.

“My businessman, mhm, congressman, my favorite,” you mumble, looking around to watch Bucky order the papers you moved with your action on the table.

“All yours, let me just order those, and then we can go home. But it looks like you already found a way to touch me,” he chuckles, taking your hands to untie them so you can hug him better. You mumble softly under your breath how much you love him, though he's spitting your poor pussy with his cock, but that you love his dick anyways. Bucky chuckles, happy for his enhanced hearing, or else he wouldn’t have understood. He pecks your lip, letting them linger on your warm and soft one for a moment. His tongue darts out instinctively, licking over yours and his lips. “I love you, too, baby doll. Will make it up to you, with dinner and to your pussy with dessert.”

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @lilyalone @feynightlight [tag yourself]

[lemonade4wanda]

Sugar mommy Wanda headcannons

A/n: doing something a bit different and going back to my old ways of headcannons!!! I would really love any feedback on this especially bc it's not what I usually write <3

☆ She first sees you in a coffee shop in down town Manhattan. You were her favourite barista, always making her coffees just right. That was until one morning as she walked in you were being fired.

☆ Of course, she was straight over to comfort you and offer you a job as her personal assistant. Working right beside her at Maximoff Industries, a high-end fashion company.

☆ Your job is often easy with little to no actual work to do, leaving you to sit around her office all day looking pretty.

☆ At the end of your first week, she leaves a small gift box with studded designer earrings and a handwritten note inside. The first of many gifts.

☆ You find yourself often close to Wanda whether by accident or in a situation she'd manufactured to look like accident. For example, when she had you try and fix her laptop just to see you lean across the desk. Or at the work Christmas do how your chair happened to go missing and she eagerly invited you to her lap with a sly grin, not that you minded of course.

☆ Anything you ever dared to lay eyes on was yours no matter the price.

☆ All her new designs would be sent straight to you. Even occasionally putting you into her runways as a model just to show you off.

☆ As things progressed, you found Wanda had a jealous side. Which showed itself most in the form of possessive sex. Making you declare you were hers."Go on, say it. Everyone knows you've wanted to say it since you first met me. Say you belong to Mommy." Her fingers would be deep in your mouth making you suck on them like such a good girl, desperate to please.

☆ She wasn't shy about her claimings to you in public either. From rough makeout sessions to designing clothes which showed off the darkest of hickeys she'd lovingly left on you.

☆ Wanda could be cold as well, though. If you didn't pay enough attention to her, she'd become withdrawn and almost cruel to your needs. "Not now, malysh. I don't have time for toys." She'd talk dismissively to you as if you were dispensible to her. You knew she was just trying to punish you, but even so, it stung.

☆ She loved to draw any moan, yelp, gasp, or other sound from you while intimate. It almost reassured her of your happiness and enjoyment. To hear your pleasure pleased her deeply.

☆ Wanda adored you as much more than just a sugar baby, but she'd never be vulnerable enough with you or anyone to admit it. Vulnerability was a weakness in her eyes.

[classjezter]

Y'know, everyone's talking to Baby OP and giving him illicit treats, but how's everyone else managing? We saw all the initial reactions, and know about their dynamics with sparkling Optimus, but how are they holding up? Optimus becoming a baby during wartime is probably rough for having to shift responsibilities on top of hiding and taking care of a tiny child. They could probably all use some goodies too

Hi! I like you videos btw :) as to your question:

The Autobots are stretched thin. They were already in a full-scale war before and now they have a troublemaking sparkling to take care of. To manage both their duties and taking care of baby Optimus, they take shifts watching him (takes a village to raise a child put literally). There’s always at least one Autobot on ‘Optimus duty’ while the rest keep up with patrols, defenses, and battle strategy.

More about every specific bot below cut cause this got a bit long

Elita was a strong leader even before the war, but now she’s been forced to take on Optimus' responsibilities while also keeping him safe. She’s stressed, constantly dealing with managing the Autobot faction, and Decepticon attacks (all while making sure nobody outside their small circle discovers the secret). Still, she loves Optimus no matter what, and seeing him like this makes her fiercely protective over him

Outwardly, Wheeljack acts like his usual self, making jokes, keeping up with his work, taking sparkling duty like a champ and definitely not acknowledging the guilt eating at him (This mess is partially his fault, not intentionally of course, but that doesn’t make the weight on his spark any lighter) But when he’s alone, it gnaws at him. Every time he sees Optimus being adorable, being so vulnerable, it’s just another painful reminder. He’s overcompensating by throwing himself into work, trying to fix the problem while also building safety measures for their tiny leader

Jazz is really good with Baby Optimus. His easy-going nature and energy make him a great playmate for the kid (although he sometimes struggles with the actual taking care of him part, but he tries). That doesn’t mean Jazz isn’t aware of how much trouble this is. He knows they’re barely holding it together. The Decepticons will notice eventually, and when they do? They’ll probably be in serious trouble. But until then, Jazz just focuses on keeping the kid happy, and keeping morale up for the team

B-127 adores Baby Optimus. He’s always been close to Prime, and now that Prime is small, Bee has kind of become his big brother. They play together, and he loves carrying OP around, but sometimes he misses the real Optimus. The one who led them, who reassured them, who always had a plan. This tiny version of Prime is sweet and fun, but it’s just not his Optimus. He never says this aloud, though. Instead, he focuses on keeping Optimus safe and happy, hoping that one day, they’ll get him back to normal

Ratchet, as not only a medic but the Autobots' chief medic, has seen a lot in this war, but this? This is a whole new kind of problem. Ratchet spends half his time while on sparkling duty running scans on Optimus, making sure the transformation into a sparkling didn’t do any permanent damage. Despite his grumpiness and wariness, Baby Optimus has got him wrapped around his tiny finger, he loves the kid and constantly gives him treats. But deep down? Ratchet worries not just about Optimus, but about all of them. If the Decepticons ever find out, they’ll be completely vulnerable

Prowl is all about strategy, discipline, and efficiency. So, at first, Prowl treats Baby Optimus like a tactical problem. Keeping up a war effort and hiding a baby Prime? Nearly impossible. And it doesn’t help that Optimus refuses to stay out of trouble. He didn’t want to get attached, just solve this situation as soon as possible, but of course Optimus eventually won him over. Despite everything, Prowl is doing his best to keep things running smoothly. He knows they can’t afford to fall apart, if they do, the Autobots are doomed. He’s keeping them together through sheer force of will. But Primus helps him, if he catches Optimus stealing another one of his datapads, he’s may lose it

No one expected Ironhide to be good with sparklings. Even as one of the oldest miners he never really had much interaction with sparklings, at least not ones this young, but somehow things just clicked for him. At first, he wasn’t sure how to handle this. Optimus is his leader. His commander. The best Prime Cybertron has ever had probably. And seeing him as a helpless little sparkling messed with him. Despite this (after some light research) he becomes a great caretaker, he knows how to take care of a sparkling: He instinctively rocks Optimus when he’s fussy, he knows how to hold him properly (unlike others, Jazz knows what he did), he keeps track of feeding cycles, etc. And if anyone even thinks about hurting Optimus, they’re getting the biggest cannon in Ironhide’s arsenal to the face. No one messes with his little charge

In summary, they’re all struggling a bit lol, they need energon goodies too sometimes

[miupow]

⋮ ♯; ⤷ SILENT TREATMENT W/ TXT .ᐟ

how tubatu reacts to you using the silent treatment on them after an argument!

★ ── ot5 x gn!reader ⸝⸝ fluff, slight angst, suggestive in soobin’s, arguing and making up, pouty yeonjun lol, petty gyu, serious bf tyun, kais is genuinely kind of sad

੭ ⭑ 𓂃⠀⠀⠀ [ m. list ] ⭑ [ reblogs and feedback appreciated! ]

. . . SOOBIN !

originally acts like he doesn’t care

thinks the silent treatment is childish and gets kind of spiteful about ignoring you back

but he hates you being mad at him more than anything in the world and he breaks pretty fast

being without your love is unbearable for him :’( he can’t stand staying away from you

and the more he’s left to stew about your fight the more guilty he feels about hurting your feelings

gives you a big, heartfelt apology with gifts and cuddles and sweet kisses and hot rough makeup sex

. . . YEONJUN !

gets so pouty omg

he will actually die and wither away from lack of attention you don’t understand this is the end for him

follows you around like a lost puppy begging for attention and kisses </3

literally whining like a big baby

genuinely doesn’t know what he did wrong

but would do absolutely anything you wanted to fix it

and you just won’t tell him what he did!! and it’s driving him insane!! just tell him what he did wrong so he can fix it and make everything right again??

will just pester you until you break

. . . BEOMGYU !

oh you wanna play games now?? beomgyu won’t talk to you either.

will make it a big competition on who can keep it up for longer or who will get sick of it first

he’s so petty it’s not even funny the silent treatment is like a warzone with him

you’re the one to break first lmao

he’s lowk even better at it than you are and it drives you insane like you’re not even the one that’s mad???

so after a while you’re just like fine ugh lol

will stop when you stop tho, ready to talk it out and apologize and make amends ^^ never holds any grudges or hard feelings about silly fights

. . . TAEHYUN !

honestly kind of pisses him off

he’s very big about open communication in your relationship so he would be irritated that you wanted to be petty about the fight instead of talking it out with him

tyun hates arguments more than anything and he will not let any dumb silent treatment last longer than an afternoon

he will get you to talk to him dammit!

but tyuns just so gentle with you, he doesn’t want to upset you any more than you already were by getting angry

 gives you your space for a bit and then will sit next to you and get you to talk with him regardless of if you like it or not

and you will make up. he will make sure of it.

he will talk to the back of your head for hours he doesn’t care try him

. . . HUENING KAI !

literally devastated

like genuinely it hurts his feelings really bad pls don’t do that to him :’(

literally pleading for you to talk to him

you being upset with him makes him physically ill actually like nauseous with distress because you got into a fight

will say he’s sorry a thousand times even if he’s not sure what he’s sorry for

you can’t keep it up with kai so vulnerable

no matter the fight you always forgive hyuka quickly because you just can’t stay mad at him

clings to you and won’t let go for the rest of the night

[moonyswoony]

Lost and found

Pairing: Five hargreeves x reader

Summary: You an Five discover more than just plants and strawberries in the greenhouse

Warning(s): kissing, fluff, nothing really

“What the hell is this place?” Five muttered, his voice tinged with suspicion.

“Beats me,” you replied, stepping further inside. “But it’s not like we’ve stumbled upon a better place than this one so far.”

The two of you had been on the run for what felt like an eternity. Your attempt to figure out the subway had gone sideways—again—and now you were stuck in this strange, green timeline with no clear path back.

Five stayed close as you ventured deeper into the greenhouse, his sharp eyes scanning every inch. “This doesn’t make sense. None of this should be here.”

You brushed your fingers against a nearby vine, feeling the life pulsing through it. “Maybe this is just a small piece of the world that refused to die.”

Five huffed, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “That, or we’ve stumbled into some kind of twisted fairytale.”

“Great. Does that make you the grumpy old troll under the bridge?” you teased.

“If I’m the troll, that makes you the annoying adventurer who won’t stop asking questions,” he shot back, though his tone was more fond than bitter.

As you explored, you found yourself drawn to a patch of strawberries growing along the far wall. They were perfectly ripe, a vibrant red that stood out against the greens and browns around them. Without thinking, you plucked one and popped it into your mouth, savoring the sweetness.

Five watched with raised eyebrows. “You sure that’s safe?”

“If it’s not, at least I’ll go out with a decent meal,” you replied, plucking another and offering it to him.

He hesitated, then took it, biting into the fruit with a thoughtful expression. “Not bad.”

“High praise from you,” you quipped.

There was a brief, comfortable silence as you both absorbed the strange beauty of this place. The tension that had been winding tighter and tighter over the past few days—or even years—slowly began to ease, the peacefulness of this place working its way into your entire being.

As you wandered deeper, you came across a patch of wildflowers bathed in golden sunlight. You knelt to touch them, their delicate petals soft under your fingers. “This feels like a dream,” you murmured.

“Or a trap,” Five countered, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

You looked up at him, catching an unguarded expression in his eyes,something softer, more vulnerable than you were used to seeing. “Five?”

He stepped closer, the sunlight casting a warm glow across his features. “You’ve always been fearless,” he chuckled,though his voice was quieter than usual.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about? I’m not fearless, I’m—”

“You are,” he insisted. “And I should have told you sooner.”

“Five…”

“I’ve spent so much time trying to fix everything, trying to keep us all alive, that I forgot there are things I want, too,” he said, his gaze pined on you.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut as you realised what he was implying—not in a painful way, but in a way that left you breathless. You had always known there was something between you, a connection that went deeper than partnership or friendship, but his words still had that affect on you.

Without giving yourself time to overthink it, you reached up and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic, but slow and deliberate, a promise in every brush of your lips against his. Five responded in kind, one hand slipping around your waist while the other cupped the back of your neck, holding you close.

The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth. You felt your knees weaken as a wave of heat washed over you, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt as if to support yourself. His hand slid down your back, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew more intense, more desperate.

It was a kiss that spoke of everything you had both been holding back,years of unspoken feelings, of missed opportunities, all coming to the surface in this one, perfect moment.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath.

“I love you,” he said, his voice rough but certain.

You smiled, your thumb brushing against his jaw. “I love you too.”

For a moment, you both stood there in silence, the reality of what you had just confessed settling over you like a warm blanket. The world around you didn’t feel as interesting anymore, not when he was in front of you.

Five glanced around at the greenery, his expression contemplative. “You know, we don’t have to leave right away.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You want to stay?”

“Just for a little while,” he admitted, surprising you with the softness in his voice. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a moment of peace. We could use the rest and some proper food.”

You looked around at the lush greenery, the golden sunlight filtering through the broken skylight, and felt a sense of calm settle over you. “Yeah,” you agreed, smiling up at him. “Let’s stay.”

With that decision made, the tension that had been a constant companion began to melt away. You found a spot to sit, leaning against a wall covered in ivy, and Five joined you, his hand finding yours and holding it tightly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself relax. No missions, no timelines, no disasters—just the two of you, in a place that felt almost unreal.

Five squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “if we’re staying here, we might as well make the most of it.”

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, savoring every second. “I couldn’t agree more.”

[moon-ttokki-x]

stylist!reader x seungmin or jeongin??? any scenario!!

hi hi~ i needed more seungmin and jeongin requests . . . been wanting to write for them so bad but i couldn't think of anything lol . anyway, here you goo~~~

₊✩‧₊˚ stylist!reader x kim seungmin ˚₊✩‧₊

pairing: stylist!reader x kim seungmin

summary: being seungmin's stylist has its perks (mostly)

genre: idol!au, stylist!au, cheeky boy, soft and fluffy, mentions of jyp (yes that needs a warning), please bring back doberman seungmin he was my fav :(

a/n: sorry idk who made this divider . . . if it was you lmk so i can tag and credit u <3

skz masterlist

you have to drag him everywhere

like by his literal collar

or whatever it is that he's wearing

bc this man does not want to walk

like

anywhere

drag him to the mirror, drag him behind a curtain to fix his outfit

it never ends

and he moves around a lot too while you're doing his makeup

more than once you've gotten chan to hold his jaw shut so you can powder it or fix up his contour

and he always stares at you while you do it

with his little meanie face

you know the one he makes where he's trying to be scary but it doesn't work on anyone so he's just like >:|

yeah that one

complains a lot about his appearance to piss you off

'i don't like the eye makeup' 'i hate this shirt'

it never ends but you're used to it so he kind of gives up after a while

when you got assigned to him, he would stare into your eyes while you were doing his makeup to try and make you fumble

bc let's be honest no one could focus if kim seungmin was staring into their soul

but you got used to that too and now you just ignore it

you always get him to tell you how he's feeling on a certain day so you can sort of match his outfit and makeup to his vibe

if he's in a good mood, lots of scarlet reds and brighter colours

if he's just neutral, then dewy pinks and purples

and if he's having a bad day, lots of metallic silver and black

of course his appearance still has to match the other members' vibes

but you always try to make it a little more special

seungmin would never admit it but he appreciates that so much

most of your job is just looking for him to be honest

like man literally disappears and gets distracted by the tiniest things

there's a bird outside? gone

hyunjin has his back turned and is therefore vulnerable to attack? gone

there's no reason for him to go anywhere?

gone

you've debated putting a tracker in his outfit like a literal dog but you decided against it because it's like playing hide and seek

which is kinda fun

usually he's busy doing something random or looking out the window

or pissing his members off

if worst comes to worst and you can't find him, you just threaten to call chan and he materialises out of thin air

which is kinda funny

and when he won't stay still to let you fix his outfit, you threaten to dress him like jyp

that always works lmao

he just goes absolutely rigid and his eyes go all wide

'please don't'

and you'll just fix his collar or his boots or whatever and off he goes again

multiple times you've told him to put accessories on before he goes on stage

but he always forgets

you've had to drag him backstage countless times before the group went on to perform bc he's forgotten to do what you said

you'll have super steady and nimble hands after a while bc trying to clip a chain necklace on a hyped-up puppy boy is one of the hardest things

like ever

he's just raring to go lol

always runs up to you after performing all sweaty and excited

'did you see me? when i did that move'

or something along those lines

he truly is so soft and sweet but he'll never admit it

and you'll nod and he's have the biggest shiniest prettiest boy smile on his face

stop i'm sad

most of the time he sweats all of his makeup off

and then sheepishly bows to you and apologises for ruining all your hard work

but you shake your head and tell him with a smile that it's fine

and it is, really

he looks hotter when he's all sweaty

huh? what

i didn't say anything

yes i did

after he's warmed up to you

and it takes a while, i'm gonna be completely honest

he refuses to let anyone else do his hair, makeup, or outfit

he just wants you

because you always make sure he can dance properly in his outfit, and that his hair isn't in his eyes, or that he likes his makeup

you would never make him wear anything that makes him uncomfortable either

you're always asking for his input on certain outfit ideas and he tells you honestly what he thinks

and you just take his feedback and make outfits for him that he'll be comfortable in

which makes him swoon for you

again, he would never say anything to you about how he's starting to feel

maybe one day, he thinks he might be able to

until then, he'll settle for looking at your pretty face while you do your thing <3

a/n: yomg i wanna be a skz stylist so baddd (seungmin if ur reading this one chance pls)

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

[moonstruckme]

Hi 🥺 can I pretty please ask for a fic with emt!marauders treating and helping reader get through getting stitches? Maybe having a huge fear of needles and they always make her so faint and nauseous so the boys fix up their clumsy girl and coach her through getting them because it’s just the absolute worst time ever?

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! These always get so long because I get wrapped up in the semantics haha. I don’t think this is an accurate reflection of how things work for paramedics, but for the purposes of fiction we’re gonna ignore that :3

Cw: needles, hospital, mention of nausea

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

James is murmuring what you imagine to be placations into the side of your head, so quietly you can’t make them out, and you’re doing your best to keep your hand completely still as a nurse cleans the cut on your palm. 

Sirius is watching you from beside the small bed with tension written all over him. He’s digging his fingernails into his biceps and looking like he might actually jump the nurse if she makes a wrong move. 

“Where’s Remus?” he asks, not for the first time. 

“He’s just finishing up with another patient,” she answers again. “He’ll be here shortly.” 

As eager as you are to see your boyfriend, dread curls like vines around your ribcage. James, sensing this, presses his lips to your temple. 

Ordinarily, paramedics don’t handle stitches, but at your request and after some sweet-talking on James’ part, the director agreed to let Remus see to you. What was staunchly not allowed, however, was for anyone not currently on shift to step in, so your remaining two boyfriends are stuck providing emotional support. James seems to be taking this better, whereas Sirius has been antsy and overprotective since you’d arrived. 

A fraction of the tautness in his biceps dissipates when a familiar set of quick footsteps draws closer on the tiled floor outside your curtain. The nurse is the only one who doesn’t seem to notice, the three of you perking up like meerkats the moment before Remus pulls back the curtain, stepping inside. 

“Hi,” he says, a small, automatic smile curving his lips at the sight of all of you. 

The nurse finishes with perfect timing, tossing the wipe into the trash as she starts to leave. You and Remus both thank her, and once the curtain closes the four of you in together everything feels suddenly more right. You hear James sigh softly.

Remus gets closer than he was willing with a colleague present, wrapping a kind hand around your elbow and soothing upward from there. “Hi, darling,” he says again, softer now. “They tell me you’ve had a kitchen accident.” 

“Totally intentional,” James jokes. “We all just really missed you, needed an excuse to visit.” 

You try to laugh for his sake, and though it’s not fully felt it still helps to loosen the knot of unease in your chest. 

Remus smiles gently. His thumb strokes up and down the back of your arm. “How are you doing?” he asks you. 

You do your best to smile back at him, though from Sirius’ expression it must not be very good. “Honestly? I already feel kind of nauseous.” 

“That’s okay,” he promises, and you can tell he’s making his voice extra low and smooth on purpose. Any other time you might laugh at him for it, but actually it’s quite helpful. “It makes sense to be a bit nervous, yeah? But you won’t feel anything, and so long as you don’t look at it while I’m working I think we’ll be all right.” 

Remus looks you in the eyes for a moment longer to make sure you understand. His eyes are the color of tea steeped just the way you like it, warm and honey-sweet. And maybe you’re feeling vulnerable and mushy, but you think you fall a little more in love with him. 

You nod, letting him take your injured hand. 

“I have to numb it,” he warns you, “and that will likely be the hardest part, but once it’s done things will go fairly easily. Okay?” 

You press your lips together, nodding again not because you want to but because you know you don’t have much choice. James readjusts his hold on you, gripping you tightly with one arm around your shoulders and the other folding your head into his chest. You suspect it’s partly to keep you from moving and partly because he knows you need it, but it feels as though he’s just doing his best to give you a continual hug. You appreciate the effort. 

You follow the movement of Remus’ hand as he picks up a syringe from the tray the nurse had brought in. There’s that odd tingly feeling of the blood draining from your face, the awful queasiness in your stomach. 

“Don’t look,” Sirius tells you, voice just as caring as it is tense. You can tell he’s trying to calm himself for your sake, even if he’s not very good at it. You’ve heard from James and Remus that he’s cool as a cucumber when he works with other patients, but when it’s you or someone he cares about he can’t help getting a bit rattled. “You’re okay, baby, just close your eyes. Think of something else.” 

You can manage the first but not the second. When you feel Remus shifting his hold on your hand your breaths shallow. 

“Quick poke,” he murmurs, and your grip on James tightens as his does on you. 

Though you think you’re prepared for it, a mortifying pained sound rises in your throat at the sting. Both James and Sirius make their own sympathetic shushing sounds, but then it’s done, and Remus is murmuring praises while James presses kiss after kiss into your hair. 

You open your eyes to find Sirius has moved closer. He passes you a vomit bag, and you take it thankfully, trying to breathe through the closure in your throat. 

“You’ve got it,” he tells you, brows knit together by both sympathy and concern. “You’re okay, it’s already over with.” 

“I don’t really feel like I’m completely out of the woods,” you try to joke. The truth to it tightens something in you nonetheless. 

“You won’t even feel the rest,” James assures you, still with his lips stuck to you like it’s his job. He smells nice, his eucalyptus shampoo cutting through the icky hospital scent. “You’ll hardly know it’s happening, lovie, we’ll just talk about other things and be out of here before you know it.” 

“I really don’t want to faint,” you say. “I feel like today has been bad enough without fainting.” 

“I’m inclined to agree,” says Remus. You’ve been avoiding looking at him, wary of catching sight of another needle or worsening your nausea by seeing your cut, but his gloved hands are empty. He cradles your injured hand in one, the other drawing a tranquilizing path up and down the side of your thigh. “You won’t faint, sweetheart. We’ll do our best to keep you distracted, and if you need to take breaks we can do that. It’s whatever you need.” 

You blow out a long breath, nodding. Remus gives you a small smile. 

“I only ask that you don’t hold any of this against me,” he teases. “I’m going to require lots of assurance that you’re not upset when I get home.” 

James coos, sounding like he’s considering pulling Remus into your hug as well. 

“No, I know this is all my own fault,” you admit. Sirius huffs his agreement. “I could never hold my clumsiness against you.” 

“I appreciate that.” Remus sends Sirius an intrigued look. “Though maybe I’ll have to make it up to you by cooking, since it seems like you could be barred from the kitchen for some time. Can you feel that?” 

You blink at him. “Feel what?” 

“Good.” 

Remus starts messing with things on the tray again, and both James and Sirius seem to come to attention, James putting his arm around your head again while Sirius pulls up a chair by the bed. 

“The medicine’s working,” Remus tells you, “so I’m going to go ahead and get started, okay? Just try and relax for me, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes go automatically to what he’s doing, but Sirius says sharply, “Hey.” 

That gets your attention, and he gives you an apologetic look, gentling his tone as he takes your good hand. 

“Just look at me,” he tells you. You don’t know if he knows it, but his thumb is tracing a line below your thumb that’s exactly where your cut is on your other palm. “Are you okay to talk, pretty girl?” 

You hum. It comes out high-pitched and shakier than you would’ve expected. 

“Why don’t you tell us about that book you want Remus to read?” 

For a moment, surprise eclipses your anxiety. “You really wanna hear about that?” 

Sirius grins. “No, but you’ve got a captive audience. If I were you I’d seize my chance.” 

You start to smile back at him, but then there’s an odd tugging sensation on your hand. Sirius notices the change, moving to block your view with his hand before you can look towards Remus’ work. Still, your stomach rolls uneasily. Your head feels unnaturally light. 

Sirius says your name firmly. “Tell us about the book, baby.” 

“It’s…” You fight to solidify your thoughts. “It’s a true story.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I thought it was fiction, but it’s not.” Another tug, and you whimper. “Sorry, I don’t feel well.” 

“You’re doing great,” James says, and Sirius takes the bag from you, opening it up in case you need it. “Just stay relaxed, we’ve got you.” 

“What’s the true story?” Sirius asks, trying to get you back on task. “What’s it about?” 

“This guy,” you answer. “He’s from Syria, but he lives in New Orleans and he’s there when Hurricane Katrina hits. I’m not that far in, but so far it’s about, like—” you swallow “—how he’s discriminated against even when he’s helping people.” 

Though you try to stop it, a tear skids down your cheek. Sirius wipes it away gently. “Yeah?” he asks you. “Are you liking it so far?” 

You nod, feeling more in your own body as you try to focus on the conversation. Even the panic is a bit of a relief, better than the strange weightlessness of your head when you’re on the brink of passing out. 

“I don’t think I would have picked it up if I’d known it was nonfiction,” you tell Sirius. He smiles wryly, which looks like it takes effort. “I usually only read fiction, but this was done really well.” 

“I think you’re right,” he replies. “Remus absolutely should read that.” 

“Not you?” James teases. 

Sirius shoots a mean look over your head, though you can tell he’s relieved at the familiar banter. “Are you volunteering?” he asks James. “No? Didn’t think so.” 

“Surely there’s a movie version we can watch instead. Lovie, do you know?” 

“I haven’t heard of one,” you admit, “but the book’s a bit older, so maybe the movie came out before I’d heard about it.” 

“We’ll have to look it up,” Sirius decides. “If it’s really that good, there’ll be a movie.” 

That’s something you could argue about forever, and he knows it, but just then you hear something snip and Remus says, “There.” 

“There?” you echo. 

Sirius looses a breath, and James hugs you tightly. “You’re all done, angel,” he says brightly. 

“Oh.” You feel, perhaps, not as relieved as you ought to, and Sirius chuckles at your confusion, taking your face between his hands and planting a kiss between your brows. 

“You really are done,” he promises you. “You killed it, babe.” 

James loosens his grip on you and Sirius moves his hand, letting you turn your head to see Remus securing a bandage over your palm. He looks up at you when he pulls off his gloves, pride and fondness mingled in his expression. His eyes narrow at the look on your face. 

“Hug?” he guesses, and you nod as you sit forward, wrapping your hands around his shoulders. 

It’s the closure you need, relief dissolving the tension in your muscles and gut as Remus’ thumb strokes your nape reassuringly. “Thanks,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“You did it, darling,” he tells you. “Nothing to thank me for.” 

“Before I bled all over our counter, I was cutting tomatoes for pasta tonight,” you say. “I’ll finish it up when I get home so I can thank you with dinner.” 

Sirius scoffs loudly. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re not going near another knife for the rest of your life.” 

You roll your eyes as you pull away from Remus, but he raises an eyebrow at you, smiling faintly. “I’m with him on this one,” he says. “At least a temporary kitchen ban is in order.” 

You groan, leaning sideways until your shoulder rests on James’ chest. He wraps his arms around you automatically. “You guys are so lame,” you gripe. 

“Don’t worry, lovie,” says James, kissing the side of your nose lightly. “I’ll finish your pasta when we get home. Everybody wins.”

[solxamber]

Saw the holiday event and wanted to give it a try!! Debated a little about which dorm to choose from but I'm gonna go with... Savanaclaw, 5, hurt/comfort!!!

Good luck with school btw, take care of yourself and take breaks if it becomes too much to handle!! Don't forget to drink water too! Wishing ya the best and lots of luck!

thank you so much 🫶🫶 i hope you're doing well too <3

Only You || Leona Kingscholar

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "It has always been you" ; Genre: Hurt/Comfort

The gardens are unusually quiet, the scent of sun-warmed grass hanging heavy in the air. Leona sits under a tree, his sharp gaze fixed on the horizon, though you know he isn't really seeing it. His shoulders are tense, his usual easy arrogance replaced by something uncharacteristically heavy.

You approach cautiously, your footsteps soft against the ground. "Leona?"

He doesn’t respond right away, his tail flicking once before settling still. Finally, he glances at you, a flash of irritation in his eyes quickly swallowed by something more guarded. "What do you want?"

"I was looking for you," you say gently, sitting beside him. "You weren’t at dinner."

"Tch. Like anyone noticed."

"I noticed."

His tail swishes again, this time more agitated. "What do you care? I'm just the lazy second prince everyone expects to screw up."

Your chest tightens at his words, the bitterness laced in them cutting deeper than you want to admit. You’ve heard the whispers—the harsh judgments thrown his way. But hearing them come from his own mouth is somehow worse.

"That's not true," you say, your voice firm. "You’re not what they say, Leona."

He scoffs, looking away. "What do you know? You think you’re the first person to try and convince me otherwise?"

You hesitate, watching the way his fingers dig into the grass as if grounding himself. "No, I don’t think I’m the first. But I mean it."

Leona doesn’t answer, his jaw tightening as he stares stubbornly at the horizon. You sigh, shifting closer to him.

"Leona, I don’t care what anyone else thinks," you continue, your tone softening. "I know you. The real you. The one who cares more than he lets on. The one who’s smart enough to outmaneuver anyone when he feels like it. The one who—"

"Stop." His voice is low, rough, like he’s holding something back.

You do, but only because his head tilts toward you, his gaze finally meeting yours. There's a vulnerability in his expression that catches you off guard—a crack in the carefully constructed armor he wears so well.

"Why do you stick around?" he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart aches at the question, the way it sounds like he’s bracing for disappointment. You reach out, your fingers brushing his, and he flinches but doesn’t pull away.

"Because it’s you," you say softly. "For me, It’s always been only you, Leona."

He stares at you, his eyes wide, the words sinking in. For a moment, he looks like he’s about to argue, to dismiss you with his usual sarcasm. But then his hand turns, his fingers curling around yours, and his head dips forward until his forehead rests against your shoulder.

You don’t say anything, letting him take what he needs. His tail flicks once, brushing against your leg, and you smile faintly, squeezing his hand.

"You’re not alone, you know," you murmur after a while. "I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere."

For a long moment, there’s only silence, the weight of his presence grounding you both. Then, quietly, he mutters, "You’re an idiot, sticking with me."

You laugh softly, resting your cheek against his hair. "Maybe. But I’m your idiot."

He huffs, but there’s a softness in it—a quiet acceptance that makes your heart feel lighter. His grip on your hand tightens, and though he doesn’t say it, you know he’s grateful.

For now, it’s enough.

Masterlist

[josephquinnswhore]

where you go, I go - stalker joel miller x female reader AU.

summary: joel hasn’t been the same since ex his wife abandoned him and his daughter, but he’s been watching you for months.. you’re the perfect replacement.

word count: 1.1k

content warning: extreme stalking, harassment, unhealthy infatuation, murder, brief mention of potential kidnapping, unhealthy idealism, manipulation, gaslighting.

Today was really not the day for this, your complete lack of intolerance to bullshit had reached its capacity.

But this had been happening every attempt for the past week, a relatively new and frankly.. abruptly confusing issue.

The button on your key fob for your car makes the indicators flash orange each attempt to pry the boot open. With a click or the button, it’s supposed to open the boot automatically.

But your car doesn’t do that, no. It insists on a one armed wrestling match while you have to click the button simultaneously.

Thanks to Joel, the man that has been absolutely infatuated with you for months, since you’d hired them for a minor job, just a custom order bookshelf. Not something the men would typically accept but Joel was absolutely infatuated with you.

Since then he hadn’t ever been far from where you were. Even if that meant showing up to your house at night and sabotaging apart of your car.

It’s hot out. These Texan summers were no joke and with no breeze, the beads of sweat meticulously lined upon your forehead, not one inch of it wasn’t covered in sweat.

“Come on!” With a grunt of frustration, you attempt to wrestle the boot open again, pushing it down to try and get the latch unstuck.

He watches on as you struggle with the boot of your car for the third time this week alone, how you managed to live your life without a man to take care of you was a real mystery to him.

As amusing as it is to watch you struggle, he figures he needs to approach before some other man offers a helping hand. The last thing Joel needs is to bury another goddamn prick on your behalf. You should be thanking Joel, really.

But he understands, you don’t know. You’re vulnerable, completely none the wiser to the fact that a man that mowed your lawn once a fortnight, had managed to peep through your bathroom window and caught a glance of your bare skin while you were showering.

Unaware that anyone was watching you groan again in frustration, about ready to pull your hair out. “Why the hell is this happening to me today?!”

“Excuse me, miss?” A well recognised Southern, Texan accent calls out to you with a hint of amusement and curiosity. Turning around, the man was closer than you’d expected.

“You need something?” Perhaps you were snappier than you should’ve been, and he raises a singular eyebrow at you.

“I’m sorry. I just.. need help with this. Pain in the ass. I have cold stuff and it’s hot as shit out here!” You ramble incessantly to the man who just tilts his head.

As he steps forward. “Mind if I give it a try?”

“Good luck to you—“ before you could even finish the scornful sentence the boot was open.

“How did you do that?” Disbelief wavering in your tone.

He shrugs, folding his arms over his chest, the shirt tightens and the muscles in his arms bulge. A fitting distraction to keep your eyes away from the fact that he had just sneakily attached a tracking tab onto your car. Underneath the number plate.

Now, he already knew your home address. But he had to make sure that you weren’t seeing anyone.

You were certain he had caught you staring. “These older models have a few minor issues, I learnt that working on my own truck, I suppose.”

Now that were true. But he wouldn’t really tell you the reason he knew how to fix this particular issue.

“What’s your name anyway?”

He starts packing your groceries into the now open boot, a few bags in each hand at a time.

The veins in his forearms protrude out of the skin.

“Joel. Joel Miller.”

Once he’s finished packing your groceries away, he closes the boot. “Shouldn’t have no more issues with it.”

You raise a brow. “You’re not gonna ask my name?”

He doesn’t want to, because he already knows it.

He almost laughs, almost. “What is your name, miss?”

When you reply with your name, he doesn’t at all seem phased, which was odd. “You kinda look familiar, actually.”

He keeps a calm expression, looking around the carpark as he gives a warm smile. “I live around here. Do contracting for a lot of houses around town.”

He could’ve felt his gut drop in that moment, maybe you’d figured him out. Perhaps you were about to call him out on what he’s been doing, sneaking around your goddamn house at night, sabotaging the boot so that it wouldn’t open properly.

Perhaps if that were the worst case scenario, he would just have to whack you on the head and shove you into the boot of your little car and drive you to his house. Chain you up and explain that he’s not a bad guy, he just cares for you. No one else cares for you like he does.

Thankfully, it doesn't come to that, because you’re clueless, really. It’s sad to see that you don’t protect yourself. If Joel could get away with all of this unseen. Imagine the real creeps that would take advantage of you.

Joel had been creating all of these minor issues for you, so that you would perhaps seek him out if he happened to.. by chance.. be nearby.

Come to think of it, there was a white pickup that had some sort of business name on the side of it. Been around your street a few times this week, actually. Perhaps he’s got work in the area?

Ain’t really your business to ask though.

“Yeah, I suppose. Thanks anyway, for this.. I should get home now. Don’t want all the dairy and meat to spoil.”

By now you really should be leaving.. but you feel compelled to give the helpful man your number.

“Maybe I can thank you properly one day for lending a hand.”

You quickly scribble it down on the back of your long docket and hand it to him.

“I’ll contact you,” albeit a simple response, he vows to you.

He takes the half crumpled paper with your number and nods with a warm smile, watching you as you get into your car and thank him again through the window before driving off.

A grim smile on his wicked lips as he watches the car leave the parking lot, knowing that even now, as you left, he would know where you were.

Because where you were, Joel was always following close behind. He did, after all.. think you were perfect. The missing piece of the puzzle to his family. The right woman to give his daughter a caring, loving mother. And you—would be his wife. Joel was taking all the steps necessary to ensure it.

He would have he perfect family. He would have you.

Finally, with the number in hand, he was one step closer.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

✦ ◟Pnyo! ⊹𓆝 𓈒 ۫

WHAT IF!! | Damian finds a fish with a veeery strange face?

Synopsis; He finds a strange fish that not only steals his attention but also seems to be changing shape. Between obsessively caring for it and keeping his cat from eating it, something weird is happening: the fish is becoming... more human. A miracle or just an aquatic disaster? Damian doesn’t know what to think, but surely nothing will be the same after this.

Pairing ── Damian Wayne x Ponyo! Reader. (Platonic)

Content. MDNI ── Fluff, transformation, fight, mild violence?, supernatural elements, emotional conflict, character growth, ambiguity, mild suspense, fantastical creatures.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish— Ugh, we’re finally starting to upload all the delayed requests. This one is special because, well, some friends specifically asked for it, and it kicks off the "What If!" section, where you can send me any silly situation or whatever you want.

Damian had never been a fan of comedic situations or casual affection. He had grown up surrounded by discipline, struggle, and duty, where everything that wasn’t a mission or a cause seemed unnecessary. Spontaneity and tenderness made him uncomfortable, as if they were territories he didn’t know and avoided with caution. But here he was, on a remote beach, trying to escape the feeling that something in his life was changing. Perhaps the peace of the sand beneath his feet or the sun barely touching his face made him feel vulnerable, something he had never allowed.

It was then that he saw her: a strange, glowing fish that emerged from the water with almost magical grace, as if it were a creature from a dream. Something about its appearance, with its peculiar shape and vibrant colors.

Damian, in an impulse as unexpected as it was baffling, grabbed the bucket that Cassandra and Stephenie had left forgotten by the shore. He lifted it quickly, without thinking, and caught the fish with the same precision with which he usually caught his enemies. There was no logical reason, no plan. He simply did it, as if, for once, the same curiosity that had made him take Goliath years ago was now driving him to do the same with this creature.

When he got home, the fish was still in the bucket, hopping slightly, as if it had no idea of the bewilderment it was causing in the boy who had, in some way, learned to treat the strangest animals as if they were normal. And though he couldn’t admit it, part of him felt a strange satisfaction.

Damian didn’t usually allow anything or anyone to interrupt his concentration, but something about this fish kept him in a constant state of alertness. He spent hours watching it in the fish tank he had placed in his room, studying every movement, every bubble it made while swimming. It wasn’t just curiosity. There was something else, something he couldn’t fully identify, but it felt like a small spark of something he had never allowed to ignite inside him.

At first, he watched it from a safe distance, not interacting too much, as if observing it silently was enough. But soon, the need to take care of it, to protect it from any possible threat, began to infiltrate his daily routine.

Every morning, he made sure its water was fresh, renewed, and free of impurities. His mother had taught him how to take care of little creatures, but he had never paid so much attention to the details as he did with this fish. The water had to be at the perfect temperature, neither too hot nor too cold, and the plants in the tank had to be kept clean, with no algae that could disturb its tiny ecosystem. If any leaf fell or something disrupted its balance, Damian would fix it immediately, as if the life of the fish depended on his intervention.

The others didn’t understand, of course. Drake and Duke, for example, would come over with mischievous smiles, bringing pieces of ham as if it were a harmless joke. He often found them crouched down, trying to give the creature a snack, and his patience would overflow. “What are you doing?” he’d ask with a calmness that barely hid his irritation. “Don’t give it ham. It’s not food for her.” And although his words were sharp, no one could deny the protective tone in his voice. The worst part was that his fish happily accepted the ham!

Sometimes, when they tried something new, like moving the tank to see how the fish would react, Damian couldn’t help but frown. No matter how ridiculous it seemed to others, in his mind, that creature deserved respect. And most of all, it deserved to be safe.

Alfred, the cat, was another constant concern. Although the cat usually behaved with innate elegance, he never missed an opportunity to observe the tank, his eyes filled with a furtive gleam. Damian had to come up with a series of tricks to keep the cat at bay. He’d place a special lid, one that kept the cat from opening it, and every time Alfred came close, he made sure he wasn’t too near the tank, always with that deadly glare that only a child trained in the art of discipline could possess.

As the days passed, something inside Damian began to change. He didn’t just take care of the tank and the fish with almost obsessive dedication; he did it because, somewhere deep inside him, he had grown fond of it. He wouldn’t admit it, not even to himself, but he knew that this little being, this strange creature he had caught on a whim, had become something more. It was his responsibility, his little refuge, a vestige of something more human that he had learned to avoid for years. And although he didn’t fully understand it, he couldn’t help but feel a strange peace every time he looked at the fish, swimming peacefully in its tank, unaware of the internal war its owner was fighting to protect it.

As the days went by, Damian began to notice something peculiar. At first, he thought it was just his imagination, the result of staring at it for so many hours, but soon it became obvious: his fish was growing. Not in a sudden way, but gradually, as if, somehow, it were changing before his eyes, transforming into something bigger, more... alive. At first, he was skeptical, attributing it to the fact that maybe the creature had been hungrier than he thought. But then, over time, the transformation wasn’t just physical. Its behavior also changed. It became more active, swimming in circles as if it were exploring, as if it weren’t the same creature he had known before.

Damian watched as its shape and color subtly began to alter. The fish’s scales became shinier, and its eyes, which once only reflected the calm of the water, now had a spark of something more: curiosity, perhaps. And the strangest thing of all was that it was getting closer to the surface of the tank, as if it wanted to get out. It was as perplexing as it was fascinating, but he couldn’t help wondering if his fish, somehow, was taking on a life of its own.

Something, though mysterious, was happening in their little world, and, though he didn’t fully understand it, a feeling of inevitability began to settle in his chest. The transformation was clear. Something magical, something he couldn’t control, was happening.

It was one afternoon, returning from a mission as Robin, when Damian discovered it completely. The door to his room was wide open, and a strange silence enveloped him as he entered. His gaze immediately went to the tank, only to discover that it had exploded, water spilling onto the floor and shards of glass scattered around. Panic swept over him, but then he saw it: a small figure in a red dress, completely soaked, jumping on his bed with overflowing energy.

“Damian! Damian!” the girl shouted, her face lit up with overflowing joy as she approached him, showing no trace of fear. Her eyes, now so familiar, looked at him with the same spark he had seen in the tank.

Damian stood still, his heart pounding in his chest, unable to fully understand what he was seeing. Where was his fish? Where and how did that strange girl get in? The girl, with her wet hair and soaked red dress, looked at him with a smile full of energy, as if she had finally found what she had been looking for.

And in that moment, seeing that familiar look, something inside Damian clicked. His fish, his strange and precious creature, had turned into a human, a girl.

A/N ── First off, yes, this request can continue. Feel free to send me questions or whatever if you like it. It's not a series, so no chapters or anything like that.

Honestly, I think I saw a Damian x Ponyo! Reader somewhere, but I can't remember the username, so all credit goes to them. If you see it, send me their username so I can give them the proper credit.

On another note, this story isn’t romantic, so don’t even ask. I’m watching you.

[notanactressyayy]

—𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭—

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . she needs you, in multiple ways — she's just scared to ask for it.

warnings . smut — I am NOT responsible for the content you consume — thigh riding, scissoring, fingering, vulnerable sex (because yes), taking care of Nat because she deserves it.

notes . English is not my first language, I'm brazilian, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. this is probably the first fic I ever post so hi hi!!!

(I'm sorry if this is bad, I literally wrote that in a waiting room, completely in a rush.)

divider credits: @cafekitsune ^^

You didn't know exactly why the TV was on. You weren't interested on the show, and Natasha wasn't even looking at it. Her eyes looked down as she fidgeted with her fingers. You could tell she was anxious, that something was bothering her.

You just never expected that this was something to do with you — no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was her.

Natasha and you met years ago, and had been in a situationship for a while now. You weren't friends, but somehow, you couldn't recall the time you started dating (because it never existed). Friends with benefits was too cliché, and maybe not enough to describe what you actually had with her.

To begin with it, you met Natasha when she was still an Avenger. You were never part of the team, but they treated you as if you were. You were close to everyone, but specially Natasha. There was a reason she had let that happen, since according to her, she was in New York to be a hero, and not to have friends.

Friends.

The moment the russian started to blush whenever Thor teased her about how close she was to you or when you simply stared at her for a few seconds or more was when she realized that she made a mistake. A good one, she hoped. In a heartbeat, she was telling you her story.

You listened — just, listened. Your hand went to brush her hair behind her ear whenever she looked down, and the sparkle of pride in your eyes was not something she could miss. You didn't pity her. You didn't try to bring up a justification for what she went through, or to bring up a solution to fix her. You were proud of her for who she became, and were there for her whenever she didn't want to be that person for a while.

It was with that trust in you that she found herself wanting, craving even, something more. She's human, wether she like it or not. She can't deny her feelings or urges, not even the most dangerous spy can.

So her walls broke when you said you were going with her to Norway after the Avengers split.

Natasha shifted a little in the couch, the blankets around her getting all crumpled as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Your focus went from the soft patting of the raindrops in the window to the woman next to you, as you frowned a bit.

"Nat?" you called, leaning your side against the backrest of the couch and looking at her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, a little startled, but tried to shake it off with a small grin. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just a little hot in here."

"We're in Norway," you laughed, giving her that goddamn smile of yours. "And.. it's raining."

"The..." she shook her head, failing miserably to come up with an excuse. "The blankets are making me hot."

"Mhm, are they?" you raised an eyebrow, and pulled the blankets off you both, and letting half of them fall to the floor. "Better?"

Natasha shivered, but nodded nonetheless. You saw she was unquiet, and that this looked a little more serious than the normal.

"Natasha."

"Yeah?"

"What is going on?" you repeated your question, scooting closer to her and placing your hand above hers — just to make things worse.

Natasha almost whined at your action, which made you pull your hand back and frown even more. "I'm sorry,"

"No, it's not your fault." she shook her head. "It's mine."

"Then tell me." you smiled softly, lifting her head up to meet your eyes with your pointer finger. The sight of her green orbs was something you maybe never saw before.

"I..." she mumbled, clearing her throat. She then grabbed your hand and held your wrist gently, not sure of what to do next. "I don't know."

"It's okay," you whispered, bringing her hand up and placing a kiss on it. You had no problem with being affectionate and she didn't mind either, but today, it was different.

"Y/n". Natasha whispered back, looking into your eyes and getting lost in them. She was clearly unsure of what to do, and how to express what she was feeling. So she brought your hand up and placed your palm above her heart. Faster than the speed of light.

"Hey..." you cooed, tilting your head as you felt the aggressive beating against your hand. "You... are you, scared of something?"

"No." she quickly shook her head. She wasn't having any negative emotions right now. "I'm not anxious, I'm not scared.. I'm just.."

"Just what?"

The fact she was not having an anxious episode or a panic attack made you slightly relaxed, but not completely — then you realized, the touches you were giving her made her sensitive. She was needy.

The Red Room turned her into a closed person, and that didn't completely vanish when she was with you — it was like there was a bug in her system that had to be fixed, soon. She couldn't be totally open, but not completely closed.

You smiled at the thought, and leaned in closer, inches away from her face, which made her breathing uneven. "Tell me what you need, Nat."

"I..." she took a deep inhale and placed her hand on your cheek, pulling you into an unexpected kiss — a desperate one.

She kissed you frantically, her movements with urgency as she placed her hands behind your neck, trying to pull you close. You couldn't say you expected this, but it wasn't unwelcomed either.

Your hands went to her waist as she shyly crawled onto your lap, her legs hooking around your hips as she pulled away for air, her forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she breathed, feeling her eyes start to burn with unleashed tears.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for." you murmured, arms gently wrapping around her as she straddled you. "It's okay, let's not rush things. Let's take deep breaths, mhm?"

The fact you wanted her to calm down before anything almost calmed her down instantly, but she breathed with you, then leaned her head on yours, her cheek on your hair.

"I just need something," she whispered, more calmly now. "I—I think I need you."

"And I'm here," you turned your head to press a kiss on her temple, caressing her back. The redhead melted.

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips again, but not with urgency. She sighed softly against your lips, her hands moving to hold your face, and yours, to hold her waist. It didn't take long for her to start moving slowly — she shifted, instead of straddling your lap, her legs were around your thigh. Your eyes opened, and you broke the kiss to look at her.

"Nat, my love," you whispered. "Are you sure of this?"

"Please." she uttered back, closing her eyes and gripping your shoulders. "I know you'd ever hurt me.. you would never disrespect me, you would stop if I asked you to. Right... right?"

You smiled sadly, realizing she was trying to reassure herself, and not actually ask you this. "Yes, yes, Natasha. I want to take care of you. I want to see you, beyond that shell they turned you in. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me to ask for this, and this is such a big step for you."

She sighed in relief, hearing the honesty in your voice. She nodded, clearing her throat. She leaned down, hiding her face on the crook of her neck and pressing small, gentle kisses on it. Then her hips started to slowly move, and the tiniest bit of friction made her gasp. "Y/n..."

"Shh," you held her hips, guiding her through her own pace. The little high waisted shorts she wore rolled up, so surprisingly thick that you could feel her wetness. "That's great, Natty. Move yourself for me, like this."

Natasha whined at your words, starting to grind against you slightly faster. The clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable, as she felt the need of you seeing her. She grabbed your hands, and slowly moved them underneath her blouse.

You did what she wanted, grazing your fingernails against her skin and slowly massaging her flesh, resulting in a soft moan of hers. "Take it off." You looked at her with a questioning look, even if you had an idea of what she was asking for. "Undress me, Y/n."

Given her permission, you smoothly lifted her blouse and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She stopped her movements briefly, just so you could slide her shorts and panties down her thighs, her heat now in contact with your leg making you groan.

She felt your hands moving up to unclasp her bra and smirked softly, holding her arms out so you could take down the straps. That woman was surely breathtaking, her body, her marks, her scars, her voice, her everything.

"Natty," you uttered, pressing kisses in the valley between her breasts and moving up, to her ear. "There's so much I wanna do with you..."

Natasha closed her eyes, your touch making her shiver again, as she began to fastly grind her pussy against your thigh. "Please." she quickly removed your shirt and soon enough, you both were completely naked.

The feeling of skin against hers, the human touch that she never felt when getting off with a strap while thinking of you was unbelievable, a touch that she knew that wouldn't hurt her. It was so good, so different from the men she seduced when a spy, so different from the men that touched her in the Red Room.

"My pretty girl," you hissed, throwing your leg above hers and starting to grind yourself with her. "So beautiful, and all mine."

"Yes," she panted, burying her face in your neck again as her nails lightly scratched your back. "Y/n, please."

"You're coming with me." you sweetly commanded. Natasha started to whisper things in Russian that you couldn't really understand, but you took it as a sign that she was close.

Soon enough, Natasha's legs started to shake and her moans on your ear got slightly louder, you both coming together, her juices mixing with yours. She didn't stop, though. You gasped, looking up at her. She still needed more.

"Touch me." Natasha growled, grabbing your hand and moving it close to her cunt. She was starting to feel confident, and you liked it.

You didn't think twice before burying your middle and pointer fingers on her hole, using your thumb to slowly rub circles on her clit, biting your lip at the sight of her back arched. All for you.

"God, Y/n," she moaned, using her own hands to squeeze her breasts and circle her hard nipples. "Yes, just like that."

"You like it like this?" you asked, shoving one more finger inside her, her moans getting louder. She slowly started to lift herself from your fingers, just to lower her hips again, riding your fingers. "You're gonna come for me again?"

"Yes!" she nodded frantically, her breaths coming in little gasps for air. She gripped your shoulders tightly, throwing her head back and orgasming again. It took a while for her to calm down, and you didn't waste time before gently taking her and laying her down on the couch, spreading her legs and pressing soft kisses on her inner thighs, licking her juices and making her squirm around.

"Y/n," she murmured quietly, reaching her arms out.

"Oh, baby." you pulled Nat into an embrace, holding her close to your chest and caressing her hair, running your fingers through her red locks. "It's alright."

Natasha whimpered, wanting to hide herself in your arms and never come out again. She closed her eyes and laid her head on your chest, arms circling your waist.

The talk about this could wait. The silence was comfortable enough for now.

[eggroll-sama]

When Your Bikini Top Goes Loose

The Spider Society is hosting a beach party and you were invited. It was supposed to be a nice sunny outing with your lovely boyfriend, until an accident occurs with your bikini top…BASICALLY the stereotypical anime beach swimsuit trope. How would the boys react?

Miles

Tries to block the view with his body because he doesn’t want anybody else to see his girlfriend in such a vulnerable state, but his skinny stature doesn’t help, especially if you’re on the thicker side.

“O-kay! Everybody turn around! Just a little outfit malfunction, nothing to see here!”

Probably draws more attention by opening his mouth, but he didn’t mean it. Very protective boyfriend. Webs a random beach towel from the ground (apologizes later to whoever it belonged to) and hands them to you. He will help you hold it up while you fix your outfit malfunction. Very awkward but respectful. He would try to act cool and indifferent, but his mind is running 100 miles an hour.

99% chance he’ll get jealous and put off if someone saw you. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell it’s bothering him. If you ask him about it to tease him, he’s going to deny it to his grave.

Hobie

The most chill when it happens. Doesn’t get possessive if someone saw your chest since he’s a believer in normalizing public nudity, but will shoot web on their face if they were ogling or making you uncomfortable. The man just quietly saunters over to not make a big scene and helps you out. Afterwards he’d joke that his hands will be more trustworthy for your chest.

To make sure that the bikini bra doesn’t go loose again, he makes it more secure for you with his spiderwebs. 100% full proof and the bikini won’t ever go loose again.

“Okay, give a little twirl for me now. Damn, absolutely stunnin’.”

Gives you a little slap on the butt and a kiss on the cheek. Doesn’t care if anyone else sees.

Pavitr

As the ever observant boy that he is, he notices it going loose even before you. Quickly used his webs so that it covers your chest on time.

“Ay, that was a close one! Good thing your amazing boyfriend was there to help you!”

Might get creative when he’s tired out from swimming and playing volleyball, and starts crocheting you a bikini outfit while you’re laying on him. According to him, he’s a “talented, amazing, super cool, handsome” boyfriend like that. He’ll use your favorite colors and even asks you what type of design you’d prefer.

Miguel

Doesn’t have the spidey-sense to notice your bikini top going loose before it’s too late. His eyes instantly scan the area, landing on a few spider people that fervently shake their head in denial of seeing anything or acting like they were distracted.

Holds you in his arms bridal style, ignores you telling him to put you down, and takes you to the beach bathroom where you can fix your top.

He acts standoffish when you come back, and he would give you a half-baked answer if you ask what’s wrong. You get your answer when he starts to act clingier and protective over you. You catch him glancing at your bikini top’s strings several times to make sure it doesn’t go loose again and when you suggest doing anything physical like swimming or volleyball, he gets skeptical.

“What’s wrong with reading with me under the parasol? …dios, I’m just too worn out to go back into the water…(sees you running back to the water)…ay coño (chases you).”