#I’ve been burnt out as hell

[katt1281]

Stole this from Reddit because. Yeah.

[smply-sktchng]

Library Mouse

[prettycutebunny]

Hi so I finished the series and I had to sit there a little bit because that was absolutely not the direction I thought you were gonna go. It’s still a very satisfying ending don’t worry! I just thought it was gonna have a little bit more horror to it. But that’s on me, because you wrote an absolutely amazing ending!!! I’m super sad that it ended though :( Also I love your writing style.

Honestly ? Ever since the first chapter - I intended it to be one shot tbh - I imagined her in place of Jill. The idea of him putting a mind control device on her body with the approval of their children just seems terrifying to me. Is she lucid under it ? Is her mind screaming something while her body is playing the loving role ?

I had half a mind to kill her later but I prefer an open ending since a lot were disappointed with it, idk where they got the idea it would be a happy ending XD

[fingertipsmp3]

Another thing that happened tonight is I incinerated a weed brownie for no reason 👍🏻

[galactic-space]

Constantly 5 seconds away from Kms fr fr

[thevelvetvampyre]

The Dinner Party - Cillian Murphy x Reader

Summary: Cillian can’t wait any longer to fuck his friends daughter after finally seeing her now that she’s legal

Warnings; age gap, riding, fingering, p in v, oral (fem receive), he’s a giver, sneaky and a creeper, met when reader was underage but like a good boy he waited, affair / cheating, general smut and adult content + alcohol / intoxicated behaviour.

(ALSO ONE USE OF Y/N I LOVE IMAGINING HIM SPEAKING TO READER DIRECTLY and I feel like he’s just one to use a girls name when speaking to them anyways)

Notes: sorry I haven’t been active, I’ve been fucking my boss lol (proudly, I am not joking) + I wrote this ages ago so it may be horrible xox

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

The dinner party was coming to a close, broken champagne glasses splattered shards over the linen covered table as the candles had burnt to a crisp and the wick began puffing black. Most importantly, the guests were heaving the thick scent of alcohol which filled your fathers living room with dancing, laughing and kisses being shared between people they’d cringe over the morning to come.

“Come on! Just a dip.”

Your best friend has drunkly jumped into your swimming pool fully clothed, the cool water up to her chest as she stayed eager to persuade you in with her.

The heat of the drink in your hand had spread across you and left you smiling stupid at her antics, huffing as you chugged the remainder of the convincing liquid down your throat and placing the glass on the table next to you.

“Fine! Fine… just for a while.”

Your words sounded tired but your happiness and excitement was evident, pulling the bottom of your dress up over your head and leaving you bare in your bra and panties.

Squeaking in excitement she twirled in the water, screaming praises about the way your body looked and how ‘sexy’ you were when you were so bare.

Jumping into the pool, the blurred noises had filled your ears and your skin lathered in bumps to the contact of the cold.

“Isn’t tonight so beautiful.”

You raised from the water to see her floating on her back stargazing, the start of summer was like crack to her and you could only find it addictive yourself.

As the pair of you giggled, floated and embraced in the water, spluttering out sentences of admiration to your friendship, the pounding of the indie music inside had become clearer as the patio door swiped open and your parents, plus a couple of their friends, made their way stumbling and laughing to themselves.

“Are you ladies okay?”

Your dad screamed over the thumping drums, breaking your attention away from each other and looking at him.

“Hell yeah!”

You screamed and threw your arms up, your best friend following suit with a squeal herself.

“Love to hear it honey!”

Your eyes pulled from your dad who swayed with the largest grin you’d ever seen and landed on his friend, Cillian.

He stood there as your eyes met and his smirk became increasingly evident under the blue moonlight. Lifting his hand that held the beer, he threw you a cheers as his gaze dropped to your exposed body hidden beneath the turquoise blue that transparently hid your frame.

Whether it was the sting of the cold liquid you’d submerged yourself in or the lust in his glance, the chills that snuck up your spine sent a shiver to your core.

You’d met the man once, this time last year actually. You of course knew who he was from the impressive array of movies he’d starred in and you were thrilled to hear your father had befriended the man at a PR event. Striking up a close friendship exceptionally fast with the actor, he was soon invited to one of the beautiful, lavish dinner parties your dad hosted once every year.

You were only 17, but my god was he gorgeous. The smell of his masculine musk that surrounded you, his firm grip on your delicate hand as he introduced himself as a stranger, those piercing baby blue iris’s that undressed you slowly in front of your parents.

No- no, of course he didn’t mean to look at you like that. Of course his eyes didn’t fall from yours to your plush lips, admiring how soft and kissable they were. Of course they didn’t soon fall to your perked tits and felt his cock thicken as he imagined how soft they were to squeeze. And of course, he didn’t watch the way your hips moved you along the marbled floor as he imagined himself biting into your silky thighs as they wrapped around his head.

He was married after all, and he was who he was. A gorgeous, talented, Hollywood actor who would have absolutely no interest in a girl less than half his age with all his glitzy awards and a wife who could please him in ways you had yet to learn.

But oh, you were wrong.

From the moment he laid eyes on you, you possessed his thoughts which soon spread to his palm as he fisted himself to the mental picture of you in his head. The way your lashes batted and your teeth dug into your lips, the furrow of your brows as you listened to whoever was speaking at the table and the pull of your lips as they spurred out drunken words.

With each step he took out of his home he’d excite himself with the thought he may bump into you, joke about what a coincidence it was to see you in public and ask you how you’ve been.

You were in the corner of his mind, the hallucination in his sheets and the ghost that crept around each promising corner.

You haunted him. You were the coffee he drank, the scripts he read, the women he fucked and the air he breathed.

A year later, here you were, intoxicatingly half naked in your own pool and finally legal.

Like a corpse that revived from the dead, you were deathly beautiful and his haunting desires had manifested in front of his very eyes.

You send him a smirk that expressed pages of expressionless desires that had too, haunted you.

“Right… who’s feeling one more?”

Your father exclaimed as he shot down the last of his beer and raised the glass.

His friends cheered loudly as they threw their arms up and tripped over seemingly nothing back into the house. Cillian’s eyes had remained on yours as they darkened, clenching his jaw through his arousal and cocking his brows up before slowly turning around and following the group inside.

For the next hour you stayed basking in the moon with your best friend, exhausting yourselves with laughter and dancing in the pool that soon brought you to tiredness.

“Thank you for coming tonight.”

You smiled appreciatively at her, sighing out as you held your sore stomach from the stitch that had pierced your lungs.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She pulled you in for one more hug before you swam to the corner of the pool, cursing at the lack of towels to cover you from shivering in the cold summer air.

“Dad!”

You screamed, repeatedly.

Of course, no response as the music had grown louder- if that was even possible, and most definitely impaired him from hearing your desperate screams.

Oh fuck it.

You pulled yourself up from the pool and grabbed your dry dress, wrapping the material around you the best you could.

“Stay here- I’ll get us towels.”

You pulled open the door and immediately got hit with the smell of whiskey, the pounding of the music and the lack of lighting that explained the mass amounts of broken glass on the countertops and floors.

Sneaking through the walls, you almost made it to the living room when the sound of a man clearing his throat caused you to snap your neck into the kitchen.

There he was, leaning against the counter with that god forsaken smirk he glared at you and his eyes amused at the state you were in.

“Having fun out there?”

Cillian brought the tip of his bottle to his lips, swinging it back as his gaze dropped to your dripping body.

His cock swelled in his pants, admiring how delicious you looked when you were wet.

“Yes, Mr.Murphy.”

You said sweetly, turning your full posture to him and grinning shyly at his question.

“Hm… looks like it.”

His lips parted as his gaze was hot and obvious, leaking arousal out your cunt as he licked his bottom lip at the sight of you.

“You look stunning Y/N.”

His voice was low and quiet as he complimented you, your blush pricking your chest as your pussy clenched around nothing. You dropped your head down as your grin grew to avoid is lustful gaze as his intimidating presence was growing unbearable.

“Oh come on… don’t get s’shy on me now.”

His voice was soothing as he babied you, leaving the counter to slowly walk over you as he dropped his neck to meet your low gaze.

Before you got the chance to respond, your father had barged in and greeted you with a loud welcome.

“Hey! Don’t try courting my angel…”

Your dad had turned to Cillian, raising his voice and finger to point at him in a joking manner.

“Eyes off!”

Cillian chuckled as he pulled his gaze off your dripping tits, cock now painfully erect as he decided then and there he needed you. Brushing past you as he walked through you and your father, the skin of his arm grazed yours and you shivered at the contact.

-

Your best friend had eventually left and so did the rest of the party, a few members having to stay overnight in an attempt to avoid the danger of the road at this time in their intoxicated state.

You sat wet in your bedroom, heart pounding as you repeated his compliment in your head and smirking at just how smooth and silky his voice was when he purred it to you.

Standing up, dropping your towel and pushing into your bathroom, you didn’t bother to close the door fully as your tile walls filled with warm steam.

Lathering your exposed, erect nipples in your body wash and rubbing your soapy palms across your body, you were lost in the thought of him as you bathed and cleared your scent of the chlorine.

Unbeknownst to you, Cillian was one of the guests who stayed. With your parents in their bed and everyone else passed out, he sneaked up the stairs on the edge of his toes and leant against the large wooden frame that kept you safe from him. Placing his ear on the wooden door his wet bottom lip dropped open as he listened carefully to the noise of movement inside.

With his palm pressed next to him, his smirk returned as he heard the dripping of your shower head and snaked his other hand onto the doorknob.

Quietly twisting his wrist to open the door, he winced at the squeak and stopped breathing as his heart thumped in his chest at his actions. From the subconscious alert that maybe sneaking into an 18 year olds bedroom wasn’t morally accepted? Especially as an older married man? No, of course not. His heart thumped in fear that he would get caught. That if anyone was to see him now, he couldn’t have you as he needed you tonight.

Breathing heavily as the coast was seemingly clear, he slowly pressed into the door and snuck in through the small crack. Swiftly turning around and pressing his weight above the handle, he quietly pushed it shut and sighed out a relieved huff at his successful entry into your bedroom.

Twisting his neck to the crack in your bathroom door, the corner of his lips curled as he made his way to the beam of light that poured out your bathroom.

Continuing to grin through the alcohol and your arousal of the slight contact you had with him earlier, your skin was warm as the water caressed you. The sweet smell of your soap had intoxicated the room, Cillian rolling his eyes at how your scent was just as addictive as he remembered.

Placing an eye through the gap in the frame, he salivated at how oblivious you were to him, how vulnerable you looked when you were stripped completely and how he could’ve stormed in and forced his thick, throbbing cock into your cunt right then and there.

He watched as the suds ran over your tits, onto your stomach and down your thighs. His veins pulsed through him and his jaw clenched, furrowing his brows and dropping his wet bottom lip at he watched you run your hands over your naked body.

He was growing needy, the tent in his pants poking towards you and thumping under the constraint of the material. He groaned under his breath as he watched you innocently touch yourself, reaching to every crevice of your body that he wanted to lick clean with his own mouth.

Admiring you in an agonising arousal for a few more seconds before you turned the water off, his eyes widened and he stepped back, swiftly but quietly making his way to your bed before sitting down and leaning back onto his wrists.

Stepping out the shower, you reached for your baby pink towel and wrapped it around your body, looking at your blush skin in the mirror before giggling quietly to yourself and opening the door.

Pulling your gaze up from the ground, your throat closed and your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes met Cillian’s. Your mouth went dry and your breath breathlessly left out your lungs, a mix of confusion and excitement fuelling your feet to slowly walk you forward.

“Miss me?”

He said smirkily, his Irish accent laced with the alcohol he drank earlier and tilting his head as his eyes assaulted you.

“What are you doing here?”

Your whisper was sharp and blunt, your red skin burned purple as you noticed his thick cock pointing towards you.

He licked his lips, slowly pulling himself up from your bed and walking towards you. Stopping in front of you, he lifted his fingertips and grazed them down the side of your arms.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… have been onto you since last year.”

His voice was a low whisper as it was husky, the grazing of his nails on your skin sending goosebumps to your mound.

“Do ya… do ya think’f me too?”

His eyes met yours and his gaze softened as he poured his blue into you. An odd look of sincerity plastered his face as your cheeks grew warm to his contact.

“You’re married!”

Your whisper was a scream. He chuckled as his eyes fell to your chest, moving his hands to link his fingertips to the top of your towel and slowly unwrapping you from the cotton.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He growled as the towel pooled at the end of your body, standing frozen as his tongue grazed along this top lip. His eyes grew hungry as they ravished in how beautiful and exposed you were to him.

“Y-yes.”

You quietly admitted. A huff left his chest knowingly.

You wanted to cover yourself, feeling vulnerable to his gaze and suddenly insecure of what he’d think of your naked self. Raising your arms subconsciously you covered your midriff, he grunted as his fingers grasped at your forearms to stop you.

“Don’t…”

His desperation was evident, grunting through his words as he stared at you like a raw piece of meat, twitching closer to you with each second passing to close to gap between you.

“need to see you, I’ve waited so long.”

He drooled out the last words, finally pulling his eyes up as his brows knitted and landed on yours.

Staring into his eyes longingly, you pushed yourself forward for your lips to land on his. Now starving, he breathed heavily as his palm grabbed the back of your head to press you harder into the kiss.

Quiet, soft moans left your lips into his mouth as he whimpered shyly at your kiss, his mouth opening wider to force his tongue into yours. Accepting into the kiss and moving your head to twirl your tongue around his, he grabbed at your waist and started to pull you back towards your bed.

Unable to get close enough, he pulls you tighter against his torso as his lips press and pull against yours, wetting your mouth as he whined and grasped at your sides desperately.

Finally feeling your mattress at the back of him he sat down as he continued to knead your waist, shimmering back onto the bed and pulling you on top of him.

As the kisses grew aggressive, he flipped you under him and your back landed against the soft, plush blanket and he pulled back to gaze at your equally frazzled state. His eyes dazed and lips swollen, he stared at you through furrowed brows as he caught his breath.

“Need you…”

He whined, beginning to kiss the crook of your neck as he grazed your skin against his teeth.

“Need you so bad.”

His voice was crying as he pulled back, kissing lower and lower on your bare body and leaving a wet trail.

“Cillian- please!”

You moaned softly with your impatience evident, desperate to feel his mouth on your mound as his hot breath fanned your lower stomach.

He chuckled as he dropped his lower half off the bed, his knees banging against the floor as his forearms wrapped around your thighs.

Pulling you with ease so your cunt nearly hung off the bed, he bit marks with his teeth into your fleshy thighs and groaned around the kisses.

“Bet this cunt tastes so good.”

His voice continued to grow whiner, breaking his desperate kisses apart as he praised you.

“So fucking good.”

Planting more kisses as he was getting teasingly closer to your dripping hole, you began clenching both your thighs and walls in an attempt to push him closer.

“Fuck- I need you!”

Your words came out exasperated and he chuckled.

“Yeah?”

He gazed up at you, cocking his brows and licking his lower lip.

“Yes, god-please… please!”

Your fingers wrapped around his hair and your back arched, your cunt pulsating to finally feel him after waiting for so long.

Within a second his hot mouth was on your mound, lapping his wet tongue to taste how wet you’ve gotten from his teasing.

“Oh god- fuck…”

He pulled apart for a split second.

“You’re soaked.”

Attaching his lips once more, he began hungrily eating at you as your hips twitched beneath him.

Holding you firm in place as his tongue traced from your hole to your clit, your back arched as he quickened his pace and you couldn’t help but whimper under his touch.

“Yes-yes! Right there!”

Groaning in response, his tongue slipped into your cunt and fucked you fast, groaning at how sweet your pussy leaked onto his mouth.

As you squirmed and wiggled beneath him, he dug his nails into your skin and moved his head in synch to your attempted escape from his tongue.

Moving his tongue to your clit once more, he traced figure eights and removed his right hand, placing two fingers at your entrance he began circling teasingly as the tips of his digits picked up your arousal.

Slowly pressing them into your hole, a gasp left your lips as you let go of his hair and grabbed the sheets beneath you, your knuckles turning white in an attempt to not wake anyone up with your muffled screaming.

“So tight baby…”

He removed his mouth from your mound and began curling his fingers mercilessly, your legs being to tremble as you felt your orgasm knot in inside of you.

Staring in awe at the way you shook to his fingers, he stared at you in a daze and admired the way you took your pleasure so well.

“Fuck! I’m cumming…I’m cumming”

Your words were fast and mumbled, the heat in your core overbearing and possessive of your limbs.

“That’s it…”

The knot in your stomach was growing painful, needing your release as you whined against your sheets and shook uncontrollably.

“That’s it.”

Your orgasm shook over you, causing you to convulse as he continued to finger fuck you through your climax.

“Such a pretty girl when you cum hm?”

His voice stayed low and you moaned and cursed through your shaking, grasping the sheets desperately as white noise filled your ears and stars appeared at the back of your head where your eyes rolled.

Slurring out his name as quietly as you could, the violence of your orgasm took over you as you continued to remind him of who made you feel this good.

Slowing down his fingers, he delicately pumped in and out of you as you came down from your high. Your chest heaved as you began reconnecting with reality and lowering your gaze to meet his starstruck glare.

Slowly dragging his fingers out, he placed them to his knuckles in his mouth and licked them clean.

“Taste s’good honey.”

Your cheeks pulsated a heat as your orgasm was powerful and overstimulating, staring at him lick his fingers clean.

“Mhm…”

You moaned out, the exhaustion of how hard you came made you unable to speak a coherent word. Slowly standing up as his knees wobbled, he stood over you in triumph and fell on top of you again.

His throbbing, veiny cock pressed against your leg and your cunt began salivating at the sensation of his arousal, gasping at how big he felt through his pants.

Kissing you with no hesitation once again with an open mouth, he flung you over so you were on top and your boobs hung below his face.

Continuing to kiss you needy, he grabbed your ass and began dry humping you through his jeans.

“Fuck- please.”

He panted through the kisses, whining quietly as his painful hard cock begged to fuck your tight walls.

“Needs- mhm- to feel you baby.”

You continued to rub your wet cunt over his constrained cock, sitting up with no time to spare you whipped his belt off and unzipped his awfully tight crotch.

Raising his hips to shift his jeans to his thighs, his underwear soon followed and his massive shaft was suddenly protruding into your mound.

“So big…”

You could only muster a slight compliment before automatically grinding on the underside of his cock.

“Who got you so hard, Mr.Murphy?”

Your head swung back as your clit was caressed with his leaking red tip.

“Hm?”

You looked back down to see his mouth dropped, his glazed eyes staring at where you were rubbing on him and a red flush that bruised over his knitted brows.

“You- fuck…”

His head lulled back, squeezing his eyes shut as his fingers grasped deep into your hips once more.

“You did.”

His groan vibrated through him, urging you to grab the base of him as you aligned his leaking tip to your soaking hole.

You began to drop your hips as he dipped into you, his neck pushing back more into the bed beneath him and his back slightly arching at the sensation of him breaching your tight cunt.

“Fuck…”

He groaned and elongated his word, snapping his eyes open and hazily looking down to watch as he entered you.

“So fucking tight… this cunts so fucking tight.”

He whined as he panted at the feeling of you continuing to sink down on him, small whimpers breathing out with each of his short breaths.

Swinging your head back at the size of him, you couldn’t help but whimper yourself as he felt so thick and warm inside of you.

“Oh yes… feels- oh- so good.”

You sunk all the way down, moaning with each inch that vanished into you.

Finally reaching his base, you snapped your hips back up so only his beady, white tip was left inside of you.

With no warning, you fell all the way down once more and continued to rock as he groaned to the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

Feeling each inch reach a deeper part inside of you until it hit your navel, your inner thighs dampened with a mixture of sweat and both of your arousals.

Rocking faster as you sped up the way you bounced on him, your room filled with wet slapping noises and his groans that vibrated around you.

A string of incoherent curse words and praises fell from his lips, his face scrunching to a look of pain as the vein in his neck bulged and his breath knocked out his chest.

“Oh yes… taking my cock so- oh fuck- well.”

He struggled to find a balance of basking in his pleasure and watching you ride him, swinging his neck up to watch and flex at the side of your tits bouncing so delicately and swinging his neck back to squeeze his eyes shut as he tried so hard to not cum already.

“Sh- slow down!”

He winced, tightly holding onto your sides as he attempted to pause your rhythm.

“Why?”

Your word slipped out with a moan, bouncing fast and pornographically as your ass slapped on his balls and your clit rubbed on his pubic bone.

“You don’t wanna fill my tight pussy up?”

His cock flexed hard at your words, a cry falling from his lips as he rolled his eyes and panted pathetically to try and stop his balls from spilling inside of you.

“Please-please…”

His voice became ten octave’s higher, squeaking as his hips twitched upwards to fuck you deeper than your own pussy could handle.

“Oh please… please cum for me.”

You bounced aggressively as his legs began trembling, his nails scaring your sides as your chest heated up with a sweat from your rocking.

“Oh fuck- fuck I’m cumming.”

His head swung up as he watched you smirk down at him, your own mouth open for your sweet moans to seep into his ears as you edged him on.

You felt his cock twitch not once, but three times as a warm liquid squirted out to coat the back of your walls.

You watched as he convulsed underneath you, shaking and wincing with the gleam of a tear rolling down his cheek.

His eyes were squeezed shut as his mouth was wet and open, his brows twitching in sync with his cock and his chest heaved breathlessly.

“Ah-ah…oh god.”

His winces were easy and liquid out of him, his hot cum dripping down his shaft as you continued to fuck him as he filled your cunt with his sticky arousal.

Your bounces slowed as his nails loosened their grip on your side, his heaving filled with whines and chokes, sobbing at the aggressive orgasm that spasmed him into filling you full.

Pulling him out of you as you raised yourself, you fell next to him in a sweat and caught your own breath, proud of making the actor cum as hard as he did.

Laying limp for a couple of minutes with the smell of sweat and sex filling your room, the pair of you stared up at your ceiling as you caught your breath. Turning his head to face you, he blinked in a dazed gaze as he admired how pretty you were in the moonlight.

“You’ve been haunting me- y’know that?”

You turn to him and give him a smirk.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of- mhm- how good you’d feel.”

He pulled his pants on and fumbled to buckle himself back into his clothing.

“Yeah?”

You smiled in accomplishment.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you either.”

You turned your head back up to the ceiling, the pang of guilt in your chest as your thoughts flashed of his lovely wife at home.

“What about your wife?”

You asked quietly, earning a chuckle from him as he sat up properly.

“Don’t worry about it…”

He turned to look at you laying lifeless on your bed, your eyes meeting his as you couldn’t help but blush at how gorgeous he looked, even after filling you so well.

“Can’t stand her anyways.”

He huffed out and rubbed his thighs, sighing deeply as he stood up and slowly walked towards your door.

Confused at his statement and how fast he was leaving, you sat up on your elbows and furrowed your brows in confusion to his fast arrival and even faster departure.

“Will I see you again?”

You felt pathetic asking, watching him walk away feeling used after he made a mess of your insides and bedsheet.

He grabbed the doorknob and turned to look at you, smirking as he cocked his head in amusement to your question.

“You’re everywhere I go honey…”

He turned the doorknob and it squeaked quietly.

“You’ll see me soon enough.”

Without hesitation or another look back at you, he slipped out your door and left you feeling just as naked as he did when he arrived.

Huffing out and laying back onto your bed, a knot of anxiety built as the guilt of your actions took over you. He’s done this before, and he’ll do it again.

[simpee9000]

Super random but I’m a writer and I’ve been stuck on an idea I can’t get going😅 if you’re willing to/interested I’d love to see what you can do with the idea. I’m a domestic kinda girly so don’t judge 🫣🤣

Idea:

Bakugo coming home to retired ex-hero wife who’s excited to tell him about the new recipe she learned or something like that and it makes him feel frisky because she’s still so devoted in everything she does it just all goes to him now

I can try! I'm really rusty at smut so bear with me here! (Don't ask me how I'm writing a smut story despite only writing it maybe three times before)

Despite the smut not being the best I hope I did well enough. I've never done a request before so this is a first! Thank you <3

Word Count 2k~ Smut, and slightest gore at the beginning

Katsuki Bakugo x retired pro hero reader

Your leg was blasted off from under you. Making you collapse as you buckled under your weight. A silent scream of pain coming from you. Landing onto your stomach before falling onto your side, confused from the amount of pain. Your hero suit was torn in every spot possible, ends being burnt off mid-thigh.

From the knee down your left leg was gone, the pure gore of it made you fall back, head on the ground as you stared up at the dusty sky. It is covered with debris and ashes from the collapsed buildings nearby.

It was a simple fire earlier, quickly turning south when a villain was found on the lower levels. Flattening all buildings nearby. Back-up was called of course, but they were far too late. You were basically gone the second you made contact with the villain. Getting thrown through several walls by an air quirk. Mind going fuzzy just from that, but to make matters worse, a grenade was thrown with you.

You heard the sounds of other heroes and took it as a sign to back down. Resting into the concert underneath you as you tried to stabilize yourself. Ultimately passing out from the pain.

-

Waking up in the hospital sent you on another trip, you thought you were gone. Dead. The haze that surrounded the hospital consumed you as you looked around. The sterile air, empty with chemicals that dried it up. Beeping coming from your heart monitor, a steady pulse made everything feel even more surreal.

Your arm was in a sling and your left leg was gone. Same as before you passed out. Your ribs hurt as you tried to breathe. Panicking from the pain, a doctor rushed in.

Telling you all the things wrong with you, all the options you had.

Nothing felt good enough. Your body was broken, caved in. You lost not only your leg but most of your mobility, everything hurt. You were told everything would continue to hurt. Physical therapy and healing quirks could only do so much.

You tried to listen as the doctor droned on and on about how they had the best doctors. How they could get you a prosthetic that could help you walk again.

The fact that you wouldn't be able to walk without it stunned you.

How could you ever continue to be a hero in this state? You knew Mirko had done it, even your teacher Aizawa did it. But this felt life-changing. It was life-changing.

You thought you died. You didn't want to die.

"Fucking hell," you turned your attention to Katsuki, who just barged in. Pausing in the doorway as he looked you over.

You could say something sappy and it'd be true. As you looked at him you thought over everything. Barely hearing the concerned questions he asked you before turning to the doctor.

Raising a kid as two pro heroes would be impossible. Katsuki and you wanted kids, you couldn't let them see you like this, or worse. They couldn't live without a mother or father.

You couldn't be a hero.

"I'll take a prosthetic," you spoke out finally.

They both looked at you, the doctor labeling your options, "There are a lot of good options for hero work-"

"I'll just have a normal one," you avoided looking at Katsuki, almost ashamed. You loved hero work. You loved saving people. Working harder each day alongside him as you aimed to be your best.

"Okay, I'll file the paperwork," the doctor excused himself, leaving the room to you and Katsuki.

He stared at you for a while, waiting for you to speak. "I think I'm done," you said softly, "All this hero work, consumes my life."

He grasped your hands in his, "Okay."

"I'm sorry, I know that's not what you wanted-"

"But it's what you want," he shot down your apology, "It's okay."

"I don't know what I'll do-"

"We'll figure it okay together," he got rid of your doubts, "I don't think I could stomach seeing you like this again anyway," he confessed.

-

Quitting was difficult, it changed your life drastically. You stayed home more often, picking up smaller hobbies that you never had time for before.

Reading more often, baking, cooking, you were even starting to learn how to crochet. You had so much time and it was freeing. Leaving you with a flexible schedule. Helping Katsuki out on cases he needed a second opinion on, or what event he should go for to help his publicity.

Devoting your time to things you loved freely, rather than just hero work. You missed it sometimes, after all, you have been doing it since you were 15 and only stopped a year ago when you were 26.

It made things easier, schedule easily aligning with Katsuki and giving you more time with the spikey blonde. More time together allowed you to get closer, him engaging on your three-year anniversary.

You thought about your wedding, planned for next year, as you flipped through your new recipe book. Stumbling on a delicious-looking meal that you thankfully had all the ingredients for. Grabbing the ingredients absent-mindedly as you thought about the type of wedding you'd have.

Katsuki didn't care much, telling you to go nuts with it. His mom wanted to help though, and you warmly welcomed it. Excited to be close to his family at any opportunity.

Cutting each ingredient carefully as you mix it into the full meal. Humming in thought when you heard Katsuki's keys on the other side of the front door.

He walked into the kitchen after smelling your cooking, every day you offered him a new meal. He loved that you shared this hobby with him.

"What y'making?" he walked behind where you stood at the stove. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he buried his chin into your shoulder, looking at what you were doing.

"I just found a new recipe! The cookbook I bought has so many good things," you shared excitedly, "Lots of protein and vegetables, just the way you like it."

"I fuckin' love you," he kissed your neck and hugged you tighter.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a hand towel and wiping your hands off before you turned in his grip, wrapping your arms around his neck. He had his hero mask pushed up over his eyes, holding his hair back. "How was work?" you asked, swaying lightly with him.

"Work," he replied back, leaning down to kiss you.

Your lips connected for a moment before you pulled back, "You need a shower," you tried to smack away the taste of charcoal that was left on your lips. Concerned about how he even had that happen.

He rolled his eyes, squeezing at the fat of your hips, "As long as you join me?"

You looked over your shoulder and at the food, "I don't know, food just got done."

Without another word he pulled away from you and grabbed a pan lid, placing it over the pan filled with food and taking it off the heat. "We'll reheat it later, let's go," he grabbed your hand and put you in front of him as he walked behind you to the shower.

You giggled as you matched the forced pace he was making you walk, "Impatient much?" you teased.

He didn't answer, just pulled his shirt right off your body. He stared at it enough already and wanted more. He groaned when he noticed you were only wearing panties, the cheeky ones that he loved. "Fuckin' knew today was gonna be a good day," he mumbled before kissing you roughly, scaling kisses down your neck and onto your chest. He didn't seem like he could be happier at the fact you weren't wearing a bra, pressing kisses at every bare inch of you.

Nipping at your bud before sucking your tit into his mouth. His hand taking care of the other. "Kats," you whined, pulling him away by his hair when he mumbled a 'what' into your chest, "Shower."

Reluctantly he pulled away, flipping the shower on before ripping his shirt off, pushing his pants and boxers off as well. His hairband had fallen off when he was kissing you earlier. Despite being with him for three years, you still flushed at him bare.

He was built amazingly, sheer hard work sculpted him into a Greek god. You watched his arm ripple in muscle as he checked the temperature of the water before moving to grab you and push you into the water with him. Connecting your lips once in.

"I mean it Kats," you pushed his chest away, making his hair start soaking with water, "Shower."

Making a show of following your orders, he quickly washed his hair. Probably taking the fastest shower of his life before taking his time to run the soap over your body. Not nearly as rough as he washed his own. Kissing your shoulder blade before washing your back, "Beautiful," he murmured into your skin.

You twisted in his hold, deciding you were clean enough before you leaned into him locking his lips in a passionate kiss. You were only human after all, it's impossible to refuse him for long

Bringing your hands up to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to your height. Easing the strain on the prosthetic, thankful that it was waterproof.

He took anything you gave him, following your lead as you backed yourself into the shower wall. His hands grabbed at your thighs and lifted you, pressing you into the cold tile as he held you up. Kissing his marks over your chest. Layering over where he had already kissed.

"I love you so fucking much," he murmured into your skin, taking a moment to back away and look over you. Soaking in the look you were giving him, full of devotion.

"I love you more," you whispered in reply, pulling him into another kiss. Leaving him to squeeze your thigh, frustrated that you shut him up with a kiss.

He pushed you more into the wall with one hand while he moved his other between you. Trailing it between your folds "It's been too fucking long," he groaned when he felt you, wet and wanting him.

"Can I just have you?" you whined, moving your hand into his hair and pulling desperately. He'd tease you for hours if he could. And with the colding temperature of the water, you couldn't handle that.

"Need me that bad?" he smirked down at you, circling his fingers over your clit meanly.

"Please?"

He wasn't lying when he said it had been too long. The second he gave in and lined himself up, the strain of just his tip was enough to force your head back. The push of him into you felt relieving, it was something you had missed without even knowing.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, head falling into your shoulder as he stilled. Letting you adjust for just a moment before he pulled his hips back. Slowly building pace as he works you both up to the climax.

Breaths tangled together as the steam from the shower clouded your vision.

Your hands were moving over his back and up his shoulders, trying to steady yourself despite his constant thrusts. Knocking the breath out of you each time.

His hand stayed on your clit, moving in sharp circles over you as he knew he wouldn't last. He hasn't had you in so long and wouldn't be held back. Yet he wouldn't be the only one to cum.

He was already close, he was worked up the second he saw you in the kitchen. Seeing you in your home together, cooking for him while wearing his clothes. It made him feel like everything would be okay, he had you. Everything was an effort together rather than alone, and he welcomed it.

The small grunts and moans he was making right next to your ear was sending you up the wall.

"Gonna cum baby? Feel y'fuckin' squeezing me," he panted, working his hips harder into his. You whined in reply, nodding your head frantically. He knew all your spots, bullying his cock straight into your spot.

He felt like he was falling in love all over again any time he looked at you, even now. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and your head lolled back, your body relying on him to stay upright as you blabbed for more. Knowing he'd give anything to you if you just asked. Your legs locked around him when you came, completely losing yourself in his hold as he worked his dick into you. Groaning at you tightening around him before he gave in and met you where you were.

Filling you up, not caring if it got you pregnant or not at this point, he knew everything would be fine.

You looked fucked out, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him, he was melting inside. Reluctantly letting you gain your footing back and letting you clean yourself fully.

It was a blur of a shower afterward. He could only focus on you, mind filled only with love as he crowded you after you dried off.

"You okay, kats?" You spoke softly as you hugged him back.

"Just fuckin love you, got an issue?" he snapped back as he hugged you tighter. He was just as devoted to you as you were to him, even if he didn't always get the time to prove it.

(I'm very meh about this work but I decided to post it anyway, I need to write more and challenge myself. If you have any ideas or requests you should send them in, I'll try to write them!)

You should read my Bakugo x reader if you liked this work!

[back2bluesidex]

Give Me A Taste - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi X Fem!Reader

Theme: PWP, SMUT, established relationship au

Wordcount: 1.3k+

Summary: Yoongi is down bad for you, he has been missing your taste crazily. Thanks to unexpected turns of events and a cancelled show, he can finally satiate his hunger for you.

Warnings: Titty fucking, yes, he fucks her tits, tit play (a bit), fingering, he cums on her chest, a heated make out, Unprotected sex (don't try this at home), NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: It's been a minute since I have written anything for Mr. Min. so... here it is. also, this is an apology because I won't be able to update WDBHG this week. I'm so sorry.:(

You are trying your best to scrub off the burnt patch of your frying pan when you hear the door lock chiming its jovial sound. 

“What the –” muttering to yourself, you start peeling off the washing gloves from your hands. It’s only you and Yoongi who know the passcode of your shared home. You are inside the condo and Yoongi is out on a world tour still having three more weeks to come back home. So it’s definitely a trespasser, or worse, a burglar or a robber trying to break into your house. 

Your blood runs cold at the thought as you walk towards the door for taking a look at the doorbell screen. Your steps halt when you see your boyfriend putting off his shoes and slipping into home slippers. 

“Yoongi?” you whisper, your eyes fill with moisture at an instant. It’s been nearly three months since you last saw him, smelled his calming scent, traced his skin with your fingertips. You have been missing him crazily and a brief phone or video call a day does absolutely nothing to quench your thirst. 

“One of the shows got canceled due to extreme weather conditions, we have a week till the next one. So, we decided to rest for a bit.” Yoongi reasons in his usual calm voice, before you get to ask him. He comes to stand right in front of you as you keep on staring at him. 

“Oh. Have you-” 

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Yoongi cuts you off. His face is unreadable but his eyes are dark, which makes it hard for you to assume anything. 

“No, I-” 

You get cut off again but this time because Yoongi slams his lips onto yours, pinning you to the nearest wall. 

Your boyfriend is usually calm and collected but he becomes a beast when lust takes over his senses. 

He grabs your wrists with both of his hands, pinning those above your head as he presses his body on yours. 

He kisses you hungrily, as if trying to lavish your lips for all the times he was away from you. You kiss him back with just as much urgency. The make out session is so heated that it spreads heat all over your body, including your pussy that just started wetting your cotton panties. 

You realize Yoongi is on the same page when his semi hard bulge presses on your stomach. 

He bites down on your lower lip, pulling it with his teeth before leaving you fucked up with only kisses. 

Yoongi loves you. Oh hell! It will be underestimated to say that he just loves you. He is obsessed with you! He craves for you like a lunatic. He starves for you. 

This prolonged period of staying away from you has been taking a toll on him, that’s why he came rushing back to you as soon as he got the chance. 

He looks at you with hooded eyes, stares down at your swollen lips then at your perked nipples. Fuck! You look heavenly like this. He can’t wait to feel your warmth wrapped around his length.

“I’ve missed you,Y/N. I can barely control myself anymore.” Yoongi whispers as he latches his lips to your throat, placing soft and lingering kisses wherever he could reach. 

“You don’t need to control yourself, Yoongi. I am all yours. Do whatever you want. I am all yours.” You breathe out. Yoongi’s tight grip on your wrists arouses you by an impossible amount. 

“Yes baby. I am going to fuck you so good now. But before that.. Give me a taste? Will you?” Yoongi’s low voice sends a trail of goosebumps all over your body. You suddenly find an urge to shy away from him and his eyes which are currently boring in your chest, more precisely, your nipples.  

Yoongi finds it adorable the way you get a little shy whenever he asks for a taste of your tits. He loves your tits, he can never get enough of those and fucking your tits is one of his most favourite ways of ruining you. 

He leaves your hands and clutches at the rim of your oversized tshirt to pull it off of your body. His eyes turn even darker as soon as you are topless in front of him. 

He palms your tits for a few moments. You push your tits out to enjoy more of his touch by arching your back. Yoongi chuckles at your eagerness. 

“Guess you missed me too, darling?” he squeezes both of your tits at the same time to erect a soft contained sigh from your lips. 

“You have no idea how much.” you murmur while enjoying Yoongi’s rough hands on your soft supple flesh. 

His fingers find your nipples and he twists those to satisfy himself, “then you will let me fuck your titties today, won’t you?” 

“I will…” you voice somehow. 

Yoongi bends down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth. 

As soon as the bud is inside his mouth, he starts lapping it up with his saliva before sucking it hard. All of your breath is knocked out when he worries your nipple between his teeth, not quite biting it rather playing with it with practiced skills.  

One of your hands finds its way to his long dark hair, nails raking through his scalp, earning a moan from your boyfriend. Your other hand travels down to south, brushing through the rough material of his jeans, grabbing his bulge and rubbing it to satiate your burning need that has developed for him.  

Yoongi repeats his actions with your other nipple, arousing you more and more.  

You are far too gone with the pleasure to notice that Yoongi has smeared your chest with his saliva, seemingly preparing you tits to take his cock. 

“Should we head to the couch now?” he asks with his gentle yet low voice. You nod eagerly. 

He lifts you up effortlessly, carries you to the couch and lays you down. Swiftly removing the rest of your clothes and leaving you lying naked on the couch, he reaches for his own clothes. 

His cock springs out of his boxers, tall and proud and ready to fuck you. He smirks, feeling you eyeing him like the horny, hungry girl that you are. 

Yoongi climbs on top of you, places his knees on either side of you, and lines his cock in the middle of your tits. You squeeze your tits tightly to make a tight passage for your boyfriend’s greedy cock. 

His first thrust is a little messy, the head of his cock nudges you on your chin, painting your chin with his precum. 

The next thrusts are more stable and steady and soon you hear Yoongi groaning in pleasure. He is such a goner when it comes to your tits. You tighten your tits even more to rile him up. 

“B-Baby, ugh, Y/N! I will c-cum at this rate.” Yoongi whines. Your eyes roll back at the sensation of his cock being squeezed by your big tits. 

But you start seeing stars when you feel Yoongi’s fingers parting your folds and drawing tight circles on your clit. 

“Oh my– Yoongi” you fumble to make any coherent sentence. 

Arousal pools out of your hole and creates a mess down there.

Apparently, it’s too much for Yoongi to take in your fucked up state, your wetness on his fingers and your tits squeezing the hell out of his cock, all together. His dick starts twitching and before he could warn you, he is cumming all over your face, throat and chest. 

Your grip on your tits loosen as you bring your hand to wipe your face off. When your vision returns to you, you find Yoongi licking your juices off of his fingers while maintaining a steady eye contact with you. He definitely doesn’t look like someone who just cummed all over you. 

Repositioning himself, Yoongi lowers his head to the level of your cunt and chuckles in his breathy voice, “Next up is your pussy. Give me a taste, yeah?” 

And you know you are going to have a long day ahead.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi hiii its my first time ever asking anyone idk how this works ( ;｀Д´)

i rlly love your writing, i often find myself staying up late reading through your blogs!! funny bcs u were the one who got me into jason todd (ФωФ)

anyways!!! i was hoping you could pls pls pls pls plssssss write smth about Jason Todd who has a lover thats a sleep-deprived uni student having a hell week and jason is like "bitch put google docs down and get some sleep, ur ass has been awake for 48 hours" all worried and wanting them to rest and reader is like "correction, 50 hours."

i hope it makes sense (´ 3｀)

tyyyyy!!! woopee woopee

Sorry this took so long to get to anon, I hope you liked it either way. And don’t stay up too late reading fics but I truly appreciate you reading my stuff, I’m glad you like them 🦦🐿️

A week.

An entire week Jason had noticed you have been forcing yourself to stay up at the dead of night, glued to your laptop all the while chugging energy drinks and cups of coffee as though they were going out of style, and for what? An assignment that determined your future at uni should you not get straight marks.

Jason thought it ridiculous that you made yourself sleep deprived over this but he knew that if he didn’t do anything about it, then you’ll continue this habit until you were well out of university, struggling to come to terms that you had well and truly burnt yourself out before you could properly start living.

So when Jason couldn’t fell you next to him in bed one night, like you promised him you would, and groaned as he got himself out of bed before making his way towards the kitchen where he’d knew you’d be.

‘What time do you call this?’ Jason asked when he saw you in your usual spot at the kitchen counter, hunched over your laptop with a thin blanket frapped over your shoulders and a can of energy drink on one side of the laptop and a cup of coffee on the other side. He hated what this stupid university has made you do just in order to get good grades, it was harmful, damaging and it would inevitably lead to health complications later on in life; If he could Jason would more then gladly march down there and threaten the professors to stop shoving a boatload of work onto their students, but firstly he has to get you away from that damn laptop and learn how to take a fucking break.

‘Mid-afternoon?’ You asked, not looking up from the bright screen of your laptop, where the words scrawled across it in an incoherent mess for your overworked brain to comprehend.

‘It’s actually 3:30 in the morning.’ Jason replied unamused as he crossed his arms over his chest and you winced when you saw that he was indeed right about it being three thirty in the morning. ‘Don’t you think it’s time that you shut the laptop off and get some sleep?’

‘But I-‘

‘Actually sleep.’ Jason cuts you off as you slumped back into your chair, unable to come up with a decent enough response to defend yourself with because deep down you knew Jason was right, you’ve hadn’t had a decent sleep in a long while and it was definitely taking it’s toll with how lightheaded you’ve become as of late.

You sighed and ran your hands down your face. ‘Jason I can’t, I’ve got-‘

‘An assignment to complete for tomorrow I know.’ Jason cuts you off again as he crossed the room to put his hand over the top of your coffee cup upon noticing that you were intending to take another drink from it. ‘But I look at you and can tell you can barely keep your eyes open for more than five minutes.’ He adds and upon your silence, he puts the cup aside as far as he could before doing the same with the half empty energy drink, and then finally shutting the laptop close despite your weak protests for him not to.

‘No, Jason my assignment, I need to finish it.’ You told him with slow, sluggish movements as you tried to pry his hand off of your laptop, all the while biting back a yawn. ‘Just give me five more minutes please and I’ll come to bed, promise.’

Jason had enough of this habit of sleepless nights, it ends now, the professors will have to understand and extend the due date for your sake as he remembered how often you had harped on about how important this assignment was for your overall grade; However Jason didn’t take neglecting your bodily needs lightly and would prioritise that over anything else,you could hate him all you wanted but he was only looking out for you and your wellbeing.

‘Sorry chipmunk but I can’t watch you do this to yourself for any longer than I already have.’ Was all Jason said as he then lifted you out of your chair suddenly causing you to yelp in surprise and cling onto him for dear life, now being more awake then you ever have been five minutes ago, as he then proceeded to carry you back towards the bedroom before unceremoniously dropping you onto the bed.

‘Jason, I seriously needed to get that assignment-‘

‘We are going to sleep, end of discussion.’ Jason said with finality as he crawled under the covers and quickly held you against his chest as tightly as he could, rubbing his hands up and down your back soothingly. ‘I know how important this assignment was for you sweetheart but I’d much rather have you well rested, clear minded and healthy than to ever to have you pass out in my arms from exhaustion. I want my baby happy and healthy and you are neither of those things right now.’ Jason whispers into your ear, kissing the side of your head a couple of times before resting his forehead against yours so that he was looking into your weary half lidded eyes.

‘Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open.’ He spoke with worry laced in his words.

‘You’re really warm and comfy jay birdie.’ You murmured, feeling the need for sleep grow ever stronger the longer you stayed in his arms as it fogged your mind.

‘I know, so please we can talk to the professor in the morning and sort something out, but until then no more late nights understand?’ Jason said firmly as he held you a little tighter, he just wanted you to get a decent nights sleep and be looked after properly but all these late nights weren’t cutting it and were making your situation worse, how were you meant to get anything done when you were half out of it due to overworking and lack of a sleep schedule? Were the professors at your university thinking they were teaching robots instead of humans with breaking limits?

‘Okay I understand, I love you.’ You replied sleepily as you burrowed your head into his neck, falling asleep in record time as Jason stayed awake a little longer as to make sure you were properly asleep before following suit, watching over you in the dream realm as he did the waking one.

[norrizzandpia]

okay but how about a tiny blurb where lando or oscar catch reader watching edits or reading a fanfic

lol i love this

Whatcha Readin’? (LN4)

Summary: It was a good story, that was her only argument.

Warnings: nada

Lando’s workout had been grueling, straight from hell and constructed just to murder his entire being. His legs felt like they were about to give out under him as he unlocked his front door. He entered his apartment, an unusually quiet apartment seeing as his girlfriend should have been home too, and looked around aimlessly.

He expected his girl to be bursting from somewhere in the house, throwing herself into his body for a few kisses and murmurs about missing him, yet he came up empty-handed. She wasn’t the napping type, so being asleep wasn’t an option and she wouldn’t have been out, having groaned to him this morning as he got ready that she was so burnt out, she needed a day to stay in and do nothing.

His feet took him through the arch of the foyer, into the kitchen, before he was rounding the corner and finding her sprawled out on the couch. Her head laid against the back of the sofa, her headphones in and blasting music so loud he could hear it, with her phone propped on her stomach. At first glance, it looked as if she was utilizing that Kindle Unlimited subscription he had gotten her for her birthday months before, but he knew the way that app was formatted and when he gave it a second glance, he realized what she was looking at wasn’t Kindle. Stepping closer, he squinted his eyes, not wanting to get too close and spook her, trying to read what was on her screen. Whatever she was reading was quite intense, a couple fighting over the fact that the boyfriend had been neglecting the girlfriend for months and forgetting about important events like her birthday and their anniversary.

Lando’s foot went to step away, deducing that she had found another platform to fulfill her reading addiction. Except, just as he was about to leave it, his girlfriend said loudly, “Lando would never say that, though!”

He froze, turning his head slowly in confusion. His eyes flew over the screen before landing on his name, the character of the boyfriend being filled by him.

A fanfiction.

His girlfriend was reading a fanfiction about him.

He died.

Over the volume of her music, Y/n heard faint hysterics, making her turn her head to see her boyfriend doubled over in laughter. She took the earbuds out, looking at him weirdly as his face turned red from a lack of oxygen.

“What’s so funny?” She asked, standing before him with a look of pure confusion.

He clutched his stomach as he choppily got out, “YOU- FANFIC- ME!”

The color draining from her face sent him further into a state of pure amusement, “Oh my god, Lando…”

He continued laughing although part of him felt bad as her face began to heat up in embarrassment. Pulling himself together, he rounded the couch and kissed her cheek lightly, “Oh, love, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in my entire life.”

Her mouth fell open, “I’m so sorry. I don’t read it that often. I just-” She began to make excuses before stepping back and looking at him helplessly, “The storyline is just really good, okay?!”

He nodded with a smile on his face, “I don’t care, Y/n. You read whatever you want to read, baby. I won’t love you any less.”

She blushed, opening her mouth to say an affirmation of love back, but he decided to continue his thought, “Plus, I won’t lie, it’s a bit of an ego boost to know that my girlfriend is reading stories about me. Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

He teased her, poking her sides lightly, as she began to laugh with him.

When he pulled her into him by her waist and kissed her lips, she whispered, “Can we at least keep this between us?”

He nodded, “Sure, love.”

He kissed her again, this time with a squeeze of his arms as they wrapped around her. And when he plopped their bodies back onto the couch behind them, he picked up her phone.

“Now, what would I not say?”

[clockwayswrites]

Cozytober Days 8 & 9: Baking gone wrong & The slight smell of smoke in the air.

masterpost

Sometimes when Jason was feeling a little melancholy and a little soft, he’d talk about when he was a little kid, back before he had become a Wayne. It was usually just a quick thing, some memory about his mother that Jason could tell in a sentence or two. One time it had been about how they would sometimes, when they had enough to spare and she was off the drugs, they stop by the little corner store. It was owned by an old Cuban couple. There were these odd cone shaped egg sponges drenched in a spiced sugar syrup and they would buy one and split it. By the time they got home their fingers would be sticky with the syrup.

It had taken a lot of researching, but Danny had fond what he thought had to be the dessert (called capuchinos of all things) and the easier shaped cabezotes that he hoped to cook. He’d researched and watched videos and it was only four ingredients, if he didn’t count the syrup, so he thought he had a shot.

He bought twice as many eggs as he needed, just in case.

Luckily Jason’s kitchen had all the things that Danny needed. He set them out on the counter like he was prepping for a chemistry experiment. Baking was just chemistry, he’d been reminding himself. It wasn’t like cooking. Baking was a science. He could manage science. He used to manage science a lot.

Of course, science also killed him.

Danny tried not to dwell on the past as he started to work. Tongue peaking out he cracked each egg over a tuperware first, letting the whites drip between his fingers as he gently cradled the yolk to move to the final bowl. Honestly it felt a little like ecto. He’d read that the whites could be saved to make meringue, but Danny though he’s leave that up to Jason. It did seem a waste though once there were nine discarded whites so he put them covered in the fridge.

One more for the bowl, beat in a little sugar, carefully fold in a little corn starch, and a lot of doubt this would work even though he had followed the recipe. He had just finished piping out the mixture into the cupcake tray when he heard Jason coming up the stairs by the ding of an alert. He shoved the tray in the oven and everything else to the side or into the sink. He leaned against the counter, trying to look casual.

“Danny, hey boo,” Jason said with a tired smile.

“Hell, babe,” Danny said back and came over to help Jason unwarp from the fall weather. “Long day?”

“Yeah. But I think that we’ve done everything we can. Now it’s on all the parties to review things one last time and hopefully agree.”

“You’ll get there,” Danny assured him before pressing a soft kiss to Jason’s lips… which maybe turned into Danny bring pressed against the wall and the kisses lengthening and deepening.

Danny was very much enjoying it all until Jason broke apart to ask, “Do I smell smoke?”

“No! My baking!”

Danny scrambled off Jason and over to the oven He barely remembered to use a kitchen towel to pull out the slightly smoldering cupcake tray. It clanked as he set it on the cook top with groan.

“I forgot to put in the bowl water was they would burn!” Danny groaned and buried his face in the warm towel. “The what the fuck you call it!”

“The bain marie?” Jason asked as he came over.

His arms wrapped around Danny from behind and he sunk into the hold.

“Yeah… I’ve got more of the mix I guess. I can start over,” Danny said, voice quiet. He’d just wanted everything to go right.

Jason was quiet as he ran soothing hands up and down Danny’s arms. Finally he asked. “Are those…?”

“Cabezotes. In this shape they’re called cabezotes, but yeah. I wanted to surprise you with them. I have dinner ordered too and a show for us to watch. I thought it would be a nice night.”

“It is nice.” Jason insisted.

“It’s burnt.”

“How about this. We’re going to pretend I never saw these. You put another back in without me showing up and surprising you and I’ll go shower in the mean time, okay?”

Danny tilted his head back to pout up at Jason. “You’re trying to trick me.”

“Yes,” Jason said with absolutely no remorse. “Entirely for my own good too. How about it?”

Danny took a deep breath. “Fine, okay, go shower and let me work. I’ve got this.”

“You do,” Jason said. He pressed a kiss to Danny’s neck before he headed off to the bedroom.

Time to get to work, again.

[jj-the-hobbit171]

Hey guys, I’ve been thinking about a medieval fantasy cod AU.

So, imagine that the task force were a group of knights that fought great battles and defeated monsters of greater size. They’ve rescued hundreds, and other achievements, and for their bravery, they’re crowned the new rulers of the land. And with that, comes a king’s guard. Reader.

Well, reader of their whole life has been trained to protect the next ruler of the kingdom, to lay down their life if the need be. They knew not mother, no father nor siblings, no love. All so they could be loyal to the throne and only that. That they be nothing more than the rulers hound… and they were ok with that. And when it was time for them to enter their post, they were content. They could live like this for the rest of their life, right?

Wrong. The kings never made it easy. Always sneaking out of the palace to go on some wild adventure, and leaving reader to rush to get them to protect them. By the first year, they had been

* burnt by 3 dragons using themselves as an emergency shield( why didn’t the king’s bring theirs?!)

* Thrown through 6 mountains. Courtesy of ghosts insisting that he could fight 20 foot monsters

* Made to initiate a fae wedding so gaz wouldn’t lose his soul.

My gods if I was to say they were exusted, and if that wasn’t the only things. They criticize you for everything. They way you ride a horse, they way you hold a sword, hell, they don’t like your hair!(there’s nothing you can do about it!)

But, one faithful day, you had enough. It was when you were commanded to follow king John to the archery ring. And he kept complaining about you.

“God, lad, can’t you walk faster? Are you daft? And didn’t we tell you to fix that hair? God, what could I do with you…”

You snapped, shoving him to the wall beside you, your body looming over him.

“Listen here, king,” you growled “ I didn’t waste my life training to be your fucking dog just to be insulted. Don’t play with my life, you, and your “boys”” you dropped him, Bowing in apology, before walking away. Price looks on at you, his mouth gapping….

Were you always this hot?

Hey guys! I know u haven’t been able to post in a while, I have been learning and furthering my education! But I do hope to post more. If you have any suggestions for knight reader, please don’t be afraid to knock!

From the hobbit hole,

J.J

[runningquill-art]

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” asked Draco.

Granger collapsed out of the horrid tangle and found her knees. “Yoga. What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Draco had seen this mysterious term on Granger’s schedule. “That’s yoga? What kind of self-inflicted martyrdom–?”

Now that he had ascertained that there was no immediate threat, Draco could take in the scene. There were candles flickering in a corner and soft music was playing. Granger was outfitted in those ridiculously form-fitting Muggle clothes, khaki green this time. Her hair was pulled into a French braid, thick as Draco’s wrist.

Granger was looking at him like he was an absolute bellend. “I was trying a Taraksvasana–”

“A what?”

“A scorpion handstand – I’ve been working towards it for weeks, and I almost had it, until you came in like a bolt from the blue and frightened me out of my wits!”

Draco was feeling increasingly foolish. He pulled his cloak closed to cover his pyjamas. There was little he could do about his bare feet. “What, pray, is the point of yoga?”

“Flexibility. Strength. Balance. Finding serenity.”

Draco eyed Granger with cynicism at the last bit. “Have you found it?”

“No,” said Granger. She got to her feet with evident irritation. “Kindly recalibrate your ring so you only show up in a real crisis.”

She flicked the Elektik lights on. Her cheeks were flushed. A trickle of perspiration was running down her neck. Her chest still heaved from her exertion. Draco could smell salt, female sweat, and the burnt wick of a candle.

His idiot brain took this image and immediately created several new neural pathways that had never existed previously, connecting the idea of Granger with the concept of sexy.” - Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love, Chapter 6: Finding Serenity, by @isthisselfcare

-

DMATMOOBIL art 23/?

[agentmarvel]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request f!reader x the cod boys reaction to her taking a sick day after having an IUD placed, either platonic or an established relationship with one of them, up to you. I can only imagine mixed reactions, especially after learning what all goes into the procedure. This is totally self indulgent so I was hoping for it to be on the fluffier side, BUT no worries if you’re not interested!!

Thank you!!🤍💐

i love this🖤 thank you for requesting, kat! hope you enjoy!

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

141 x afab!reader (individual pairings - head canon format)

☆

john is worried.

“not like you to take a sick day, dove. you sure you’ll be alright ‘til i get back?”

tbh, he’s so pressed about it. he knew in advance what the procedure would look like - educated himself after the birth control discussion came up - but your body isn’t reacting the way either of you had hoped. it’s far worse.

scared the hell out of him when you called yesterday afternoon and asked that he pick you up. obstinate, headstrong thing that you are, you declined his offer to accompany you to the appointment in the first place. you were in no condition to drive.

the thought of leaving you now, even for morning pt with the team, sets his teeth on edge. you’re strong, he knows. you can handle yourself just fine. but what kind of man would he be to leave his girl when she feels this fucking awful? - spoiler alert: he’s not going anywhere.

with your reassurance (and telling him he’s being a bigger baby than you about it), he tucks you into your nest of pillows and blankets, leaves ibuprofen and a cup of water on your side table, and makes sure your heating pad is plugged in and within reach.

simon is supportive.

“i’ve seen you shot, stabbed, blown up, burnt, broken bones; you’re a tough bird, you can handle it.”

you’ve been through worse. you both know that. doesn’t mean that he isn’t sympathetic to the pain you’re feeling, though. he watches you like a hawk, monitoring every scrunch of your nose or pained grimace or you squeezing your eyes shut just a little too tight. you’ll take the meds he picked up for you like clockwork with the fresh cuppa he brings you every four hours. he’ll take the day off with you, let you squeeze his hand when a cramp or muscle spasm is particularly gnarly.

he’ll hold you while you nap, too - playing with your hair, keeping you centered on top of him with one bulky arm slung across your hips, wishing the whole time that he could trade bodies with you until the aches are gone.

johnny is pissed.

“an’ they donnae give ye fuckin’ anesthetic? och! tha’s fuckin’ cruel s’what tha’ is!”

this man is L I V I D. he didn’t know the details of iud placement until you made him watch a video, and he’s been going off the rails since. it infuriates him to no end that you’re expected to just tough it out with nothing more than basic fucking pain relievers. don’t even get him started on that medieval torture device you called a ‘tenaculum’ that they stabbed you with!

he’s planning a murder while he orders a delivery of supplies. angrily, his thumbs punch at his screen as he selects all the things he even thinks you might need to get through the week - even though you keep telling him you’re sure you’ll be fine tomorrow. 

“not gonna stab my hen and get away with it.”

(when you ask what he’s muttering about over there, he tosses his phone aside, rolls you into his arms, kisses the top of your head, and tells you lunch is on the way.)

kyle is sympathetic.

“poor thing,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “what can i do to help?”

like price, kyle took the liberty of doing his research. 

cramps and muscle aches/spasms are common after placement, and some women will actually pass out in the minutes following the procedure. he texted a medic friend to get ahold of some muscle relaxers for you, picked up standard issue pain meds, bananas for potassium to combat the cramps, a second heating pad (one for each side), chocolates, tea, and a new plushy for you to squeeze on. your boyfriend was adamant that he take you to and from your appointment, even if you didn’t want him in the room while it was happening. every single base is covered in advance to mitigate the worst case scenario.

when you curl into the fetal position, gritting out an abrupt “all good”, he wraps himself around you like a shield.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

How To Adapt To Fire (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, mentions of death, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, etc.

A/N: This is based off of US Firemen just because that's what I'm most familiar with!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was an arsonist in the city, and you were going to catch them.

Getting out of your car, you slap the door closed behind you and rush out, heels clicking over the concrete as the roaring flames continue violently—orange and red going high into the air, all centered around an abandoned warehouse building. Through the darkness of night, everything was lit up like hell.

Your satchel hits against your thigh one fast step at a time, arms pumping as your eyes find the flashing lights beyond the glare, squinting. 

“MacTavish!” You shout, jogging to the line of yellow tape and slipping under it through a small crowd of locals who call to you sharply. Voices going in one ear and out the other, you only search for that familiar helmeted head and the Scottish accent that accompanies it.

“What is she doing?”

“How come she gets to go closer!?”

“Stop that woman!” 

Your white blouse does little to push back the gusts of molten heat on the roaring airwaves, and neither do your dress pants. You push on with stubborn righteousness, even as the mulling firefighters groan under their breaths when they catch sight of you, all pausing in their various duties and panic of grabbing the hoses and getting the water going. 

The iconic red trucks sit stationary, but the man beside one of the three vehicles has his head nearly snapped off when he darts it over to you in a fast instant. 

“MacTavish!” You call out again, locking onto wide blue eyes that blink rapidly at your appearance. 

An under-the-breath curse is leveled out, heard in between shouts and the spray of water, droplets hitting your hard face.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. Not again.” Heavy boots jog over, tan and yellow uniform loose beside the places where the straps of his gear attach various items and tools to his body. “What in the hell are you doin’ here, Pencils?” 

“My job,” you call stiffly, your finger going out to tap at the small plastic card attached to your blouse. 

‘PRESS PASS’

“So be a good informant and tell me how much damage this is going to cause,” your hand is already inside of your satchel, flicking on a hand-held recorder, as your eyes scan about. “The fire was bigger here,” you begin without wasting any time, and the firefighter in front of you sighs in exasperation, clenching his jaw. “Was it because this place was abandoned unlike the last four scenes, or because there was a different accelerant used.” 

“I’ve told you, Hen,” MacTavish’s hand moves out in appeasement gestures, glancing at the fire and the rest of the teams that rush to get the rest of the hoses going. “Ya can’t be here when the fucking fire is still ongoing. Do you want to get burnt to a damn crisp?”

“I need answers,” you level, gaze darting back to stare into cerulean blues.

John MacTavish, who everyone just calls Johnny or Soap, for some reason, had been a familiar face to you for upwards of two months. In that time, there had been an alarming amount of suspected arson cases—twelve, counting this one. There was an unprecedented spark-up, most taking place in older neighborhoods and abandoned buildings barring the previous four, of which two people had been seriously injured, and three had died. 

But now, it was back to out-of-the-way properties, and you wanted to know why. You needed to. 

Such an escalation just to suddenly drop back down to no casualties? It didn’t make sense. If it wasn’t for your career as a journalist, then it was for your morbid curiosity of which Johnny was intently familiar with.

 The Scot clenches his jaw, dark eyebrows under his helmet stuck into a line. Around him, the others were getting the blaze under control the best they could—there was no need to go inside to search for anyone and all that had to be done was keep the fire from spreading. So, he had no trouble trying to get you to see sense yet again.

“Do you ever give it a rest,” he asks gruffly, accent thick. “Christ, I’ll be gray before you learn to stop sticking your hands where they don’t belong.” 

“You’re not my mother, MacTavish,” you speak, lowering the recorder. “Do you have anything for me?”

Johnny moves up a hand and runs it over his face, groaning. A smirk flickers to your lips. 

“You’re worse than a fly,” he breathes, unimpressed eyes opening to stick to you. “I can’t say much right now, most of it is left for forensics. Just from the blaze alone,” he glances over, taking it in. “I’d make a guess that an accelerant was used. Especially with how fast it popped up and the intensity of it. I’d have to get the dogs down here for a sniff, but it’s likely.”

“Do you think it’s—”

“Connected?” Johnny interrupts, lips twitching at the annotated gimmer in your eye. “Aye. This was man-made. There was nothing here that could start a blaze like this.” 

You click the recorder’s button and move back with a sigh. 

“Lovely.” 

The Scot raises a slow brow, looking you up and down, confused. “That’s it?”

“It’s all you can give me right now,” you mutter, sliding a look at him as your eyes squint at the rabid flames. Pieces of screeching metal fall into a heap, a loud boom of spreading smoke and lifeless coughing of material in the air. 

“Fucking hell,” you murmur to yourself. “This had to be one of the biggest ones so far.”

It was getting held back from the surrounding buildings—slowly but surely in the morning, the entire place would be a smoldering pile of ash and metal, only more questions left behind. 

Johnny sets his hands on the collar of his gear, sighing. “Won’t be the deadliest, though, will it? I’m just glad there won’t be bodies to drag out.”

You send a side-eye his way, feet shuffling. “That, I can agree with. But the pattern doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, sorry, Hen, but you’ll catch me a bit more concerned about the potential next targets than the pattern.” He grunts, rolling his shoulders. “We need to catch this prick. Soon. Resources are stretched thin.”

“It’s like the guy completely switched his M.O.,” you ignore him, eyes narrowing. “Abandoned buildings, then to taking people's lives, then right back to where he started? That doesn’t happen overnight.”

Johnny grunts. “‘Cept here.”  

You sigh, tapping your fingers against your bag. The man at your side looks over, shrugging as he takes in the firmness of your expression—the same that he usually wears to any scene he gets called to. Determination. 

“I’ll get the report to you soon as I get it,” Johnny breathes, tilting his head. “Figured with all of your connections, you’ll have a better chance at piecing it all together.” 

“Thank you,” you nod. The man hums. 

“Now, get the hell out of here, yeah? Makin’ me nervous. Tape’s there for a reason Dearie.”

Scoffing, you toss up a hand and shake your head. “I live to make people nervous, MacTavish. You don’t help bust criminals and not make people nervous.” 

You begin backing back up, studying the land one more time. Johnny’s lips are thin, and he shifts his legs to stare after you. 

“Just be careful,” he calls, fingers tightening at his collar, strong jaw moving as he fixes it. His heart stutters in its course. “Don’t stick your neck where it doesn’t belong, Hen.”

You wave a hand, and then you’re off again, disappearing into the crowd with flames rising high behind you. 

The fireman watches tightly, licking his lips before shouting, “I’m serious!”

—

Your list of enemies was seemingly endless. 

Drug busts, criminal enterprises, hitmen—there was no shortage of stories you’d broken and your name being printed into the papers; you weren’t at all unknown to the city or the various police or fire stations. Many described you as a public nuisance, but…you were viewed with a modicum of respect as well—even if it was kept under breath. 

Yet, where there was respect, there was also the less savory emotion of contempt from the related individuals of those whom you’d landed into the eyes of the law and behind bars.

Perhaps you’d taken this arsonist for a disorganized fool…but you were about to get a very violent reality shift. 

“This is the report?” You ask, Johnny sipping from his coffee cup as you both sit in the park three days later, the bench stiff as your fingers play over the manila folder you’d been passed. 

“The public one.” Soap huffs when you slide him a look, his finger pointing at you as he holds his drink. “What? Pencils, I don’t care who you think you are, I’m not about to risk my career for something I can just tell you first-hand.”

You sigh, muttering before your hand pushes open the papers. “Go on, then.” 

Johnny smugly smirks, chuckling as his free hand goes up to fix the backward ballcap on his head. Under the tight hold of his athletic shirt, gray sweatpants sharply contract your put-together and professional appearance—like night and day. He still smells of smoke and metal. 

“You’re bein’ more snappy than usual. Publisher still on your arse, Bonnie?”

“Telling me I need to drop this goose chase,” you grumble, scoffing, eyes skimming down the printed words ahead of you. “As if.”

“Ah, he’ll come round,” Johnny’s lips flicker, flesh crinkling under that stubble of his. An overgrown mohawk leaks from the sides of his hat. “C’mon, tell me what ya need. I’ve got it all up here,” he goes to tap his head, taking another gulp of his coffee. 

The morning air is cold all around you, and people pass pushing strollers or jogging—Saturday just beginning to spread over minds and wake those who’ve slept in. Johnny and you weren’t quite like that. 

“Our theory about the accelerant?”

“My theory,” Soap grumbles but nods. “Gasoline. Dogs found traces all over—there was a damn lot.” 

You tilt your head, glancing at him. “Fits the profile from the other cases except the ones involving casualties.” Your lips pull into a frown, Johnny’s face going more serious. “Weren’t those all started with matches to the curtains in the living rooms?”

“Aye,” Johnny tips his chin to you. “Couldn’t figure that out until—”

“Until you found the matchbox out in the lawn at one of the crime scenes, plus the busted locks on the front doors. All exactly the same.”

The fireman grunts, lips flickering as his face goes a bit red. “Know my job better than I do.” 

You pause, a small heat coming to your cheeks, eyes pausing in their search for new information. “I’m not the one who willingly goes into burning buildings, give yourself more credit.”

Johnny leans closer, chuckling. “Was that a compliment, Pencils?”

“No,” you slide out. 

He hums a sound of amusement, moving back as his form slouches into the bench. A bird darts past overhead, chirping. “Goin’ soft on me. ‘Bout time—I've been waiting.” 

You roll your eyes heavily, closing the manila folder and shifting it into your satchel. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You face Soap head-on, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the tease hidden in them. “The station? Home?” Your brow raises. “Animal shelter—I heard they take in strays.”

“Ah,” Johnny flinches, hand raising to his chest as he feigns hurt. “This how you thank your favorite public servant?” 

“You’ll live,” you grumble, standing and flattening out your long black coat. “Come on. Seeing as you’re not entirely lost to me, I’m getting breakfast today.”

Johnny’s beaming grin makes your lips pull in a low smile.

“And just like that,” he chuckles, standing up so that his boots hit the ground and his hand falls into his pocket. The empty cup in his hand is tossed into the trash. “I’m a picture-perfect specimen. Not that I wasn’t already, eh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you breathe, voice exasperated even as your smile breeds along the lines of your face. 

The both of you take off side by side, legs mirroring the others’ pace one slow movement at a time. Throughout your meetings for information, Johnny and yourself have grown close to one another—Violet’s Dinner one of the many places that was the unfortunate hub for your intel swapping. However, it was only unfortunate for the patrons, not you.

Soap gave what he knows about the fires and the ways they were started, and you gave over potential next targets based on whatever you can piece together from your police informants as well as others. 

You hum as you both walk the trail, slowly weaving away from the bench and down to the gated entrance of the park, slipping past the black iron as John holds it open for you. 

“Besides the ol’ fire-freak, then,” Johnny begins, smiling over at you as he itches at his neck, large arm reaching up and flexing. “Any other big breaks?”

Head turning his way, you speak easily. “In which article—the multi-generational money laundering bust at Warren’s Electrical or the murders near Fifth Ave? Or even the drug smuggling near the docks?” 

Blue eyes blink. “...Eh…any of ‘em?”

You snort, turning back to the sidewalk and shrugging. 

“You asked.” You slyly begin, before getting into the mental paper that you still had to type and send into editing. “Roy Laurence committed the murders near Fifth Avenue—my informant with the SWAT team says he was arrested and booked within an hour of the green light. DNA and fingerprints found at the scene of the last victim.” You raise a hand. “Now, I just have to try and get a spot in the courtroom when a trial date is released.”

“Well,” Johnny breathes, sending you a veiled look after a moment. “Don’t mean to brag, Pencils, but I got to help an old lady cross the street yesterday.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as Soap chuckles. The sidewalk continues, men and women passing at their slow paces as cars zip past; the fireman taking the chivalrous stance of the person beside the street unconsciously.

“And I’m sure she was very pleased, MacTavish,” you push out, shifting closer to him as an individual passes by, bumping your arm into his. 

“Aye, she was,” the man huffs proudly, puffing his chest. “Called me a handsome bloke and kissed my cheek. Blushed a bit.”

“Playboy,” you tease, eyes narrowed over at him. “Cheating on the mutts back at the station?”

Johnny gasps, putting on a serious face. “Don’t you call Mr. Spots a mutt, Dearie—that’s too far.”

“Christ,” you breathe, and an arm settles over your shoulders, shaking you a bit and squeezing your flesh before chuckles follow. 

Trying not to sink into the feeling of heat and the promise of fire, you live in this moment of nearly something. There was the close sensation of borderline affection—just brushing the sense of care and…pining. 

You knew the Scot was interested in you, or, at the very least, knew he had some modicum of attraction to you. Hell, the way he’d flirted with you when you’d propositioned him to be your link to the fire department was nearly laughable even today. All smirks and glinting eyes.

John was funny, no one was denying it. 

There was that firm push and pull between the two of you, a string attached to your wrists that wouldn’t snap—that had seemingly only grown stronger over the months of mystery. But the arsonist took precedence. 

Play can only come after work, and you were the picture of professionalism. Or maybe just stubbornness.

“The regular?” Johnny asks, letting you go as he pushes open the front door of Violet’s with his shoulder, keeping it there as you move inside and nod. 

“Sure. Same seats?” 

The fireman smirks. “Always.” 

You smile, walking off to the corner booth as John goes up to the front, waving down the familiar face of the waitress to let her know that the both of you are here. The two exchange pleasantries as you sigh and lean back into the red-cushioned seats, letting your satchel drop near your feet. Sending a text to your editor, you tell him that you’ll have an article written up about one of your ongoing fixations by Monday.

Johnny’s broad shadow soon graces you once more, carrying a plate of fresh bread with butter on it. 

“Lady’s a fuckin’ lifesaver,” he breathes. “Gave us free bread today.”

Your eyes dart over to Tammy, the waitress, who winks at you before disappearing to help another customer. Hiding the twitch of your lips, you raise a brow at John. 

“Don’t you usually get pancakes, too? Your stomach will explode,” you huff. 

“Ah,” his face scrunches in dismissal. “There’s always room for fresh bread.”

His large fingers are already around the body of a knife, slathering gooey butter on a steaming piece of the carb, chomping down and swallowing before he speaks—reaching for another.

 “So, spill it on me.”

Your fingers reach out, grasping some bread and bringing it to your lips. You chew, swallow, and ease out, “I think there are two arsonists.” 

Johnny pauses, wide eyes stuck on you as he stops his hand from bringing up the next piece of food. He blinks, his face tightens as he wonders over the information that you have, and then the groans out a long, “Fucking hell… one who’s doing it for kicks, the other who’s settling scores.”

“Precisely,” you shrug. “It explains the complete break in character, and we have enough fires to show that not only is the way the flames started different, but for different reasons as well. One wants to kill, the other can’t control it. Impulse.” 

“Makes sense,” Johnny grumbles, amused mood for the moment dropping to one of flashing anger. He taps his knuckles slowly on the table, thinking. “You tell the police this theory?”

“Nah,” you shake your head as your legs shift along the seat. “You know how the chief gets about me—I need to do some of my own leg-work. Get more evidence.”

The Fireman is already shaking his head with a chuckle that has no ounce of tease or jest in it. “Nah ah, no fuckin’ way am I letting you get involved with two arsonists—certainly not one that kills people, Hen.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking permission,” you smirk as your breakfast plates are brought over. Johnny’s is full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and you, your regular. You thank Tammy with a nod and take a sip of your small drink. “There has to be a connection between the victims. I’ve written about them before, my notes have the answers, I’m sure. I need to focus on one at a time—”

“Bonnie—”

“A possible Revenge-Motivated Arsonist is a far bigger threat than one that only has an impulse to light fires and not harm others. I’ll leave the ladder to you—”

A hand grabs at your own, grasping it firmly. Head snapping up to the square jaw ahead of you, which is tight, the stubble moving the scar along his chin one frown line at a time, you pause your quick rant. Face steadily heating as callouses run along your flesh like un-cut granite, your heart stutters.

“You’ll do nothing without me.” Johnny’s expression leaves no room for discussion. 

Mouth slightly parted, your eyelids blink before a squeeze is leveled out on your hand, and the Fireman shifts back. Your eyes follow, stuck on how his shirt hugs his large biceps and the gentleness of how he held you—how he always held you. 

Focus.

“You’re not getting dragged into this,” you chuckle, tilting your head seriously. “It could cost you your job.”

Johnny shrugs. “Only if I’m caught. If you're half as stubborn, as I already know you to be, Pencils,” he sighs, low smile coming to his lips. “Then I know you’ll be needing my level head.” Cobalt eyes twinkle.

You stare at him, blinking. Ignoring that skip in your pulse. As hard as you would like to try, you can’t say no to that face of his—that open expectation and firm choice.

“As level as a steep decline,” your grumble meets Soap’s ears, and the man’s face twists with an ingrained amusement that breeds the closer you are to him. It was easy to bounce jokes with you—like a pair of birds, squawking and puffing feathers, only stopping at strange intervals to preen one another before the loud chatter started anew. 

“And stop it with the dumb nickname already,” you glare. “It happened once.”

John drags his plate closer, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite out of it. “It isn’t every day you see a bonnie Hen with seven pencils in her breast pocket, is it? Hell of a first meeting with that serious face of yours and the sight of fabric practically ripping open.”

“I was in a rush,” your face burns, jaw rotating. “At least I was prepared, MacTavish.”

“Well, who’s sayin’ I wasn’t prepared?”

“Me!” Your fingers grab at your fork, pointing it at him. “You were practically covered head-to-toe in ashes!”

Red cheeks on his part, but always that adorning sheen to his expression.

“I was just in from a damn fire!”

Breakfast went as it usually did—good food and better company—but there was a deeper level to it now; a sharp edge of purpose. By the time the both of you were done, you’d already made up your mind to make it back to your apartment and gather the intel that you had. Find a starting point.

But, as mysteries like these always go, the good times came to a rapid cliff-drop. Johnny was muttering about his work schedule back on the sidewalk when he got the call. 

Phone to ear, you’d seen his face tighten—feet going completely still as you have to halt and look back at him, confused. A breeze goes by on the air, and your nose twitches to a sharp tang that leaves your fingers twitching.

“What do you mean, ‘fire on third street?’” Your body locks up, and Johnny’s face becomes devoid of pigment, watching yours closely. It was a strange emotion on his face; a hard and hesitant thing all at once. He was staring, brows pulled in as your lungs seemingly went to concrete inside of your ribs.

Third street? Fire? 

Soap’s voice goes even lower. Spine even more straight. “...Stillview apartments?” 

You’re already running before you can understand the severity of the revelation—dashing as Johnny yells after you to stop. 

That was your apartment building.

“Dearie!” The fireman shouts, his boots pounding after, but you had a head start, shoving through the crowds, dodging strollers and trash cans—bags and thrown curses. “Fucking hell, stop!”

Your form darts fast, heart hammering. Already your mind is running through every possibility and explanation. How could this be happening? Why? Has one of the arsonists found you out? But even then, it could only be the one intent on murder—countless others lived in your building; this was more than intent…it was a massacre.

Fires don’t just spark at a time like this to not be called connected.

Even over the air, you could hear sirens above Johnny’s loud pleas to slow down, moving as well as he could through the rush of people. 

He’s still on the phone, barking questions and the will of his legs to take him in the direction of the department building. But you. The back of your head in his black-sided vision. 

The man knows that if he doesn’t catch you, you’ll run straight into that blaze not only for the principal but your evidence. Your cork boards and their red strings—your pictures and printed articles. Johnny knew you had them, he wasn’t an idiot. 

You were too smart for your own good.

He was nearly there—just a few more steps and he could grab the back of your jacket like some stray cat, pull you back until you were in his arms. A fireman, yes, but he’d never get used to the inferno that was you; you consumed him utterly. It was an instant feeling for him, and even with the initial flirting, the immediate latching of his attention held fast. A bird to a wire. Hopeless, he was. Johnny was afraid at how much you trapped him in your ways—your looks and your…you-ness.

And you were only making him more afraid at this very instant. 

Soap was the only person ever supposed to be walking into fire.

“Hen!” The fireman barks, sharp and visceral. But you only take the next corner faster, satchel slapping against your thigh. 

“No,” you pant, legs dashing. “No, no, no. I left everything I need for this case in my filing cabinet!” 

This is what you get for trying to be organized for once.

You smell the smoke before you see it, and feel the heavy hand on your coat collar not a moment after you lock on it.

“MacTavish!” Your angered voice moves out, but it’s all strangled away in a fast moment of the screaming of sirens and the visible fire from your tall apartment building strikes you. Watching blankly, your face falls as strong arms reel you back into a chest. 

“Fuck,” Johnny growls, eyes wide as he looks on, phone clenched tightly in one hand. His jaw writhes with tension, vision darting from one fire truck to another and the men available to help. People were doing a myriad of things—screaming, running, watching—but through it all, there was the presence of fear coupled with a static anticipation. 

Panting heavily, you watch your life’s work go up in flames, and feel the tight arms of your informant keep you close.

You learn that if you don’t adapt to this fire sooner or later, it’s going to consume you. And still, you can’t understand if you’re talking about Johnny, who murmurs quick words of comfort into your ear, or the case that just locked you in with chains of commitment and rage.

The real work had just begun as ashes fell like snow to the street; the spray of the firetruck’s water flew with sure aim. Your face hardens, and you feel that worried grip tighten, bringing you into a ramshackle hug.

You have an arsonist to catch, and not a single person would stop you now.

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[whatever-imagines]

“Princess POV Change”

Princess through Logan’s point of view.

Tags: Logan’s basically a U-Haul lesbian and they aren’t even dating. Weird possessiveness. I dunno you let me know.

—-

Logan was a simple woman, she likes to think. She likes solitude, good booze, and pretty women. Not gorgeous, not beautiful; pretty.

She seemed to forget, as she is reminded now, that pretty women make things not so simple sometimes.

You, for example, were causing a whirlwind of emotions.

Xavier hires only super models apparently, you being no exception in Logan’s opinion. You were shorter than her impressive stature, soft in all the right places, face warm and round and you were cute, you were pretty.

And you were avoiding Logan like the plague.

It was probably because she was so rude to you on her first day at the mansion; shouldering past you with a growl of some vague threat as you stood there, just trying to hand in paperwork. The image of you, wide eyed and star stuck, mouth slightly agape, was burnt into the memory of Logan’s mind. You were so painfully pretty; Logan wished she had the forethought to flirt with you rather than try to scare you.

The second time she ran into you, you ran into her. She smelled you and your meek perfume in plenty of time to know you were heading her way; in a rush of some kind with an armful of papers and file folders and a determined look on your face (until you literally ran face first into her chest).

Logan was a sturdy woman, metal skeleton and all, years of taking hits. Your flighty frame didn’t stand a chance and you bounced off her and dropped all your papers.

And she fucked up again.

“Jesus, watch it, squirt!”

“I’m so sorry!” You say it so breathy it almost chokes Logan up. The sound of your voice sounding so vulnerable…

You scatter to collect the paper, and Logan couldn’t help but gravitate towards your hunched over figure. She could practically taste the anxiety wafting off of you. Hear your heart beat faster, smell the sweat gathering at your temple. It was almost as intoxicating and tempting as a good cigar.

“I’ve seen you around…” Logan settles on saying. “You’re Scott’s secretary.”

Logan neglects to mention how insanely jealous of the time you spend with Scott. Hell, she’s been hitting on his girl just to piss him off because of you. The scent of you and Scott mingle too casually for Logan to be comfortable.

Maybe it was mean to call you a secretary. Logan sees all the menial work you do, all the effort you put in to make up for your weak mutation.

Logan sees your eyebrow twitches. “I’m the team’s assistant. I just-“ you gesture to the papers around you. “I handle the boring stuff. Help out when I’m needed. Heal scraped knees and alike.” You state as you rise from the ground.

You’re still unsteady, and in a moment of concern breaking through the laissez-faire attitude, Logan reaches out and steadies you with a warm and heavy hand.

You stiffen instantly, and Logan almost scowls. Were you really so uncomfortable around her?

“Um, Scott really needs these, I should go or else he’ll become more annoying than normal, so-“ you gently shoulder yourself away from Logan’s hand and you scurry down the hall, leaving the fighter behind.

You didn’t see Logan scowl, or how her fingers curl into fists at the mention of Scott. Her lip twitches into a scowl involuntarily.

—-

Logan watches you more after. Your meek behavior, your steadfast loyalty to the school, and your closeness to some extremely powerful mutants intrigues her. It annoyed Logan to an extent, what a goody two shoes you were, how you seem to never be beaten down by what goes on around you.

It also drives her crazy. You were kind to everyone, polite. When Jean clearly irked you, your smile never wavered. Whenever the professor spoke over you you’d snap your mouth close and let him finish. Would you have the same kind of patience for Logan? Would that saint-like mindset extend to her? Her and all her fucked up rage issues? God, if only.

Ororo exits your room, smelling like your perfume and she’s all giddy and it makes Logan’s stomach turn something ugly. And she sees you leave from the window. When you get back to the mansion, for once, your endless gentle optimism seemed to be gone. You looked defeated, tiredly fishing a soda can from the communal fridge where Logan silently followed you.

“You look nice.” Logan says lowly, steadily.

“Oh!” You slam the fridge door shut and quickly snap to attention, turning to face Logan; surprise coloring your face so prettily, she almost missed you thanking her for the compliment.

The Wolverine side of Logan can smell another person on you, cigarette smoke and red wine on your clothes. “Any particular reason for the get up?” It’s a trap, and Logan only feels slightly bad for putting you on the spot. Just slightly, because right now she needed to confirm some suspicions and get some answers. And Logan typically gets what she wants.

You swallow, nervous. “I had a date.” You state firmly yet casually, like you were reiterating the sky was blue.

A low deep hum emits from Logan’s throat, too low for you to probably hear. “Oh? Have fun with him.” The bite in her voice was withheld so firmly there was hardly any, she sounded almost civil. Hopefully.

Your chin juts out, defiant, annoyed. “She was quite boring, actually.”

There was fuzz in Logan’s head after that. Relief of sorts filled her. Still jealous, but relived. You liked woman; she could work with that. Hopefully you liked women like her.

“… don’t like the studious type?” She says after there was a pause for her to respond.

You seem to ponder for a moment before answering. “I like reliable but not dull, if that makes sense.”

It does. Someone to excite you everyday you come home. Logan can do that. Probably. If she doesn’t scare you off, that is.

Words tumble out before the fighter could even process what she wants to convey. “You don’t look at me a lot.” Her sentence was quick and only added tension to the air. “Everyone stares… except you.” Her hand was on your shoulder again, and Logan has to restrain herself from squeezing to get her point across. You don’t look like you could handle a squeeze.

“… it’s rude to stare.” You say after a moment.

You’re… funny. Logan couldn’t help but snort a laugh. “Smart-ass.” She hisses with laughter, before leaving. Logan needs to come up with a plan, now that you gotten her interest so viscerally.

—-

The party exchange shifted something in Logan, now you had a kinship. You both were experiments at some point. When Logan gets her flashes from before 15 years ago, all she feels is fear and pain and weakness. You were already so frail compared to her, how could you have survived anything even similar to what Logan had gone through?

It made Logan want to protect you, especially after your rant. You want a peaceful life, so did Logan. Jean once said you flirt with danger and married safely, Logan could be safe. She could keep you safe, if she tried hard enough.

She keeps you close now. Logan hangs about you to keep a watch on you. Logan curbs Scott’s ego when needed and watches out for you, always quick to greet you with a careful fondness so you feel not threatened by her. She’s putting in the work.

So imagine Logan’s surprise when she hears Ororor whispering to Jean about you trying to date again.

Logan couldn’t have that.

When she sees you next, you’re rushing somewhere again, but Logan stops you. She stops you dead in your tracks, making you look up to her.

She love that you’re shorter than her.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

Logan’s seldom been a nervous person. Worst thing you can do is reject her and she’ll just pine over you for moons to come.

You look flabbergasted. It’s cute. “I’m sorry?”

“Let. Me. Buy. You. A. Drink.” She enunciates, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

You breathe in shock, but not displeasure. “Why?”

Bold as always, Logan lets a rough hand come up and grazes your face.

“I like your face.” She explains, smiling wolfishly. “Let me buy you a drink.”

Your eyes are glossy looking up, face still written with surprise, but when you speak you say, “Okay,” in such a cute shy way, Logan almost kisses you then and there.

She leans closer, relieved, “Thanks, princess.”