#Rise Up! Animal Mask!

[heyitscoffeetime]

Animal Mask is a very good time and I highly recommend watching it with friends

absolutely in love with the idea of a high fantasy setting where the monarchy and the witches respectively summon a hero and a demon king “from another realm” to destroy their enemies and it’s two pro-wrestlers isekai’d from our world who have career-long beef with each other

[sad-leon]

My entry for @frosteaart | @teainthesnow's DTIYS [Found Here]

I've wanted to do this since you announced it, but I didn't have any ideas until last night when bam! this appeared in my brain. trying to make this shattered glass effect work was asldkfjasldkfj *lays down dead on the floor*

For those who don't know, this is based on Tea's wonderful fic: At My Worst

Ko-Fi || Patreon

individual pics under the cut <3

[fromdove]

THINGS YOU DO THAT THE BATBOYS FIND ATTRACTIVE ! batboys x reader

“God, you’re impossible. And I’m so screwed, because I think I’d let you ruin me.”

— fem!reader, suggestive thoughts in jasons & bruces part (maybe dick too??)

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `💭` ㆍ

JASON TODD

the way you hold eye contact when you're angry

It started as a slow simmer—your voice, low and clipped, each word deliberate, sharp enough to slice through the heavy Gotham air. Jason wasn’t even sure what the hell you were mad about anymore. The way your eyes were locked on his, unwavering, lit from within by something electric—it drowned out everything else.

You stood across the room, spine straight, chest rising with each measured breath. Not yelling. Not crying. Just...burning. And looking at him.

There was something about that. The way you didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Like you could take every jagged, bloodstained part of him and still meet him dead-on, like you’d never blink first. It made his heart twist in his chest, something old and animal uncoiling inside him. He’d faced down murderers, monsters, lowlife scumbags—but the fury in your gaze made his throat go dry. Not because he feared it. Because he wanted to touch it. touch you.

You took a step forward, the kind that didn’t echo but reverberated, and that subtle movement—how your hands stayed relaxed at your sides, how your mouth didn’t tremble when you spoke—undid him.

“Don’t try to bullshit me, Jason.”

There was a beat. One taut, blistering moment where the only thing louder than your breath was the pounding in his ears.

And then he laughed. Just a breath of it, almost involuntary. The kind of laugh you get when something hurts and turns you on at the same time. He didn’t even mean to. It just escaped him.

You frowned, and that only made it worse. He wanted to bite your lip just to see if your mouth would still taste like fire when it was pressed against his. He wanted to grab your face and kiss you so hard it left bruises.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful when you’re pissed,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse, almost reverent.

You blinked at that—but didn’t back down. And the way your stare softened just a fraction, that flicker of confusion folding into resolve again... yeah. That did it. That almost ended him right then and there.

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, like approaching a lit fuse. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch, to pull, to anchor.

“You gonna hit me?” he asked, tone dark and dangerous and barely hanging on.

You tilted your chin up. “Wouldn’t waste the energy.”

God. That. That right there. The grit in your voice. He could live off that kind of defiance. He wanted to.

Jason had never been good at softness. He didn’t know what to do with people who crumbled. But you—? You held his gaze like a storm, like a girl who could kill him with her silence, and suddenly, all he wanted to do was beg for a second chance to make you smile again.

Not because he deserved it. Because he’d die trying to.

DICK GRAYSON

the way you reach for him in your sleep

It starts small. Always does. You shift once, twice—barely there. Then your hand moves, unthinking. Across sheets warm with your shared heat, it searches.

You don’t know you're doing it. That’s what makes it criminal. You’re not asking to be loved in that moment. You’re assuming it. Trusting the world to place him where he belongs: next to you.

And Dick—poor, cursed Dick—is already awake.

He lies still, pretending. Letting you find him. Every nerve is alight, tuned to the sound of your breath, the whisper of cotton as your wrist brushes the inside of his arm. Then—finally—your hand finds his chest, right over the scar where a blade once tried to make him quiet forever.

Your fingers twitch. Then still. Then curl.

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

He’s not thinking about villains or masks or the weight of his last name. He’s not worried about who’s watching, or whether he’s enough. He’s just a man now.

A man undone by the way you, unconscious and vulnerable, reach for him like he’s home. Like your body knows him, wants him, chooses him—without performance, without pride.

And it’s just so fucking sweet. The sweetness that life had never thought him deserving of—never bothered to offer, as if the universe had forgotten him in some quiet corner—was suddenly there, in you. And only then did he realize what he had been starved of.

There’s something maddening about your vulnerability—how you press against him in sleep, skin warm and scent-heavy, mouth parted just slightly. Innocent, yes. But not harmless.

Not to him.

He could write an entire religion based on the way your breath hitches when his hand covers yours. He could burn entire cities if someone tried to pull you away while you sleep.

Because this—this secret, sacred moment where you choose him without knowing— is the kind of thing he’s never let himself want.

But now that he’s had it, he knows.

He’ll want it forever.

BRUCE WAYNE

the way you tilt your chin when you're defiant

It is the tiniest gesture—a tilt of the chin, so slight it might pass for nothing at all. But to him? It is semaphore, a flare in the dusk, a gauntlet tossed with exquisite subtlety.

You do it when you disagree. Not with loud words or theatrics. No. You just raise your chin. Barely. As if your body is saying, “I’m not afraid of you.”“I’ll meet you there, if you push.”

And God help him, he wants to push.

You do this thing where your jaw tightens just slightly, where your eyes go sharp and patient at the same time—like you’ve already calculated the cost of standing your ground and decided to pay it anyway.

You look… royal. As though Gotham’s grime never dared graze your skin. Like tragedy tried and failed. Like you’d walk into fire if it meant protecting what’s yours.

And that infuriates him.

Because Bruce—Bruce—knows what defiance costs. He’s worn it like armor. Bled for it. Buried people because of it.

But when you do it?

It doesn’t look like self-destruction. It looks like purpose. Power. Something beautiful he was never allowed to have.

He wants to touch your face when you tilt your chin like that. Wants to grab your wrist and pull you into him—not to overpower, but to understand. To memorize the blueprint of that defiance. To feel it against his mouth.

You make silence feel like war. And he’s losing.

Because there is something deeply, dangerously erotic about a woman who doesn’t flinch when she should. Who doesn’t soften to make him comfortable. Who looks at the darkest thing in him—and doesn’t look away.

He’s not used to being watched like that. He’s not used to wanting to be watched like that.

And every time you lift that chin, he’s reminded of exactly how easy it would be to give up the act, the mask, the fiction of the untouchable man—

—all for one person who sees him and doesn't look away.

[kujiba]

【Go on and Love Me】

୨୧ — ꒰ male!reader | he/his prounouns | Sagau | Genshinimpact

୨୧ — ꒰ Streamer!Reader who gets sidetracked by people's donations/chats making the genshin characters feel jealous

Ft. Xiao, Wanderer, Kinich, Traveler

A/n: inspired by la2yn0va hsr fic

X I A O

(Name) happily smiled at another donation sent to him after recently completing a natlan quest

"Thanks for the 20 bits donation!"

He thanked the chat with a wide smile, the chat which was filled with people commenting every second flooding the entire screen making (Name) shift his focus to answer their questions about himself.

This cute interaction made (Name) feel warm and lovely in the inside, being able to interact with fans who admired him.

You know who wasn't happy? A dark headed male inside a screen wasn't that happy unlike (Name). Why were these people gifting you so low? Most of all why was (Name)'s attention not on him anymore?

He had to pull alot of strings to make his own crit rise up since (Name)'s luck on the Vermilion domain was absolutely dog shit.

(Name) — Hm? My favorite character in genshin?

Xiao — You called?

Xiao unintentionally blurted that out without any thoughts whatsoever, but when he did realize and saw (Name)'s confused face along with the chat going wild.

Without any choice Xiao did his idle animation to hide his face away from you, he used his mask so that Xiao won't face you for a while since he was in a very vulnerable state

(Name) — New mail? Sweet 300 primos!

(Chat) — Fr? I didn't get any new mail from hoyo yet.

(Name) — Well.. Free primos is free primos

If (Name)'s happy then he'll rest easy today. Hopefully no rumors circulate about what happened earlier.. Self aware fanfics are crazy these days.

W A N D E R E R

Wanderer stared at (Name) blankly, he was too busy thanking people with countless of donations to even realize they were still in a boss fight farming material's for upcoming characters.

Wanderer became (Name)'s fan ever since he saw him at that temporary event named 'Unreconciled Stars Event Quest The Crisis Deepens'.

Smug mf since he made (Name) hit hard pity for him. But was kind enough to give you his c1 after 140 wishes

(Chat) — Why don't you change your main (Streamer Name)?

An irk mark appears on Wanderer's face but wasn't that visible on screen.

Is this swine telling (Name) to replace him with someone else? Hard pass. He was already stolen from (Name)'s attention and now these nobody's are trying to persuade him into maining some other weak random than him.

Just so happen that (Name) spotted a chest nearby and happily went over to open it, Wanderer took this opportunity immediately

(Wanderer) — Unnecessary.

(Chat) — Is it just me or is his voice rougher than usual?

Damn right it's rougher since he just wanted to vent his anger out on any enemies on sight

The chat won't know but what he had said was directly targeted at them, if only he could say every insult known to man right now

So (Name), keep your eyes on him only and no one else, then maybe he'll make his attacks stronger if you comply

(Name) — Well to answer your question earlier chat, no I don't think I'll be changing my main anytime soon. Wanderer's pretty fun to play with.

After (Name) finished talking he took a closer look at Wanderer's face, but his eyes swore Wanderer had a tad bit of pink on his cheeks

His eyes must've been starting to break with the amount of streaming his doing

T R A V E L E R

(Name) had just began to prep for his stream of the week and now he was currently adjusting the Traveler's artifacts to try out a new build

You know what's crazy though? His builds are pretty shitty.

He has the absolute worst luck in artifacts plus in leveling up pieces, most of which usually goes to defense or HP%

But he still hits about 800k regularly with the Traveler! How could he do such thing with only 44.6% Crit rate!?

(Chat) — 1 MILLION?? (Name) are you doing hacks?

(Name) — What? No! Guess my Traveler's just really op

The Traveler is a smug motherfucker

Of course the Traveler wouldn't hit such high numbers without using a...slight adjustment to the system

Sure their pieces are pretty bad but they'll accept anything (Name) had given them! How could they just shake off his hard work on griding for their ascension and talents?

Whenever the Traveler sees (Name)'s shocked expression during the massive crit's appearing on his screen they are damn right happy and overjoyed they managed to satisfy their grace!

(Chat) — Your builds are bad af tho lolol

(Chat) — Why main the Traveler? They're a pretty bad character to main, you should go for Nuevillete or Alhaitham.

The Traveler's good mood immediately faded into dust once he saw the chats text

Are those no lifers saying that they're not fit to be (Name)'s vessel? They're the most perfect one!

What could Nuevillete or whatever character have that they don't? Could they switch elements? Don't think so

If they wanted bigger numbers, the Traveler will show them big numbers all right, if you want them to hit 10 million they're gonna make it happen with just one click

(Name) — Thanks for the suggestion chat but I'm going to stick with the Traveler, I'm already wayyy too attached

The Traveler's mood once again took a 360 and smiled softly at what (Name) said to them, their stomachs fluttering with delight

(Name) is attached to them? No other compliment or praise could ever reach what the Traveler was feeling at the very moment

Their grace! Oh their grace... If only they could just grab onto you and drag you here where you rightfully belong

K I N I C H

Kinich is an upcoming playable character but many in the genshin community have fallen head over heels for him

Yet he couldn't careless about them, after all just being near (Name)'s presence even though it's just by the Traveler's vessel already makes him nice and comfortable

(Name) — Day 10 of saving up for Kinich let's goo

(Chat) — Woah already 200 wishes? You're quick man

(Name) — Can't help it lmao, Kinich seems fun to play and he's really pretty!

(Chat) — He seem's boring though

(Chat) — Dude the dialouge is slightly glitching wtf

The dialouge's glitching is caused by Kinich's embarrassment and rage, he was previously just about to talk till he heard (Name) sing praises about him! How could he not accidentally stutter and mess up the dialouge!?

But on the other hand, the hell did that person meant by he was boring? He wasn't even released yet! This caused Kinich to panic mentally if whether or not you'll change your mind about pulling for him

He stared at you from the screen, clenching his fists tighter by the second. Just a small bit more... Just one more step and he'll be released, then he could really be by your side now.

(Name) — Aw man, hold on chat I gotta pause the stream to fix this glitching

(Name) eventually had to exit the game to try and see what the problem was with his device or if it was overheating again

Meanwhile Kinich was still standing there re-adjusting his thoughts about what just happened. His feelings were all a mixed bag at this point, he sighed rubbing his temples slowly

Ajaw eventually came to his side while looking at him weirdly like he had done something wrong

(Ajaw) — Wow.. Just wow

(Kinich) — Shut up...

To rightfully apologized the system eventually sent 10 wishes in (Name)'s game mail which he was confused at first but eh, more wishes for c6 knich!

Once he becomes playable Kinich would definitely spoil (Name) with high numbers and crit's. He would just have to deal with Ajaw's yapping in the meantime..

So don't get distracted over what those 'Chat' people say about him!

A/n: likes and reblogs are appreciated! Have a nice day(ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

[purplepixel]

Rise was peak character design for the turtles and I don't think we'll ever get this level of diversity from tmnt again

For real, making them all different species and with different height/body types was such a smart decision!

[batmanbeyondrocks]

[mazeeelabyrinth]

♡♡♡ Project Bunny ♡♡♡

Chapter I: Live - PixelBunny.exe

“Y-you all are so mean… I’m shy, y’know. I’m not just here to be your toy…” You purred, same curated high-pitched tone matched with a sickly sweet giggle. “But thank you, Daddies.”

♡■♡■♡ Pairing: LADS MLIs x afab camgirl!reader

♡■♡■♡ Plot Summary:

By day, you're just a broke barista with a caffeine addiction, with a useless degree and a student loan nightmare, and a customer service smile stitched over your burnout. By night, you're Pixel Bunny—a bratty, cosplay-clad camgirl with a shy voice, a pastel aesthetic, and a growing fanbase that keeps your lights on and your legs open.

Except… your five most generous patrons are a little too devoted. Each a stranger with a username and a hard-on for control, slowly bleeding into your real life.

♡■♡■♡ Tags: 18+, multichapters, second pov, eventual poly, eventual orgy, dark romance, reverse harem, shameless smut, porn with plot, explicit, gradual shift into darker themes, voyeurism, praise kink, porn, ooc, canon divergence au, sex toys, clothing fetish, cosplay, breeding kink, ddlg (daddy dom/little girl), pet names, live masturbation, power play, strip tease, sex work, camgirl au, streaming culture, orgasm denial, parasocial relationship, obsessive parasocial behavior, dirty talk, stalking tendencies, reader is not mc, reader has a day job, reader is addressed as "Bunny" or "PixelBunny" on stream, masked identities

♡■♡■♡ Word Count: 7.2K

A/N: Finally dug up an old idea and use it for another LADS fanfic. I was debating whether I use an oc or just follow my usual "x reader", guess what I did? Please take this "you" persona impersonally.

A/N2: holy shit, I thought I saved it up as a draft 😂 I wasn't done editing it lmfao

MASTERLIST | AO3 | FOR TAG LIST, INTERACT HERE. | NAVIGATION

Your screen flickered to life with the soft, ambient glow of neon pinks and cool lilacs. Lo-fi beats hummed low through your headset, a curated loop of calming bass and synthetic purrs you’ve fine-tuned to make every viewer feel like they were lounging right in bed with you.

The room behind you was an aesthetic fever dream: plushies, pastel LEDs, posters of vintage anime girls with glassy eyes and lollipops too large for their mouths.

You're perched on the center of your bed, legs curled just right, clad in a baby-pink cropped cardigan that technically covers your nipples—but just barely, plaid skirt strategically rumpled that showed off your panties you’d pretend were modest if they weren’t riding a dangerous line between “cute” and “cam site terms of service violation.”

The bunny-eared headset—your signature look—bobbed slightly as you adjusted, lips glossed to a cherry sheen and parted with practiced nervousness.

A delectable morsel wrapped in pastel and lust. That’s you, PixelBunny. A camgirl rising on the other side of the internet.

Just shy. Just bratty enough.

Innocent. Dumb. Deceiving.

Click. You're live.

The chat was already rioting. A thousand hearts bloomed in the corner of your screen. Familiar names lit up the chat like a twisted bouquet of usernames you knew better than your actual friends.

Syl.Draconia 💎 has joined the stream 🐇

R.tist!c tipped 1000 credits: angel, that lipstick shade is killing me

X-Devoted upgraded to SUGAR DADDY - ULTRA VIP 💎

Mr. WhiteCoat tipped 500 credits: Don’t overwork yourself.

C.Pilot: you're late. I've been waiting Bunny. ;)

3009 more viewers have joined 🐇

You smiled sweetly. Blushed. Looked away. A beat too long, just to make them ache for it. And then, your voice—high, breathy, a porcelain teacup too full of heat—spilled into the mic.

“H-hi, everyone. Welcome back to my... super cozy Friday stream. I—I missed you all so much... I was sooo lonely today…”

A flurry of small donations exploded with the flood of emotes. Bunnies. Eggplants. Hearts. Claws. One name after another. Each one hit your account like a loaded promise. A private ping dinged—five times, exactly. Direct messages, encrypted, VIP access only.

You ignored them. For now.

The camera zoomed slightly—auto-focus tracing your thighs as they shifted. Your skin was glossed, powdered, glowing under artificial moonlight. You stretched your arms overhead, the croptop sliding just enough to show the soft curve of underboobs, a calculated ‘oopsie’ perfected by months of practice.

C.Pilot: you know you missed yesterday right?

X-Devoted: Uve been a veeery naughty bunny…

Mr. WhiteCoat: I’m monitoring your dopamine spikes in real time. They’re inconsistent.

R.tist!c: is that the cardigan i sent you? unbutton it slowly

Syl.Draconia: Shes hiding something tonight. Increased blink rate. Deviated gaze.

“Y-you all are so mean… I’m shy, y’know. I’m not just here to be your toy…” You purred, same curated high-pitched tone matched with a sickly sweet giggle. “But thank you, Daddies.”

You giggled, again, hiding your face in your hands. A perfect little bunny. Tempting fate like it was a game. Innocence so carefully curated it could only be filthy. Just a girl in your safe little pastel den, alone in your apartment, with predatory men watching you burn.

You shifted, thighs parting slightly, your voice rising just a note.

“I m-might’ve been a little mean… I didn’t respond to some DMs. I went live without private previews tonight... I guess I was just feeling bold.”

X-Devoted: U will learn sweetheart

Syl.Draconia: Already running your own script. Dangerous.

Mr. WhiteCoat: This requires corrective conditioning.

C.Pilot: youre gonna make me break my keyboard Bun.

R.tist!c: keep talking, your shame is muse enough

The camera light pulsed. You leaned forward, intentionally framing your cleavage with your forearms as you pouted at the lens.

“You’re all so strict with me lately,” you murmured, voice full of mock-pout and something that wasn’t so mock. “But I know how much you missed me…”

You reached for a small heart-shaped plastic on the nightstand.

“A-and I think I’m ready to be your good bunny again.”

Then—click.

You pressed the first tip-button. The sex toy that was already inserted before the stream purred to life inside you, humming quiet and wicked.

“A-ah—mm! T-that’s... oopsie.” Well, at least the moan that slipped from your glossy lips was real.

X-Devoted: Dont play shy. U wore that choker for me.

Syl.Draconia: Zoom. 140%. Enhance the thighs.

R.tist!c: such soft curves, let me paint you like this

Mr. WhiteCoat: Keep still. I’m running diagnostics.

C.Pilot : bet she soaked the sheets already.

mr.unknown: oh yes, moan for us more 😩

zeronut: show pussy plz… 💦

"Oh... Oh Daddy..." You murmured into the mic, your eyes glazed over as the vibrations from the toy X-Devoted had chosen for you resonated through your body. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a blush that surely painted your face in a way that made the camera love you more. The chat was a whirlwind of lewd comments and generous tips. Each one of your patrons had a piece of you, and you knew it. You reveled in it.

You leaned back into the plush pillows, your hands sneaked under the cardigan, fingers dancing over your chest, tracing the edges of the pasties you knew R.tist!c had picked out from the last set of gifts he'd sent. His taste was always so... exquisite. You could feel your heart racing, the decorative adhesive tickling against your skin with each breath.

"Thank you for the tips, Daddy..." You breathed into the mic, a soft smile playing on your lips as you scanned the chat for X-Devoted's name. His tip had triggered the toy, and the pleasure was already pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill over. "You're all so generous tonight."

The screen was a blur of usernames and donation amounts. You bit your bottom lip, letting the anticipation build as you slowly unbuttoned the cardigan. The cool air hit your bare skin, and you shivered dramatically for the camera, knowing it would drive them wild. The room was a symphony of virtual praise, each note hitting a different chord of your arousal.

X-Devoted: Good girl. Thats what I like to see

C.Pilot: let’s see how much you’ve been taking care of yourself Bunny.

R.tist!c: more little bun, show us everything

With a devilish smirk, you leaned forward, giving them the show they were dying to see. The cardigan fell away, revealing the purple, starfish-shaped pasties that covered your areola—nipples already peaked out and were begging for attention beneath the adhesive silicone.

The cold lens of the camera was the only thing touching them as you whispered, "Look at what you do to me, Daddy." You gave your torso a gentle shake, watching your breasts jiggle before the eyes of your devoted audience.

The chat exploded with emojis and messages. The numbers on the side of your screen spun upwards like a slot machine hitting a jackpot. You felt a thrill of power, a heady rush of adrenaline, knowing that these men were all watching you, all wanting you, all willing to give you anything to satisfy their desires. You were the puppeteer, and they were your marionettes, dancing to the tune of your siren's song.

"Would you like to taste my tits, Daddy?" You whispered into the void, watching the screen as your words sent a shockwave through the chat. The vibrator in your panties buzzed in time with your racing heart every time someone tipped, a symphony of need and greed. You cupped your breasts, your thumbs flicking over the covered areola, teasing the silicone away from your sensitive skin.

X-Devoted: Yes baby. Take off the starfish. Let us all admire ur pretty nipples

Mr.WhiteCoat: Use the adhesive fabric next time if the silicone irritates your nipples.

R.tist!c: i wish those pasties were my mouth

R.tist!c: soon you will be mine

C.Pilot: make it quick, I can feel my cock pulsing already.

Syl.Draconia: Watch yourself Bunny. Watch how beautiful you are.

You bit back a giggle, feeling a thrill of excitement at their commands. You knew they were all watching, all waiting with bated breath for the moment you'd give in. Your fingers danced along the edge of the silicone, the tension building as you paused, just for a second, to let them beg for more.

Syl.Draconia tipped 1000 credits: Take it off let the breeze kiss those pretty nipples of yours.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the message from Syl.Draconia. His requests always sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement. But you had a show to run. You had to keep them all on the edge of their seats. So, with a flick of your wrist, the pasties came off, revealing your bare breasts to the camera. The coolness of the room kissed your skin, making your nipples peak even further. You leaned closer to the camera, letting them get a good look at the prize.

But amidst the flurry of tips and messages, one stood out. C.Pilot’s text was simple, but the implication was clear. "you know I wanna fuck those tits Bunny." The chat went wild, a mix of excitement and anticipation. This wasn't the first time he'd made such a bold statement.

You looked into the camera, eyes wide with feigned shock, "Oh my... Daddy's being extra naughty tonight." You giggled, playing coy. But inside, you felt a thrill of danger. It was all part of the game, but you knew it was one you couldn't ignore for much longer.

The tips continued to flood in as you played with the strings of your skirt, tugging it down just enough to reveal the sheer lace of your panties. The camera zoomed in, capturing the wetness that had already begun to soak through. You could feel the fabric sticking to your skin as you teased them, the anticipation building. Each user's kink reflected in their words, a silent bidding war for your attention.

X-Devoted: Spread ur legs for us baby. Show us ur sweet little cunt

Mr.WhiteCoat: I can see your heart rate increasing. Keep going.

R.tist!c: imagine its my tongue licking you clean

C.Pilot: you know I’d shower those tits with my cum.

Syl.Draconia: Take off the skirt. Give us a show.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their eyes—or rather, the screens—on you. It was all a game, a dance of power and desire played out in pixels. But you were good at this dance, weren't you? You'd been doing it for some months. You leaned back, letting your legs fall open just enough to hint at the lacy treasure beneath. The toy in your panties buzzed louder, the intensity of the vibrations making you gasp.

"M-maybe later, Daddy. I-I’m getting shy now…" you whispered, batting your eyelashes at the camera in practiced timidity. The chat erupted again, the sound of keys smacking screens echoing in your mind. The thrill of control was intoxicating. You were the queen of this digital realm, and they were all just pawns in your game.

The vibrations grew more intense, and you couldn’t help but squirm. You reached down and slipped your hand into your skirt, your fingers sliding over the drenched fabric of your panties. The toy buzzed against your clit, and you let out a soft moan, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. The room grew hot, the air thick with lust.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your pulse is racing faster now. Tell us how it feels.

X-Devoted: Ure mine tonight bunny

R.tist!c: i can almost taste you through the screen

C.Pilot: give us a better look.

Syl.Draconia: Yes show us how much you want it.

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and your breathing grew heavier as you read the messages, feeling their eyes on you—or rather, the screens that served as their windows into your private world. The vibrations grew stronger, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet. You had to keep them wanting more.

"But not yet, Daddy," you murmured into the microphone, your voice a sultry whisper. "I want to save the best for later." You pulled your hand away from your panties, leaving them wet and exposed. The camera zoomed in, and you watched the chat light up with excitement. You had them hooked, and you were the master angler reeling them in, inch by inch.

With a practiced brattiness, you stood from the bed.

"Oh... so cold!~" You gasp, hugging yourself in a manner dramatic enough to tease your audience.

You turned to face the camera fully, your eyes scanning the chat for any signs of the five high-rollers you knew were out there. You strutted over to the clothing rack, the soft thud of your feet echoing through the quiet room. The outfit was a surprise, something you'd picked out just for them. A devilish smirk played on your lips as you pulled out the hanger, the fabric gliding over your fingertips like silk.

"Alright, everyone," you announced, the sound of you unraveling the garment garnering a slew of eager messages. "It's time for the main event!" The anticipation in your voice was palpable as you held the outfit against your body, obscuring your nakedness with the screen of fabric. "Tonight, I've got something extra special for you. Who's ready for a surprise?"

The chat exploded with excitement, a barrage of suggestive emojis and filthy messages.

C.Pilot: can't wait Bunny.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your secrets are the best part of the show.

R.tist!c: show us little muse

You took a deep breath, the anticipation building in your chest as you held up the lingerie set. "I've got something that's gonna knock your socks off, Daddies!" You giggled, feeling the excitement of your digital audience pulse through the air. The pastel colors shimmered under the soft light, a perfect blend of innocence and desire.

You turned around, giving them a glimpse of your bare back, the tension building as you slowly untied the strings of your skirt. The skirt softly rustled as it slid down your thighs like silk, leaving only your sheer panties that barely covered your dripping cunt and the vibrator thrumming inside you.

"Oopsie daisy!" You exclaimed, feigning clumsiness, making sure the camera captured every inch of your exposed skin. "Looks like I need to get changed!"

The chatter in the chat grew louder as you began to peel off your panties, the fabric sticking to your wetness before finally sliding away. The toy remained in place, a silent sentinel of your pleasure.

You stepped into the new set, a pair of lace g-strings that barely covered your curves, and a matching sheer bralette that left nothing to the imagination. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your body, the vibrations syncing with your heartbeat.

"How does this look?" You asked, spinning around for them, giving a full view of the new ensemble. The chat went wild, a cacophony of lewd comments and tips. You could feel the power surging through you, a heady rush that only grew as you watched the numbers climb.

X-Devoted: Perfect. Just like I knew it would be

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your obedience is... commendable, PixelBunny.

R.tist!c: a masterpiece worthy of my canvas

C.Pilot: fuck baby. you're driving me wild.

You leaned closer to the camera, your breath hot against the lens. "Does Daddy like it?" You whispered, your eyes sparkling with mischief. The chat was a blur of eager responses, each one more eager than the last.

Syl.Draconia: Youre a vision, my sweet bunny. I could rip that in one flick of my fingers.

You winked at the camera, the toy inside you buzzing in response to the thrill of their words. "Good, because I got something extra special for you all." Your breasts bounced slightly as you turned, giving them the show they craved. "Who wants to see what I've got planned?"

The tips—smaller amounts this time—poured in faster than you could read, the screen lighting up like a Christmas tree. Your heart raced as you felt the eyes of your devoted fans, the vibrations inside you reaching a crescendo. "Alright, Daddies. Let's get this party started!"

You slid the toy out of you with a wet pop, ensuring the camera caught everything, the chat exploding in a symphony of virtual pleasure. The toy was replaced with something new, something they hadn't seen before. It was a custom-made dildo, the girthy shaft covered in bumpy, tiny lights that matched the color scheme of your room.

"This little guy is gonna light up the night," you said with a wink, turning it on. The lights flickered in time with your racing pulse, a silent promise of what was to come.

Strutting closer to your desktop, you straddled the fuschia pink-white gaming chair, posing your back against the lens. You took a moment to appreciate the view on the screen—the way the lights played off your curves, highlighting the view of your asscheeks in the air, your drenched cunt peeking through the scant g-string. Turning you into a living work of art.

Then, with a sultry smile, you placed the tip of the dildo against your entrance, the coolness sending a shiver down your spine.

"Ready for the main event, Daddies?" You teased, tapping the toy playfully against your asscheeks. The chat was a sea of anticipation, a mix of eagerness and greed. You spread your legs wider, giving them a perfect view of your glistening pussy, the fabric of your g-string the only barrier between you and their hungry eyes.

You leaned further into the chair, the cold leather against your skin a stark contrast to the heat building within you. The lights from the dildo reflected off the chrome of your gaming chair, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. The plastic frames bit into your knees as you settled into the position, a slight discomfort that only served to heighten the thrill of the moment.

The chat was a blur of excitement, a cacophony of usernames and tips flying by as they watched you, rapt and eager for your next move.

X-Devoted: Slowly baby. Make it last

Mr.WhiteCoat: I’m taking notes of how many pumps you’re going to do tonight.

R.tist!c: oh i wanna sketch this

C.Pilot: fuck bunny. you're so wet, I could almost feel it.

Syl.Draconia: Use the lube I sent.

With a seductive smile, you took the lube, never breaking eye contact with the camera’s lens as you lathered it around the girthy artificial phallus. The squelching echoed to the mic as your hands pumped in a tantalizing rhythm, giving your audience the fantasy of you touching their cocks instead.

You began to rub the tip against your swollen clit, the lights flickering in time with your movements. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt through your body that made your eyes roll back in your head.

"Mm, Daddy likes it slow?" You murmured, your voice a breathless purr. "Alright, let's see if I can be a good girl." You slid the toy down, teasing the folds of your pussy. The chat was a flurry of commands and compliments, each one feeding the fire of your desire.

With a deliberate slowness that was as much for show as it was for their benefit, you brushed the string of your panties aside and pushed the dildo inside your cunt. The lights flickered in time with the strokes, creating a mesmerizing pattern across your skin. You moaned, the sound carrying through the quiet apartment, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo back at you from the screens of your devoted fans.

"Oh, yes... just like that," you whispered into the microphone, the vibrations from the dildo making your voice shake slightly. "Daddy's got me feeling so good."

Your eyes remained locked on the camera, watching as the tips continued to roll in. Each one a little victory, each one a validation of your power. You began to move the toy in and out, the lights casting a rainbow of shadows across your vaginal walls. "Tell me, Daddies," you gasped, "How does it look when I'm being such a good girl for you?"

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your pussy looks so tight around that new toy, PixelBunny. You’re taking it well.

C.Pilot: oh fuck. that's so hot. like you're begging for the real thing.

R.tist!c: like a painting baby, a masterpiece

Syl.Draconia: Tell me you wish it was my cock Bunny.

X-Devoted: Ure mine Bunny. Remember that

Their reactions varied, a symphony of desire played out in digital text. Some praised your obedience, others painted vivid pictures of what they’d do to you, while another whispered dark promises of possession. Yet, none of them knew the truth behind your shy demeanor, the cynical smirk that tugged at your lips as you read their words.

With each stroke, the lights of the dildo grew more intense, painting your face with a rainbow of pleasure. Your body began to respond, your hips moving in a gentle rhythm that grew more urgent with each passing moment. You knew the act well, the dance of a siren luring sailors to their doom. You were their obsession, their escape from the mundane.

The sound of your wetness filled the room, mingling with your soft moans. It was a symphony of lust, each note a declaration of your power. You watched the chat, eyes flickering from one message to the next. Their words were a drug, a sweet poison that made you feel alive.

You began to rock your hips, the toy sliding in and out with increasing speed. "Is Daddy proud of me?" You whimpered, your voice a siren's call. The chat exploded, each tip a declaration of their adoration. You felt their desire, a palpable force that seemed to tighten around you, squeezing out every last drop of your inhibition.

"Oh, Daddy," you moaned, the pleasure building, the lights from the dildo casting a glow across your face. "You make me feel so... dirty." The words were like honey, sweet and thick with meaning. You watched the chat, the screen a blur of tips and messages, each one more desperate than the last.

The toy slammed into you now, the plastic thud echoing through the room. Your hands were a blur, moving in a rhythm that was almost violent. The sensation was overwhelming, the lights pulsing with your heartbeat. You could feel yourself getting closer, the orgasm a tidal wave just beyond the horizon.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Yes, PixelBunny, take it another inch deeper.

C.Pilot: so good baby. take it all for me.

R.tist!c: like youre riding my cock baby

Syl.Draconia: Mines bigger than that silly toy Bunny.

X-Devoted: Make sure u wont hurt urself

Their commands fueled you, pushing you closer to the edge. You took the toy out and licked it clean, the taste of yourself making your eyes roll back.

"Daddy, I need more," you whimpered, dropping the dildo to the floor. Slowly, you turned around to face the camera and present yourself on the chair. Your hand snaked into your g-string, your fingers finding your clit. "Is Daddy going to make me cum?"

Mr.WhiteCoat: Play with yourself more, BunnyPixel. Show us how much you want it.

C.Pilot: spread those legs wider, let me see everything.

R.tist!c: i want to see that pretty pussy swollen with desire for me

Syl.Draconia: You know you want it bunny. Take it all.

X-Devoted: Ure so greedy, arent you, Bunny? But Daddy loves that about you

Their words were a siren's song that you couldn't ignore. You spread your legs wider, the fabric of your g-string stretching tightly over your swollen clit. You watched the chat as your fingers began to dance across your folds, the wetness of your pussy glistening in the soft glow of the lights.

"Look at how wet I am for you, Daddies," you breathed into the microphone, the sound of your voice sending a shiver through your body. Your thumb circled your clit, the sensation making your toes curl. "Do you like watching me play?"

The chat erupted in a symphony of affirmations, their digital applause filling your ears. You felt a strange sense of belonging, a thrill that came from being the object of their desire. It was a power trip, one that you were all too eager to indulge in.

With a wicked grin, you picked up the dildo again, the lights pulsing to the beat of the music that played in the background. "Alright, Daddies," you said, your voice a mix of sweetness and seductive challenge. "Who wants to see how fast I can make this little toy disappear?"

The chat went wild as you positioned the dildo at your entrance, the coldness a stark contrast to the heat that had built up within you. You pushed it in, the lights dancing on your skin as you took it all in one go, the tip brushing against your cervix. You gasped, the sensation intense and overwhelming. The chat exploded in a flurry of tips and messages, each one more eager than the last to claim a piece of you.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Bravo, PixelBunny. You’re so good at taking what you’re given.

C.Pilot: fuck yes. just like that. you're mine baby.

R.tist!c: a true masterpiece in motion

Syl.Draconia tipped 1000 credits: If its my cock filling you up, youd scream louder than that.

X-Devoted: So obedient. So perfect

You watched the tips climb, feeling a thrill at their desperation. "Is Daddy proud?" You asked, your voice a needy whine as you began to pump the dildo in and out of yourself. The lights reflected off the sweat that had begun to form on your skin, casting a glow around your body.

The chat was a blur of usernames and dollar signs, a testament to your power over these men. You felt a twinge of guilt, a tiny voice that whispered they didn't know the real you, that you were playing a role. But the rush of power was too great, the thrill of their desire too potent to resist.

You began to moan, the sound echoing through your headphones. The camera captured every inch of you, every bead of sweat, every gasp of pleasure. It was a dance of seduction, a performance honed over countless nights in front of the lens.

The chat was a furor of commands, each one more demanding than the last. But you were in control. You knew just how to play them, how to keep them on the edge of their seats. With each stroke, you felt their eyes on you, their thoughts wrapped around your body like a second skin.

"Oh, Daddy," you whimpered, the dildo moving faster now, the lights blurring together into a rainbow of ecstasy. "I'm so close." The chat exploded in a frenzy of tips once more, each one a declaration of war for your pleasure.

You felt yourself getting closer, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Your hand moved faster, the dildo a blur as it plunged into your pussy. Your other hand gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles white with the effort of holding back. Its creak was a silent protest against the relentless pace of the dildo, creating a lewd harmony along with the squelching of your pussy around the glowing, bumpy, glass phallus.

"I'm... I'm gonna cum," you whispered, your voice shaking with need. The chat was a sea of fire emojis, a digital inferno of desire. You could almost feel their eyes on you, their hands moving in time with yours, imagining it was their cocks that filled you so completely.

The lights grew brighter, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. It was as if the room was alive, a living entity that feasted on your pleasure. Your walls tightened around the dildo, a silent plea for more, for harder, for deeper. The glass felt like fire in your hand, a tool of your own making that you wielded with expert precision.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Yes, baby, keep going. You’re on the 496th pump and counting.

C.Pilot: that’s it slut. give it to me.

R.tist!c tipped 1500 credits: youd be more beautiful painted with my cum

Syl.Draconia tipped 300 credits: Youre so pretty when youre full of me.

X-Devoted tipped 500 credits: Ure perfect… my little whore

You threw your head back, your mouth open in a silent scream. The chat was a blur of lewd comments and demands, a symphony of desire that seemed to crescendo with every stroke. You felt their eyes on you, their hunger a palpable force that pushed you closer to the edge. The room was spinning, the lights a kaleidoscope of pleasure that painted the walls of your reality.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing over you with the force of a thousand suns. You screamed into the microphone, the sound echoing through the room. The camera captured every twitch of your body, every spasm of pleasure that racked your frame. The chat exploded in a cacophony of tips and messages, each one a declaration of victory.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Beautiful, PixelBunny. Drink water to hydrate.

C.Pilot: I’d breed that little cunt like the bunny you are.

R.tist!c: fuck youre an artwork

Syl.Draconia: Good girl.

X-Devoted tipped 750 credits: Look how swollen your clit is

As the wave of pleasure receded, you slumped in the chair, panting heavily. Your body was a wreck, a plaything used and discarded. But there was no regret, only satisfaction. You had done your job, played your role to perfection. The tips kept rolling in, a testament to your power, to your ability to manipulate and control.

Mr.WhiteCoat: That was exquisite, PixelBunny. You pumped twenty-three times more tonight than the last stream.

C.Pilot tipped 2000 credits: you're so fucking perfect, you’re gonna make me cum on my keyboard.

R.tist!c: i want to capture that moment forever

Syl.Draconia: You never disappoint pet.

X-Devoted: Such a good little bunny letting us watch

You took a moment to catch your breath, the sweat cooling on your skin as you surveyed the chat. The room was bathed in the glow of the pastel lights, a soft symphony of colors that seemed to pulse with the aftermath of your climax. The usernames swirled like a kaleidoscope, each one a reminder of the men who had claimed a piece of you.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Take off the g-string. Let us see you completely bare.

C.Pilot: you’re so responsive baby. I bet you’d scream if I was the one fucking you.

R.tist!c: i wish i could paint the way you look right now because your pussy is an art form

Syl.Draconia: Youre so open, so inviting. It makes me want to take you right here, right now.

X-Devoted: Good girl. Show me whats mine

With trembling hands, you slowly pulled the g-string to the side, fingers gliding to spread your swollen labia—exposing your clit to the cool air. The chat erupted in a symphony of desire, a crescendo of tips that sang your praises. You felt a thrill, a dark pleasure in knowing you had them all at your mercy.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Perfect. Just like that.

C.Pilot: so wet, so needy. who’s going to fill you up next?

R.tist!c: thats the look of a well-fucked muse

Syl.Draconia: Your pussy is begging for it.

X-Devoted: Remember, ure mine

You began to toy with yourself again, the dildo forgotten on the floor. Your hand moved with a newfound confidence, a silent challenge to the men watching you. You knew they were all thinking of themselves, of how they'd make you scream if they had the chance. But you were the one in control here, the one pulling the strings of their desires.

Mr.WhiteCoat: I want to see those breasts bounce, PixelBunny.

C.Pilot: play with those perfect tits.

R.tist!c: the way your titties jiggle is like watching a masterpiece come to life

Syl.Draconia: Show us your tits slut.

X-Devoted: Only for me my greedy little bunny

You leaned forward, your tits spilling out of the lingerie. Your nipples were hard peaks, begging for attention. You pinched them lightly, watching the chat for their reactions. The messages grew more frantic, a silent battle for your focus.

Mr.WhiteCoat tipped 300 credits: You’re shaking, PixelBunny. Just relax.

C.Pilot: pinch them harder, make them beg for mercy.

R.tist!c: oh baby thats the picture id sell for a fortune

Syl.Draconia: I want to feel those nipples between my teeth.

X-Devoted: Ure such a good slut for me

The room was a whirlwind of lewdness, a tornado of desire that you were at the center of. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, knowing that any of these men could be watching you from the shadows of your real life, and could be closer than you ever imagined.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Make yourself come again, PixelBunny. Show us how many times you can come tonight.

C.Pilot: I want to see you squirt for me baby.

R.tist!c: youre like a living, breathing fantasy

Syl.Draconia: Imagine its my tongue on you licking you clean while you squirt.

X-Devoted: Ure going to come for me arent you?

With a shiver, you focused on the task at hand. You began to rub your clit in slow circles, the sensation sending shockwaves through your overstimulated body. Your nipples tightened further as you pinched and twisted them, the pain adding a delicious edge to the pleasure.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Faster, Bunny. Make it count.

C.Pilot: so pretty when you're desperate.

R.tist!c: i want your juices mixed with paint

Syl.Draconia: So close bunny. Give us what we want.

X-Devoted: Be careful not to fall on the floor

The second orgasm built slowly, a crescendo of pleasure that you couldn't ignore. Each touch of your fingers was a declaration of war, a battle for dominance that you were determined to win. The chat was a blur of praises and commands, but you were in control. This was your show, your performance, your moment of power.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Yes, baby. Just like that.

C.Pilot: I can almost taste you Bunny.

R.tist!c: your body is a masterpiece

Syl.Draconia: Soon youll be screaming for me.

X-Devoted: Ure mine to use little slut

With a final, desperate push, you came, your body arching off the chair as your juices arced in the air—subsequently soiling your chair and the floor. The camera captured every twitch, every shiver of pleasure. The chat exploded in a flurry of tips, each one a declaration of victory. You panted, your chest heaving as you watched the numbers climb, the power of your own sexuality laid bare before you.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Beautiful, baby. Simply breathtaking.

C.Pilot: that was so fucking hot. you're incredible

R.tist!c: the way you come is like watching the universe unfold

Syl.Draconia tipped 1500 credits: Thats my slut. Ill give you a taste of my cock soon.

X-Devoted: Good girl

As the waves of pleasure receded, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. These men didn't just want to watch you; they wanted to own you. The thought sent a thrill down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement that you couldn't quite place.

You knew you had to keep them at bay, keep your real life separate from this digital playground. But as the tips continued to flow and the chat demanded more, you couldn't help but wonder if the line had already been crossed.

If they had already claimed a part of you that you couldn't take back.

— ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ —

You overslept.

The kind of oversleep that left mascara smudged in the corner of your eyes and thigh-high sock marks ghosting along your skin. Your alarm had gone off four times—each one silenced by a sleepy, swollen hand that still smells faintly of coconut oil and shame.

You’re not sore exactly. You're ruined.

Tender. Overfilled. Buzzing like your favorite toy never turned off. Your vibrator still under the pillow—taunting you like the whore you were last night. Your apartment smelled like artificial strawberries, lube, and desperation.

And your phone? Oh, bunny.

47 unread messages.

Syl.Draconia: Your audio peaked at 2:14:37. I liked that sound.

Mr. WhiteCoat: You should ice your thighs today. Hydration report pending.

X-Devoted: Still think about how u moaned my name last. Be good today

C.Pilot: saved the vod. watching it again before my morning meeting.

R.tist!c: i want to paint you mid-climax ill need the raw footage

You deleted none of them.

Your thighs stuck together as you rolled onto your side, squinting at the soft morning light bleeding through cheap blinds.

7:48 AM. Your café shift started at 7:00.

You groaned, dragging yourself out of bed. Your bunny headset laid discarded on the floor like a casualty, tangled with the cord of the bullet toy that made you scream so loud you had to bite the pillow. The heart-shaped toy from last night was still blinking faintly on the nightstand—taunting you. Judging you.

You’re still wearing the cropped cardigan. Nothing underneath. Just a smear of dried gloss on the collar and a suspicious hickey where your neck met the webcam’s frame.

— ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ —

You yanked on your barista apron with the grace of a drunken octopus, hair still smelling like body spray and cum-adjacent perfume, cheeks flushed with residual shame. The “CUP O' SUNSHINE!” logo stared at you like a passive-aggressive middle finger. A wrinkled pair of jeans hugged your thighs fine—inside out. No time to fix it. No bra.

Your thighs sticked slightly as you walked, the aftermath of being toyed open for hours, edged to oblivion and backed by faceless men who knew the sound of your moans better than your coworkers knew your name.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket with unread messages. The same five names.

X-Devoted: Did u eat yet baby?

Mr. WhiteCoat: You should’ve hydrated more. You lost a lot of fluids.

C.Pilot: when’s your break? I’ll call you.

R.tist!c: sketching the way your thighs shook

Syl.Draconia: You looked perfect on your knees.

You groaned and shoved it in your boring, beige, canvas tote bag.

Outside, the bus screeched past your stop without a single care for your state of existential hangover. You missed it by six goddamn seconds.

"Fuck you, rush hour,” you panted, trying to speed-walk without waddling. Your thighs screamed. Your lower back protested. You're ninety percent sure there was still some faux hickey ink blooming under your collarbone in the shape of a painted thumbprint.

Then the subway ride was hell. You shifted on the plastic seat with a soft hiss, cursing your post-stream sensitivity. The train lurched and your sore cunt clenched involuntarily. You could only bite your lip and pray no one noticed your discomfort.

When you clocked in, the coffee shop was already packed. You're over an hour late and reeking of vanilla lotion and unsanctioned orgasms.

Your workplace was aggressively normal. Neutral-toned hell. A cozy café chain squashed between a vape shop and a dentist’s office. The fluorescent lights buzzed like judging aunts. The espresso machine wheezed like a dying horse.

“Nice of you to join us,” your manager—Lysander—muttered, tossing you a stained dish towel and a name tag that read PIXEL. You didn’t bother to correct him. You were too busy hiding the fact that you forgot underwear.

You forced a smile. The same one you used on camera. “Sorry! Long night.”

As you staggered toward the counter, last night kept crashing back in wet waves.

After the ‘normal stream’—you on all fours, bouncing on a glass dildo while holding a printed-out chatlog to your chest like a script from hell.

“I-I’m gonna come again if you keep saying that, please—please don’t make me—!”

And them—ULTRA VIP chat exploding, all five usernames watching you fall apart like a perfectly wound toy snapping loose.

Syl.Draconia: Youre not allowed to finish until I say so.

X-Devoted: Slower. Hold eye contact. Now beg

Mr. WhiteCoat: Apply pressure to your clit. Precisely three fingers. That’s right.

C.Pilot: fuck, you’re gonna make me blow in my headset.

R.tist!c: cry for me, let me paint it from memory

You had collapsed into a moaning mess while the private chat was filled with tips, voice notes and possessive claims. You came so hard you nearly dislocated your mic stand.

And now here you were—Pixel Bunny’s shadow, stripped of pastel lights, lace, and fake moans. Fresh graduate, still buried in student debts, living alone, half-fucked out, and working the register for caffeine-deprived Karens and stoners.

Taking someone’s half-skim oat milk latte with a fake smile and shaky hands, your body still twitching with phantom overstimulation, your panties still sitting in a tipped-over laundry basket, and your cunt still slick from ghosts of last night’s sins.

You slapped a paper cup onto the counter like a half-dead soldier. Your bones ached. Your legs felt like overcooked noodles. You were seconds away from collapsing into the espresso grounds when you heard it:

“Medium latte. One pump vanilla.”

You didn’t look up at first. You were too busy auto-piloting through your camgirl trauma, but something about the voice made you pause.

It’s… calm and smooth. Measured.

You glanced up and your breath caught mid-exhale.

He was tall. Easily six feet. Fair-skinned and silver-haired, the kind of anime-protagonist-just-transferred-to-your-school handsome that would normally make you roll your eyes. His white sweater looked soft, expensive, the kind of thing someone would wear just to make you think about how good it would feel brushing against your thighs. His pants were dark, tailored. Hands tucked casually into the pockets.

And his eyes. Blue. Not icy—glacial.

Like he sees straight through you, and hasn’t decided if you’re prey… or his.

You swallowed. “N-name for the order?”

His head tilted slightly as he studied you for a second, gaze lingering for a beat on the upside-down nametag stuck above your chest.

“…Xavier.”

Your hand trembled around the Sharpie. You barely managed to scrawl the name on the cup, your brain already conjuring the worst possibilities.

X-Devoted. No. No. It’s just a common name. It’s fine. You’re fine, you’re just sleep-deprived and overstimulated.

You slid the cup toward the espresso machine and forced your voice steady. “It’ll be right up. Um. X-Xavier.”

His lips twitched. Not a smile. Just a flicker—barely there.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly.

Xavier turned to wait at the other end of the counter, hands still in his pockets. Posture straight. Like he was listening.

You sneaked one more glance as you started the order. He was staring at the pastries now. Or the board. Or maybe the reflection in the glass. You couldn’t tell.

But the prickle on the back of your neck said: be careful.

[lordprettyflackotara]

decode || ticci toby

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: face fucking, bear death?, reader is extremely oblivious/naive

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

It had been ten days. Ten long agonizing days since you had seen him.

You had been wondering in the forest. Aimlessly of course, searching for some connection with nature you could never quite obtain. Civilization was a couple of miles away, sticks crunching beneath your boots. You had heard what sounded like footsteps behind you. Normally you weren’t a paranoid person, but the consistent sound made you constantly glance over your shoulder. This distraction led you to what seemed to be the end, a grizzly bear rising on two legs to glare down at you. Unknowingly you had stumbled upon it feasting, blood covering its snout and a deer carcass behind it. The corpse was long forgotten, its beady eyes centered on you.

All safety measures you had been taught went out of the window. Every bit of flight or fight completely vacant in your mind as you stared up in fear. The bear could practically smell the terror dripping off of you. You began to walk backwards, doubting your ability to outrun a bear. It was then you tripped, an overgrown tree root causing you to land on your ass. You gasped as the bear towered over you, a low growl sending shivers down your spine. You were sure that was the end, your heart pounding in your chest. That was before an axe went flying into the bears neck, the blood splattering across your face.

Your savior, an odd lanky man with goggles and face mask ran over to the bear, yanking the thrown axe out of its neck. You were surprised at how fast the animal fell over, its breath ragged and shallow. You blinked, the brunette man turning to you, his skin a grayish white you couldn’t quite make sense of. From the color of his skin you’d assume he was deathly ill, yet he seemed more in shape than you. His appearance was frightening and unsettling. He should’ve scared you, especially after just slaughtering a full grown grizzly bear. Yet his presence put you at ease. He stepped over the fallen animal, standing over you. He extended his hand, his palms covered in soiled bandages. Hesitantly you accepted it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. You tried to see his eyes, the reflective bright orange goggles staring down at you. He was far taller than you, your head forced to tilt upwards to look at him. “Thank you,” You say softly. The forest seemed to fall silent, the only sound audible the bear slowly bleeding out.

“Go home.”

His voice was jagged and rough, causing your eyebrows to raise. You wiped yourself off, the pine needles that had attached themselves to your jeans falling to the forest floor. “Can I at least know your name?” You asked. The brunette seemed hesitant, before slinging his axe over his shoulder.

“Toby.”

After that he glanced over his shoulder, as if he heard something you couldn’t. “Go home kid,” He huffed, jumping over the bears corpse and running in the opposite direction. You listened to his request, turning around and heading straight back the way you came.

Ten days. It had been ten days since Toby had saved you, your mysterious savior haunting your dreams. You had dreams of him saving you repeatedly. Those dreams were short lived, followed by nightmares that caused you to wake up screaming. In some he would attack you with the axe, in others he would feed you to the bear. You feared and craved him all at the same time. This lead to you making irrational decisions. You called out of work regularly, spending all of your time in the forest. You felt like you were going insane. After you had washed the blood off of your face, you had no evidence he ever truly existed. Were you going crazy? You couldn’t be. Your determination to prove your sanity led to you back in the forest once more.

You were searching for him. Searching for evidence he ever existed. Originally you had searched for the bears corpse, only to find it gone. You swore you could’ve recalled the exact spot, even finding the exact overgrown root of the tree that caused you to trip. Yet there was no corpse. No sign of anything at all. You found yourself in the same spot again, searching the pine needles that covered the forest floor. There had to be something. A bear that size surely couldn’t evaporate into thin air over ten days. You’d still be able to find its skeleton or dried blood. The circle of life was fast, but not fast enough to make a creature that large disappear. You kneeled down to the ground, pushing a pile of the pine needles aside. You frowned in disappointment when you found nothing but dirt. It was then a chill ran down your spine, the eerie feeling of being watched causing your body to tense. Hesitantly you stood up, looking around.

“Hello?”

Your voice seemed to echo through out the endless trees, the wind causing leafs to fall from the highest branches. It was only then Toby revealed himself, dressed in the same dirt covered attire he wore when you last saw him. “W-why do you keep c-coming back here?” Toby questioned. His tone was harsh, causing you to flinch. You felt overjoyed at the sight of him, his presence alone proving to you he was real. But his tone was chilling, his words dripping with a deeper meaning then you realized. “I keep having dreams about you. I don’t understand it, but you’ve left a mark on me somehow,” You admitted. Your words hardly meant sense to you, yet they seemed to register for Toby. He rounded the tree he was standing behind, approaching you. “Y-you should’ve just forgotten a-about me,” He said coldly. You were stunned, noting he now had two axes, both tucked onto holsters. “How could I? It’s not everyday a guy slaughters a bear for you,” You argued. Toby seemed frustrated, his shoulders tensing.

“I’m not your everyday j-jo. I c-can’t wine and d-dine you. I’m not like every o-o-other pussy you’ve ever let fuck you,” He spat. You glared at him. Your dreams meant something, you knew they did. They had to. “My dreams mean something don’t they? That’s why you’re trying to scare me off!” You said accusingly. Toby approached you, towering over you. His pace was aggressive, causing you to step backwards against a large tree. You felt the bark scrape at your jacket, swallowing at Toby caged you against the wood. “You d-don’t know what y-you’re getting into k-kid,” Toby snarled. You shook your head. “You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t. I don’t care. There’s something drawing me to you. I can’t ignore it,” You confessed. You bit your lower lip, causing Toby to tilt his head to the side. You could tell he was thinking, his mind racing as he stared down at you.

“How s-strange. I can’t tell if your i-i-infatuation is caused by boss n-not,” He mused. He lifted his hand, gently brushing the side of your face. His hands were dirty, yet his finger tips grazed your skin as if you were made of glass. You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, Toby suddenly leaning away. “I-I’ll come back for you,” He decided. He turned away, causing you to follow behind him. You grabbed his arm, Toby stopping dead in his tracks. “Where will we meet? Here?” You asked. Toby looked over his shoulder at you. You wished you could see his facial expression, his words seemingly cold and calculated. “No. Never c-come back h-h-here. I’ll find you,” He ordered. He shrugged your grip off of him, beginning to stalk away. “Oh and while you’re at it kid, i-it’s in your best interest to f-find a way to repay me,” Toby said flatly, before disappearing once again.

Your simple conversation played on repeat in your head. Looping round and round. Who was his boss? How could his ‘boss’ cause the dreams? The nightmares? The infatuation? You stared up blankly at the ceiling at night, your inability to sleep resulting in your job threatening to fire you from calling out so much. Everything seemed to be crumbling around you and you didn’t understand why. It was a night like the rest of them, your eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling. You had managed to count every spec, your eyes becoming crossed. You had stared for so long you swore you were beginning to see shapes and patterns. Maybe you were hallucinating. Maybe you were going insane. Could surviving a grizzly bear attack drive you mad? Or maybe you didn’t survive at all. Maybe you were dead and this was some weird purgatory. Maybe Toby didn’t exist at all and your mind made him up to avoid processing the extreme trauma. Maybe-

Your thoughts were disrupted by a knock on your window, the sound causing you to jump. Scrambling to throw off the covers you jumped out of bed, rubbing your eyes before yanking your curtains open. Toby gave you a simple wave, his axe slung over his shoulder. You opened the window, watching him climb inside. “I have a front door you know,” You said. You watched him shut the window, yanking the curtains shut. “D-draws too m-much attention. B-besides, this won’t take long,” Toby said. He dropped his axe down on the floor, shoving his goggles on top of his head. His chocolate eyes met yours, staring down at you. “I need you t-to know you don’t want this, I-I need you to be afraid of me,” He growled. You didn’t understand, slowly taking a step backwards. “Why?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Toby followed you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. “I-i’m not the good guy. All of these b-b-bullshit fantasies you’ve cooked up-p are wrong,” He spat. You felt your face turn red, your eyes widening. How did he know-

“I’m n-not your savior. In e-every other scenario, i’m the bear,” He growled. There was something about his voice, his eyes, the way he stood over you. You hated how attracted to him you were in this moment. “I don’t believe you. You won’t hurt me,” You whispered. In a swift motion his fingers were wrapped around your throat, your back colliding with the nearest wall. The air was knocked out of your lungs, your hands flying to his wrist. He glared down at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

Toby didn’t have it in himself to kill you. He was in deep enough shit with The Operator already, just by saving you. Proxies were designed to be ghost. They operated entirely by invisibility. They were never there. They never left any trances of their presence or work. Toby had a small solo mission, one that didn’t require Masky or Hoodie monitoring him. His mistake was traveling through the forest on foot, just trying to make it back to the mansion as swiftly as possible. He had noticed you way before the grizzly bear. You were quite pretty. Plump lips, soft eyes, gorgeous skin. Toby couldn’t help but allow himself a rare pleasure just for a brief moment. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been around a girl that wasn’t a designated target. In all fairness, Toby hadn’t seen the grizzly either. He was too focused on you and your beauty, his survival skills temporarily subsided. When you ran into the bear he didn’t have time to think, only to act. He felt an odd urge to protect you. Whether or not The Operator would forgive him for acting on this urge was a different story.

Toby was permitted to see you one final time, to finish the job. Masky and Hoodie had removed the bear corpse and any signs of Toby’s presence. Proxies weren’t allowed to leave evidence or witnesses. The Operator would’ve been mildly satisfied with allowing you to believe you were going insane. The supernatural being stayed lurking in your thoughts, sprinkling fear through out your persistent dreams. He turned them into night terrors. Toby felt guilty, knowing that your sanity would eventually turn into mush. He monitored you closely, watching you return to the forest. He feared The Operator’s influence was only encouraging you to continue your investigation. Toby knew he had to put a stop to it. For your future would become far more tarnished if you continued to anger The Operator. So he took it upon himself to attempt to fix the situation. What he hadn’t accounted for was your faith. You had raw uncensored faith in him. Toby couldn’t quite understand why. He needed to scare you away. Your interest in him needed to fade away from your memory.

Yet it didn’t, your eyes widened as you stared up at him in awe. Your lips were parted, your heart pounding as he squeezed your neck. He shoved his knee in between your legs, a small gasp escaping your lips. He blinked, confused at the erotic sound. “I-is this how you w-wanted to repay me?” Toby asked. The idea made his head spin. The idea that something as pure and innocent as you would want him. Your face was turning a darker shade of red, your tongue tied. He loosened his grip on your throat, watching as you gulped large amounts of oxygen. “P-please,” You sputtered, gulping. Toby’s pupils blew with lust, his hand falling from your throat. All of this time he wanted to scare you, yet you were willing to let him fuck you? “You’re not scared of me?” Toby asked hesitantly, You nodded, refusing to break eye contact. “Good k-keep that in mind,” He ordered. He shoved his face mask aside, quickly pressing his lips against yours. He ignored the burning embarrassment that radiated off of him as he kissed you. His eyes were screwed shut, while yours were wide open.

He knew you were staring at the gash that sat on his cheek. The sight alone was scarring, nevertheless unforgettable. You could see his teeth, the skin around the wound healed and scared over. You wanted to ask questions, but his eager hands grabbing your forearms distracted you. The man before you looked deathly ill and had somehow survived losing a major part of his face. His kisses were hot and heavy, desperate to regain your focus on him and only him. Not his imperfections he kept hidden from the outside world. He couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed anyone, the mint from your tongue dancing across his tastebuds. As he inhaled through his nose deeply he recognized how good you smelled. When’s the last time he had ever smelled anything besides dirt and blood? Toby pulled away, his cheeks a light tint of pink as he stared down at you. You looked so cute and flustered. The man before you was enchanting, a supernatural creature you knew you couldn’t understand. All of that mystery only made you want him more. You sank to your knees slowly, keeping eye contact with the man before you.

Toby wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Doing this, allowing this with you was wrong.

It didn’t matter how much Toby wanted this to happen. It was wrong. The Operator would skin him alive if he knew the devious acts he was committing. He was supposed to be killing you, not watch you unzip his pants with those stupid big eyes of yours. But Toby couldn’t help but feel selfish. He had never felt so possessive before, so desperate to keep something all to himself. But with you, he absolutely did. He did everything for everyone else. For The Operator. For Masky and Hoodie. He hardly ever did anything for himself. As a proxy you’re meant to be a vessel, a working part in a moving machine. You’re apart of a unit, not an individual with wants or desires. Yet without thinking twice he broke away from that mold, by saving you from the bear. The brunette decided that he deserved one thing and that one thing was you.

You shoved his boxers and pants to the floor, his hard cock presenting itself in front of you. The sight of salivating, your lips wrapping around his tip. Toby’s hand found its way to your hair, tangling itself in your roots. “F-fuck just like that,” He groaned, subtly pulling you towards him. You whimpered as you began to bob your head up and down his shaft, the man in front of you borderline shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. Meanwhile you were a mess, your thighs attempting to rub together to create some friction while you sucked his cock. You felt your nipples harden under your shirt, your eyes struggling to stay open. His large hand on the back of your head guided you to go faster, his tip scraping the back of your throat. “My f-fucking fuck!” Toby groaned. You were so perfect. So pretty and usable. And better yet? You were all his. His hips began to snap faster into your mouth, his cock now face fucking you. You gagged on his shaft, his girth far larger than you had anticipated for.

You gripped at his thighs, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth as he abused your throat. “Such a good fleshlight,” Toby moaned. You felt tears begin to flood your waterline, your jaw forced to go slack. Toby’s thrust were relentless, the brunette obsessed with chasing his high. “A-awe you look so adorable drooling on my c-cock,” Toby cooed mockingly, relishing in the sight of the fresh tears dripping down your cheeks. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge, his fingers yanking at the roots of your hair. You moaned around his shaft, the vibrations enough to send him over the edge. He thrust inside of your throat one final time, his seed spilling down your throat. Satisfied, he watched as you struggled to swallow his load. You gagged as he pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp down oxygen as you wiped the saliva from the sides of your mouth. Toby knelt down in front of you, cupping your cheek with his large hand. He wiped away one of your tears with his thumb, leaning in to kiss you. Just as his lips were about to graze yours, the overwhelming sound of static flooded his head.

He cursed as he leaned away, his hands gripping his head. “What is it? What’s wrong?” You asked. Toby shook his head. “Boss is calling, gotta go,” He said dryly. He began to redress himself, rising to his feet. You awkwardly joined him, wetness dampening your panties between your thighs. “What about me?” You asked softly. Toby hadn’t considered your needs, his eyes widening as he turned back to look at you. Your face was flushed, your hair a mess. Your lips were red and plump from his abuse, your thighs rubbing together as you stood in front of him. Toby unsurely tucked some stray hairs behind your ear, pulling his mask over his nose. “Dont wait up for me, but i’ll be back,” He said. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, tangoing with the devil that was beckoning him. He felt a brief moment of sympathy, noting the sadness in your eyes. He shoved his goggles over his eyes, throwing himself into the night. You watched him go, leaving you to decode everything that just happened.

[thesezodiacs]

Your Rising Sign and how others perceive you ⋆·˚ ༘ *

The Rising Sign is very important in a chart, it defines your identity (the 1st house) and your shell. It shows how you react in new situations. I like to call it the “social mask” of a person because, let’s be honest, we all have one. We don’t just reveal our true selves immediately—okay, maybe some of us do, but I believe there’s an explanation for that in the chart as well.

Anyway, the Rising Sign represents how we present ourselves, how we approach new situations, how we are perceived, and how we act. Let’s dive in.

✧ Aries Rising

Others see them as someone who takes charge and isn’t afraid of new things. They’re likely the ones who share their opinions right away. They come across as energetic and, at times, a bit forceful. This Rising Sign often has quick, dynamic body language or gives the impression of always being on the move.

They are perceived as confident and direct, often making a strong first impression. Their energ unfiltered, giving them a sense of urgency and drive that others immediately notice. Aries Rising individuals come across as leaders, pioneers, and initiators, ready to take on anything. I must say that this Rising Sign is very rare!

✧ Taurus Rising

These people appear collected and grounded, radiating stability and reliability, which makes them easy to trust! They might come across as reserved or shy, not because they are, but because they prefer to observe before engaging.

Taurus Rising individuals open up slowly, but once they do, they are loyal and consistent. They move through life at a deliberate, steady pace, exuding poise, patience, and quiet confidence. Others see them as graceful and unshaken.

✧ Gemini Rising

These are the one‘s who are really interested in others and likes to show them that. These people come across as quick-witted, curious, and expressive, always picking up on everything around them. Their energy is restless and unpredictable, making them engaging but sometimes hard to pin down.

Gemini Rising individuals are seen as charming, adaptable, and full of ideas, effortlessly making connections. They bring a sense of lightness and spontaneity, but their attention can shift just as fast.

✧ Cancer Rising

These people come across as gentle, intuitive, and emotionally attuned, often making others feel safe and understood. Their energy is soft yet protective, and they have a natural way of reading the room before fully engaging.

Cancer Rising individuals are perceived as nurturing, sensitive, and deeply in tune with their surroundings. They may initially appear reserved or cautious, but once they feel comfortable, their warmth and care shine through. Others often see them as empathetic, nostalgic, and deeply connected to their emotions, with an aura that feels familiar and comforting, like home.

✧ Leo Rising

These people come across as self-assured, engaging, and full of vitality, there’s something about them that naturally draws attention. Their energy is dynamic and expressive, making them seem effortlessly at ease in social settings.

Leo Rising individuals are perceived as bold, captivating, and impossible to overlook. They carry themselves with a natural sense of authority, often leaving a strong impression without even trying. Their presence feels bright, animated, and full of enthusiasm, making them seem larger than life. Others may see them as playful, charming, and sometimes a bit theatrical, but always memorable.

✧ Virgo Rising

These people come across as composed, observant, and precise, often giving off an air of quiet intelligence. They tend to be attentive to details and have a naturally polished or put-together appearance, even if they don’t try too hard. Their energy is subtle yet sharp, making them easy to underestimate, but they notice everything.

Virgo Rising individuals are perceived as reliable, thoughtful, and pragmatic, with a way of carrying themselves that feels grounded and deliberate. They often appear reserved or analytical, as if they’re constantly assessing their surroundings. Others may see them as modest, efficient, and highly self-aware, with an understated confidence that speaks through their actions rather than words.

✧ Libra Rising

These people come across as graceful, approachable, and socially attuned, often making a strong first impression without seeming like they’re trying. Their energy is charming and balanced, with a natural ability to blend in while still standing out.

Libra Rising individuals are perceived as polite, diplomatic, and aesthetically conscious, always aware of how they present themselves. They have a way of making others feel at ease, often adapting to the energy of a room effortlessly. Others may see them as pleasant, refined, and effortlessly likable, with a knack for creating harmony wherever they go.

✧ Scorpio Rising

These people come across as intense, private, and deeply self-contained, giving off a vibe that’s hard to ignore. There’s something about them that feels magnetic yet unreachable, as if they keep part of themselves hidden at all times. Their energy is strong, focused, and impossible to read, which naturally makes others curious.

Scorpio Rising individuals are perceived as guarded, perceptive, and hard to fool. They don’t reveal much right away, but they pick up on everything. Their presence feels charged, like they see straight through the surface, making some people intrigued and others uneasy. Others may see them as serious, intense, or even intimidating, but those who get past their walls recognize their deep loyalty and emotional depth.

✧ Sagittarius Rising

These people come across as open, lively, and always up for something new. There’s a sense of freedom and excitement in the way they move, talk, and interact with the world. They often seem like they’re going somewhere, physically or mentally, always chasing the next idea, adventure, or experience.

Sagittarius Rising individuals are perceived as easygoing, optimistic, and naturally funny, with a way of making people feel like anything is possible. They don’t take themselves too seriously and bring a light, spontaneous energy into any room. Others may see them as restless, outspoken, or a little unpredictable, but there’s something refreshing about their ability to live in the moment and see the bigger picture.

✧ Capricorn Rising

These people come across as composed, self-assured, and somewhat serious, often giving the impression that they have everything under Kontrolle. There’s a natural authority in the way they carry themselves, making them seem mature and capable, no matter their actual age.

Capricorn Rising individuals are perceived as responsible, determined, and reserved, with a focus on efficiency and long-term goals. They don’t waste energy on unnecessary things and often seem like they’re always working toward something bigger. Others may see them as disciplined, grounded, or even a bit distant at first, but over time, their dry humor, loyalty, and quiet ambition become impossible to miss.

✧ Aquarius Rising

These people come across as independent, unconventional, and a little unpredictable—there’s something about them that feels different but intriguing. They often have a unique style, way of thinking, or presence that makes them stand out, even when they’re not trying.

Aquarius Rising individuals are perceived as open minded, intelligent, and effortlessly cool, with a natural ability to see things from a broader perspective. They can be friendly yet detached, making them easy to talk to but hard to truly know. Others may see them as quirky, forward-thinking, or a bit rebellious, but one thing’s for sure, they’re never boring.

✧ Pisces Rising

These people come across as dreamy, gentle, and hard to pin down, as if they exist in their own world. Their energy is soft, fluid, and intuitive, making them naturally easy to be around, but also a little elusive. They have a way of blending into different environments, often reflecting the energy around them rather than asserting themselves too strongly.

Pisces Rising individuals are perceived as empathetic, artistic, and deeply in tune with emotions, sometimes giving off an almost otherworldly or mystical vibe. They can seem a bit lost in thought, unpredictable, or difficult to read, but there’s something about them that feels familiar and comforting. Others may see them as imaginative, kind-hearted, and slightly detached from reality, yet full of depth if you take the time to truly see them.

[kenyummy]

✰ 00. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 00. the lonely spider.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

masterlist. ✰ next.

The moment it happened, everything was completely normal.

Well—as normal as it can get for the one (and only) friendly neighbourhood Spidey in your world. The infamous webslinger, daring vigilante—but most importantly, a superhero.

(Cut back on the super part right now—you're not looking too hot.)

Doc lands a swift hit to your ribs, sending you slamming back into a wall behind you. Every nerve feels like they were lit on fire, but your extreme physicality allows you to stand back up and fight.

Ignoring the blood pooling beneath your tongue—you make a mental note to clean out your mask after—you web two of his mechanical arms down before they can sweep you off your feet.

A chuckle escapes your mouth as you flip over him and send a kick flying into his back, "Oh come on, Doc—you haven't gone all soft on me, have you? It's almost like you want to be sent back to state prison!"

"Stay still you damn—" A snarl escapes his lips as you dodge another one of his prying arms. "Insect—"

Another laugh bubbles from your mouth—which turns into a shriek as one of his arms slams you into the ground below. "Okay—I take that back—not going soft!"

You grunt, pushing yourself up from the concrete—shooting a string of web to the ceiling and swinging toward him, "Alright, Doc—say hi to my finishing move,"

You wind up your legs and throw your feet towards his body, "A well-needed face lift—!"

Your kick doesn't land. In fact—you don't seem to land at all. Then, you feel nothing and you are weightless. But only for a brief moment.

It's as if the world shifts and moulds around you, forming into a new subspace where nothing but you exist. You can't sense a single thing—even with your little tingle—until you find yourself planting face-first into a brick wall.

Ow.

Before you can fall into the alleyway below—you stick to the bricks like glue and clutch for dear life. It's damp and it's all so dark you could've been mistaken as a character in an indie horror film.

... Where... ???

Your head hurts. Real bad. The migraine you have right now is killer—and being up this high isn't helping. When your two feet land flat on the floor, you feel a little better.

You clutch your hair through your mask, chest rising and falling erratically. The whites of your eyes are practically squeezed shut as you try and focus and figure out what exactly is going on.

Everything hurts so bad, you don't even feel the looming presence sinking behind you, nor the shadow that seems to sink you in darkness. You don't feel anything—not until you get sent flying into the nearest streetlamp.

Citizens all around you shriek and scream in terror as you make a spider-sized dent in the metal. They run, and you open your eyes with a groan of pain—they widen immediately at the sight in front of you.

A shock runs through your entire body as a snarling lizard-like creature emerges from the alleyway's shadows and starts running at you on all fours—drool and foam pooling in the corners of his snout.

Teeth bared at your menacingly and its jaw widens as if it's trying to take a chunk out of you—you leap upwards and perch on the top of the streetlamp before its chomping snout takes two of your (figurative) eight legs off.

"Hey! What's your issue?!" You call out from your perch, eyes narrowed into a glare. He answers only with an ear-grating roar, tearing the metal from its post and you barely manage to hop off before it's sent flying to the next city.

You land on the tips of your toes, holding the lizard's jaw wide open as it tries to close with you inside it. Drool flies all over your suit as he snarls like a true animal—and now your suit is wet with reptile drool. Yuck.

"You know, I thought you looked like a lizard I know, at first—" You land a kick straight into his stomach, which sends him flying backwards (but not nearly as far as you'd like). "—But really, now that I got a closer look, you're just really ugly!"

A swift uppercut to his jaw closes his snapping mouth, but his tail manages to sweep underneath your feet and you fall flat on your ass.

He stomps down on your ribs and you cry out in pain from the sheer force—feeling your bones rattle and crack under the pressure. "Hasn't anyone told you it's not very polite to stomp on the heroes you like?!"

You slide from between his oversized legs with a web and grab onto his neck from behind—gripping down and channelling all your strength into flipping him over you.

He lands on his tail and lets out a shrill roar—while you swing upwards onto a nearby roof, encasing his entire figure in your webs as your lips turn up into a smile (indistinguishable to the naked eye, of course—beneath your bright red mask).

The lizard-like creature is tied up next to you—thrashing and growling like a rabid beast. He swings around and around from the edge of a roof—while you walk up and down the building, pondering on what to do.

"Okay—okay. Calm down, [name]. You totally just beat up that weird lizard thing. You totally just did that. Okay... okay... but what even..."

You narrow your eyes and look a little closer at it. "What even is it...?? What are you?"

You ask—yet, you don't expect to receive an answer. "Insolent bug...!!! You are no Batman!"

"Batman?" Your brows raise in surprise and you tilt your head to the side. "What... what is a Batman? Is that like—one of Reed's weird experiments? Like... a half bat, half man splice?"

The image you conjure up in your thought bubble makes the lizard creature stop scowling and simply give you a confused stare.

"Wait... is that some sort of new hero?! A D-list that I haven't met yet?! Was he part of the Avengers at some point? I could probably look him up in the database... oh wait—but everyone was a part of the Avengers at some point, huh? Even me."

You look a little closer at the thing. "Hey—even you could've been a part of the Avengers at some point, huh, ugly?"

"I will tear you to shreds, vermin!"

He starts thrashing and chomping at your head once more, so you let out a deep sigh and start to pace once more.

"What do I even do with a huge lizard? Especially one that can talk and is super chompy—could it be my pet or something? Maybe my next science project... hah—yeah! MJ would be so wicked jealous—"

Your head fizzles with a familiar static, and each one of your nerves tingles. Your spider-sense fills your head, full-blast, and you instinctively flip backwards and dodge a flying ninja-star-esque thing that comes flying right where your ribs would have been a second ago.

Another one also came soaring toward you—this time, it cuts the lizard thing from your webbing and he pummels to the ground below, growling as the ground cracks beneath his weight.

The whites of your eyes widen as you try to get a good look at whatever—or whoever—decided it would be a good idea to try and handicap you right after you just defeated a huge evil lizard.

In the dark, you can make out the figure of two people (one significantly smaller) on the rooftop in front of you. You shoot them the hardest glare you can muster, "Hey! Now—what's your problem! Unless you're friends with jolly green down there, I don't think I'm the one you should be throwing ninja stars at!"

You stick the wall behind you with ease and watch as the one with the large cape and... cat ears? pulls out a grapple gun and shoots it toward you.

Before he has a chance to leap, however—there's a crash below and the lizard has finally broken out of your webby confines.

The two figures come into the light as they jump down to the alleyway. A man with a large bat on his chest, and a boy with bright clothes yet a terrible scowl on his features and you finally get what that lizard guy meant.

Bat... man! Batman! But who—

The sound of fighting below, and the slamming of rubbish bins and dumpsters snaps you out of your stupor.

You need to go—before you meet the same fate as your happy lizard friend down there.

Whoever they were, wherever you ended up—it'd have to wait. For now, you crawl away as Spidey, slinging throughout the city with no destination in sight.

Meanwhile—your two new vigilante friends seemed to be having trouble with your webbing.

"Urgh—what is this stuff?!" Damian shakes his gloved hand once, then twice. The white, webby substance sticks to his hand like a vice and when he tries to wipe it off on his costume, he ends up smearing it all over his cape.

He turns around in frustrated circles trying to remove the webbing, only for Batman to take it off with ease, patting down the cape of his robin. Damian only huffs, indignant.

"I've never seen anything like it," Batman speaks, mildly curious. He feels it between his fingertips and watches it stretch endlessly even as he tries to slice it down the middle. "Sticky. Strong."

He notes, thinking back to how he saw a being such as Killer Croc being held up without strain by that thin line of webbing—at least for a good while. The criminal in question lay unconscious on the ground, tied securely with the police department on the way.

"Like a thick web," Damian throws his hood off his head. "Disgusting. It was probably that spider-thing."

"Most likely," Batman pockets the substance in a vial before grappling back up to the rooftops. Robin follows close behind. "I'll have Tim observe it whenever he gets back home. We still have the rest of the city to patrol tonight."

"Right," with a curt nod, they rush away, fading into the darkness of Gotham.

You're panting and exhausted by the time you make your way onto an empty roof. Clearly this place was a lot more crime-riddled than you'd initially assumed.

Getting chased down by brainless goons with umbrella guns was not on your bucket list—but you'd cross it off anyway.

You crouch on the ledge of the rooftop, staring down to the city below. The lights are dull and flicker like they're about to short-circuit any minute. It's nothing like your New York—no flashing advertisements, and certainly no bright colours that permeate your eye like candy.

This place... it's so bleak. Muted colours of grey and the occasional yellow glow. Nothing else. You wondered who could possibly live in a place like this.

Whatever. You'd find a way home somehow. You're the Spidey. Always finding your way out of every problem you get into—despite all odds, you do your best work when you're stuck in the most dire of situations.

But first... You really did need to find out where you were. You look around. There are a few billboards here and there—but what really catches your eye is a television program playing in the window of a store.

Your refractive lenses almost zoom in for you—you stare harder, and can make out the name of the channel that's on.

Gotham newschannel...

You scrunch your nose. Gotham? You'd never heard of it. And you've been to outer space more times than you could count. You'd even been to other universes, since Reed liked to drag you along with his family trips often.

You'd been told you were practically part of the family... and your brains were appreciated. It wasn't every day Reed Richards—smartest man on Earth—offered to take you to space, after all. Maybe you should've asked him about it more, seeing as you're in an unfamiliar place that seemed too dull to be real.

(Not like you could ask him now. He and his team have been missing for a few months now. You were scared half to death until Banner told you they weren't dead, per se—just unable to be located for one reason or another.)

You tap your chin, pacing back and forth on the rooftop.

Currently, you have two theories.

One—you've travelled to a different world somehow. You don't know how, or why—but that alligator thing seemed to feel rather alien—nothing like Doc Conner.

Two—you've become wrapped up in multiverse shenanigans again. This was the less favourable of the two options—as it's much harder to travel universes than planets. If you were just off-world, you could call for your buddy, Nova—even ask help from Kitty and her space-pirate crew.

Now—you're not sure on what exactly to do.

Thor? Does he even exist here???

You're lost. Completely and utterly so. All your distress calls to your many different teams over the years—X-Men, Avengers, Warriors, Defenders, even the Champions for crying out loud—but there's nothing.

You're alone. Utterly, completely, fully. There's nobody.

Your shoulders slump, and you sigh. Even an optimist like you gets down sometimes. Oh well—you'd have to figure something else out. Right now, static fills your head and your body moves before you can think—

You fall to your knees as a bullet pierces right past where your head would've been seconds ago. Your lenses narrow in at the masked goon with that same umbrella rifle. "Back for more? You must like getting beat up or something."

You swing forward and slam your fist into the side of his face—sending him tumbling backwards. Blood seeps out of his nose and he spits out a tooth when he lifts the mask up over his face. His smirk makes you pause. "Nah. I just have my orders."

Your head splits with pain as your body tingles again. There's something behind you—something dangerous—but you can't move. Not without letting him...—

You instinctively crouch in front of the man. A bullet pierces your left shoulder and you let out a loud shriek of pain. Biting your lip—hard. The goon you're crouched in front of is almost starstruck by your actions.

You let your left arm lie limp as you run toward the man behind you—webbing his face, sliding under his legs and slamming your foot into his face—making him fly right into the man from before.

You feel the blood pooling underneath the nanobots around your shoulder—gripping the area iron-tight as it throbs and burns. "You're lucky I didn't kick you off the building. I'm too good for that."

You grit your teeth and swing away with your one good arm before they have a chance to register your words—trails of red dripping down your arm across rooftops.

Eventually—you find your way to another alleyway. Your head is getting fuzzy and you don't know where you're even going. You can hardly see straight—there's two of everything and it's all going blurry. Bloodloss is hitting you like a freight train.

Healing factor can't do shit when the bullet's still in your shoulder. And you can't get rid of it yourself without taking off your suit. You stumble around a bit when landing in the dark of the alley—slumping against a head brick wall and wincing when it scrapes the raw, exposed flesh.

The nanobots flicker away to reveal your civilian clothes—forming back into your necklace and letting the blood drip down freely now. You're getting woozy. Are you dying?

No way. No way this is how you go out. You've battled more evil dictators than you can count on both hands. You've fought countless omega level mutants. You've been face to face with Galactus. Hell, you've met the One Above All (practically God).

You've done all this. You've achieved so much, and lost so much more... and this is how you die?

The blood soaks your fingertips like the cruellest and foulest smelling of wines. You're reaching around in the open wound for the bullet—but you can't find it, even with your deft fingers. Shit—how deep did this guy shoot you?

You're getting weaker. You can't even feel your fingertips anymore. Your eyes are closing. No—you can't die, not here, not now—

Aunt May, Uncle Ben... MJ and Harry... Johnny and Sue... Reed and Ben... Tony. Cap. Wolvey. Luke, Danny, Lin. Nat, Kitty, Kamala, everyone.

You can hardly see anymore. You weakly reach upwards when a man stands over you—whited eyes narrowed down and the strange red face of his being expressionless.

He crouches, and his hand falls to your cheek before all you feel is dark and cold.

taglist: @hello-bina @cosmosluckycharms !!! if you want to be added just ask me!!! i don't mind at all !!!!!

chap 1 coming out soon bc im impatient as hell trusttt

[d-targaryenshoe]

To Protect And Adore - Aegon II Targaryen

Word Count: 1219

Summary: Queen nor a Princess shall threaten an unborn child, should they? Most surely not if it's the king's child.

The dragonfire flickered and danced in the hearth, casting long shadows across the walls of the Red Keep.

You sat in the dim light, your hands protectively cradling your swollen belly.

The child within you was a secret you had kept for as long as possible, but the inevitable truth could no longer be hidden.

You were with Aegon's child, a fact that could change many lives.

Aegon Targaryen, the king, had taken you as his mistress at the time when his marriage to Helaena had been strained and loveless.

You were no noblewoman, but your beauty and grace had caught the eye of the dragon king.

What began as a passionate affair soon deepened into something more, and now, you carried the heir to the throne within you.

But with Helaena's tragic death, the court was rife with intrigue and whispers.

Power was up for grabs, and the position of queen was vacant.

As you sat in the quiet of your chambers, a knock at the door disrupted your thoughts.

Before you could respond, the door swung open and Alicent Hightower swept into the room.

Her face was a mask of cold fury.

"Y/n," she began, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "You should not have allowed this to happen."

You rose to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest. "Your Grace," you said, bowing your head slightly. "I did not intend for any of this."

Alicent's eyes narrowed. "Yet here we are. You are carrying my son's child, a bastard that will only bring disgrace and scandal to this house."

You felt a surge of protectiveness for your unborn child. "He is Aegon's son, and nothing will change that."

Alicent stepped closer, her expression growing darker. "You are a fool if you think I will permit this child to live. There are ways to deal with such inconveniences."

Fear gripped you, but you stood your ground. "You would not dare harm your grandchild."

Alicent's smile was chilling. "You underestimate me. If you value your life and that of your child, you will leave and never return."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to show weakness. "Aegon will protect us. He loves me, and he will not stand for this."

Alicent laughed, a cold, bitter sound.

"Aegon is weak. He is ruled by his desires, not his mind. But you are correct about one thing, he will protect you, at least for now. But even he cannot disobey me forever."

With that, Alicent turned and swept out of the room, leaving you trembling and alone.

You knew you had to tell Aegon, but fear for his reaction and what it might cost him stayed in your hand for a moment.

You could not put it off any longer.

The next morning, you went to his chambers.

Aegon was lounging on his bed, a goblet of wine in his hand.

His violet eyes lit up when he saw you, but his smile faded when he saw your expression.

"What is it?" he asked, setting the goblet aside and rising to his feet.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"Aegon, I need to tell you something. Your mother... she threatened me and our child. She told me to leave or she would... she would see to it that our child did not survive."

Aegon's face darkened with fury. "She said that? To you?"

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks. "I am frightened, Aegon. I do not know what to do."

Aegon's hands clenched into fists, and he turned away, pacing the room like a caged animal.

"She has gone too far this time," he muttered. "I will not let her harm you or our child."

He strode towards the door, and you hurried after him. "Aegon, please, do not do anything rash. She is your mother."

He turned to you, his eyes blazing. "She may be my mother, but she has overstepped her limits. No one threatens my family. No one."

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving you to follow in his wake.

You found Alicent in the throne room, deep in conversation with one of her advisors.

She looked up, startled, as Aegon burst in.

"Aegon, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded, rising to her feet.

Aegon strode up to her, his face a mask of fury. "You threatened y/n and our child," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"You think you can control me, manipulate me, but you are mistaken. I will not let you hurt them."

Alicent's eyes flashed with anger. "I am your mother, and I know what is best for this kingdom. That child is a threat to everything we have created."

Aegon took a step closer, pressing a finger to his mother's chest. "You do not get to decide who lives and who dies. I am the king, and I will protect those I love. If you ever threaten y/n or our child again, I will see to it that you are punished for this."

Alicent's face paled. "You would not dare."

Aegon grabbed her arm, his grip firm. "Try me."

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills.

Then Alicent wrenched her arm free and took a step back, her expression one of fury and disbelief.

"You will regret this, Aegon," she spat. "You are making a mistake."

Aegon shook his head. "The only mistake I made was not standing up to you sooner. Y/n is carrying my child, and I will marry her. She will be queen, and our child will be the heir to the throne."

Alicent's eyes widened with shock. "You cannot be serious. The nobles will never accept her."

Aegon turned to you, who had been standing silently by his side.

He took your hand and looked into your eyes. "I am very serious. I love her, and I will do whatever it takes to protect her and our child."

Your heart swelled with love and gratitude.

Despite the fear and uncertainty, you knew you would face whatever came together.

Aegon was willing to fight his mother, and risk everything, for your love and your child.

Alicent stood there, her face a mask of fury and disbelief. "You are a fool, Aegon. This will be your undoing."

Aegon turned back to her, his expression hard. "If protecting my family is my undoing, then so be it. I will not be a puppet for you to bear. This is my decision, and it is final."

With that, he led you out of the throne room, leaving Alicent to fume in silence.

As you walked down the corridors of the Red Keep, Aegon squeezed your hand.

"Do not worry," he said softly. "I will keep you safe. No one will harm you or our child."

You nodded, tears of relief streaming down your face. "I know. I trust you."

Together, you faced the uncertain future, your love and determination stronger than ever.

Despite the challenges and dangers ahead, you knew you could overcome anything as long as you were together.

Aegon's promise to protect his family was a vow that would never be broken, and your love would become the foundation of a new era for the Targaryen dynasty.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-five —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

A hand grips your shoulder. "We'll take care of them. Keep low and find a place for all of you to hide. Do not come out until we say."

His words blur together, but you manage to act accordingly, ignoring the pit in your stomach when he disappears around the truck. The concrete is covered in glass and rusted debris, so you keep low without letting your knees touch the ground and motion for the others to follow.

The closest place is an old café, the door closed with chains but the glass window shattered enough for you to crawl through. You pull the knife from your ankle as you move everyone behind the cash register, gripping the handle tight once you lean your back against it. The café is quiet. Still. No one else is here. You steady your breath. Staring at you are the double doors to the kitchen in the back, a thick waft of mold radiating, and behind you are tipped-over chairs and tables.

The noise outside has drifted. When you take a quick peek, you don't see anyone near the truck anymore. It is as if the three of them have followed whoever was shooting.

"Twix, I—"

You look back. Blue is holding her hand out, a shard of glass thrust in her palm.

Blood oozes.

You have no supplies on you, but you carefully pinch the glass between your thumb and forefinger. She bites her lip as it wriggles free, releasing another gush of blood. As if on cue, the kitchen doors burst open with ear-splintering screeches, and three Greys surge toward you.

Blue's bloodied hand reaches for her ankle knife as one tackles you, grinding your spine into the counter's edge. Two gunshots ring out over the snarling in your face. You thrust your arm against its throat, keeping the chomping jaws at bay, and with your other hand, stab the knife into its skull three times, until it whines like a dying animal.

When you shove the corpse to the tile floor, you see the two others on the ground. Blue is pulling her knife from one skull, and Ari has a gun in his hand.

"I only have one more bullet," he pants, double-checking the barrel.

"Someone could've heard the gunshots," Nereida whispers frantically.

"Then we find somewhere else to hide. Come on." Your eyes land on a graffitied door on the side wall. It leads into an alleyway that smells putrid. You motion for Ari to give you the gun as you lead the way, sandwiched between brick walls. You can still hear rounds firing from the street. They stutter in sync with your heartbeat.

You shove a rusted crate that blocks the path. You catch sight of movement, and something scurries between your boots. Blue squeaks and grips Ari's arm, your hand tightening on the gun—but it's only a raccoon.

"There."

You spot a sizable dumpster around the corner, where the narrow alley widens enough for cars to pass behind the buildings. Nereida helps you shove off the debris on top and heave open the lid. A thick waft of rot rises, along with a buzz of fruit flies. The dumpster is half-filled with blackened garbage and charred bones, but no Greys. You don't have time to find another spot as two male voices echo from down the alley.

"I heard it over here!"

"Let's check, come on."

Shit.

You lace your fingers for Blue to step on them. "Quick, get in."

Once the kids are inside, Nereida grabs the edge and hoists herself up. You glance back, stomach coiling as two shadows approach the corner. Quickly, you close the lid after her, scatter the debris back on top, and scurry behind a nearby crate, palm sweaty around the gun.

A fevered study of the shadows reveals two healthy, fit men. One bullet. Something in the second one's gait seems slightly off. You make a split-second decision, peek over the crate, and aim for the first man's chest, doubting your ability to land a headshot.

He falls dead with a thud and then you are launching blindly at the second man with your knife, but you fail to pierce flesh when a strong grip snatches your wrist. The man's rifle skids across the ground and your back is slammed against the wall, your skull colliding with the brick hard enough to make stars dance across your vision. A muscled forearm presses into your neck, effectively cutting off your air.

"Fucking bitch."

Even through the blood rushing between your ears, the growl in your face is—familiar.

You blink up at a man swallowed by a massive burn scar.

The tip of his nose is gone, with eyelashes and scalp burnt away, revealing poorly healed ripples of flesh.

One eyelid fails to open properly, the skin too scarred.

The recognition unfurls your eyes.

He presses harder. "I know you, don't I?" Anger cuts through his gaze. "Ah. That's right—a thief and a killer. You're full of surprises, sweetheart." The curl on his burnt lips makes you flinch, but there is nowhere to go. "I guess you found new friends."

"I guess—I guess you did... too..." Short gasps leave your mouth.

"Shut up," he growls. "I don't want to hear a word from a stuck-up bitch like you who thinks her tits and her cunt are worth more than my goddam face." He is yelling now, spit flying in your eyes. "Don't you dare look away from it! What, not proud of your handiwork?" He breathes hard and looks you over with a snigger. "Finding you is just my luck. I was going to go easy the first time, but now I think I'll kill you then enjoy you. How's that sound? Your corpse being passed around? Hope your cunt is as good when you're dead—"

White-hot anger ripples through your veins and you snarl before hurling a wad of saliva in his face, using the brief distraction to drive your knee into his groin. He staggers back enough for you to escape his hold and push away from the wall.

Gulps of air feel painful down your throat. You back away, readjusting the hold on your knife while he rubs his eyes furiously. 

"You're sick," you growl, voice hoarse and low. 

"And you're not, princess?"

"I'm not a goddamn rapist."

"You ruined my fucking face," he retorts, stalking you down the alley. At least you are drawing him away from their hiding place—you make an unnoticed glance at the dumpster to ensure no one else has approached, relieved to see the lid unmoved. When your eyes flick back to him, a sick curl twitches on his lips. "You're not innocent here. You're damned like everyone else. That ride of yours now has a shot tire, and that boat—" he chuckles, "—what? Thought you were gonna get out of this hell? We made sure to put a hole in that, too."

His words sink in. 

For a moment, horror grips you.

But you channel it through your veins as something useful—rage—and launch at him without abandon. He anticipates an attempt to stab his side again, so he blocks there, but instead, you reach for his marred face and claw the unhealed wounds, reopening them. He howls like an animal, stumbling back and cradling his cheek as blood seeps between his fingers. 

"I'm going to kill you, bitch—"

He blindly reaches for the rifle on the ground but you are quick to kick it away. You jump on him, this time bringing him to the concrete, which scrapes against your exposed skin as you wrestle to come out on top. But he is stronger. Heavier. For the second time you become pinned, he tries to dig his hands into your throat. The lack of oxygen threatens to turn the world black, but you slap a hand back on his face and rip off his scarred eyelid before it can.

He roars.

You spit in his face.

Your knife—you lost it in the midst.

As blood pours from his eye, you outstretch an arm and feel for the handle.

The leather is in your palm.

You stab his side.

You shove at his shoulder to get him off.

Then you pin him down, and plunge the knife over and over into every piece of him you find. Neck, chest, cheek, shoulder.

Again and again.

A slashed jugular. Ripped arteries.

Your vision is consumed by blood. You let yourself drown in it. Hot, thick—

Arms grab you by the waist and lift you into the air.

You attempt to wriggle free and dig your knife in them, but the person is quick to disarm you.

"Twix." 

A skull face stares down at you. Your bloodied fingers wrap around Ghost's shirt as you pant heavily. It's him. He's here. 

"Where are they?" he shouts over the ringing in your ears.

He sets you down, gripping your shoulders to steady you. It takes a moment to gather your senses, to comprehend his words. Your hands, shirt, and face are drenched in blood. Your head throbs with weight. Slowly, the world snaps back into focus. You glance around, spotting Kyle and Price standing behind him.

"There," you finally breathe out. "The dumpster. They're...they're in there. Safe. They're safe."

His eyes flick over the length of you, perhaps to ensure all of the blood is not yours, before the three of them thrash off the debris and lift the lid to the dumpster around the corner. They help out Nereida, Ari, and Blue. 

"Ghost." You try to swallow, but the pain hums with each attempt. His eyes snap to yours just as he checks over Blue. "He... They've shot a tire."

"I know. I've got a spare."

"The kayak, too. How are we—"

"We figure that out later. We need to leave." Price slings the rifle over his shoulder and grabs his wife by the arm. "Those fucks are going to be drawn straight to us now."

Blood. Right. 

You push through the ache in your head and run after them back to the truck. The absence of gunfire signifies everyone else has been taken care of, but just as predicted, a chorus of moans begins to filter through the buildings. From windows, underneath cars, and benches—Greys begin to crawl out. The faster ones are quickly shot by either Kyle's handgun or Ghost's rifle. Price helps everyone into the car and slams the door shut as Ghost and Kyle continue firing.

"Wipe yourself, quick. And change inside." Price throws a rag at you. Your backpack.

You get into the passenger seat, wiping your face and hair with a splash of water from Blue's canteen, then toss the stained rag out onto the street.

You don't care if anyone can see as you slip off your shirt, throwing it out the window, and slipping on a clean one.

Outside, Price and Kyle shoot away any Greys that approach as you suspect Ghost is changing the blown out tire, because you can't see him even in the side mirror. 

Within ten minutes, he flings open the door and takes seat behind the wheel. This time Price and Kyle hop in the truck bed with their guns as Ghost starts the ignition with a loud rumble, veering sharply back onto the road. 

Time has been stolen. It is high afternoon, the sky a clear blue even though the streets you leave behind in Halstead are tainted red.

Now the map is in your hands, but Ghost seems to know the way from here.

"How long can the spare go for?"

"Long enough." His words are clipped. "But the kayak we need to figure out."

"It can't be fixed, can it?"

His silence is your response.

Your mind races.

Minutes blur. Behind you, Nereida quietly helps wrap Blue's hand.

Colchester whirls by without obstructions, but you keep looking out the window and squinting, paranoid. You make it to the coast within an hour. The buildings turn into colorful, seafaring cottages and the streets turn to uneven cobblestone. Seashell chimes dance in store fronts that are plastered with old signs reading KEEP OUT IF INFECTED. Ghost makes a sharp right down a narrow street and parks the truck in front of a lone, blue cottage that seems remote enough to be safe. Even if the kayak was fine, you'd have to stop for the night in order to get out on the water at the start of morning.

A flock of oystercatchers scatters as the truck doors slam open and close. The air, thick with salt and spume, is cooler here, the breeze tugging at your tangled hair, where bits of dried blood still clings. The view of the sandy shore and rocky pier would be beautiful, if your mind weren't elsewhere, if the day hadn't been marked by panic.

Ghost circles around to look at the kayak. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," Price mutters.

He helps him pull it out. 

Blue and Ari sit on the steps to of the cottage's porch and listen in silence. 

Nereida watches from beside you, tucking a sweater on against the chill.

Ghost flips the kayak, revealing a bullet hole that goes through one end and out the other. Anger radiates from his tense shoulders. "Christ."

"We can't patch it like we did the raft, can we?" Kyle asks, bending on his knees to look at the damage.

Price raps his knuckles against the hollow sides. "No, it's hard plastic. It would need welding to fix holes like that."

The understanding lingers in the air as you cross arms over your chest. "I'll stay behind, then," you speak up. Nails cutting your palms. You're damned like everyone else. Nereida looks at you with wide eyes, touching your arm. "If we can't fix it, then all we have is the raft and it only fits six. You guys take it in the morning and I will stay behind here—"

"No one is staying behind," Ghost grits fiercely. He gestures at the truck bed. "It doesn't even matter if we got rid of a person. The supplies have to fit, too. Even if we make it across, we're dead without the ammo and food."

Price trails his thumb over the hole in the plastic. "Two would have to stay behind in order for us to fit all the supplies." Your breath hitches as you watch him calmly stand up. "Or... two would have to swim."

"Swim?" you repeat. "You can't just swim it. I mean—it's open water."

"Nothing we haven't swam in before." Kyle leans against the side of the truck, crossing his arms. "But it's further across than the strait. Jesus, what is it? A 40, 50 kilometer swim?"

"Then we take turns," Price says. "Two of us at a time."

"I can take a turn," Nereida offers. "I used to swim in college. I mean, it can't be so bad if we go in intervals, and hold onto the raft."

You breathe deep, looking at the water that crashes upon the shore in the distance and then at Ghost, who is already staring at you. "I can take a turn, too."

"The three of us will start it off. If we need you two to cover, then you'll be ready to go. The kids stay in the raft."

You swallow. "It's not just about getting tired, we need plenty of water to drink. You can still get quickly dehydrated, and the temperature of the water—I mean, hypothermia can set in fast even it is warm."

"We load up on clean water tonight and have blankets and towels ready to go," Kyle says.

You glance back at Ghost. The rise and fall of his chest turns more steady as he nods his head in resignation.

"That's our only choice, then."

The evening is thick with silence.

No one has the energy for conversation, only exchanging brief requests or simple instructions. Starting a fire is risky even here, but you need clean water. A freshwater creek lies a few kilometers back, so Price and Ghost take the truck while the rest of you work on inflating the raft for tomorrow. Whatever happened between you and Kyle goes unspoken, both of you focused on the task at hand, taking turns pumping and checking the seams for anymore holes. When the two return, you help boil the water over a small wood-burning stove in the cottage, praying the smoke rising from the chimney isn’t too noticeable in the growing breeze as the sun sets.

The cottage is mostly bare, with only a dining table, a knocked-over chair, and a stripped bed frame in one of the rooms. The bathroom is quaint, its sea star wallpaper faded, and a warped mirror hangs above the sink. You stare at your reflection while the others lay out sleeping bags on the dusty floor, turning in early to conserve energy for the new plan to cross the channel. Ghost has taken first watch, sitting out on the porch with a rifle.

You listen to their soft murmurs outside the bathroom door as you work on getting out the rest of the blood in your hair. There is a red mark on your throat that is sore to the touch, and the back of your head still feels like someone has taken a hammer to it. Your eyes seem darker than the last time you saw them. You take another rag, wet it, and wipe it all over your skin. Then, you pad back out where the last lamp has been turned off and only moonlight through the boarded windows is left.

You slip into the empty sleeping bag next to Blue and stare at the ceiling. It is impossible to sleep—to even close your eyes for longer than a few seconds. Your heart refuses to even its pace, furiously pumping blood through your veins.

After an hour of lying still, the itch becomes intolerable. You slip silently from the sleeping bag, grab your backpack, and creep to the back door by the kitchen. It opens to a patch of overgrown grass. The cold air raises gooseflesh on your arms, but after emptying your bag, saving only the clothes, and tying it up on a branch, your blood runs hotter. Teeth gritted, you pound your fists into the makeshift punching bag, breathing hard through your nose to keep the noise to a minimum. 

You hit it until your lungs burn cold, and take a pause only to grab the backpack, close your eyes, and lean your forehead against it while breathing deeply. 

"I would say you can't sleep because you're excited for a swim tomorrow, but I know better."

His voice is just behind you, a rough murmur over the distant lapping sea.

You don't turn around. "I'm thrilled for it, actually."

A pause. Then, "Quite heroic of you. Offering to stay behind."

"I wasn't trying to be a hero. It just made the most sense."

You let out one last huff and then settle back into your stance, reopening your eyes to take another swing, but a hand on your wrist wretches you away. You glare up at him as he holds both of your closed fists, peering down at the raw, reddened knuckles.

You’re ready to argue—to tell him to leave you alone and let you hurt your own hands if you want to—but instead, he surprises you by letting go and stepping back. He chucks off his jacket and tosses it to the ground, unrivaled strength evident in the width of his bare, inked biceps. His feet widen, and his fists rise, silently beckoning you.

It’s been over a week since your last sparring session, but as soon as your fists are raised, the familiar rhythm takes over. He doesn’t hold back—not here, not ever. You abandon strategy, driven by the primal satisfaction of ramming your knuckles into his ribs. The adrenaline surge becomes the perfect distraction, each punch feeding your hunger for more. Your breath quickens, harsh and ragged, as you throw punch after punch. Most of your hits are deflected with effortless grace. He mirrors your every step, matching your intensity with his own.

He sweeps his leg out, sending you to your hands and knees. A growl escapes your lips as you spring back up.

He circles you like a vulture.

"I saw his face."

Cold sweat trickles down your bruised neck. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It was burned. Well, what was left of it. You fucked him up more than necessary." He lowers his fists, eyes locking onto yours with an intense scrutiny. Your nostrils flare as you aim a swipe at his jaw, but he catches your forearm, yanking you close until your chest is pressed against his. With a firm grip on your chin, he tilts your face upward, forcing your narrowed gaze to meet his."You can't hide, Twix. Not from me."

"He was the one who almost raped me, is that what you want to hear?" You dig your free hand into his chest. "And I killed him."

The shade of his irises darkens. "You did what you had to do—what I knew you could do when I left you. You protected yourself and the others."

"I enjoyed it. I wanted to kill him, and I have never wanted that before." You swallow through your sore throat and feel a subtle tremor up your spine as the fresh images brandish your mind. "I wanted to feel his blood on my hands, and if you hadn't stopped me, I would've kept going."

"He deserved it ten times over. I would've done the same."

"And what do I deserve?"

His voice is harsh. "You deserve to cross the channel tomorrow, and keep going. It was life or death. He got death, and you got life."

"And how much longer do I get it? Until the next time people start attacking us? The next horde of Greys? Even if we make it there alive, it will never be a normal life. I can never be a normal person again. Never. I feel like...like there is something broken and rotten inside of me, a-and maybe it was always there, like you said. But only now can I truly feel it."

By the last word, your voice has quieted to a harsh whisper. You avoid the stare bearing down at you by turning your chin. You failed to realize how close your faces have become. Your gaze drifts to the arm still holding you, prominent veins trailing beneath the inked skin, and you swear you can see a pulse in them as fast as your own. Heated breaths pass between your bodies in silence before you look back up at him.

"You murdered someone, didn't you?" you breathe out. "Before shit happened. Outside of the military. Actual murder."

His jaw ticks. "Yes. I did."

The blunt admission doesn't surprise you, nor does it frighten you.

He lowers his face a bit, enough for his exhalation to leave gooseflesh across your cheeks. "Ask me if I enjoyed it. Go on."

"Did you?"

"Very much so."

You swallow hard. "I guess you haven't been normal for a long time."

"No. I guess not," he murmurs.

The air feels thick between you. He studies you intently, fingers uncomfortably tight around your wrist, when the tip of his masked nose nudges tentatively—experimentally—against yours. Your breath hitches at the top of your throat. Your fingers absentmindedly slip under the hem of his mask on their own accord, peeling it up his neck to reveal a stubbled, scarred chin and full, pink mouth.

He doesn't move to stop you.  

You study the sight before you—one you didn't see so close up even when he broke his nose.

Then—the last thin thread of sanity within you snaps. With a surge of abandon, you firmly close your lips over his.

Heat instantly spreads through your mouth, through your limbs, and down to your socked toes. It is enough to flood you with the raw need to taste more of it. Your hands lower to twist tightly in the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer, and for a moment, those warm lips move slowly against yours. Then, he firmly presses on your shoulder and breaks away with a thin thread of saliva joining your mouths.

"Ghost." You pant raggedly, eyes darting across his face. Humiliation is ready to sink in at his rejection, but he growls under his breath and kisses you again—harder this time, drawing you in with a hand to your jaw.

It quickly turns into a clumsy, greedy mess of clanking teeth. One of your hands curls around the short hair at the nape of his neck. It is difficult to comprehend that it is his tongue, hot and demanding at the seam of your mouth, pushing in once you part it open. It is his hand moving from your jaw to your hair, fisting it to the point of pain, while his other grips your hip and backs you into the tree.

Your spine presses roughly against the bark. The heat and solidity of his chest against your breasts makes your mind go numb. You can't think about anything, not the day behind you or the one ahead, only feel. Blood courses through your veins with the same heat as when you fight him, but instead of growling in anger, you release a throaty sound of desperation, moving your hands to the backs of his shoulders and digging your nails into the flexed muscle. It encourages him to grind his hips against yours with a low groan, striking an unfamiliar wave of warmth between your legs.

You try to recreate the satisfying friction, greedily bucking into him, but it's difficult with the standing position. The mess of emotions inside you is impossible to sift through, but one certainty stands out: you need more of this, whatever it is.

You attempt to lift your legs and lock your ankles around him, biting his lip as a demand for him to help you, but his hand suddenly releases its hold on your hip and he rips away from your mouth, breathing hard through his bitten lips.

"That's enough," he says roughly, stepping away.

What?

It doesn't feel like even close to enough.

Before you can reach for him, he gives you his back and leaves you there, trying to regain your breath. 

[ghettogirly]

Hi lovely can you one for Armando x reader. Armando , Mike, Marcus, doesn't know what the reader does for a living. She find out thing before they do , skilled in everything. ( Whatever you want her to be). The reader takes the spot of reggie. Armando call her instead of Marcus. They get scared for her but just wait until they find out.

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄:

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑!

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏.

-> synopsis: Where armando calls you to warn you that you have trouble coming you way and to go hide somewhere safe. Little do they know, you can do more than hide.

-> warnings: spoilers for bad boys ride or die, mentions of violence.

[🕷️] author’s note: thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy!

Your first encounter of Armando was when he was released to be the new member of AMMO to repay his debt to the state for his crimes. He walked in with his father, Mike, in an alluring manner. You was a helper for the team, however currently unemployed. Failing to find your place in society.

The mexican-born male wore a black co-ord , tight to his chest and flattering in all the right places. His hair slicked in gel, the sides of his head faded with a scar at the side of it.

You both grew quickly closer, spending each day with each other even with the stares of judgement people descended onto you.

“He has killed countless people.”

“He’s a criminal, they should lock him up and throw away the key.”

“Armando Aretas. The animal who should be put down.”

It did hurt you for a while, leading you to deny your feelings for him. Until one day, after a passionate night with him, you tried to briskly leave in the middle of the night.

“Where are you going?” The males voice croaked out, his voice deeper than usual due to the vocal cords enlargement throughout the night.

“I need to go home, i’ve spent too long being here.”

A scoff is heard.

“Yeah. No surprise there. Running out of excuses are you?”

“ Its not an excuse i just have something to do at..”

“Guárdalo, solo vete. Te han lavado el cerebro las opiniones de otros y no quiero escucharlo más. Ahórrame los detalles.” Venom dropped off the latino’s tongue as he dismissed you away. Sadness overcame you as no words came out of your mouth.

Days went by, Armando never spoke to you. Tension flushed by you guys whenever you was by each-other in a room. One day, you couldn’t handle it no more and you grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn and look at you.

“I’m sorry. You’re more than just an animal or a criminal. I know i don’t even deserve for you to forgive me but i need to get this off my chest. I am so sorry Armando.”

You feel his arms engulf you in a hug as tears roll down your cheeks, embarrassed at how easily influenced you were from everyone’s opinions. “no llores mi amor, I forgive you.”

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏.

“Hey guys, we’ve got trouble.”

Armando’s shoes pounded down the wooden steps as he swiftly walked to Dorn’s computer, his nerves rising as he sees the blonde’s frantic typing on the keyboard below. “What’s wrong?”

The cameras on the computer pointing to every angle in your house, yet, 3 armed men slowly creep up to the front door. Ready to raid, they point their rifles towards the door. “Tenemos que tomarlos ahora!” One masked man, whisper shouts in spanish, their emotions covered but their body language is prevalent. He is tense.

Dorn shifted his position to turn to Armando, his brows furrowing, “Are these your people?”

He shook his head, “No.”

Time stood still before he realised the severity of the situation, rushing over to the phone he picks it up and rapidly taps your contact. “Mierda! Pick up the phone..”

A few seconds of beeps echoed around the room, the only thing filling the air of silence. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“We have no time. Take Uncle Marcus’s wife and go hide. Now.” His words dropped with warning as he kept it short and sweet.

Your eyes widen as you hear his stoic words. Quickly whipping your head to the side, you gather your godmother and hide in the closet. A loud bang blasts through the room as footsteps clatter along the floor, moving in a tactical fashion as they scan the house for people. Armando quickly runs to the cameras, looking at the masked men quickly run through the house, weapons pointed at every angle. “Fuck..”

A moment passes and you slowly slip past the closet door, gripping your fingertips on the cold, wooden pane, you slide by the counter and quickly exhale. “Lord, please protect me.”

The woman slowly slides her hand up the counter top, reaching for a knife before calculatedly turning left while peeking around. A second passes before you see an outline of a shadow descending down onto you. Slowly looking up, you see a gun pointed towards you. “Shit.”

With a quick whisk, you slice the knife through his leg, the man drops down and shouts in pain as you slit the masked man’s throat. Taking his gun, you push forward back into the living room where the rest of the men were. Angling yourself, you shoot the man in the corner before whipping the man in front of you with the rifle.

“Damn, that bitch can fight.”

Randomly another man whisks you around, taking you in a loose headlock. The sound of a gun goes off and the man falls back in anguish, brushing yourself off you turn around and shoot him in the head.

A quick moment goes by and by the end of it, all men are dead. The carpets and floorboards stained with a crimson red as you pant for air. You quickly run back to the closet, “it’s safe now. let’s go.” You say to Marcus’s wife, embracing her in a hug before you both hurry off.

Not before, you look up at the camera and smile. Blowing your pointer and middle fingers to represent a gun, before winking.

“You’re welcome.”

The male turns to the rest of the crew and grins, followed by a slow whistle.

“Seems like we know what she does after all.”

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“Guárdalo, solo vete. Te han lavado el cerebro las opiniones de otros y no quiero escucharlo más. Ahórrame los detalles.” - Keep it, just leave. You've been brainwashed by the opinions of others and I don't want to hear it anymore. Spare me the details.

“no llores mi amor” - Don’t cry my love.

“Tenemos que tomarlos ahora”: We have to take them now.

“Mierda!” - Fuck!

[honeyryewhiskey]

but, i'm a cupid!

or, you’re a cupid, you can’t help the natural call to make two beings fall in love. even if it means bringing critters into the bunker when no ones looking.  cw!! fluff, spn lore on cupids is bland so yes i’m adding to it, grumpy x sunshine trope 1.3k words

the bunker had been under a quiet hum for quite some time now, sam in the library organizing and filing while dean sat in the war room looking for cases. the older winchester had nearly forgotten about the little angel cas left in their care a few weeks ago. a cupid, to be precise. 

at first he absolutely refused, claimed they weren’t a daycare for heaven’s flight crew. but cas, being a busy man, simply left the brothers standing in the bunker with a smiley little cherub. unlike most angels dean has met, you were sickeningly sweet, incredibly helpless at times, and though he would never admit it— adorable, too. 

you tried to be helpful, like quietly stepping in to do the chores sam and dean argued over. but it’s not like you really knew what you were doing. like the time dean tiredly shuffled into the kitchen one morning, opening the cupboard to find bacon, milk, and eggs stashed in there. when he started on an angry roll of name calling, it was your tear filled eyes and pouty lips that made him shut up quick. that afternoon was spent teaching you what food goes in the fridge. 

or the time you tried to fix up the impala, completely unaware that spray paint doesn’t cover up scratches. when dean strolled into the garage, expecting to take a sweet sunday joy ride just to find his baby had been vandalised, his shouts damn near shook the entire bunker. when he found you with paint stained fingertips and that pathetic wobbly lip, his anger dissipated. you settled on a promise to never under any circumstances ever touch baby again. 

now, as he sits before the glow of sam’s laptop, the quiet begins to feel entirely unsettling. he leaves his spot, heading for the library. when he doesn’t see you taking on your usual little helper tasks with sam his brows furrow. 

��have you seen the little bird?” 

sam looks up from his pile of books and paper, “no,” he shrugs, “i thought she was with you.”

that damn cupid is up to something, he thinks to himself. 

with a sigh dean turns, setting off to sweep the bunker. the kitchen is quiet, empty. at least the food is safe he assures himself. heading down stairs into the hall of bedrooms he finds your room empty as well. as he heads towards the dungeon, the last place he’d expect you as you once described it as dark and spooky, a muffled giggle stops him in his tracks. 

he waits, listening, as he hears it again coming from sam’s bedroom. he quietly approaches the door, gently pushing it open to find you kneeling on the ground with your back to the door. 

“what the hell are you doing, lovebird?” he crosses the room, standing over you and what he can now see to be a pair of brown fluffy rabbits. 

startled, you look up at him with wide eyes, “nothing.” you smile. his heart does that stupid little flutter that seems to only happen when you smile at him like that. all sweet with a pinch of mischief. 

“right,” his brows knit together as he points at the rabbits, “this is nothing?” 

a little humph leaves your lips as you rise to your feet, crossing your arms and looking up at dean with a determined scowl across your face, “i’m matchmaking, if you must know. these two have been hopping around outside for days and i could practically smell how much they need each other.” 

he looks between you and the critters a few times, “yeah, no, we’re not doing this. no rabbits— no animals of any kind allowed in the bunker.”

 his heart pangs as you jut out your bottom lip, eyes growing glossy. damn this pathetically cute little thing. his hands instinctively cup your face, “hey, hey, lovebird. no crying, remember?” his voice gruff, barely masking his annoyance.

you sniffle, biting your cheek to stop the tears brimming your lashes. you can’t always help the crying, cupids are naturally empathetic creatures with no qualms about showing their emotions. dean thumbs your cheeks, giving a light squeeze to one side. 

“but i’m a cupid!” you cry out, “i can’t help wanting to help them fall in love.” 

“rabbits don’t fall in love!” he drops his hands from your face, trying to find his words despite the absurdity of yours. “they mate, like the saying, ‘mate like rabbits’ there's no love happening here.” 

you stare up at him, wiping stray tears as some terrible thought makes your face turn sour. “so, like you?” your voice reflects the absolute devastation you feel at the realization. 

“oh what now?” dean groans.

“they’re like you! mating with no love.” you whimper. it’s no secret dean moves about women with everything except love. it was one of the first things you noticed about him, a spider's web of potential love stories that never takes because he’s swatting them away before anything divine can happen. you could have easily fixed this, but something about dean getting sweet with another woman makes your heart feel heavy. besides, dean asked you specifically not to matchmake with humans while you were on earth. so, the itch to use your skills was killing you and a perfectly innocent set of rabbits happened to be right outside the bunker. 

dean shoots you an incredulous look before shaking his head, “alright, i’m gunna pretend you didn’t just say that, little bird. we’re getting these things out. now.” he brushes past you, reaching for the rabbits far too slowly and aggressively, making them scurry off in opposite directions. 

“great!” you shout, “you scared them! now they’ll never even mate!” you drop to your knees, cooing gently at the fluff hiding underneath the bed. 

dean paces behind you, eyes squeezed shut as he musters up all the patience in the world, “hold on,” he stops abruptly, tilting his head to you, “why are you in sam’s room?” 

a shy smile finds your lips at you meet his quizzical gaze, “sam doesn’t say no nearly as often as you do. i thought if he saw how cute the bunnies are, he’d be on my side and i’d get to keep them and their love babies.” 

as much as dean would love to think your words fill him with nothing but anger and annoyance, your innocently sharp manipulation is rather fascinating. you were right, sam doesn’t like to say no and he was more fond of having pets than his older brother is, but dean would have put an end to this little scheme one way or another. 

as you lie half under the bed now, reaching for one of the rabbits, dean notices the little black droppings peppering the room. sam’s room.

“actually, lovebird,” he smirks, “why don’t we leave those two alone for a bit, see if your matchmaking skills really can work on the wildlife.” 

your excitement at his words makes you scramble off of the ground, peering up at him with a hopeful smile, “really? you think it’ll work?” 

“mhm,” he grins, stealing your hand in his, “let’s give ‘em some space, i’ll watch that reality show you love and let you tell me which ones are fated souls and all that cupid stuff you talk about.” 

➹

you sat with your legs crossed on the couch, dean beside you with a beer in hand and an amused grin as you raddled off all the little quirks that are tell-tale signs of a cupid’s work. on the other side of the bunker there's a clunk of commotion that startles you, but dean hardly reacts, his grin morphing into a satisfied smirk. 

“what was that?” you grab dean’s arm, shuffling closer to him.

“give it a sec.” he responds cooly. within seconds sam is stomping into the room, bewildered and clearly annoyed. 

“why,” he huffs, “are there rabbits shitting all over my room?” 

“oh no.” you whimper, sinking deeper into the couch, hiding your head under dean’s arm. 

“the little angel brought you a gift, sammy,” the older winchester let’s out an uncontrollable laugh, watching his frazzled brother with pure amusement, “don’t you just love it?” 

y'all i am not used to writing without angst or an emotional overtone so pls lmk if this sucks lol

[arabella0001]

passion behind the mask

pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Reader Anime: Naruto Synopsis: he’s always been your sensei… but something else has started to surface beneath that title

i'm new to writing so be gentle pls (eng not my first language)

Warnings: light teasing, rough sex, all characters are of age/aged up, dirty talk, fingering, against a tree

"the hokage assigned me to train you," kakashi said, his voice low and calm, eyes hidden beneath his mask. "i hope we get along. we don’t really have a choice in the matter." he extended a hand, his fingers long and relaxed.

"hi," you smiled, a hint of nervousness lingering in your words as you took his hand. his eyes seemed to pierce through you, assessing every detail.

"so, what brings you to konoha?" he asked, the question casual but his gaze sharp. "you're not from around here, are you?"

"no, i’m not." you hesitated, but your voice grew steadier. "i came for knowledge... to push myself further as a shinobi. i’ve heard about the techniques taught here in konoha." you locked eyes with him.

kakashi raised an eyebrow, an unreadable glint in his eyes. "i see. well, you’ve come to the right place," he said, crossing his arms with an air of ease. "but, let me be clear—i’m not known for being gentle with my students."

his tone was firm, but there was something almost dangerous about it, a subtle edge that made your pulse quicken. "training with me isn’t going to be easy. you sure you’re ready for that?"

"i’m ready," you replied, your voice steady despite the tension in the air.

he nodded, the slightest flicker of approval in his eye. "good. let’s see what you’ve got." his voice lowered, becoming almost a command. "follow me to the training grounds."

you followed him, feeling the weight of his gaze as he led you. as you arrived, he turned to face you, the sun casting shadows over his features. "show me your basic jutsu. your chakra control, your speed. don’t hold back." his words were sharp, commanding.

"understood," you said, heart racing.

kakashi’s gaze never left you as you centered yourself, focusing your chakra. his eyes, always sharp, watched your every move, analyzing with a precision that made you feel exposed, yet oddly encouraged.

"not bad," he commented, his voice cool and even. "but you’ve got a lot of work to do. your chakra control’s a bit shaky."

you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his profile—his sharp jawline, the way his hair caught the light. you quickly looked away, but you felt the heat rising in your cheeks, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

his voice broke your train of thought. "don’t get distracted," he warned softly, though his eyes were still assessing. "let’s focus on stabilizing your chakra flow. close your eyes."

you obeyed, trying to push aside the lingering warmth you felt at his proximity. his voice came again, low and almost soothing. "visualize your chakra as a steady stream, like water flowing through a riverbed. let it flow naturally. don’t force it."

the sound of his footsteps as he circled behind you made your heart race even more. he was so close now, his presence almost overwhelming, yet his tone was calm, instructing.

"can you feel it?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper against your ear. "that warmth spreading through your body? that’s your chakra awakening."

you focused harder, trying to ignore the unsettling closeness, the tingling sensation his voice caused. slowly, you felt the steady pulse of your chakra, the flow smooth and calm.

"good," he said, his voice returning to a neutral tone, but there was something almost approving in it. "now, keep that flow steady. let it fill you completely."

you opened your eyes and turned to face him, feeling the surge of control. his gaze flickered, a brief moment of recognition in his eye as he stepped closer, his breath brushing against your skin as he placed a gloved hand on your shoulder.

"nice work," he said, his touch lingering a moment too long before he pulled away. "but remember, control is everything. in a real fight, it’ll mean the difference between victory and defeat."

his fingers brushed across your collarbone, an unexpected jolt of warmth running through you. you quickly regained your composure, nodding.

"now," he continued, his voice barely above a murmur, "let’s focus on your hand signs. channel your chakra outward. gather it in your palms."

he moved beside you, his arm brushing against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. "like this," he demonstrated, his body close enough that you could feel the heat from him.

you followed his instructions, focusing all your attention on the flow of chakra, trying to block out the overwhelming presence of the man beside you.

kakashi’s eyes flicked to yours, his expression unreadable. "excellent," he murmured, his praise almost like a whisper. "now hold it. don’t release it yet—just let it build." his hand brushed yours again, and for a moment, everything seemed to still, his gaze intense on you.

his voice lowered, almost too soft, but the rough edge behind it betrayed him "control is everything. too much force, and you risk losing precision. too little, and the jutsu lacks power." you focus sharpened as i visualized the chakra swirling in my palms, just as kakashi instructed. the air shimmered faintly around my hands, and i could feel the energy building.

glancing at kakashi, i realized how close he was, our shoulders nearly touching. his proximity stirred something inside me, an unsettling flutter in my stomach. but i pushed it aside, refocusing on my chakra control.

he must have sensed my distraction—his eyes flickered, lips twitching into a smirk beneath his mask. he leaned in, his breath brushing my ear as he murmured, "that's it. feel the energy build... just a little more..."

his gloved hand brushed against my lower back, the touch light, but firm. he was guiding me, urging me to engage my core muscles and steady myself. but his presence was too close, too... intimate, sending a rush of warmth through me.

"now, release it. on my signal," he said, his voice low, but commanding.

i swallowed, trying to steady my breathing as my body betrayed me. his touch grounded me, but also stirred something deep within, a strange heat that made my pulse race.

at his command, i released the chakra with a forceful burst, feeling the air crackle with energy. kakashi’s hand never left my back, anchoring me through the rush of power.

"impressive," he said, his tone almost soft. "your control’s getting better."

i flushed, his praise settling warmly in my chest. "thank you, sensei."

he met my gaze, eyes darkening slightly, lingering just long enough to make my heart skip and he nodded at you. he stepped back, crossing his arms. "next, we work on stamina. you can’t be passing out mid-mission."

i nodded, the training for the day coming to an end. as he stood there, arms crossed, my eyes wandered involuntarily over his form. his muscles strained beneath his flak jacket, and i caught myself lingering on the defined lines of his shoulders before quickly looking away.

"same time tomorrow," i said, hoping my voice didn’t betray the chaos in my thoughts.

he noticed the flicker of my gaze, and his lips twitched into a knowing smile. he uncrossed his arms and adjusted his forehead protector, revealing the smooth line of his arm as he did so.

"right then. see you tomorrow." his voice dropped an octave, almost teasing. "and y/n?" he leaned in, close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin. "don’t stay up too late. you’ll need your rest for what i have planned."

his words lingered too long in the air, curling around me in ways i wasn’t ready for. i felt the heat rise to my cheeks, heart stumbling over itself. no—he couldn’t have meant it that way. he was my teacher. I was reading too much into this… right?

but as i turned to leave, i heard him add, voice rich with amusement, "try to keep your mind out of the gutter, yeah? focus on your training, not... other things."

i felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment, realizing he must have noticed more than i’d wanted. hurrying away, i tried to compose myself, but thoughts of him—his proximity, his touch—kept swirling in my mind.

that night, i couldn’t help but replay every moment, the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze. a soft sigh escaped as i curled up in bed, my body betraying me. was it just me, or had something shifted between us?

the next morning, i was still flustered, still thinking of him as i dressed, the memory of the dream i had haunting me. the way his chakra had felt against mine... and the look in his eyes. but i shoved the thoughts aside. he was my sensei.

outside, kakashi stood waiting by the training grounds, his presence as enigmatic as ever. as i approached, his eyes locked onto mine, a subtle smirk forming at the corner of his lips.

"good morning," he greeted, voice casual but the challenge in his eyes undeniable. "ready for today’s drills?"

i nodded, trying to suppress the heat building in my cheeks. i could feel his gaze on me, sharp and assessing.

"let’s start with taijutsu," he said, guiding me through the movements with careful precision. his hands adjusted my stance, fingers brushing my skin, igniting something deep inside me. his touch was light, but it left me breathless, making it hard to focus.

"let’s start with taijutsu," he said, his voice steady as he guided me through the movements. his hands adjusted my stance, fingers brushing lightly over my skin, sending an unexpected jolt through me. the touch was soft, but it stayed, trailing just long enough to make it hard to focus..

his voice came again, quieter now, close to my ear, "relax... feel the movement." his breath brushed the back of my neck, and for a moment, it felt as though everything else faded away, leaving only the warmth growing in my chest.

i struggled to concentrate, but every word, every movement of his hand, seemed to unravel my focus more than the last.

"good," he murmured, and the simple praise sent a rush through me. "you’re doing well. but we’ll need to work on your speed."

his eyes traced my every movement, and i could feel the weight of his gaze as though it were touching me. each time our bodies brushed, my pulse would quicken. he seemed to notice every shift, every change—how my skin warmed, how my breath faltered.

after what felt like hours, he stepped back, his gaze still lingering on me. "well done," he said, his tone thick with something unspoken, something that made my heart skip.

he noticed the flush creeping up my neck, the way my breath came quicker. his eyes dropped lower, following the curve of my waist, drifting to where my legs met.

as much as he tried to keep his composure, he couldn't tear his eyes away, drawn to the way i moved, how my body reacted. the sight of me, sweating and breathless, seemed to leave him momentarily lost.

he noticed the confusion in my eyes, heard the way my breathing faltered, and somehow, he understood before i did—he was driving me to the edge, unknowingly or not.

his hand moved, barely grazing my arm, the air between us shifted—faint, electric, and impossible to dismiss.

i felt a sudden panic, my mind racing, and for a moment, i thought he knew. i wanted to step back, but my feet wouldn’t move. "kakashi... i need to take a break," i managed to say, my voice a little too shaky.

"of course," he replied, his tone calm, though there was something unreadable behind his eyes. "take your time." he murmured under his breath, barely audible, "we’ve got all day."

he watched me retreat, his gaze steady as i moved, his eyes following me as though he could sense the turmoil within me. it took everything in him not to step forward, not to pull me back, to close the distance between us. but he shook off the thought quickly, reminding himself of the boundaries, that i was his student.

a small, wry smile tugged at his lips as he turned back to the training dummy. it was hard not to wonder—what would it be like to feel that connection shift into something else?

he stood, unmoving now, his focus on the target before him. but his thoughts wandered, lost in images of me. his hands flexed unconsciously, fingers curling as though around a weapon he wasn’t quite sure he should use.

i should say something… stop this before it goes any further. she’s still my student. but there’s something in her eyes—something far too steady for someone her age. and for a moment, it’s hard to remember the line I’m supposed to hold.

his mind wanders down dangerous paths as he imagines how softy our skin would feel under his touch, how sweet your moans might sound while you come out from behind the tree and walk toward him. you try to act normal.

" so…i m sorry..we can resume our training, sensei"

his eyes flicker up from the training dummy, meeting yours with a calm, steady gaze. there's something unreadable in his expression - like he's seeing right through you

"we can resume... "he agrees easily, crossing his arms over his chest. "but first... "

without warning, he lunges forward, moving faster than anyone could react. in mere seconds, he has you pinned against the tree behind you - your body pressed flush against his own.

you gasp as he pins you against the tree, your heart races and your body reacts to his touch. "w-what? kakashi sensei? "

he leans closer, his breath barely skimming your ear, the kind of closeness that makes the rest of the world shrink away. his voice follows, softer than usual, but it lands low, rough around the edges, like he’s not sure he should be saying it at all.

'testing your reflexes…'

his lips don’t quite touch your skin, but they linger near enough to make you notice every shallow breath between you. when his hand drifts down, fingers tracing the line of your waist, it’s deliberate—measured, like he’s giving you time to stop him.

'and how well you listen,' he murmurs, his palm settling just below your hip.

your breath hitches, seeing your reaction, his hand grips your ass.

i can feel the heat of his body against mine. my eyes widened, cant believe he is touching me right now. usually so composed with an unreadable emotions.

"Kakashi..I…"

his grip on your ass tightens, pulling you even more firmly against him. you can feel the hard line of his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach.

"don't worry... "he murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your neck. "this isn't part of the training. at least... not yet. "

"kakashi…I don't think is okay what we are doing" you were feeling so aroused, he pulls back slightly, grey eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and raw, unchecked lust. his breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggles to regain some semblance of control.

"you're right... "he admits, voice rough with need.. "this shouldn't be happening. I'm your sensei... "

but even as he says the words, his hand slides lower, fingers hooking into the elastic of your panties and tugging them aside.

"can..you take off your mask? you asked anxious because he never show his face without it. he pauses, his lips hovering just inches from yours as he considers your request. for a long moment, he remains silent, his expression unreadable behind the silver mask that has become an integral part of his persona. then, with a subtle nod, he pulls away, revealing the full expanse of his face.

"very well" with deliberate slowness, he lifts the mask, letting it dangle from one finger as he exposes the beauty mark on the left corner of his mouth, the vertical scar bisecting his left eye, and the striking contrast of his spiky silver hair against his tanned skin. he holds your gaze, his dark grey eyes piercing and intense, as if daring you to react to this rare glimpse of vulnerability.

"beautiful…" your fingers graze the scar, and for a moment, he's lost in the sensation, his eyes drifting closed as he savors the intimacy of the gesture. when he opens them again, they're burning with a smoldering intensity, his pupils dilated with desire.

without waiting for a response, he closes the distance between you once more, claiming your lips in a passionate kiss that speaks volumes about the depth of his feelings, his lips feeling so much better now. his hands roam over your body, mapping the curves and contours with a possessive hunger that leaves no doubt about his desire for you.

the sound of your moan sends a jolt of pleasure through him, he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to dance with yours in a sensual ballet of passion. one hand slides down to grasp your hip, pulling you harder against him as he grinds his erection into the cradle of your thighs.

breaking the kiss, he trails his lips along your jawline, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh as he works his way down to your neck. he inhales your scent, committing it to memory as his hands begin to roam beneath your clothing, seeking the warmth of your skin.

"tell me, Y/N... "he whispers against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. " have you ever been touched like this before? "

with surprising strength, he hoists you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he presses you harder into the tree. his free hand finds your breast, thumb rubbing over the hardened peak of your nipple through your clothing making you moan.

“not like this…" he kiss you hard, his tongue delves into your mouth, claiming it with a fierce dominance that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

"mmmph... "he growls against your lips, breaking the kiss only to trail his mouth down the column of your throat. nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, his hands roam your body, exploring every curve and dip with a hunger that borders on desperation. fingers deftly unfasten your top, pushing the fabric aside to expose your breasts to the cool evening air.

you gasp as he exposes your breasts, you arch your back slightly, your nipples harden under his gaze.  his dark grey eyes drink in the sight of your bared breasts, pupils dilating with lust. a low, appreciative rumble vibrates in his chest as he cups the soft mounds, thumbs teasing over the pebbled nipples.

"beautiful... "he murmurs, voice thick with desire. leaning in, he takes one pert nipple between his teeth, gently biting down before soothing the sting with his tongue.

as he lavishes attention on your breasts, his other hand continues its exploration, sliding beneath the hem of your skirt to cup the heat of your sex through your panties. he groans at the dampness he finds there, fingers rubbing slow circles over your clit.

you whimper softly, tilting your head back against the tree as he teases your nipples and touches you intimately.  he doesn't hesitate, probing your slick entrance with a finger, feeling how ready you are for him

"fuck... "he curses under his breath, adding a second finger to stretch and prepare you. "so wet already... you want this, don't you? want me inside you".

"yes…" with a low, primal growl, he surges forward, burying his throbbing length deep within your welcoming heat. your tight walls clench around him, drawing him in further as he starts to move, setting a slow but deep pace that has you gasping and writhing against the tree.

"so tight... "he grunts, hips snapping forward to meet your eager thrusts. one hand grips your hip, holding you steady as the other reaches up to palm your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

"ahhh fuck" you moans loudly as he pounds into you, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as you cling to his shoulders. your nails dig into his skin as pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core.

"more...harder...please" you beg shamelessly, lost in the intensity.his grip on your hip tightens almost painfully as he drives into you with increased ferocity, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the forest. sweat beads on his brow, mixing with the silver strands of hair that fall across his forehead.

"you have no idea how good you feel "he pants harshly, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast circles over the sensitive nub as he chases your impending climax. "come for me, Y/N...now... "

your scream of pleasure pushes him over the edge. with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and erupts inside you, filling you with wave after wave of hot seed. he holds you close, panting heavily as he rides out the aftershocks of his intense orgasm.

"fuck...that was... "he trails off, struggling to find words amidst the haze of post-coital bliss. slowly, he pulls out, watching with a mix of pride and trepidation as his cum leaks out of your well-used pussy. "we should probably get cleaned up before someone finds us like this... "he suggests, trying to sound casual despite the lingering desire in his gaze.

"yes.. "looks down at the evidence of your passionate encounter dripping down your thighs. feeling vulnerable. you two just fucked. you and your sensei. the kakashi hatake.

he notices your gaze drifting to the mess between your legs and feels a pang of something unfamiliar - concern, perhaps, or even affection. shaking off the unexpected emotions, he steps closer, offering you a hand to help you clean up.

 "thank you" and he gives your hand a brief squeeze before releasing it, tucking himself back into his pants and straightening his flak jacket. "no need to thank me, Y/N. that was... mutual, to say the least. "

clearing his throat, he attempts to regain some composure, though his eyes still linger on yours with an unreadable expression. "now, let's get moving before we attract any unwanted attention. i'm supposed to be training you, after all. "

you nodded at him and preparing for heading  back to village.

"and maybe keep this little tryst between us, hmm? for both our sakes. "his voice is firm, attempting to maintain a sense of normalcy, but there's a hint of softness in his tone that wasn't there before.

with that, he sets off through the trees, expecting you to follow. despite the unconventional start to your partnership, he can't deny the spark of excitement at the prospect of guiding such a fiery, passionate individual as yourself.

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[urcoolgf]

INTRODUCING . . . SWEETHEART¡READER

sweetheart¡reader who . . . is a dramatic, spoiled, (kind of fragile) pillow princess, && a big money spender. she’s a self-care girl, && spends most of her nights doing face masks, hair care, skin care, body scrubs, basically everything to make herself the best (most softest) version of herself.

sweetheart¡reader who . . . looooves all things pink, && girly, && shimmery. her room is straight out of a fairytale, && her closet? to die for. she’s got all the 2000’s lacy babydoll tees, the short skirts, && bejeweled low-rise jeans. her shoe collection is a sight to behold, && her boyfriend is more than happy to add to it.

sweetheart¡reader who . . . learned to do makeup young, which resulted in perfecting the routine early on. when she first met her boyfriend he was sure she was straight from heaven. his little angelic sweetheart who he will happily supply with his credit card when she needs (or wants) any more makeup, or self care things .ᐟ

sweetheart¡reader who . . . is a big spring / summer girl who loves a good tan. but of course, she takes all the necessary precautions to keep herself / her skin looking perfect, soft, && young.

sweetheart¡reader who . . . cat person all the way just because they’re soft && gentle (&& mainly because they are low maintenance with the best cuddly reward). thankfully, her lovely boyfriend gifted her her dream kitty just a few weeks into dating && she’s treasured her ever since.

sweetheart¡reader who . . . is an innocent attention whore—emphasis on innocent. she’s all big doe eyes, soft pink lips, && perfectly blushed cheeks. she’s quick to give him ‘that look’ when he’s been on the game for too long, stays with his friends for more than a couple hours, or comes home late. she knows just how to make him feel sorry enough for her to drop to his knees as an apology.

sweetheart¡reader who . . . was gifted a ‘R’ necklace a couple days after they met, && hasn’t taken it off since. he loves it—the control, the possession—&& she doesn’t mind being claimed when it comes with the love, && passion that is. . . rafe cameron.

sweetheart¡reader who . . . is a lover of sitcoms like ‘how i met your mother’, ‘sex and the city’, && ‘friends’, && movies like ‘pretty woman’, ‘dirty dancing’, && ‘when harry met sally’. her boyfriend isn’t a big fan, but he’ll never pass up the opportunity to have your head in his lap, hearing your soft giggles, && running his hands through your hair.

sweetheart¡reader who . . . collects jellycats like nobody’s business, so rafe made it a tradition to get a new one for every date they go on. her bed is completely overtaken by all the stuffed animals, but she loves it because they’re all a product of rafe’s love for you.

PAIRED WITH MECHANIC¡RAFE

SWEETHEART¡READER WORKS.ᐟ

⋆౨ৎ˚ ❤︎ ˖ ࣪ what’s a spark plug?

⋆౨ৎ˚ ❤︎ ˖ ࣪ day in the life

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